When Wombs Were Pots Of Nectar Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Time was when thou wert valued over men,
Whilst beasts of sacrifice were largely male,
Time was feed stock of cattle was female,
As hatcheries supplied are but by hen.

Wombs over all else did therefore matter,
West be or east, be it past or present,
Wombs likened are as pots full of nectar
In times as when life was immortal meant.

In times of attrition, many a war,
Death by famines and dearth, death by disease,
Life hanging perilously on short lease,
No wonder births were valued ever more.

A tree of life wert thou for family—
That'd wither dry without a fertile womb,
And ye merged therein like rivers in sea,
And central did remain beyond the tomb.

So sheltered thou wert from battles on hand,
Ye often played a virtual woman shield,
History replete is in every land,
What women can build, what women can yield.

A seed could well be supplied by a sage,
Some even summoned gods for such a seed
To carry on with exalted lineage,
Ye always played a crucial role indeed.

Mahabharata replete is on this theme,
Instances so many here to repeat,
Where ye were counted to carry the dream,
And add to progeny in ways discreet.

Parashuram a brave warrior was, and priest,
Axe in hand he killed many a cruel king,
Yet, Balik hiding behind women's wing,
He managed to survive to breed like beast.

The Greek, Achilles, was raised in girly guise,
Safe from warlords itching to battle Troy;
Sword and spear revealing female disguise,
He did fight to win— this dresst-as-girl boy.

O weary wombs ye once were female founts,
But things have turned full round in today's times,
She that shielded men now faces male crimes,
O that spares no sane thoughts if passion haunts.

And look within, O brute sex if ye can,
Would ye have ever survived sans women?
____________________________________________________
Ode | 02.07.11 |