Sundara Kãnda - Hanuman’s Odyssey
Page 48Canto 26 - Wandering Thoughts
Sense of respect for her man
Made her position all the worse.
Having lost her nerve in time
Cried she like a hapless child.
With the intent to snare me
Cruel Ravan lured my man
With that golden deer I craved.
That thy canny Ravan made
Me the captive of thee folk
Taunt as thou by sadist pranks
Intent have I none to live.
Of what avail is my life now
Useless since it’s to my Lord.
Seems my heart is made of steel
Or else grief mine sundered same.
Sans Ram life is leper like
Since I nurse it nonetheless
What a worthless woman am I?
Sans him what doth life portend?
How I wish thou kill me now
Bear I can this pain no more.
Not even with mile long pole
Touch I would that wretched Ravan.
Scorned by me as all the way
What a shameless man is he
So to crave for hand of mine?
No way I would turn to him
Why thou waste thy time on me?
Wonder how my wondrous man
Came to spare this beastly man!
On his own did slay my Lord
Demons fourteen thousand once.
What threat Ravan would then pose
To my Lord who killed those fiends?
He who slain Viradha then
Would he fail to save me now?
To Ravan’s land in midst of seas
But can one ever stop my man?
Still I wonder why Rama
Fails to come to my rescue!
Looks like my Lord is clueless
Where his beloved wife is held,
If not for that wouldn’t he chase
Ravan all the way to hell?
When he took him in mid-air
Clipped as Jataayu’s wings Ravan
Who then Rama makes privy
It was Ravan that snared me!
How I owe my gratitude
To that noble bird so old
Who fought Ravan for my sake.
Should Rama get wind of me
Won’t he descend on this land
Whirlwind like to suck Ravan?
On the demonic Ravan’s force?
Won’t thus Lankan women all get
Measure for measure of my pain then?
One and all of Ravan’s men
Would find too hot to handle
Ram in battle with Lakshman.
Won’t all funeral pyres redden
Skies of Lanka for days on?
It’s all Ravan’s mindlessness
Brings which Lanka to the brink.
Won’t I see omens portend
Lanka’s fall in near future?
Bites as Ravan battle dust
Brings that Lanka to nadir.
As thy men all go to hell
Won’t thee then all pine for them?
With no male to caress thee