Meghdoot: The Emissary of Sunderance

Meghdoot: The Emissary of Sunderance

by Mrityunjay

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Overview

Mrityunjay, a senior Indian Police Service officer of poetic sensibility, gives a contemporary glimpse of the unfathomable pathos of sunderance suffered by Yaksha and idyllic portrayal of geosocial life of North India in Kalidasa’s Meghdoot (The Cloud Messenger) through the verses of original Sanskrit classic written in AD 4–5 Century.

With leaning towards literature, music and history, Mrityunjay is able to converse in 6 languages – i.e. Bhojpuri, Hindi, English, Nepali, Bengali and Bahasa-Indonesia, and aspires to learn French soon. Having varied experience of human living in his country, diverse cultures during his diplomatic assignments abroad and exposure to a motley of literature and history, He learnt to look for romance amidst the tragic folds of life. He started exploring symbols and images of history and classics in the light of paradoxes of modernity and evolution. The present creation is his maiden work in English aiming to resurrect and rejuvenate the classical work of Kalidasa in the language of today’s life and people.

Mrityunjay has done his Masters in Political Science from University of Delhi, India and passed All India Services’ Exams to become a member of the premium Indian bureaucracy. He is awarded with the President of India Medal for Meritorious Service and ‘Kalakar Award’ for ‘Best music in Regional Language’. He was recently commended by the Indian Ambassador to Indonesia for his contributions in organizing ‘Festival of India’ in Indonesia in 2009-10 to work out innovative ways for breaking new grounds of people to people contact, collaborations and sharing to facilitate deeper understanding of diverse views and cultures.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781466911451
Publisher: Trafford Publishing
Publication date: 03/29/2012
Pages: 60
Product dimensions: 8.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.16(d)

Read an Excerpt

Meghdoot

(The Emissary of Sunderance)
By Mrityunjay

Trafford Publishing

Copyright © 2012 Mrityunjay
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4669-1145-1


Chapter One

    THE CLOUD MESSENGER

    O Cloud!
    That dark shadow that you carry on your body
    Is it that you suffered a similar tragedy?
    Or, is it a scar of the insensitive world's pollution
    Tears with kohl in deep tribulation?

    I Yaksha! Cursed and exiled
    Banished to the wild,
    Have lost my hearth and kin,
    And my love, that once had been.

    When destiny deserts they say,
    Becomes difficult to find a way,
    All gets charred to dust and ashes
    Hopes, dreams and wishes it dashes.

    Amazed but silent directions,
    All my friendly vegetations,
    Not even a waft of breeze,
    Helps my sorrows to cease.

    Woeful and lifeless surrounding,
    Comes to me reminding,
    Why do I behold this life,
    Without you, an abyss of strife?

    Stretched like a bow to fire,
    Sky enraged with ire,
    And earth curiously sore,
    Simmering with hidden uproar.

    On the lamps of twinkling stars,
    Like a moth berserk, bizarre,
    My heart goes leaping and dashes,
    Rejected it falls and crashes.

    They ridicule me and say,
    Insane or, gone astray,
    Fools! How will they learn to care?
    To share the pangs I bear.

    Swings on the ceilings of my dreams,
    Your face like a fresco of queens,
    Whispers an echo of your presence,
    May not be physical, but in essence.

    Light of the day feels teasing,
    To my eyes that keep bleeding,
    Night is my friend and keeper,
    That cradles my pain to stupor.

    Crying and sobbing incessantly,
    Does it really help one's destiny?
    It dries the soul even further,
    And drains the tears forever.

    Dried-up eyeballs suspended oblique,
    Piercing my eyes like a woodpecker's beak,
    Senses with waning feelings, emotions,
    Singeing and shrinking hopes, aspirations.

    My senses brood in my body's cave,
    If I've any worth in this grave,
    For I can see no end to my quest,
    My sins, my virtues, all gone waste.

    Lying in such a condition desolate,
    Yaksha's ears could hear resonate,
    A growl, or may be clouds rumbling,
    Like a herd of tipsy elephants tumbling.

