Agony and Ecstasy

A beautiful baby was born,

In the early hours of the morn.

The arrival of a bright new life was

Heard by the waking world. The cause

Of joy delighted the mother,

Father, aunt, uncle, grand mother.

Merry Mother Nature lent her hand,

And helped the robust child land

In a bed of roses and see

Three lovely pleasant summers. She

Then plummeted into the abyss

Of sorrow. Something was amiss.

She lay quite still, quivering and

Ill. She seemed poised between life and

Death. Worried faces appeared above

Her eyes, which did not see the tender love

Nor anything else. But God had

No intention of nipping this bud,

And saved her. It made her see

That she had been given a chance

To prove her worth. All day she pranced

Along with her joyous family.

Six years and six days, a medley

Of medicines, vegetables,

Courage, willpower turned the tables

And removed the vestiges of

Disease. After that, success oft

Came her way. Jubilantly, she

Steadily climbed the happiness tree.

Happiness is a golden gift.

But to find it, you need to sift

Through the mud of misery

One again, a blow struck her revelry.

Incidents piled on the carefree

Shoulders that uttered a quite plea,

And broke her confidence, self esteem

And immunity. Her soul seemed

To cry in exasperation.

Again, her courage, desperation

Ultimately made her win the

The ultimate battle that her

Eyes would witness, the battle

With herself. This had taken a toll which

Could not be easily recovered but

Eventually, she did it. The cut

Healed and Dame Fortune once again smiled

On her. She is today, a mild

Tempered young adult who knows that

The all-consuming agony always sat

Back to back with sheer ecstasy.

She now knows that when she sees agony,

Ecstasy is not far behind.

Thus she has registered in her mind

That the inseparable closely

Linked, agony and ecstasy,

Lead to the necessary rise

Of the very powerful ‘LIFE‘

....Written in Std. XII

Navarasa

Born on the ninth month of the year, I write

nine lines each about the nine rasas and bring light

to our traditional drama aesthetics.

Love is infinite like the stretching sky,

precious, as the stars that bedeck it. By

virtue, the mother of emotions,

nurturing and caring like the notions 

of the trees and sweet rain. The only one,

beautiful, like the day that had begun

soft among the dewdrops, where the other

is more than self and yet, like a flower,

blooms. This is the first rasa, Sringara.

Laughter breaks the silence like the chirpy

birds that rouse one from a deep sleep. Happy

thoughts make one buoyant like those wisps of cloud

that float on a wind stream. This mirth is loud,

extinguishing awkward pauses, as those

crashing waves of ocean as the wind blows

on a quiet beach. The happy heart glows

with the warmth of a firefly on a rose.

Thus, this is the second rasa, Hasyam.

Anger rises in one's soul uncoiling,

like the snake towards light, from unending

depths of sorrow. It snaps like a strong twig

trodden by infinite ants, then, a big

explosion ensues, as thunder thunders

across a rainy night. Mother Nature's

fury, at times, can be a sight of plight,

unleashing storms from her heavenly height.

This is the fiery third rasa, Raudram.

Mercy soothes the ailing heart as the rain 

does to the cracked lands of a desert. Pain

vanishes as those tiny birds that fly

into the horizon. It is quite nigh

impossible to find a state divine

as this. It is the rainbow coloured line,

that describes the need for both sun and rain,

both the giver and the taker do gain.

Thus, this is the fourth rasa, Karunyam.

Disgust turns one away like scalded tongues

from hot food, like stars from the day. One's lungs

turn away from smoke, the nose from ill smell.

This feeling contorts the face and can tell

others the displeasure. The heart does yearn

to correct it, like the bud does want to learn

the world beyond and blooms. Yet, it consoles

itself as it cannot make all the souls

happy. This is the fifth rasa, Bibhatsam.

Horror engulfs the heart like an eclipse

in the midst of day. Have to come to grips

with the reality and yet, go away,

far away, like the deer runs from lion's way.

The heart does pick up a lightning fast pace,

like the birds that scatter from a fast chase.

The howling winds among the cackling leaves

on a dark night horrifies even thieves.

This is the sixth rasa, Bhayanakam.

Heroism is a rare emotion.

It rises in the time of need, a notion

of duty, like the bird that saved the ant.

The bravery that rises, like a plant,

growing towards sunlight, searches for honour,

saving people in distress. The valour

protecting all, like the spread canopy

of the forest sheltering its city.

Thus, this is the seventh rasa, Viram.

  

Wonder expands inside one, like ripples

move away so beautifully, riddles

and mysteries of life bring it about.

The star-studded night sky showering doubt

on one's place in God's plan, the sun nestled

among the mountains, dew drops that settled

from nowhere on the grass at breaking dawn;

everything's a wonder from doe to fawn.

Thus, this is the eighth rasa, Adbhutham.

Peace is the queen of all the emotions,

a state like no other, the one relation

to true self-discovery. The tranquil seas

on a quiet day, the waves that do tease

the ear from conch, the simultaneous

stillness of the soul along with the radiance

of understanding. The height of victory

achieved by the emotions' liberty.

Thus, the very last rasa is Santam.

I hope I have fulfilled my earnest wish,

my new take on the Navarasa list.