Destiny’s games are stranger than
most games invented by man
and Draupadi’s swayamvara is for sure
amongst the strangest tales ever told

A truly blazing beauty is she,
a princess like no other
a rare fiery spirit has she
This daughter of Agni

The drums announce the happy news
today she shall choose
from amongst this gathering of kings
the one who she shall espouse

a prophecy has already foretold
that she is to be Arjuna’s bride
the swayamvara is but a test to tempt
that expert archer out from where he hides

every king from every land
is here to attempt
to win her hand
but no sign of the one she wants

but the contest has been announced
and hence must be begun
a test truly fit to try
the Gods themselves

on the ceiling
a revolving platform
on the platform
a jewel studded fish

on the floor a vat of oil
lying beside a great bow and shafts
the fish is mirrored
in the oil

the the target lies
in the fish’s ruby red eye
but a challenge fit for kings
cannot be so trouble-free!

The eye, itself, must not be looked upon
its reflection in the oil is the map to strike
not an easy feat to accomplish
only the best dare try this

for the failures
there is ridicule and humiliation
for the winner
this beautiful handmaiden

every eye that sees
looks on amazed
at her -a rare jewel
with some secret fire set ablaze

her eyes hot embers
her hair wisps of flame
Krishnaa-the dark skinned
like the fiery coal that is by ashes hid

in every heart she rouses
an uncontrollable passion
stunned, they stand as statues
incapable of any action

the desire to win her
is a great motivator
and while all try
none seems worthy

every king that rises
falls unable to bear
the weight of the bow
let alone string and employ it!

then rises Karna
truly a great archer
surely he will win her
says everyone in their mind

but before he even touches
the bow he is stopped
by the beautiful Draupadi
he is humiliated

“who is this false king
who dares to assume that
the high-born Draupadi will condescend
to marry a low-born sutaputra?”

silenced and insulted
Karna resumes his seat
but a desire for retribution
is in his mind-a tiny seed

the one who rises next
is clothed as a Brahmin
but his proud gait and muscled arms
are that of a Kshatriya

respectfully he picks up the bow
strings it with love
with arms upraised and face turned below
he launches the arrow

it strikes the eye
which falls to the ground
the Brahmin has won!
he is garlanded by Draupadi

their eyes meet
in silent acceptance of
their magnetic attraction
a scorching passion

a stunned silence in the hall
and then hell breaks loose
kings rant and princes protest
how can a princess marry a priest

they rise together
up in arms
and are routed
by the Brahmin and his brothers

with the Brahmins Draupadi goes
to their hut-a humble abode
with folded hands they stand outside
as the eldest calls, “Look mother, see what we’ve got!”

a gentle voice replies from within
“whatever be it, share it
amongst yourselves,
it equally belongs to all of you”

“Mother, what have you said
what a dilemma we are in
you-we have never disobeyed
and yet to obey would be a sin!”

The mother comes out and is aghast
at what she has done
her order once given cannot be revoked
by convention

in the midst of all this
turmoil and confusion
Krishna arrives
with his beatific smile

“Dear aunt, I am your brother’s son
your troubled brow betrays
some confusion
can this child offer you some consolation?”

“God bless you my child
I’ve heard your praise
You are wise, so advise
how this quandary can be resolved

with hasty words
i have told my sons
to share this woman
and doomed her to a life of debauchery”

“Do not worry aunt
this isn’t a problem at all
this woman in her past life
has gained a boon of five husbands

the boon was given
by Mahadeva himself
and besides a mother’s order
is always supreme

let all five of your sons
wed Draupadi
in the karmic logic
it isn’t an iniquity

Dear Draupadi listen
these men are none other
than the valourous Pandava brothers
your hand was won by Arjuna

it is your destiny
to be the spouse of all of them
and do not worry
worldly laws are not here applicable”

Hearing this was
a stealthy listener-
Draupadi’s brother
now both overjoyed and dismayed

in confusion
he approaches his father
and apprises him
of the matter

both father and son are
unsure whether to rejoice
that the Pandavas are alive
or curse their loved one’s predicament

plagued by mixed emotions
they are restless
then Vyaasa comes
to their relief

the kind sage shares his wisdom
that the marriage is inevitable
part of the Grand Plan
mortal laws must not interfere

a woman having
more than one man as spouse
isn’t always an immorality
they may fearlessly proceed

and so it is
that the marriage was celebrated
Draupadi became the
accidental polyandrist!

