Indian Dancer by Sarojini Naidu – FilmyVoice
Eyes ravished with rapture, celestially panting,
what passionate bosoms aflaming with fireplace
Drink deep of the hush of the hyacinth heavens
that glimmer round them in fountains of sunshine;
O wild and entrancing the pressure of eager music
that cleaveth the celebrities like a wail of want,
And delightful dancers with houri-like faces
bewitch the voluptuous watches of night time.
The scents of pink roses and sandalwood flutter and die
within the maze of their gem-tangled hair,
And smiles are entwining like magical serpents
the poppies of lips which are opiate-sweet;
Their glittering clothes of purple are burning
like tremulous dawns within the quivering air,
And beautiful, refined and sluggish are the tinkle
and tread of their rhythmical, slumber-soft toes.
Now silent, now singing and swaying and swinging,
like blossoms that bend to the breezes or showers,
Now wantonly winding, they flash, now they falter,
and, lingering, languish in radiant choir;
Their jewel-girt arms and heat, wavering,
lily-long fingers enchant by way of melodious hours,
Eyes ravished with rapture, celestially panting,
what passionate bosoms aflaming with fireplace!
Indian dancer, we do not know what dancer is she describing it right here, Bharatanatyam dancer, Kuchipudi dancer, Odissi dancer, Kathak dancer, Kathakali dancer, Mohiniyattam dancer, Sattriya dancer, Manipuri dancer or different from these? Or the folks dance filled with beat and romance, hullabaloo and hilarious pandemonium? However right here the poses and postures in phrases trace in direction of the classical dance wherein the eyes, moods and gestures converse it. The reproduction of a nautch woman embossed on the temple partitions carved out of stone or the terracotta plates fitted on the lime clay and small brick made olden temples of yore weaving our myths and motifs as priceless sculptures and terracotta works. The Indian rajahs and the their durbars have at all times admired the reproduction of the nautch ladies. The stance speaks it within the dance whether it is classical. However the story of sur-sangam-madhuri, note-alignment-sweetness; music, dance and drama have a historical past and legacy of personal.
In a really flowery and figurative language, metaphoric sufficient, she begins the poem with the comb of paints and hues. The eyes ravished with rapture, celestially panting, so full of fireplace and keenness, so bedecking and exquisite, catching the cadences, beats, rhythms and vibes taking us by strike, so enthralling and musical casting an influence of personal.
The Indian dancers in lovely apparel, make-up and dress-up, beautified and bespangled taking the stage with their poses and postures, how pretty to have a look at, see them performing, with their stuti, vandana, namaskaram, looking for blessings from the Almighty or making an obeisance actually to revoke the pictures. The hair bespangled with or flowers caught into hair take the canvas away from. With out seeing their pictures and photos, one could not the poem.
The people artistes sticking the wild blooms into their hair, the palash blooms or different native flowers too haven’t lagged behind in giving joviality and hilarity, generally when the dhols and mridangs with flutes and cymbals sound within the wooded hilly tracts, vibrating the ocean, what it to inform in regards to the impact, however no matter be that, the dream sequence is absolutely nice. A dance is a gesture in poses and postures, the identical script produced by way of the pantomime or by way of music, music and beats. There was a time when Buddha received a lesson from the dancers about this madhyam marga, the center path, as for to be neither so strict nor too unfastened in his sadhna, don’t loosen the strings of the lute in order that notes come it not and don’t tighten them a lot that break they. Even the frescoes, figures and collectible figurines sculpted by or carved out of stone as a rock-cut picture or the terracotta plates made out clay are a minimum of as they image them ditto.
There’s a magnificence in similes and metaphors; there’s an artwork of picturizing the dance with poetic phrases which many can not do it as she has so properly profitable our acclaim and admiration, applause and appreciation.
Once we learn the poem, the image of a dancer comes earlier than the eyes, a South Indian woman with the white jasmines caught into hair, rajanigandha blooms or gandharajas. Once we learn the poem, an evening filled with kaaminis dances earlier than the eyes, we imply a small tree filled with tiny and clustered blooms and a litter round. A hand filled with tiny however aromatic seuli blooms, how one can say namaskaram and scatter it over! However facet by facet it pains us after we consider the devadasis and their plight, the woeful conditions of life.
Eyes ravished with rapture, celestially panting, so passionate and abloom with flaming fireplace, they hold pulsating like the wonder queens, dream ladies going with the heartbeats, heartthrobs, performing below the silent skies however filled with twinkles and the issues arising out of silence, shifting with the beat, pitch of fall, the thud and the sound syllabic. The houri-like faces bewitch the voluptuous watches of night time. We have no idea if they’re apsaras or gandharvas? The dancers in magnificence and apparel with gems and flowers seem like stars or the flowers so mysterious and lighting, glowing and glimmering like fireflies, dancing yoginis, flying butterflies. Name them dwell kaaminis, raatranis, gandharajas, mogras, champas, kanchans, juhis, chameilis, belis or so on. The dancers after they start to bounce pray to the Almighty in silence, trying heavenwards, whispering prayers, reverting to, touching the earth do all of it wherein the skies, heavens, nights, earths, gods and goddesses appear to be partaking in. The dancers appear to have plucked stars to place into hair.
The scents of pink roses and sandalwood appear to be entangled in her braid and are having bouts mixed with the grins so intriguing and magical including to the lips which seem like luscious. The purple-coloured glittering clothes simply seem like just like the dawns glistening and glimmering. So is the tinkle of the bells and the motion rhythmic and the stepping splendid heralding the arrival of a celestial damsel. Have you ever ever considered Raatrani? Rajanigandha as a magnificence queen? Simply suppose you of a Western woman with a pink rose into her hair.
Typically silent, generally swinging and generally swaying they hold it doing the rounds, taking the turns with ever new, ever contemporary poses and postures. Identical to the blossoms bend they to the breezes or showers. Typically flaunt and falter they, generally stagger and linger on. Jewelled and bedecked they hold dancing and charming with the presence. The fingers are so simply lily-like.
The sandalwood paste touches give an aura of its personal. So the embroidery work on the silken sari with the bespangled stuffs give a glaze of personal.
Indian Dancer as a poem is all in regards to the Indian dancers, their art-forms, observe, costume, apparel, stepping, dancing to the beat, tune of music, sound and rhythm in consonance with, at parity with all of it which is however a replication of Satyam Shivam Sundaram, the aesthetic sense as upheld by us.
‘Eyes ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with fireplace’ provides magnificence and lyricism to the poem because it adorns and decorates it properly with thought, thought and imagery. How pretty the simile, the metaphor and the comparability, ‘Drink deep of the hush of the hyacinth heavens that glimmer round them in fountains of sunshine’! ‘O wild and entrancing the pressure of eager music that cleaveth the celebrities like a wail of want’, how one can inform of that if that’s mystical and mysterious telling of some supernatural facet in planning! Can music be so alluring? Can dance be as such? Can melody attain such a peak? How do bodily posture, musical beat and the thud of footfall combine in dance, sound, rhythm and steadiness? The nice arts and the creational facet inform of one thing as that connects with Divinity, the guts with the Larger Coronary heart, the soul with the Larger Soul, the thoughts with the Larger Thoughts. The Flame, the Divine Flame is identical which retains it burning in us. However by way of the wail of want we lengthy and yearn for a gathering which is so written as per the writ of future, human destiny and its unknown workings.
