Body as the Rasas

By S. Rupsha Mitra

Shringaar – what is the Body made of – the consort silhouettes between skeleton and warm fold

of skin, the love of the Lord’s divine ingenuity blossoming in its tavern, the temple, the

sandalwood-stained home. There is the ocean, mild yet roaring, the frames of bones in early

white, adorned in emerald flames, of the bristling heart.

Adbhutam – isn’t this wonder, this universe of owning, belonging and rummaging through, this

river length spine, monsoonal glimpses of soulful eyes, a truth discerned and glistening in kajal,

in cracks of rainy sight, the plankton of mind flowering and bludgeoning across the skies.

Shantam – ecstatically carrying the breadth and length of the Revolving planet,

Discover the devotion out of all blight, its flurry of flight, the scent of breath, the perspiring zest

of feeling and emotion, and scaling the snowy peaks of the mountains of memories and dreams. Seek the intense boldness blooming as rose, the mantras chanted in

Grassy acres of remembrance and the sprinkling balm of God appearing from the ambush of the

parchment, in the resplendent cavern, the peaceful temple of the body.

Meet the Writer

S. Rupsha Mitra is a student from India with a penchant for everything creative. Her writing can be found in literary magazines like Birmingham Arts Journal, North Dakota Quarterly, and Mekong Review.