sharngapani

[sharngapani]

Marathi Rukmini Jewellery Breakdown

Ok so I found this art of Krishna and Rukmini by Himanshu Bankar where rukmini is shown in marathi traditional attire and it made me SO SO HAPPY to see that because she's rarely depicted like that! And thenI saw it being shared on tumblr by a lot of ppl who didn't know that whatever clothes/jewellery rukmini is wearing is traditional marathi bridal attire.

So I thought I'd do a deep dive into this painting and talk about her clothes, hair, and jewellery! This is a long post, imma put everything under the cut! Tagging @cyndaquillt because you asking me about marathi miku made me learn a lot more about marathi jewellery, @sharngapani for showing me this image in the first place, and @chahaa-piun-ja for cheering me on!

Hair:

Her bun is a hairstyle called "Khopa" (खोपा) and the gold pin in her hair is called a Juda(जुडा). These can either be gold pins or have strings of pearls attached to them and I'm thinking that the latter is what she is wearing. Then the maang tika is pretty standard across cultures. The golden band between the maang tika and the juda is called a Bijwara(बिजवरा) and it's not used much in the modern day so I did have to do a bit of research to find out what it was.

Images, from left to right: Khopa, juda, and a minimalist maang tika/bindi.

Face

On her forehead, and hanging on either side of her face are Mundavalya(मुंडावळ्या), a forehead ornament worn by Maharashtrian brides & grooms. It is made from pearl & has two pearls strings which stand for the togetherness of bride & groom. Chandrakor is actually my ABSOLUTE fave part about maharashtrian culture it's the crescent moon on her forehead. Then on her nose is a pearl Nath(नथ). She's also wearing Kanpatti(कानपट्टी) aka ear strips on her ears and they're attached to her normal earrings. Fun fact btw the kanpatti in her ears looks a lot like the one my mom has.

Images from left to right: mundavalya+chandrakor, nath, kanpatti(without earrings)

Neck:

Generally what I've seen people wear at their fanciest is three-four necklaces, one right at the throat, one slightly lower, and a couple hanging almost down to mid-chest or upper stomach. Rukmini in that drawing is following that pattern. The choker-style necklace she's wearing in the picture isn't super clear but I think it's a thushi(ठुशी). It is a choker necklace crafted out of gold beads in varying sizes and is adjustable thanks to a soft thread that can be adjusted according to the wearer’s convenience. The next one seems to be a plain golden chain but the fact that she's wearing a mangalsutra at the time Krishna is taking her away is icing on top!

Thushi, mangalsutra and mohanmal in the picture below!

Arms:

There is a shela around her shoulders. These are generally made of silk and worn by brides.

Rukmini is wearing a vaki(वाकी) or bajuband(बाजूबंद).

Maharashtrian women generally wear green glass bangles(I've heard north indians wear red ones someone pls confirm this), and for weddings and festivities they're layered with gold bangles. Today, for everday wear, some people wear only one golden bangle on each arm(like my mom) or they might wear glass bangles(my grandma does this), and only do the gold-glass layering during special occassions.

The names of these bangles differ according to the way they're made and where they're placed on the layering. The thickest gold bangles nearest to the hand are called Tode(तोडे) and they're pair of heavy gold bangles that feature intricate designs that go all around the bangle. Since they keep the layering in place, they're generally smaller than the actual wrist and include a screw and hinge to fasten them. The gold bangles in the middle and back are called Patlya(पाटल्या), are a type of traditional gold bangles and are often decorated with intricate designs on the outside.

[sharngapani]

Chhoti si chiraiyya- Part 1

छोटी सी चिरैया छोटी सी चिरैया

Nakul scatters stale food into the pond where the ducks are creating a ruckus. A duckling struggles to swim, and is helped along by it's mother. What did they know of the war? What did they know of all the destruction it wrought, of all the death it brought? It's a bright winter morning, more than three years after the war, and he can still remember the night, a few years ago, when Shatanik, wearing short clothes of soft cotton, bare chested as if it was summer, had seen him bundled up under so much cloth that his face was barely visible and begun laughing.

His son loves loved winter so, so much, the cold never seemed to bother him. Whenever he trained, his spear piercing through the morning fog made him look almost... divine, he always asked the cooks or draupadi or bheem or sutasoma what was cooking, always eager to taste the new ways they had found to prepare the wealth of produce that winter offered. But no matter how much he was skilled, no matter how much he poked fun at Nakul, no matter how much he outshined him in both looks and personality, no matter how much he took after his mother, he would always be Nakul's little... duckling.

