Draupadi

X told me recently that my blog’s a bore.
I tend to agree.
I find it pretty boring to come here myself.

X’s logic?
My blog doesn’t have pictures.
(Now you know why I have called him X.)

Sad.
Today if you have a mobile phone,
you’re a photographer.
And can talk at length on skies.
On flora and fauna.
On composition.
And lighting.

But never one to give up easy,
I have decided to have photographs.
Yup.
Me, yes.

But unlike the phonegrapher,
I need a subject.
I need an idea.

Much thought.

Draupadi.
This woman has always fascinated me.
She’s Shakti herself,
having risen fully-grown from the yagna kund.

She’s a paradox.
For trying to strip her, a lusty Dushasana gets a death warrant.
But Ashwatthama, after he slays her five kids, she pardons.

On the one hand, she’s the voiceless Bharateeya naari.
When she’s distributed among five testosterone-dripping, heavily sighing brothers who have been alone in the jungles for some time now, she doesn’t utter a word.
On the other, she’s a feminist’s flagship brand.
“Polygamy? Pah!”

Imagine, a five-day week.
And on the weekend, you hunt for roots and berries.

You got to hand it to the lady.

And she’s the subject of my photo feature.
Here goes.




Honest.
This is not a Photoshop job.
It exists.