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The Moving Finger

Hello friends, I have created  a blog of my own

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Of Love and Betrayal: Kamala Das's “Letter from Radha”

       Image courtesy:nickyskye.blogspot.com Kamala Das’s short story “Letter from Radha” from the collection of stories Sandal Trees is a prose poem on the Radha--Krishna love. Unlike the  Bhakti  poets who celebrate the Radha--Krishna love of the Vrindavan days as an ideal love beyond the norms of traditional courtship and are silent about Krishna’s later desecration of that love, Das, in her story, prefers to interrogate Krishna’s change of heart after he left Vrindavan. She  demystifies the Radha--Krishna love and shows it to be what it really was—a love that ended abruptly in betrayal and abandonment, a love that left Radha broken-hearted. Das's story shows how cruel a man can be even to the woman he loves.    Krishna,when he becomes a king , man-like, deserts Radha, and she, woman-like, lives like one dead    pining for her beloved for in true love there is no such thing as “getting over it.” Even if a wound...

She Pens to Protest

                                                                                                                                 I write                                                         Because   I cannot bite                                                         It’s the way Image courtesy: uk.pinterest.com             ...

The Pup that Loved too Much

                      Love means never having to say that you're sorry, says Erich Segal in his  Love Story.  But this needn’t always be true. Love also means having to say that you are sorry. My little Blackie, I am sorry for letting you go, for not trying hard enough to get you back. Why did I let you go? Your only fault was that you loved me too much.        What can I say about a two month old puppy who walked into my life in the most unexpected manner? That she was black in colour with patches of white? That she loved carrying away and chewing my slippers, driving me mad in the process? That she loved lapping   up bread soaked in milk with her eyes closed? And above all, that she loved me so much that she couldn’t bear to let me out of her sight? I do not remember the date or month or even the year. It may have been...