    After a dry and humid summer,
    A heavy cast sky brings a beamer,
    To the flora, fauna and humans alike,
    For who doesn't like a little respite?

    All but me, will celebrate, rejoice,
    The romance of rain that brings spice,
    I remain with your memories alone,
    Chasing a dream that never comes home.

    Yet the smiling glances of the cloud,
    Made Yaksha hope aloud,
    For clouds may act as messenger dove,
    And bring some solace to his mourning love.

    Hoping to get his request heard,
    But fearing that he may sound absurd,
    Propitiated the cloud in a pleading tone,
    With voice breaking in feeble moan.

    "To end your sorrows O my friend!
    I shall try going to any end",
    The cloud a friendly hand extended
    To keep Yaksha's hope unbended.

    But will he be able to find?
    My love in pain, roaming blind,
    And will this nomad really deliver,
    My words that'll make my love recover?

    He who changes his path so swift
    A gush of wind makes him drift,
    Hope he is able to keep his promise,
    A vagabond not succumbs to blemish.

    Sensing the dwindling faith of his friend
    Roared the cloud with thunder blend,
    "I won't let your faith get shaken
    O my friend, do not be so broken."

    Yaksha's heart filled with the pouring
    Who, but a friend, can be so reassuring?
    Deadened senses got shaken from stupor,
    When all doubts evaporated like vapour.

    Frail body and grief - charred cells
    Blossom to health when joy impels,
    Warmth spreads when two hearts bleed,
    'A friend in need is a friend indeed'.

    "O friend, who's blessed with countless forms,
    Do me a favour for friendship norms;
    'I'll not blame ever even if you fail,
    You can't rewrite a destiny frail! "

    "You've to go to the town of Yaksha,
    In the lap of Himalayas, known as'Alka',
    With palaces adorned with the bright spread
    Of moonlight emanating from Shiva's head."

    "Mourning women when see you arrive,
    Will dance with joy and rush describe,
    To my love who holds on a thread fragile
    Of hope, that may crumble any while."

    "Look my friend, that gentle breeze!
    With layers of cloud like dangling crease,
    Have come to meet and soothe your heart
    Narrating your lover's message in part."

    "Come let me tell you the path you take,
    I'll not let my work your promises break,
    Of cooling the earth and bringing to life,
    The dried vegetation, dying in strife."

    Tired if you get, of a journey non-stop,
    Rest for a while on a mountain top,
    And if you feel thirsty ever,
    Soak your lips in the stream of a river.

    Rain for a while on the Malav land,
    An earth that smells of rainy gland,
    Douse the fire that threatens the forest
    Of mangoes of all kind, sweet and best.

    Adorning uniquely the forest around,
    Mangoes of all hues, ripe abound,
    And you settle amidst them there,
    On top like a crown of shining black hair.

    Like well set nipples on the breast of earth,
    Creating a scene of amusement and mirth,
    Heavens will enjoy this beauty galore,
    Gods and goddesses wishing for more.

    Mountains will offer you a resting place,
    They welcome their guests with honour and grace,
    More so because your character is noble,
    Respected alike by the high and humble.

    The river that irrigates Vindhya's plateau,
    Known as'Reva', flows with gusto,
    Drink its water to gain strength,
    Roar and thunder with piercing length.

    Frightened women coiled with their lover,
    To feel secure and recover from shiver,
    Getting such blissful moments hefty,
    Grateful lovers will bless you plenty.

    Meeting peacocks'welcoming eyes,
    And those gardens of'Ketaki' wide,
    Laden with ripe blackberry around,
    Forest of'Dasharan'you have found.

    Stretching your body in'Vidisha' land,
    Drifting along river Betwa's sand,
    Enjoy its swift and wavy water,
    Do drink some, but avoid the fretter.

    Who knows, how long will these last?
    With the changes creeping in so fast,
    How can a thing remain immortal?
    In the land of illusion and suffering mortal.

    You may reach'Avanti' soon,
    A place of good souls, riches and boon,
    Hover on'Ujjayani'before you proceed,
    Listen to the tales of Udayan's deed.