Almost hurriedly, he threw the rest of the food, and the earthen bowl with which it came into the pond and rushed inside, calling for Udit to bring him his paperwork.

उड़के चली किस गाँव

Shahadev's hands shook on the balcony railing. It was dusk, birds flying to their roosts at the end of the day, and months ago, they were on a balcony not dissimilar to this one when Shrutasen had admitted the reason he hadn't talked much with him. His child barely remembered him. He admitted, though, that he too had changed in the last thirteen years. It wasn't a parent and a child standing in front of each other that day, but two strangers.

Almost like two actors who had never met before being asked by the director to act out the roles of a father and son in a play. They would forever remain like that, wouldn't they? Sahadev had seen what lied in Shrutasen's destiny the moment he was born, and he had tried to avoid getting attached, but now, all he could do was mourn what could have been instead of what was. Everyone else might have had memories, but he had only possibilities to ponder upon and what ifs to wonder about.

People envied his steady hands, but all they could do after the war was shake and shake and shake as he tried to remember the child and tried to stop remembering the grown-up.

रेह गया दाना रेह गया पानी

Food tasted like sand to Bheem. He couldn't enter the kitchen without getting reminded of raucous laughter and quiet smiles and the contrasts between his two sons. Sutasoma had taken the surprise of an elder brother in stride and Ghatotkach revelled in another younger brother to dote over. One day, he had walked into the kitchen to see sutasoma on his eldest brother's shoulders, trying to get a jar from the highest shelf, both of them laughing loudly.

Sutasoma had promised to visit him in the forest sometime. He had promised.....

सूनी भई अमवा की छाओं

Ghatotkach was born under a tree, it's branches spreading wide, creating a huge, shady canopy. His first child was born on a day with a mild breeze and his cry made bheem feel like the world had burst into colours.

How was he going to tell Hidimba?

What was he going to tell hidimba?

And how was he going to face Arjun? Whom would he have chosen, if the choice rested with him, he wondered. It kept him up at night.

The sun beat down on his back but he couldn't stand in the shade. The cool breeze of the summer would wrap around him like a hug, warm currents circled him in winter, but even his father could not comfort him.

मुनिया मोरी

Sahadev finally broke down that night, regrets about not letting himself get close to Shrutasen, regrets about not trying hard enough, regrets all coming to a head...

No matter how much he tried to hold himself up, he failed. He was brought down to his knees by the weight of his knowledge and regret and sobbed.

[sharngapani]

Chhoti Si Chiraiyya- part 2

अज़ब निराली मोह की माया समझे समझ नहीं आये

How many kingdoms did he have to raze before he could finally rest, subhadra wondered. What was the need for another Ashwamedha Yajna? What was the need for more war, more destruction, more loss and more death?

She never understood how her brother, who in one breath said that one must escape from worldly trappings, could espouse even more conquest and bloodshed with another.

Hadn't they lost enough?

अंगना से तोहरी चहक तो जाए

A flock of birds chirped noisily outside his window while he worked. When had he last heard Prativindhya's voice chirping just like those birds outside of his window? When was the last time someone had excitedly rushed into his room, saying "Baba, baba-!"

Yudhishthir had lost his son long before he died.

When was the last time there had been anything but bitterness between them?

Yudhishthir missed his son, and he thought he could endure a thousand words that cut like poisoned daggers, only if he could hear his son's voice again.

He would take all the shouting, all the caustic insults over this deafening silence.

तोहरी महक नहीं जाए

Prativindhya had expensive tastes, and when yudhishthir met him again, even if Prativindhya wasn't allowing him to come closer, the smell of attar or musk would always emanate from him even from afar. After all, he was yojanagandha's son. At points when vindhya was feeling particularly angry, Yudhishthir would use his own sense of smell to stay out of vindhya's way.

How he wished he had sought him out instead of avoiding him, how he wished he had tried to apologize and repent. He wished he had tried to bridge the chasm between them, but-

But wishes didn't do anything, and all he could do was live out his days and hope whatever came after would be kind, he hoped that whatever he was born as in his next life, his son didn't have a father like him.

नै�� समंदर सात भरे पर

Arjun tried not to think much these days. If he thought, he would feel, if he felt, he would collapse, and he could not collapse. He was a commander on a conquest and collapsing would mean death, or worse, defeat. It was as simple as that.

But- but wasn't Shrutakarma at the very back of his mind even when he was alive?

Didn't getting distracted and not thinking about how his sons were doing kill them?

So he thought. He thought about how they were as opposite as men's thoughts and words, he thought about Shrutakarma's quietness and Abhimanyu's loudness, of Shrutakarma's hesitance and Abhimanyu's confidence.

