Letter from a 17th Century Devadasi to her Ghungaroos
Together, we entered hushed halls packed
with luminaries--our king, head priests,
war heroes, the richest traders, and my lover,
soft chimes of your multitudinous bells in solid gold
tied to the pillars of my legs, scores of eyes
within each bell roving side to side, gazing out
at the world, awake and awakening.
My companion through my greatest triumphs,
tender intimacies, my legs guided you, taming
your wild energy. My arms, twin arcs of desire,
framed my head and chest; my back,
an undulating bow, the string so taut it emanated
waves of desire, vibrations that permeated
the room, zeroing in on my lover. He’d sit
entranced through our dance, shuddering
at the climax when both my feet pounded the ground
so hard your cries rang out as your myriad bells split
open the air so that, momentarily, one could not even
breathe. The halls are silent now, have been
for many hundreds of years, great love a thing
of the past. My spirit never left though, wandering
these lonely hallways where once love lived.
Today, a new hall has taken its place, one
where celluloid screens of men and women
enacting love, play and replay all day and night.
Women gyrate obscenely, miming
empty songs that emulate the grunts
of hogs in heat. How it makes me laugh--
they forced our schools of love shut
for this! Worse still, the women who bear
the name of our tradition--Devadasis--
evergreen wives of God
are now mere prostitutes, unwanted
by their mothers and fathers,
sold as meat, for men to appease
their lust. Desolate, desolate, I cannot even
cry, my throat parched with grief. Your bells
are silenced now forever. I did it myself,
smothered you in the softest muslin cloth,
covered your eyes, muted your bells
buried you deep under these very floors.
Remember our times together--the whole
of me moving to the whole of you,
your myriad chimes, creating a dance
of love and life, the crowds’ thunderous
applause growing louder, louder--
until the last quiver of muscle and bell is spent
arousing love for the long night ahead