    Don't ever miss that relishing sight,
    Of silken faces alluring bright,
    Or else, you will be known as blind,
    Numb with senses rare to find.

    Traces of love and romance till far,
    Must be Ujjayani's gate ajar,
    Look at Nirbindhya's dancing stream,
    Exposing its navel with enticing gleam.

    Seems like she's gone out of care,
    Thinned like tapering pleat of hair,
    Fill up her body with a heavy rain
    Help her health and rhapsody regain.

    Shipra's gentle and humble breeze
    Makes the guilt of lovers decrease,
    Behaving like a gleeful, indulgent lover,
    Sounds of swan giving them a cover.

    Hanging from the windows locks of hair
    Lending its fragrance to neighbouring air,
    Dancing peacocks with friendly faces
    Will give you a feel of elating embraces.

    Somewhere there you may find
    The temple of Chandishwara Mahakaal divine,
    Like indigo-neck pheasant, O dark cloud!
    Followers of Shiva will welcome aloud.

    Like freshly blossomed red hibiscus
    Cloaked in the dusk's crimson thus,
    Spread over bowed branches of trees,
    Filled with devotion, you too freeze.

    Stay around until darkness descends
    To offer your prayer to Shiva, you bend,
    Wrap around like an elephant-skin wet
    Give Lord Shiva the supreme respect.

    While Shiva's desire gets fulfilled
    Pleased Bhawani admiring you thrilled,
    Will pour blessings of her inner core,
    May you get stronger with every roar!

    Black clouds making the royal road dark
    Lures a beeline of lovers stark,
    Anxious to meet their soulmate's feather
    Beautiful women milling together.

    Like a black touchstone with golden hay
    Scatter your lightening in such a way,
    That makes the path visible and clear,
    Obstruct them not, with rain or roar!

    If tired due to excess of fun and play
    With your beloved lightening, then you may
    Sleep for a rest on a palace roof,
    But leave as you see the dawn's hoof.

    Spending the night with someone else
    Lovers return to their home tense,
    Wiping tears of their wives so dear,
    Left alone pining, with fears unclear.

    The Sun too must be returning
    In dawn's haze, apt for hiding,
    Wiping the ice-cold tears of lotus,
    With its soft rays giving solace.

    Do not cross the path of the guilty Sun,
    Angry, it may react and shun,
    The lovelorn heart of a deviant lover
    Is likely to emanate a mixed behaviour.

    Lured by your enticing image O Cloud!
    Crystal clear water of 'Gambhira' proud,
    Her eyes like a white lotus and darting fish
    Looks at you askance full of wish.

    Her water adorned with bowed canes along,
    Looks like a damsel's apparel pulled wrong,
    Exposing her hip and gleaming thighs,
    How'll you leave, but for repent and sighs?

    Crossing the forest of ripe fig trees
    Earth's fragrance bearing breeze,
    Take you to Devagiri O my friend!
    Saviour of Gods, Skanda's land.

    Descend on statue of Skanda as shower
    Of scattered clouds like petals of flower,
    Roar o Cloud that echoes in the valley!
    Of Devagiri, treated to pleasures' rally.

    Buoyed with the joy of hearing your roar
    The Peacock of Kartick dances galore,
    Worship Kartick and come down further
    To quaff some water from 'Chambal' river.

    When you settle atop the'Chambal'
    Do you know what exactly you resemble?
    A big blue sapphire amidst the shining pearl,
    On the breast of the earth around neck's curl.

    Move on to meet the Daspur beauties
    Endowed with eyes of charming gaieties,
    Dark pupil with dancing eye brows
    Like a black bee-line on flowering rows.

    Touch upon 'Brahmavarta', and reach the battlefield
    Of 'Kurukshetra' that saw many getting killed,
    Of 'Kaurava' and 'Pandava' in a battle historic,
    Where Arjuna's arrows pierced like magic.

    Heads of kings got severed in vain,
    As lotus gets hit by your savage rain;
    Elder brother of Krishna, Balarama once roamed
    Along 'Saraswati' with his plough strong.

(Continues...)



Excerpted from Meghdoot by Mrityunjay Copyright © 2012 by Mrityunjay. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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