Radha Poem Analysis

Radha

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…

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

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.

11

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