"I think the tale of Shakuntala is highly overrated.""But it was one of the most noted works in the history of Sanskrit literature. Not to mention the most famous poet/author of all time-Kalidasa.""True. Still, I believe its overrated. The story itself is a famous legend and here comes a guy who narrates in his perspective making the King look like a bad guy. Seriously, one would think King Dushyanta as a liar-who-got-a-girl-pregnant-and-walked-away-on-her.""But that's exactly what he did!""That's exactly what Kalidasa said in his works. No one really knows what really happened thousands of years. There are bits and pieces of facts lying here and there in various sources. All he did was compiled it, edited it and drew an outline. Wherever there were blanks, he filled it with too many details of the lady, valor of king and nature and used a flowery language. If you ask me it is must be the first soft porn ever written. And the most popular plot for a story to boot.""You can't really talk like this about the most famous and most read literature by any student in Sanskrit or any Indian Language. Calling it that????""The King is made to look like a loser and a spineless man who cannot accept the woman with whom he had an affair. Look at the era in which he ruled. Those were the days when kings stuck to their oaths and vows till the very end. And Dushyanta was no ordinary man. He was an emperor who ruled most parts of India that time. I believe there was more than that.""But there is this curse on Shakuntala which made Dushyanta forget all about her! That cant be untrue.""Maybe. But I believe he was more scared of a scandal.""A Scandal???""Think about it. We are talking about an age where Gods visted earth as often as we visit our backyard. And some mortals visited Gods' abode too. Dushyanta was a popular king. He was wise, just and treated his subjects fairly. Even history accounts for that. Also he was the future of Hastinapur. Men tend to make these kinds of guys as their role model. Its just not this century where popular rock stars, politicians, dynamic businessmen are considered as role models. Those days the Kings, queesn, princes took that place. And Dushyanata belonged to the most famous and oldest clan of monarchy with roots that dates back to some eons. Oldest ones among this clan being some Gods. The scandal could cost everything that was earned over the centuries. He knew that people could tolerate a tyrant king, an evil king or an unjust king. But he knew that things with his people would never be the same as he would have lost the credibility of his character. You can tolerate people looking at you with fear, awe, boredom with your eyes. But never an eye that is judging you. Thats why he didnt accept Shakuntala when she visited him in the castle.""Its logical, but....""Its not a literature material. People would not read it. They need something to talk about, grieve about, bitch about and in the end be happy about. Logical, analytical explainations wouldn't leave you wanting to read literature again. It would just be a simple story of a simple boy and a simple girl with usual complications of life.""But you see, a simple boy becomes a spineless coward because of his passion. The simple girl becomes the victim because of her innocence and vulnerability. And the usual complications of life becomes the turning point of the entire history. Shakuntala and Dushyanta's son was Bharata, the name our country carries. No matter what the reasons behind their actions were, Kalidasa kept their names alives even after so many millennia.""So your point being....""He made a stupid story damn popular."Labels: Nostalgia, short story
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The
meeting is in the
lunch hall. Its at same time, same place everyday. We buy our lunches, pick up tables and sit in the hall with our respective friends across the hall. We are two complete strangers not knowing the others name or any other information for that matter. The anonymity relaxed us immensely; or so it seemed. After about three quarters of an hour, we pick our empty plates and dump them in the sink. His eyes are reproachful at the sight of my plate which still has some food left. I avert my eyes and give him a small shrug as if I was sorry. He nods his head slightly as though accepting my apology. I hear my friends calling my name and asking if I am up to a glass of juice. They always ask and I always give an assertive nod. These conversation has become more of a ritual than habit. He is there at the juice counter. He asks for grape juice and I for an orange juice, as usual. Again, we take our mugs to our respective friends. Our eyes meet across a sea of people. He is laughing at something his friend has said and I am scowling at my friend for a naive comment. He raises his eyebrows in question and seem to ask me -
"Are you alright?" Its still a wonder how he could see me standing so far with so many people around us. I continue arguing with my friend but with a smile on my face. I finish my drink and look around before I leave this
lunch hall. I see him leaning on the wall in the same fashion as before. He raises his glass by just a notch. I mimic his action and we look away from each other at the same time. As I walk past him, our eyes meet once for a fraction of second and I completely understood what it meant
"Till tomorrow then"Labels: short story
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