How Shrutakarma often went unnoticed, behind the scenes, and Abhimanyu was always in the spotlight, blazing and burning until-

Until he flew too close to the sun.

No, no, that wasn't right. That made it seem like his death was his own fault.

It wasn't.

It was Arjun's wasn't it.

He took Susharman's bait, he allowed himself to be led away from the battlefield, he-

And after he thought they had won the war, he allowed himself to relax, he had a good night's sleep before losing it forever.

Arjun stared at himself in the lake near the campsite, his face haggard, his eyes bloodshot from the sleepless nights, and tried to cry, but he felt so exahusted. As if his tears had dried up and his eyes were tired from all the crying and- and he couldn't cry.

If he could, he thought, his tears would have made another lake right next to this one and then gone on to fill the seven seas.

भरे ना करेजवा के घाव

He had not been fair to Shrutakarma, he thought. He shouldn't have said that to Shrutakarma when he checked up on him after Saubhadra died.

Shrutakarma's shattered face when Shikhandi told him that his injured hand meant that he probably would never be able to draw or write still haunted him.

And that fact was made all the more prominent when, in a fit of rage, Nakul had shouted at him,

"You weren't the one who reminded him to keep water aside for himself, and not give it all to the horses, you weren't the one who wiped his tears after his brothers, yes, I mean Panchal's princes because he grew up with them, were killed by your beloved guru, you weren't the one who found him asleep standing up FREQUENTLY, you- what is wrong with you? You had the most remarkable son in all the three worlds, why were you never there for him?"

मुनिया मोरी

He asked that question to himself all the time. What was wrong with him? Why could he never understand Shrutakarma?

Shrutakarma had been blunt, though, never one to mince words. Had he been alive, maybe he could have answered that question.

Nakul had apologized later, of course, but it didn't change the fact that he had spoken the truth.

@blackknight-100 @theramblergal @archpoet77 @ishaaron-ishaaron-me @magica124 @sharngapani @rishabhaa @cyndaquillt

[sharngapani]

"The best translations into English do not, in fact, read as if they were originally written in English. The English words are arranged in such a way that the reader sees a glimpse of another culture’s patterns of thinking, hears an echo of another language’s rhythms and cadences, and feels a tremor of another people’s gestures and movements."

— Ken Liu, Translator’s Postface to The Three-Body Problem

[sharngapani]

Shri : Hi! I’m Shri and this is my husband Narayan and that’s his husband Shiva and that’s his wife Parvati

[sharngapani]

[sharngapani]

Pandu's warmonger arc in IMQ server rewatch of B R Chopra's Mahabharat

(credit to @sharngapani for inspiring two of these)

[sharngapani]

The kind of Vaishnavism that I like the most has to be the neo-Vaishnavite/Ekasarana Dharma movement in Assam led by Xrimonto Xonkordev (Srimanta Sankardev). Why? Cuz:

1. It is openly anti-caste/varna and anti-Brahminical Hinduism. (There are a few denominations that can be considered exceptions though)

2. Xonkordev translated the major Hindu scriptures and epics to Assamese and shared them openly to the people of the lower castes and marginalized groups.

3. Monastries (Xotros/Satras) that were set up by him are governed and controlled by non-Brahmin priests (Xotraadhikaris) (Dokkhinpat Xotro is probably an exception rn cuz as far as I'm aware it's a Brahmin Vaishnav who runs it currently. Not sure tho)

4. One of the denominations, the Kala Sanghati, is known for incorporating several tribal and socially oppressed groups into this neo-Vaishnavite movement. This denomination was one of the most vocally anti-monarchist groups and hence led the famous Moamoria rebellion against the Ahom royalty.

5. This last point is personal to Assamese culture mostly, to which this movement, and especially Xonkordev, contributed generously through his composed borgeets (devotional songs), ghuxas (poetic works, and Naam Ghuxa and Rotnovoli were composed by his pupil, Madhovdev), social revolution against casteism and consolidating all ethnicities and religions (including Islam) into his movement.

Now there were indeed several problematic practices in this movement here and there, as is the case of any religious movement, but it is still one of the most persisting unorthodox, non-Brahminical sects of Hinduism till date.

[sharngapani]

A convo with @ishaaron-ishaaron-me reminded me of this one thing I had cut from my Dhrishtadyumna character study, it was about how dhrishtadyumna and draupadi perceive themselves and each other. And also THANK YOU SO MUCH @sharngapani for giving me this idea

Dhrishtadyumna, who is like "I'm a living weapon, I destroy everything I touch and I'm unloveable and no one likes me" at the start of his character arc sees himself as a forest fire left unchecked, destroying everything and as a harbringer of death and all.

