On the parched earth
does she touch her feet,
with closed eyes she
joins her hands,
in absolute subjugation
to her Lord
she dedicates her being-
swaying her feet around,
twirling her waist
her unlocked wavy tress
eclipse her face,
the mighty force within
unleashes its strength,
her graceful gait gives way
to a euphoric wildness;
the tinkling of her anklets
the jingling of her bangles
as they fall off in places,
the concord of the sounds
sets fire on her countenance;
the frenzy of her dance
beguile the clouds in hide
the sky appears dense and tight;
the parched land satiates
its long-awaited urge-
down appears the rain
in ecstatic surge;
the creator is bemused
in all revelry and surprise
as she beholds her creation
in front of her eyes.
By Nandini Sengupta
@metaphors_of_life
Amazing lines ma'am
By the time I finished reading the piece and looked up from the screen, I could see a cloud cover gathering in the sombre winter sky, as if beckoned by her rhythmic footsteps. The energy in her trans-inducing dance translated into a sort of cosmic creation, raining down on the barren land. The figure, one could say, is symbolic of fertility and growth—and the ritual, an expression of the same. A beautiful flowing piece, Nandini.