Radha Poems Of Love Poem Analysis

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Poems of love

Mandakini Mathur

© Mandakini Mathur, 2013
All rights reserved
Illustration by Poornima Sukumar
Cover design by Rudransh Mathur

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Who says a poem is a spontaneous outburst? It also demands attention and nurturing. I offer these poems to my husband Atul, who chiseled each one into shape…
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From this rich matrix, not only have artists, poets, saints and religious cults drawn sustenance but it has nurtured the mind of an entire subcontinent.
In a predominantly patriarchal society where moral codes are laid out in terms of family and social responsibilities, the love between Radha and Krishna offers a delightful counterview - here’s Radha, a married woman elder to Krishna, spellbound by his charms, running to the forest on a full moon autumnal night of Sharad Purnima. To make this even more scandalous, he is sporting with other Gopis quenching the thirst of all like undiscriminating rain speeding across a vast landscape. Each Gopi has a Krishna for herself and Radha too holds on to her own in this giddy vortex of love and fulfillment.
As Krishna leaves for Mathura never to return, Radha waits. Later he plays the role of the mediator in the great war of the Mahabharata which constantly blurs the line between the right and the wrong in an exploration of the concept of Dharma. Radha remains steadfast in her own Swadharma which is her longing for Krishna and stands by the banks of her Yamuna even
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A dying river
Collects in puddles.
From one such mirror
An old woman
Smiles at me. 10
Now they tell me you are a God!
On the mighty battlefield of Kurukshetra
You stilled the drawn swords
With your song.
Of what is right
And what is wrong.
Till they clashed again with renewed conviction.
I knew you were a God
When I touched your body
Dark and firm
And felt it was the night sky
Filled with swirling galaxies…
When I would be sulking
Hurt with your dalliance with others
You would make me speechless
With your reasoning -
‘Does the rain fall on one tree
Or the spring manifest in one flower?’
I don’t even know
Whether my love for you Is right or wrong…
All I know is I will hold your liquid memories In the cup of my palms
Till my hands evaporate.

If you didn’t need me anymore
I would be a word
That has just shed its meaning.
I know
You have got used
To my absence.
The Krishna that I wait for
Does not exist.
Yet sometimes
In the dark lanes
You stand
Waiting for me.
Suddenly I find myself
In your arms
You won’t let me speak
Sealing my mouth with yours.
My throat chokes with tears
And the eyes remain dry.
I smell the same storm
That had danced
In the heart of each flower
Till the forest floor
Was all petals and

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