The maximum number of poems in the collection is devoted to reversing the dynamics of the characters from epics like Mahabharat and Ramayan. In the very first poem, with the bold title of Nangi Draupadi (Naked Draupadi), the supposedly polyandrous wife of the five Pandava brothers who was disrobed in a crowded court after her husbands lost her in gambling, lashes out at the patriarchal society in full swing. She does not blame a single person for her disgrace; rather, it is the stifling “dhoti of a hundred yards” that has been binding her from eternity till date, so she wants to take it off before an assembly and regain her freedom. A radical idea, this!
An equally radical thought is echoed in the poem Swatantra Ganga Bahiraheki Chhu, where the river Ganga emerging from Lord Shiva’s locks expresses dissatisfaction at her bondage and avows to break free. Kangsaharuka Biruddhama, which uses the image of cruel killer Kangsa to protest against abortion, has an equally absorbing beginning but ends abruptly, leaving readers in a quandary. Similar is the case with Shikarieka Apsara/Badiharu which boldly and aptly draws a comparison between heavenly female beings and prostitutes – both of whom are lusted after and hunted down as prey. But after this energetic start, the poem loses its steam to turn into a lackluster, and finally weak, creation.More satisfying is the final poem, Ma ra bagiraheko mero astitva, which might be titled insipidly as “Me and My Flowing Existence,” which lingers in the mind. There is both beauty and truth in the manner the poet convincingly compares the life cycle of a flower to a female form. Two other poems crafted in a similarly romantic note, namely Madhumaska Athaha Awazharu and Ek Ardhabritta paridhibata timilai awhan chha, are milder and hint more at integration rather than battle between the sexes. The first poem is brimming over with affection, with some figures of speech appealing directly to the senses, as in, “the rainbow-like dance of peacock,” “oceanic waves of the heart” and “white pearls scattered on the sky.” The latter poem simply puts forward the age-old adage of two half-circles merging together to form a complete whole.
Two other poems worth mentioning are Kamuk Jalhari and Antarrashtriya Adalatma Ramko Agniparikshya. Both of them look at celebrated religious figures in opposing ways in which they are normally perceived. For example, in the first poem, even the fierce God Bhairab, that too in his Unmukta (liberated) avatar, does not frighten the persona of the poem. Instead, the female persona fantasizes of him as an object of desire, which is certainly an innovative twist. In the second poem, the character of the supposedly “ideal” male Ram is also lent an ironic twist. The long-suffering wife of Ram, namely Sita, lashes back at the hypocritical husband who orders her to walk on coals to prove her chastity. Sita’s plaintive speaking renders this poem powerful – she demands, and finally obtains, justice in return for the thousands of years of oppression. But this poem is not as subtle as the other ones, and the female voice sometimes slips into crudeness. Clichéd queries like “Why is there a blow of injustice / against my entire existence?” turns the tone melodramatic and pushes it towards propaganda.
Such blunt and bland lines abound in the poem Yuganti Sauta Hun Hajur... as well, which tries to share the sorrow of maligned ‘other women’ like Kunti and Kaikeyi but fails due to its unappealing and prosaic lines like “(A male) Is standing fearlessly / in a society / of courtyard, and village / to prove his masculinity.” Euti Kumari Ama also attempts valiantly to put into words the grief of single (read unmarried and therefore adulterous) mothers, but the words used are simply too mechanical to make an impact. “Why are only females cursed?” or “Is it only her fault?’ are not good lines for any poem.
While Ek Jiwit Logneki Bidhuwa Hun again pushes against male tyranny and succeeds in getting the message across, albeit a trifle gratingly, the same cannot be said of Shalik Nirman Garna Chahanchhu.
This is easily the most tedious poem of the lot, and the poet would have better left out this one. It veers completely towards being an essay, with lines like “Where is / Dwrika Devi Thakurani? Where are the six female martyrs/ of 1990 A.D.?” The idea of installing figurines of such forgotten personalities maybe praiseworthy but the choice of words sound simply out of place in a poem. There are a spate of rhetorical questions, which have been inserted into so many slogans as to simply lose their relevance and originality.
In the end, readers will tend to come back to the shortest, simplest, and yet the prettiest poem of all. Both in the choice of words and overall symmetry, it remains soft, pleasant and essentially feminine.
There is talent in the poet and there is novelty in the way she sees and feels. There is a pride and reassurance born among females as the persona announces in a mellow mood:
My caste: female
My religion: humanity
My language: knowledge
My color: love
My countenance: creation
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