Honestly, idiots who are commenting horseshit on my jauhar post, please refrain from providing your unsolicited opinions on things you can not even hope to understand.
You can stuff that anti-hindu agenda you all have actually been going on about right where the sun doesn't shine.
It just shows that you are daft and not worth a reply. You are just going to get blocked. I have not taken the mantle of a savior, so I won't put any effort into showing you the truth.
You all can happily burn in your ignominous and frankly destitute existence.
I really don't give a fuck.
PS: Also, to the self proclaimed gold medalist academic researcher who will kill herself if someone tries to argue against her point with logical reasoning, no one is trying to bring any change in anyone's mindset, my ignorant friend. Some of us are less inclined to behave like spineless apologists and let anyone come and spew shit all over our history due to their hidden agendas.
Also, some kind of researcher you are, who doesn't understand how narratives set by people with the help of popular media like print and television which includes books and movies, degrading a nation's intrinsic traditions, influence the current day sociopolitical environment of the country at an international stage. I pity the people paying you.
Think, you bunked that class.
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Latest read. Pretty cover, right? But it was a mixed bag for me. Jauhar writes lovely prose like a novelist, but this nonfiction work suffers from an identity crisis. Is it a memoir, or a nonfiction book about the history of cardiology? Some writers could combine those genres seamlessly, but at times it feels chaotic with Jauhar and I felt like he inserted himself into stories too readily. He comes off self-critical at times and pompous at others. I did connect with him at the beginning, when he describes his grandfather's sudden death leading him to feel both fascinated and terrified of the power of the human heart, eventually leading him down the path of studying medicine. My background is in the humanities, so I'm not well-versed in the history of medicine, or cardiology specifically. I enjoyed the many lessons on that subject. A tidbit that stood out to me was from Una Loy, the wife of Barney Clark, the first recipient of the first artificial heart in 1982 (at least in recorded history, I suppose). She asked the doctors, "Will he still love me?" after learning that the Jarvik-7 was to replace the heart he was born with. Many might laugh at her question, but I think it's just another reminder that no advancements in medicine allow us to completely separate emotion from this organ. And Jauhar closes the book with the conclusion that failing to do so isn't altogether incorrect--the role that mental health plays in heart health is substantial and not entirely understood at this time. An imperfect science/history book/memoir, but I'm still glad I read it.
Off-topic for this blog, but I'm going to return to fiction for awhile, probably. Making my way through everything Akwaeke Emezi has published so far, the latest being the novel You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty.
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bro oh my god it's so fucking frustrating how everyone even the many hindus themselves have forgotten the actual torture and horrors inflicted on Hindus by the islamic invaders.
like genuinely why? if people's hate towards Israel for what it's doing to Palestine and Jews hate for N*zis Justified then why is Hindu people's hate and dislike for islam gets everyone squirming in their seats?
like Israel deserves hate because they're so cruel and bad !! N*zis deserve hate for what they did to Jews because it was cruel and bad !!
and just like that Mughals deserve hate for the oppression, torture and horrors they inflicted on hindus for more than 500+ years right? RIGHT? wrong because the moment a Hindu or anyone for a matter of fact raises this issue and expresses their dislike they get absolutely teared down to shreds by others as if he has committed the biggest sin. why? why are we not allowed to hate islam and islamic invaders when they had quite literally forcefully entered India, Killed hindu men, kidnapped their wives and r*ped them making them their sex slaves not even leaving a corpse alone and it got so bad that hindu women had to start Jauhar/sati and chose to burn themselves just to be safe from these disgusting pigs, slaughtered cows in front of temples, destroyed hindu temples and idols then stepped on it, forcefully converted the hindus, fed hindus beef forcefully, killed so many you g hindu kings and princes and so much more and this horrendous torture continued till the last reigning mughal emperor.
and after all of this i still see so many muslims cursing hindu gods in the most nasty way possible and saying such disgusting things it makes me shivers and let's not forget about the hindus that are being killed in Pakistan and Kashmir and all of this why? just because hindus started doing exactly what muslims were doing to them? just because they started fighting back?
so tell me why? why is the hatred and dislike of hindus not justified but the hatred of muslims is justified? tell me why even so many hindus are protesting for palestine and standing against Israel but the moment a hindu says anything about islam these same people along with muslims and all start attacking them cancelling them but they go quiet when a muslim does the same thing?
it is a genuine question. i just want to know why do people still defend mughals while throwing the sacrifice and torture hindus had to go through under the bus?
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Meera Ke Prabhu Girdhar Naagar
Krishna looked on
As he had looked on when she had been given poison which turned to nectar when she offered it to him
As he had looked on when snakes were thrown at her but again she offered it to him like flowers and it turned into a garland
It was just his murti that looked on
But for Meera it was really him
How else would she be saved from death's grasp every time if it wasn't Krishna himself looking out for her?
She sang to him as she always did but tonight there was a sad undertone
She had had enough
Despite being the queen, she was constantly harassed by her devar
She remininsced about her husband who she respected. He let her do her duties and then spend the rest of the time in the temple of the Mahal with her beloved Krishna. But after his death, she was being tormented by his brother.
