Draupadi asks...

Sakha, why did you come to my swaymvar,

When you had no intentions of marrying me?

Our eyes met surrounded by the lusty gaze of Princes.

(Was I the prize their manhood waited for deservingly?)

Blue-skinned with honey eyes; you were not to be missed,

Balarama was by your side, but you talked to me  

With your nonchalant gestures and movement of lips,

The memory of which is both fresh and distant,

Just like a forbidden dream: cherished but not to recall.

The eye of a fish had a fate captured inside:

To be disgorged, displayed and dictated upon a woman

Who was supposed to make her choice.

Oh, that star-crossed bride!

If I really had a choice at the swayamvar, I would have chosen you,
But you were immune to my charms.

My eyes should have decided my husband, not the ones of that fish. 
But you were immune to my charms.

Your eyes spoke to mine when Karna lifted the bow.

I jilted him, insulted him, crushed his manhood so,

(He must have sworn there to quash the confidence

That this doe-eyed princess drew from a pair of lotus-eyes.)

I then weaved the dreams and clothed them in blue colour

Only to be jolted out of them by a growing murmur

A Brahmin now came forward to test his prowess,

Better than the rest, I conveyed to you, with a hint of coyness

And you assumed I was smitten by the fair-skinned.

But when he hit the fish’s eye, tell me, were you chagrined?

Arjun was second only to you, Sakha, in form and in speech

But did I deserve a mere consolation? Tell me, I beseech!

You pronounced that I have been won rightfully

To stop the princes who began to resemble a sight ugly.

Arjun was comely, and I was consoled, for you had chosen him.

He was your kin, thought I, and the pain suddenly grew dim.  

With you in heart, Sakha, I allowed Arjun to claim me,

And what did your Arjun do?

He surrendered me to the whims of an ageing mother

And unmistakable lust of his elder brother.

Hold my hand, Sakha! Are my five fingers the same?

No, and how can they be?

They are but a reminder of my husbands,

Who turned into a robust fist, united by me.

Five pairs of arms have been known to this body,

But the memory of those blue-skinned ones is still not foggy.

On some days I wondered,

Would it have been better to be one of the thousands?

A princess would then have steered clear of the woodlands.

But tell me, Sakha, how do you distinguish them in dreams?

In mine, even five become faceless, formless, bereft of seams.

Also, what if you cried a wrong name in throes of passion?

Did the consort forgive or decide to chasten?

But most importantly, Sakha, tell me why I invite blame and violence,

While you enjoy devotion, love, awe and obeisance?

I’m ridiculed for my five husbands who were thrust upon me

And your thousands of women become a matter of glory?

You are worshipped despite stealing women and inaugurating battles

And I save my husbands' honour yet blamed for their troubles.

I stay hungry to feed the clan, and you eat to do the same

What’s more ironical than this: we both share a name.

Reclaiming the Vagina

(Inspired by watching Scent of a Woman for the millionth time tonight) The other day vagina was trending on Twitter. No, not vagina, but the demand to look for its euphemisms. Twitteratti or tweeps went into a frenzy looking for appropriate substitutes for the vagina. Oh well, anything can “trend” there: people to policies, names to numbers and Jolie’s leg to Sonakshi’s forehead. Vagina also had its claim to fame for a few hours. Tweeple of Tworld were united in finding a new signifier for the “space between a woman’s legs.” There was humour: crass and sophisticated, the characteristic “outrage,” indignations and pontifications amidst the search for a perfect substitute. After the “silencing” of the Michigan representative in a floor debate about women’s health (she used the V word), this was a logical aftermath.

Personally, I have my doubts if anything can substitute vagina. The word works just fine. It is used in clinical sense and clearly conveys what it is supposed to. What further renders the quest for euphemisms and substitutes ludicrous is the fact that even the word ‘vagina’ is a euphemism. Etymologically speaking, ‘vagina’ comes from a Latin word vāgīna, which means a ‘sheath’ or a ‘scabbard.’ So, vagina is something where the ‘sword,’ man’s weapon, is supposed to be kept. The English word, therefore, is a joke unto itself: a canonised euphemism. The prude in us attempts to look for a euphemism for a euphemism. Al Pacino tried to convince us in Scent of a Woman “There's only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing: pussy.” The very title of the film can also be seen as a beautiful euphemism for the vagina. Pheromones at play! Slangs are easier to use and relate to. The usage of slang-words, however, poses a serious problem when the aim is to sanitize the language. The ‘taboo’ words are replaced with slangs and euphemisms.

Three years back, an ‘English Honours’ final year student of mine introduced me to a silly-sounding word for the female genitals: vajajay. This slang for vagina was first heard in popular TV series Grey’s Anatomy. A little later, the glorified queen of blah, Oprah “legitimized” the word and used it ad nauseum during her talk shows. There are over 1200 slangs for vagina in English language alone. It appears that too much human effort has gone into keeping the little female organ wrapped in a shroud of mystery and secrecy. In the age of information bombardment, however, the intrigue has remained only in the matter of naming ‘it’ and not seeing or knowing about ‘it.’

The recent TV commercials for the vaginal fairness creams are a classic case of cultural hypocrisy. While the cosmetic companies are bringing vagina- the organ to the mainstream for sheer business gains, they are hesitant to use vagina- the word. As a potential consumer, you are made aware of the fact that fairness (synonymous to beauty) is and must not be confined to your face and body. Vagina is brought out of the closet, yet without its name.

My question remains, why don’t we let vagina be? Both, the word and the organ. Almost all the expletives are designed/coined around woman’s body, especially the genitals. And it is perfectly alright to use those words. We may cringe a little and yet do not really hold it against those who use “geni-pletives.” In my hometown, people are comfortable listening to and using certain words as expletives. But the same people find it scandalous to hear those very words in the course of a neutral conversation. Women, unfortunately, are no exception. Their modesty is outraged during such innocent and neutral conversations but not listening to the ‘gaalis’ that people around them keep hurling at each other. And often it is done in “good humour.” Eve Ensler’s 1996 play, The Vagina Monologues, was an attempt to free the word of taboo. The play has assumed a cult status in the discourse of women empowerment. And yet, even after sixteen years the taboo stays. So do the expletives and the euphemisms. The taboo around ‘naming’ the female organ is almost as barbaric as female circumcision. A ploy to subjugate women by denying them the right to use what is theirs, the organ and its name. The vagina is held hostage, now is time to reclaim it.