What does it take to assert a claim?
Claim of the Jauhar
Her Ghumar – Ghaghro – Ghunghat
Under the latch of her lips
Under the arms of her wits
Her blue waters rippling, her plastic liquidity
Polluted fibres of mythical sanctity
A practice portrayed with precision
Crafted under the shadows of a false divinity.
Perverted with the prejudices of a superior clan
What does it take to become a Rajput shan?
“A noble birth of a singular oath!”
She declaims:
She, the lioness, a pride of the pride
Protector of a masculine esteem,
Behold the pride of Rajputana: a Khashtrani
Out and about.
Claiming her Jauhar – her Ghunght – her Sati
As vast as the sea, her pride and a plea
Engulfing the reason with liberation
Under that dark blue plasticity
Under her self-governed austerity
She, is but a slave!
Perpetuating countless soreness.
In her terrains of civility
How covertly she bounds it.
A warrior queen…? Don’t be foolish.
There is much more to a sword than a blade
There is much more to a fire than a scarlet wave
Her concentrated, self-adhered heat.
She holds the esteem high, high above the sky.
A Rajputani does not dissent outside
Her sons, her fathers, her husbands
Her eternal Rajputana – crippled and corrupt
Her heart cold without the warmth of a lover
“Lover…? A blasphemous word.”
For her, it is only devotion, duty, god and husband
“Jauhar – Jauhar – Jauhar “
How chaste is her caste…
She the ultimate price of the Pride
A Rajputani does not dance
A Rajputani does not reveal…
Not in words, neither in skin
A Rajputani is serene, her humour locked in time.
When the drought proceeds and
The water is scarce, her humour twinges on backward limbs.
“A louder laugh is an indecent remark”
A Rajputani does not speak.
Not in child marriage nor in forced submissions
Neither when left with masochist portion.
I shall not talk about good men in Rajputana
They are few, but this one is for the most part
A lament of a good man…
Who sentiments outside the Gharana,
I have yet to witness such a Nazarana.
“I am Rajputani- a khashtrani”: She claims out loud
An open claimant of superiority.
I’m the pillar, in my shaft the rest of the cast
I do not struggle with enlightenment
A true Rajputani suffers,
Suffering – her eternal cry.
To suffer in silence is my virtue.
I stay quiet when the dawn is abused by the dusk
I stay quiet when the pillars bleed,
Wounded by their own weight.
I stay quiet when the sisters are chopped in half
For straying with a love to a lower order.
I stay quiet when pleasure is forbidden
I stay quiet when I’m guarded and so in return
I jealously guard my feet and my hands
And that of my daughters, and that of my sisters
I guard the fortress of lies and let everyone see
The lamps burning with pure Ghee
With my veil, my silence, my care
I nourish the strength of my men, my sons,
The strength with which they bully my neighbours
The strength with which the orders are maintained
The strength with which they gawk at my maid
The strength with which I claim my superiority
The strength in which I arrest the lovers in the public parks
The strength with which I shiver with fear
The strength in which I deny my son’s right
to be timid and gentle
The strength in which I deny my daughter’s right
to be loud and proud
The strength with which they rape
The strength with which they commit incest,
The strength with which they demand my complete submission
And I deliver, Oh, I deliver without a question
As if, it was only natural.
As if, it is only natural,
To live on a small sandy Island
Offering its earth to the sea
Oh, I can’t swim…, I can’t swim…
I nourish the strength with which
My back is whipped and
I almost viciously come out with joy
The joy of being superior compensates for my pain
On such proud moments, I rush to my neighbours
With my eyes glimmering with joy,
I announce:
This is my man, he is a real man.
I nourish that strength which denies me a right to question
I ratify this denial, like a studded diamond in my necklace
I blush when my chastity is rewarded
Guarded in the name of Sanskar
While my husband’s hand fiddles
With the cunt of a Rabaran
I am gentle and nurturing
I’m brave and shattering
I shatter the conception of your modernity
Your equality,
Your nonsensical creativity.
Creativity, vulgar phenomena
To create is to invent,
Inventions are forbidden”
A Rajputani does not create,
She obeys with the zeal of a soldier on a mission.
“I make history, right here…
With the blade of this sharp and agile sword
My eyes fooled by tears…
This is how it will be remembered.
Once open a time,
The only time, a Rajputani is out and about
Standing up for her rights.
“Dare, you tread on my pride,” She shouts:
“My Jauhar, my Ghunghat.”
With all her wrath she speaks:
“Rajputi shan ke liye Hum marne maarne ke liye taiyar he bhi sakte he, aur maar bhi sakte he”
But…
But the stones were being pelted on the Toddler’s caravan.
Hetal chudasama 