Song Of Jewels Poem by Seema joglekar

When all those seasons chiseled away at my enduring heart, wistfully fell the chips to settle in the dust. They say:
She throws away her youth for a glimmer in the future. They know not, I have learnt to befriend the wind that blows out weak fires and makes strong fires roar and prosper. Now that he has come to smother me in glitters that glimmer away, I learn to fight fire with fire. They open their mouths.
I
He comes to ceremoniously embellish my dreams in a dazzle of jewels. Jewels so eager to outdo the other in luster, that they don’t speak to each other. Jewels that share my fervor, that know what it is to be wounded with fire trapped in their hearts, that they sit like fireflies.
Anointed in attar, rosewater and sandlewood paste, my straining sinews writhe as if aflame in the kindling of joy. Spring in her jaunty gait has left her breath on my limbs. My eyes are washed in delight at the quiver of life in my limbs, at last, like an instrument gathering dust has sprung to life.
The jewel sitting in the centre of my forehead blazes like my third eye that watches over my house to burn the caster of the evil eye.
The meenakari danglers whisper the hum of crowded desires in whorls of flower motifs of hurrying summers that sighed in my breath and in the voice of winds muffled in the dance of my jewels.
The pearl tassels play hide and seek in my hair like the joy that has eluded me.
The jade and gold necklace of mango and cashew fruits, fasten as endearingly as his arms around my neck.
The wristlets, golden rice ears, woven on gay filigree cajole me to surrender and drown in the sea of passion.
The bangles, woven golden apple seeds in hanging trinklets sound bells of a distant temple that has answered our prayers.
The twists and turns in the girdle, attempt to synchronize with his moods, rubies set on either sides in a cradle of gold each reflecting the mischief in his eyes.
The warrior anklets declare my presence and sing of the mountain springs that flow in my movements.
Together they all conspire to ram against the high walls of his poised heart.
Henna spreads the blush of emotions to make up for any lack of response.
I’m lost in their dazzle like the sprinkle of stars that come with austral responsibility to guide even in cloudy skies.

II

Now they say:
She is enslaved in bondage, in chains of gold. She is belled to be tracked around the house.
With our slights and abuses we have chiseled her enough to shame a Goddess.

Goddess, yes, enough to draw on my super human strength, nothing less.
The walls of my heart are like those of a temple heaving under the weight of unconfessed desires.
Enough, to fire the fight in me to last a lifetime. Like the burning wood, I have drawn pleasures by silently smoldering breathless.

I now revel in the jewels he bedecks me in, jewels enough to light lamps in a temple.
Now, with one heated gaze at me he could dry the water in the clouds.

What would they know that jewels gleam the most for the jeweler who knows its value
Otherwise they are like spangles to a toddler. The only jewel she wishes to adorn herself with, is him, her most valuable, her most precious. To catch each strained note coming from his heart and his mood like latticing a wind, otherwise the jewels mean nothing.
I have spent my all on the road in the terrible joy of faith that he returns with his ritual in gems tireless maze. At night they finally release the fire trapped in their hearts to compete with his ardor.
Yes, Now I’m his Goddess that has earned every stroke that molded her to fit his every desire, chiseled chunk by chunk to sculpt this perfect image to reflect his better-half.
III

Now, at night in the throes of pleasure my jewels seem to talk in a language only they understand.
They say:
She rushes to him with her clamor of color and perfume troubling the air around him, all her jewels talk at once. Wait till you hear the song they together make as her passions overflow and drop like strands of broken pearls on the floor.
At night when the steeple of her desires shoot across heaven her wedding locket intervenes and restrains his passion.
Then her golden ear rings chime and seek an answer from his lips for each stilled moment
See how she melts in his clasp like those fabled moonstones when moon rays fall on them.
She is like a fly in a honey-pot, her jewels have softened her voice as she has learned to trade more and more for less and less, finessed in pleasure.
Her bangles giggle and laugh in their tussle as her jewels urge him to cut off the light and bring in the stars. We only hear the bells of her anklets now and even they have stopped.
They admit finally he has crushed with his fists all her pains like the jasmine buds.
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Source: BIHARI [ C.16TH CENTURY POET]—
“What one of Her Companions said to another”.