Oh, this mist! I am going blind. Thrash about, strike through, but the mist remains before glaring eyes. Curls through the fingers. Light! A light! … Boatman!
Just a note, to remind myself I was here, in thought. This is far from complete.
Reading and musing about Draupadi, Sita, the cult of feminine power in Indian tradition, and the interpretations of what is admirable. Have looked at the fiery mind of Draupadi, at the Bheel Mahabharata, at the meaning of Durga, at the worship of the Yoni and the lingam in Shaktism and the festival of Ambavachi in Assam, at the meaning of the depiction of Kali standing over her husband’s body, at the chhaya/maya Sita and Sita’s final refusal to undergo one more trial by fire to prove her purity, at Mahashweta Devi’s “Draupadi” in Breast Stories
, at Sanatana Dharma as it is interpreted and driven through the green fuse of these women.And I am beginning to think that purity, dharma and virginity are not physical qualities or actions, they constitute quality of mind. Therefore can Draupadi become virgin after a year with each husband; therefore can one become a brahmana by tapas and prayer. Caste is honour, and purity of place. And its epithet is self-respect, as Tagore points out in _Ghare Baire_.
The mind, the self. How shall I play this, play with this….