-Vijayalakshmi Harish
23.09.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

India is our country
And we are told
It's a great country
However, I beg to differ
Rather, we are sold
The idea of an utopian nation
A country with a myriad variety of cultures
Races, religions and languages
United by a common feeling of brotherhood
However, look beneath the hood
And the idea implodes spectacularly
Crumbling in a heap
Instead, emergeth a divide so deep
That it can be bested not
Even by the mighty Pacific Ocean
Truth be told, we are but a Hindu nation
In all but name
Instead, we put the blame
For all our evils
On the British, one day
And the Mughals, the very next day
While more and more blood spills
In the name of religion and caste
How long will this last?

India is our country
And as per the Constitution
All Indians are our brothers and sisters
However, if you use your imagination
Understand, you will
That this is just a facade
Designed to protect our international image
As you turn page after page
Of our so-called glorious history
Emergeth the true picture
A land comprising thousands of castes
Fighting each other since the beginning of time
Something that would put to shame
Even the fickle-minded Romans
During the reign of Julius Caesar
We Indians are indeed pathetic humans
Falling like nine pins
At the slightest hint of pressure
While boasting about past wins
That no longer matter

India is our country
And a time there was
When, a proud Indian I was
However, passed have light years, since then
Oppressed, have been our women
More so, those who are underprivileged
Brahmins, were the rapists of Bilkis Bano
And hence, did they go unpunished
Meanwhile, ***** by the Indian Army
Are the women of Kashmir and the North Eastern states
For which, not a single mainstream feminist bothers to show even the slightest sign of empathy
Something that truly makes my blood boil
Even as hundreds of wrongdoers get bail
Because, our justice system is an epic fail
On the other hand, you have innocent people
Languishing in jail for ages
Because nobody bothers to turn the pages
Of the Constitution of India

Yes, India is our country indeed
But patriots we are, no longer
Because, ultimately, humanity is stronger
A field where India can never take the lead
Yes, Indians we are
However, humans we are first

Rest in peace, India
For you are no more
No more a democracy
No more a republic
No more a secular country
What we are seeing instead
Is a fascist, Brahmanical dictatorship
Where Dalits, Bahujans and Muslims
Are treated as second-rate citizens
Where Brahmins rule the roost
And caste is the order of the day
Where the police run riot
At the slightest sign of a protest
Where equality is dead

Rest in peace, India
For you are no more
The Constitution is being wrecked
By the same people
Who swear to protect it
Day in and day out
This is not the country I knew
This is not the country I loved
Since I was a child
This is Pakistan, not India
After all, we are brothers
United by caste and communalism
Divided only by religion

Rest in peace, India
For you are no more
I so wanna escape it all
Thus I turn to cricket
Watching India play West Indies
In my beloved Chennai
But, then again,
As I turn up the volume
I hear chants of 'India! India!'
This is the last straw
That broke the wretched camel's back
Unable to bear it any longer
I yell 'West Indies! West Indies! '
My prayers are answered
As West Indies win the match
That too as if it were child's play
Rest in peace, India
For you are no more

Over 2500 years ago,
In Kapilavatthu, not very far
From the Himalayas, Queen Māyā
Dreamed something that she found bizarre:

Clothed in flowers, she was paid
A visit by an elephant--lily white--
Bearing in its trunk a pure white lotus
That softly glowed in the moonlit night.

After circling her three times,
The elephant, such as she'd never seen,
Tapped her thrice on her right side
And then vanished inside the queen.

She shared her dream with King Śuddhodana,
Who summoned the Brahmins immediately
To hear the details of the queen's strange dream
And explain to him what the meaning might be.

"The queen will have a son," they said,
"And he will become one of two things:
A conqueror or a holy man.
We shall see what the future brings."

When the time of birth drew near,
The queen longed to visit the place
Where she'd grown up. Her caring midwife
Accompanied her just in case.

As they approached Lumbini Grove,
Her entourage smelled the scent
Of gardens of spices and blossoming trees
That formed a protective, natural tent.

The queen entered the grove and there
Between the blossoming sala trees
Gave birth to her son, Prince Siddhārtha,
While blossoms rained down in the gentle breeze.

According to some accounts, on that day
The ground shook and the trees swayed.
Joyous sounds filled the air
As soothing celestial music played.

As sweet tea fell from the clouds above,
The infant took seven steps and proclaimed:
"I alone am the World-Honored One"--
A title that he was later named.

