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.
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.