Ardhanareshwar

All the world is at war.
An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth (and more).
Survival of the fittest.

According another general conception, for the longest time men have left their women in order to fight for their country. But how many men actually go abroad with that intention? Do they even know whom they fight for? What is their cause? Do they stop to anticipate the effects? Or is it just one man following the other, like Achilles' men?

For generations man's upbringing has been carefully designed. He learns from his father to fight so that one day he can protect his people. And everytime he falls down, he earns his mother's respect, her love. She heals him, his body and mind. She calms him for another battle, even though she worries within, he might fall again. Strangely all this reminds me of poultry and farm animals, being fed finally to get slaughtered. Maybe that is why they were allowed all the merriment. All the good, rather fine things in life. The women, the liquor, the food- all free for these men. By saying so I'm not justifying the sexist behaviour of today. I'm just stating a matter of fact. Another viewpoint could be that when these men fought the wars for their country, by default, they were revered.

Unfortunately man is not a machine. The level of precision is way lower than the machine he creates. Generations after generations information was passed on, sometimes incomplete, at times jumbled up and other times just untimely. So maybe as time went by lessons were learnt, power was given but the war never came. Men not knowing anything else they could kill time with- let alone imagine that they could be of any other use- became bitter. They had only known how to unleash the power within and use it to the fullest. So they let the tiger inside, loose. They set it free on their families. Most men today, don't enjoy beating up their wives and children. They only react to the world around them, since the vision they grew up with, exists no more. The glory and the honour needs to be found in other ways.

Ways. It is strange how people change, places change but the ways remain the same. They are like small pieces of rotting paper torn out from the books of history, miles away from the reasons that support them. They are pinched away from their origins, because of which the ways can't be justified. Yet they bind people, man to men and woman to women.

Women. Women have been brought up to take care, to generate, to relinquish, to heal and to hold. They naturally amalgamate the society. When men were at war, women took care of all that was left behind- the land, the elderly, themselves and the future. The were/are responsible and reliable, the root. They cleaned up when the men were done attending the homecoming parties. Women worked silently, almost like elves. When men got back from the cold, rugged, ruthless wars, women warmed their beds. Women held their pain, stitched their torn souls, and talked about their stories out of pride and mostly out of sheer relief. Not because they couldn't take care of themselves, but because ever since man was a little boy, the woman had developed a soft corner for him. With time, however, women kept hiding behind this caring and loving. Some who asked questions, sought changes were lashed. Others who just stood tall, outshone in the skills they had developed, were envied and brought down to rubble.

Now, however the times have been altered. Ways have been rebelled. Quite a few have been discarded, although, only to adopt new ones. That has always been the irony. Some men have become healers and some women, the warriors. Hair has been grow, ears have been pierced, bras have been burnt, steering wheels have replaced crockery. And a great deal has been made about it all. The news will never cease to cover such issues. But is this all that the media will ever discuss?

I think its time to introduce myself. I'm Deepti and I was brought up as a warrior, but my greatest shield that my parents have taught me, is to build me, my power of revitalization. I resurrect somehow, when I fall. And the good news is that among all the people that one meets in a day, at least five are phoenixes. Better yet, as the battle gets cruder, thanks to WW-II (for changing the face of battlement), each day at least one more person is getting to know the phoenix within.

Hail Mother Nature- inside and outside. Beyond the matrix of popularly existing reality lies another matrix of a much delayed but rapidly developing reality. A reality where man discovers the woman in him and the woman, the man. A time when people self-destroy and resurrect. My evidence? As I write this I was reminded of the phoenix in me. As you read this a phoenix in you awakens. It wants to rise, fly, test its limits. The age of Ardhanareshwar is here. All of us- the spectators and participants alike.

PS- Ardhanareshwar was the legendary symbol of the union of man and woman, represented by Shiv- Parvati.