O Maya Sita!

An Original Poem

Select a key text from the past and use it as the basis of an original imaginative composition.

O Maya Sita!

“I always worship

You in my heart Who is beautiful in entirety and you are beautiful beyond words.”

-Ramanaya

I

“Sita you betray me whole,

for I would sacrifice the kingdom for the return of

My Sita,

The devoted wife,

devoted woman.

I would greet her with triumphant crowds,

caress and massage her feet,

Showering the soles with kisses.

Oh My!

The return of my honeyed damsel,

how you were placed upon an altar.

The ideal form for all to worship and adore,

yet now, you remain a whore

seduced by Ravana’s phallic lure.

Oh, Sita!

How you betray all,

with your character crafted from beautifully built lies.

Loyalty, devotion and womanhood are no longer of value to you”

II

“Devoted Mother,

Without child.

Devoted Wife,

A Devoted woman.

That is all I have been to you!

All I have become for you!

O valiant one, how your words pierce my flesh,

Rama carved at thy breast.

I am yours truly, am I not?

My chastity shall not be spoken in shame.

Tear stained I loom above a promiscuous shadow,

as you dare prod upon such a woman as me.

You speak of my devotion!

Devotion snarks at you,

for you have never tasted the rancid zest.

Whispered with a subdued tone in the ear of an infant girl,

let it crawl into the cavity of your mind,

let it lay like kindling,

pleading to be set aflame.

A fabricated reality it must have been,

a utopia forged from deceptive soil.

I do not deceit,

I remain pure.

O dear one,

Lakshmana,

prepare your pyre.

Lay me as you would your kindling,

alight me with your obscenities

Nay,

I shall guide myself.”

Trial

For I am more than my father’s daughter.

There is no escape from reality’s cruel grasp now,

Gentle steps,

Gentle pace,

Gentle, Sita.

“As I take my path, my heart turns away from Rama,

you will not be forgiven of the humiliation I have endured.”

I shall not plead nor beg,

“May the god of fire protect my faith!”

Tender steps towards the trial.

Each encounter of feet to soil began to sedate.

III

The courageous and loyal Sita began her steps with tranquillity.

For she was the daughter of King Janaka.

The red may have consumed her whole,

tentatively succumbing her into depths of the pyre

mutilating the human form,

where humans pleaded for mercy.

Yet, she was not human

She was Sita,

Maya Sita

“ Since the sun-god, the wind, the directions, the moon, the day, the twilights, the night, the earth and others know that I am endowed with good qualities, may the god of fire protect Me”

Ignition

The screams and aches of women echoed throughout,

For I was no longer, Sita.

I became liquid gold.

Glinting and ablaze,

sacrificial, I allowed my eyes to wander.

The fire does not assault,

The warmth invites a dance instead.

Flaring hoorahs with arms out wide.

The warmth welcoming and surging through my fibres instead.

The numbing darkness was no longer.

Savouring the great sharpness that consumed me,

I soon became intoxicated by the taste,

In a trance of the great flamboyant charm, it presented.

Was it fire that consumed me?

What surrounded me was not flames at all.

Hints of vivid bursts of peach pink and baby blues and all

Flashes of floral beauty.

I soon brushed against velvet petals of

lotus, her sensation much like flesh

Caressing, kissing and embracing me all over in adoration.

In her attentive nature,

The lotus valued my liquid form,

ignoring the blinding gold and showering me with queries instead:

“O Sita Ma, how can one be so almighty?”

Return

Arms flailing and feet aimlessly moving about,

parts of floral design engraved within the braids of my hair,

I could not stop now.

“sītā rāma, sītā rāma, sītā rāma, jaya sītā rāma.”

All the devotees in awe with gaping mouths watching in astonishment.

They too became enchanted,

Toppling over one another.

Chants echoed and rumbled with the breeze.

The surrounding green joining too.

“sītā rāma, sītā rāma, sītā rāma, jaya sītā rāma.”

For who was Rama to me now?

I had reached a floral nirvana.

Where the lotus spoke and comforted,

where soil begged for nourishment.

Euphoric, I turn to find Rama.

His jaw left gaping and

then melting into a stream of butter,

Nurturing soil.

O Maya Sita!

For it was a sight to behold,

Devotees screeched and tumbled to escape

the decaying flesh and blood of Rama.

Breaking out in chant,

pleading protection:

“sītā rāma, sītā rāma, sītā rāma, jaya sītā rāma”