My Pussy Queen, knows all my secrets
I'll never fall in love again
I drift with Dunes
I whisper of the tombs
They offer me Egyptian Delights
She's got me with that feline 'guise,
Got me in those Desert eyes
Oh, I'm in love with Egypt
 
 

The Narmada    as given by Gita Mehta

A River Sutra auf deutsch

The sages have said
Whoever praises you
At dawn, at dusk, at night
May in this human form
Acquired through the suffering of
So many rebirths
Approuch with honor
The feet of Shiva himself

Then hear my praise
O holy Narmada

You grace the earth
With your presence
The devout call you Kripa
Grace itself

You cleanse the earth
of its impurities
The devout call you Surasa
The holy soul

You leap through the earth
like a dancing deer
The devout call you Rewa
The leaping one

But Shiva called you
Delight
And laughing
Named you Narmada

O copper--colored water
Below a copper--colored sky
From Shiva's penance you became water
From water you became a woman
So beautiful that gods and ascetics
Their loins hard with desire
Abandoned their contemplations
To pursue you

Once and only once
In the turning Wheel of Existence
The terrible One was moved to laughter
Looking from his inward contemplation
To watch you the Destroyer said
  O damsel of the beautiful hips
  Evoker of Narma, lust,
  Be known as Narmada
  Holiest of rivers

O river, born of penance
Named by laughter
Your disheveled streams
Inlay the stone mountains of the Vindhyas
Like ichow gilds the body of an elephant
And along your riverbanks
The stamens of the green gold Nipa flowers
Tear through their enclosing petals
Desiring you

Woodlands heavy with wild jasmine
Embrace you with their fragrance
Hearing your approach
Young plantain trees
Burst into sudden blossom

The sages meditating on the riverbanks say
You are twice--born
Once from penance
Once from love

They say the Ascetic sporting with the goddess
Mingled the sweat of his ardor with the drops
Of love's exertions from her breasts
Creating you from the liquid of his devine desire

Then he changed you into a river
To cool the lust of holy men
And called you Narmada
Soother of Desires

Even Shivas semen
Is cooled to stone in your riverbed
Each seed becoming
An idol wrested from your blue--black waters
Worshipped with flower garlands
In the temples on your banks

O river born of love
Named by laughter
Your purple waters slip like a garment
From your sloping banks

Kalidasa asks who can bear to leave you?
For who can bear to leave a woman, her loins bared
Having once seen the sweetness of her body?

Leaping antelopes
Chart your course
Birds throng the sacred trees
Shading your village squares
Rose apples darken your water
Wild mangoes fall into your coiling current
Like flowers in a maiden's hair

It is written in the scriptures
That you were present at the birth of time
When Shiva as a golden peacock
roamed the ocean of the Void

You reminded the Destroyer
Creation awaited His command
Fanning then his terrible feathers
Shiva brought forth this world and the mountain
Where he sits in meditation
Until the Destruction

You were present at the Creation
By Shiva's command you alone will remain
At the Destruction

It is foretold by the wise who know the truth
At midnight when the dark flood comes
You will turn into a girl
As radiant as a column of luster

Holding a trident in your slender hand you will say
'Sages, leave your forest hermitages
Do not delay. The time of great destruction is here

'While the Destroyer dances
All will be destroyed
I and I alone am sanctuary

'Bring your knowledge of mankind
And follow me
I will lead you to the next Creation'
 

(Shankarcharyas Hymn)

O Messenger of Passing Time
O Sanctuary and Salvation
You dissolve the fear of time itself
O holy Narmada

You remove the stains of evil
You release the wheel of suffering
You lift the burdens of the world
O holy Narmada

Turtles and river dolphins find refuge in your waters
Alighting herons play upon your tranquil surface
Fish and crocodiles are gathered in your embrace
O holy Narmada

Bards and ascetics sing your wonders
Gamblers, cheats, and dancers praise you
We all find refuge in your embrace
O holy Narmada
 
 
 
 

...
``Have you ever had patients who claimed to be possessed?'' I asked, unable to                 auf deutsch
imagine anyone sharing Nitin Bose's ailment.
``Not possessed exactly, but pulled in two directions. Only to be expected when
we are sitting on the battleground between the Aryans and the pre-Aryans.''
I idly watched a fallen blossom roll across the grass below the veranda. ``What
does that have to do with being possessed?''
``My dear fellow. This is where the war for the possession of India was fought
- pitting Aryan reason against the primal beliefs of the tribals. Though they
weren't tribals at all, really. As Nitin Bose noted in his diary, they had a
civilization long before the Aryans arrived, with great cities and so forth.
Called themselves Nagas and worshipped the Naga, the snake. In my opinion the
Sanskrit word for city, nagara, comes from them.''
He stretched out his long legs and leaned back into the cushions of the cane
armchair, narrowing his eyes against the afternoon sun slanting across the
river. ``Did you know `narmada' means 'whore' in Sanskrit?''
I was offended. ``That's impossible. The Narmada is the holiest river in
India.''
...
``... I mean, even the war between the Aryans and the pre-Aryans is still
unresolved here.''
``After four thousand years?''
...
``Then along came the Aryans. Restless nomads. Obsessed with conquest. Reveling
in war. Placing the truth learned by the mind above all other truths, including
the truths of nature. In other words, the war between the pre-Aryans and the
Aryans was a classic conflict between instinct and reason. Rather like the
conflict that drove Nitin Bose mad. ...''


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