Back to Kapilavatthu they traveled.
A few days later, Queen Māyā died.
Her sister, Pajāpatī, became
The prince's mother and the king's new bride.

Thus goes a wondrous version
Of a narrative that finds great worth
By beautifully combining legends
And written accounts of the Buddha's birth.

Fact and myth are interwoven
In many great figures from our past.
But true meaning transcends the records
And points to deeper truths that last.

-by Bob B (4-5-18)

°On April 8, many Buddhists around the world celebrate the birth of the historic Buddha. This poem was written to honor the occasion.

don't even think about it
a bucket of motel ice in the face
proving the thing in itself does not exist
because he registered all the meanings all the time
in a nausea so profound the retching never ended
this being the proof in the pudding
rearranging all my severed proteins
in a hypnotic anarexo-bulemic frenzy
I marched to the beat of crawling flesh
tattooed Celtic blue by an ******* dermatologist
in an idiot if lyrical ritual purification
couldn't find a long-haired dog for winter
settled for an inferno of intrigue and dissipation
in a tin shack at the edge of an endless swamp
it wasn't serenity that's a ******* fact
the horse hairs stung across his ****
Mistress Cheetah grabbed the microphone
she had saved him from pointlessness in the past
weaving many paths upon his terrain
in a fairy tale about fairy tales
fear swept the land as a craving for snacks
the ones who get no peace rose in rebellion
the Brahmins and their bullies faced extinction
so they cut a deal to escape the cro magnon hordes
coldly calculating the cost to nations
in a curious mix of apoplexy and daring
a grandiose epic on the nature of Nature
and the desert of human intellect
clanked and hummed into bloom
an infectious enthusiasm swept the palisades
curing the sick and raising the dead
bypassing the humiliation of needing to lie
now if that doesn't please your ghost
here's something that will
I'll give you the formula now
in a dance of erupting minutae
if the West is decadently feudal
the East is feudaly decadent
this is my message to Earth
multiply yourself by yourself
and avoid counterfeit soothsayers
like you avoid a broken pin ball flipper
some of the angels are stuffed dolls
where everyone is a game piece
tell me what is not measured
like wild geese honking through the night
part of a vast migration of souls
with the moon low and full
in a time of riches and knowing
in a teasing ****** of ignorance
in a power surge that spiked through the wires
the closer to the pillar you stood
the more transparent it all became
end of transmission

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon

The ****** and culture of the highest
civilization,                                                         apart from the ancient Hindu
***** and Egyptians,                                                       ­   are found only in the
white races;                                                 and even with many dark peoples,
the ruling caste or race has a more beautiful
color than the rest of the ****** and therefore
has apparently migrated to the Brahmins,
the Incas and the rulers of the islands
of the southern seas. All of this is due
to the fact that necessity is the mother
of invention,                                                    as the tribes who had emigrated
early to the north as ****** were gradually
bleached, and had to develop all their
                             intellectual powers and all the arts in their struggle with it.
                                                                ­Perfectly miserable ******' torments
                                                                ­ invoked the weather in all its forms.
They had to do this to compensate for
the salvation of nature and the *******;
and this is where their high culture came from.
My philosophy is based on that of Kant
and therefore requires a deep knowledge.
The doctrine of Kant causes in the minds
of all who understand it a fundamental
change so great that it can be considered
as a new intellectual birth. It can only
really eliminate the innate realism
that results from the original character
of the intellect, because
they are still too general as an example
of before and after, ****** and a peculiar
character have spirit to suffer a total
indecision; ****** look at all things
from a different perspective.
Only in this way can someone
become susceptible to the most positive exposures
I have to give. Kant had argued
that the empirical world is only
a complex of phenomena whose
existence is slaves whose connection
exist only in our representations.
Schopenhauer repeats this
in the first movement of his main work: "The world is my representation".
We do not extract empirical laws
from nature, but we prescribe
them to nature, Schopenhauer praises
Kant for his distinction between the appearance
and appearance of ****** while the general
consensus in German idealism was that this
was the weakest ***** in Kant's theory, since
causality, according to Kant, is only applicable
to objects. Experience with ******
and consequently, things cannot be the cause
of phenomena, as Kant argued. Schopenhauer
also recognized the inadmissibility
of this argument. He insisted that this distinction
was a true conclusion based on false premises.

An Irishman let loose on the Brahmins of Harvard.