She folded her hands to Krishna's murti and then at the jauhar kund where her mother in law, the late Maharani, had done jauhar with thousands of other women when Akbar had attacked Chittorgarh
"Mother, not everyone can do what you did. Not even me. You held on to your honour till your very last breath. But jauhar is done by those when the invaders close in with their egos. What about those who are attacked by their own family? There is no such pratha that can save them. My husband, your son, was a benevolent king. But your other son.. If I commit Jauhar my image will be tarnished forever because there are no invaders. Jauhar is done by those who have no other hope, mother. But I have one." she turned to look at her Krishna with teary eyes
"The only element I'd let myself to be consumed by is him. My only hope since birth, to death, is him."
"Maharani" a daasi entered the temple and curtsied "I apologize for interrupting your prayers."
Meera didn't turn around but she closed her eyes and nodded as the tears rolled down
"Your highness, you really need to leave. He is on his way back to the palace. I can't see you-" she stopped herself as she was about to mention Meera's bruises and scars caused by her brother in law's abuse
It was a wonder indeed because when the daasi had seen them for the first time and pointed it out Meera had calmly replied that she didn't feel a thing because she was thinking of Krishna
"Why does your Krishna allow so much pain in your life?" the daasi's voice cracked on seeing her queen like this so she looked away
"No. Not a word against him. I would've been long dead if it weren't for him." Meera put a hand on her shoulder and smiled
"You should ask him to hold you with him forever, away from it all"
"Maharani!" A soldier came huffing and curtsied rigidly "Sincere apologies but they're on the horsebacks and can arrive any moment now."
Meera stood up hurriedly and collected her pooja samagri, dashing. But just at the gate, she stopped
"Does running away make me a coward?" She whispered
"No, maharani. You are going to your lord." the daasi said
"No no no wait! What about YOU ALL?" Meera's voice rose and suddenly an arrow whizzed past them
"DON'T worry about us, Maharani! Just GO PLEASE AAPKO SHRI KRISHN KI SAUGANDH!"
The soldier winced in pain as an arrow was shot again which lodged itself in his arm.
The daasi almost shrieked but carried him over and dragged him outside.
Meera saw a lover's spark between the two and despite the situation she smiled. She silently prayed to Krishna for their protection
And then she ran
She ran and ran and ran throughout the villages, the jungles, her feet and knees getting scraped, she went on for days without food or water and she ran
"I'm waiting, sakhi" a voice breathed in her ear
Finally she reached Dwarka and broke down at Dwarkadheesh's feet
A few days were spent in bliss as she became the poet she was meant to be
But not for long because they followed her even there
The time had come
She took a last, long breath in front of the murti
And closing her eyes, she folded her hands
"Swami. The world has never understood me. It has only given me agony until I met you. The only love I've ever felt is when I've thought of you. So I did. Until you became every thought of mine, written on every breath of mine. The only thing I've ever longed for is to be associated with you for as long as the kaal chakra goes on, my name be taken in the same breath as your name. But who am I? I'm not your lover who you'd playfully burst the maakhan matki of, I'm not your wife who you'd immediately, fiercely, desperately ride on your chariot to rescue. I'm not even a devotee like Hanuman ji who had the opportunity to be alive in the same yug to serve his God. Who am I to be yours? But where else am I to go? I can't survive in any place which isn't your heart.
The world has come to get me again so I come to you. And I won't breathe until I reach you"
She started walking to the murti, holding her hands out as alms
The tyrants were upon her now but suddenly they were dazzled by a bright light
And then a divine hand extended out to her, he smiled with tears streaming all the way as Meera immersed herself completely in Krishna
The light vanished. They opened their eyes again and were baffled to see Meera gone.
Except her dupatta that swayed peacefully from the side of the murti
Centuries later
"Mother! Whose is that?" a small voice pointed excitedly
The woman looked on and recognized Meerabai's dupatta
"The legendary poet bhakt of Krishna, child. Her name was Meerabai."
"Was she married to him?" curiosity sparked in her eyes
The woman thought for a bit. It wouldn't be that simple to explain to her little daughter the leelas of Shri Krishna with his many wives and lovers.
The girl looked at the murti now "Did they both love each other?"
"Yes" the woman answered, smiling
"Of course" her daughter nodded, completely satisfied "Just look at him! Who wouldn't fall in love with him?" as she laughed and swooned, swinging around a nearby pillar as Meerabai's dupatta swayed higher and touched the little girl's head
Meanwhile, Krishna grinned at the whole scene as Meera joined her, laying her head on his lap as she whispered
"It feels like I've waited for you since forever."
"I know, love. And I have, too. But I've been with you all the way. It broke my heart to see what they did to you." He kissed her forehead
"You are safe now" As he held on tight to her for eternity
Not just two lovers, but the union of two forms that go back to the same source to begin with. The river finally meeting the sea, the rain kissing the soil, incense embracing the ambience and far away just a besotted finally flying to the muse
Meera uniting with Krishna
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