Poetry:
Mahesh Paudyal
Yashodhara
Yashodhara!
displaying silent smiles
with tempting youth mercilessly smothered among ribs
and eyes poked by tears frozen like pieces of glass,
is no less than nirvana.
There are some who silently wipe the mantelpiece
and tend to the joint transgression
bequeathed by the absconding lover,
fetch grace on bamboo baskets before daybreak from the tap,
bedeck their future in girdle clothes
and fill joy in others’ old-age cup
transforming herself into beads of perspiration.
Only then can anyone
soar far away, beyond the horizons
reach far off in the depth of the woods
dive deep into oceans
to seek panacea to life’s sorrows.
One’s capacity
to hold the heart
when besieged by a sobbing gush
orto hold tears
when in torrent they jut out
is nirvana too.
Yashodhara!
The reality you endured through
is yet another Tripitak.
Allow me to erect
a temple of yours
with bricks of reverence
on my heart’s incredible slopes
though invisible they are!