Draupadi sees him as the fire of a hearth. The fire of home. A warm campfire on a cold night. He is comfort, he is home.

Draupadi, at the beginning of her character arc, sees herself as a panti, a lone flicker of light in the window that can be blown out by a whiff of wind at any moment.

Dhrishtadyumna sees her as a panti too, but one in front of the altar, calm and steady and devoted and something to be cherished.

At the end of their arcs I'm just using a lot of yajnakunda symbolism for both of them because well. Do I have to make it any more obvious? you'll see how it all plays out

[sharngapani]

*fixing the mic*

*holding it like some interviewer*

Some words for those who think Indra is a BIG. BAD. womaniser and villain?

(im just seeing too much of this shit ok and it's so L :p)

Tata-

*clears throat*

I can go on a whole ass rant but I'll keep it as concise as possible.

Indra being flawed is the very thing that makes him... HIM. It's the very thing than makes him INDRA. His weaknesses, his bad decisions, everything. Also nobody in the entire Hindu pantheon is perfect (yes, not even your beloved Vishnu/Krishna/Shiva, etc. Bite me :3). Literally all the gods are flawed. In fact, many of the gods can, in fact, be considered... womanizers... if we're considering Indra one.

He is definitely not the villain. He's a king, and a king sometimes abuses his powers. A king might get greedy at times, and at times he might throw a fit, and make bad decisions. A king can be stupid sometimes, and silly.

"Oh he has lost so many battles against other Gods he's so weak"

That's because all the texts he's lost battles in are either in favor of the Gods who are winning, or just complex stories like that. Read the Rig Veda, which was written in favor of him, and he's the strongest one in there (alongside Agni). However, I'm not saying he can't lose a battle. All I'm saying is that Hindu texts are biased. They're like fanfics of authors with a favorite God, and in those texts, that favorite God is portrayed the most powerful. Simple as that. Same goes for the Rig Veda. It was biased towards Indra and Agni mostly, but at least it wasn't as biased as some of the later texts (*bombastic side eye*)

All in all, idc if anyone gets offended, but literally no deity in the Hindu pantheon is perfect, morally or on any other basis (if you think anyone is perfect it's fine, you do you, but remember that your personal belief isn't canon for the whole of Hinduism). Indra is one of those imperfect Gods. And that's why we love him. Because perfection is boring (to me, at least).

Maybe my fellow Indraites can also deliver some words regarding this topic - @inc0rrectmyths @hydestudixs

[sharngapani]

[sharngapani]

@h0bg0blin-meat

[sharngapani]

माळरानावरील गोंधळ ऐकून कान्हा  धावतच पुढे गेला. दादा त्याला हाका मारत त्याच्या मागे जात होता, पण गोंधळाच्या आवाजामुळे त्याला बहुतेक काही ऐकू येत नसावं, म्हणून अजून मोठ्या आवाजात बालरामाने त्याला बोलावण्याचा प्रयत्न केला. खरंतर कान्हाला दादाचा आवाज ऐकू येत होता. पण त्याला त्या गोंधळाच्या दिशेने एक आवाज जणू ओढून आणत होता. मोहन त्या भयानक प्राण्याच्या तावडीत सापडला होता, आणि ते दोघे एकमेकांविरुद्व आपली सगळी शक्ती वापरून लढत होते. पण त्याच्या मित्रानी आपली सर्व शक्ती काय, आपले प्राण पणाला लावले, तरी त्या भयानक प्राण्याच्या शक्ती त्याच्यापेक्षा कायम जास्तच असणार होती! 

"मोहन!" तो किंचाळला. "मोहना, हे काय करतोयस तू , सोड त्याला! मी येतोय!" 

कान्हा पुढे पळेल तेवढ्यात त्याच्या दंडावर कोणीतरी हात घट्ट धरला होता. पण मोहनला मृत्यूच्या जबड्यात आकडकलेलं त्याला बघवत नव्हतं. 

"सोड मला!" 

"कान्हा, थांब" जरा दातओठ खातच स्नेह म्हणाला. "घाई करू नकोस!" 

"स्नेह, सोड!" 

स्नेहल बोचकारून त्यानी स्वतःचा हात सोडवून घेतला, आणि पळत सुटला. 

 नखं मारून, लाथा मारत, बोचकारतंच तो मोहनापर्यंत पोचू शकला. धेनुकासुराच्या सापळ्यात सापडलेल्या मोहनमध्ये मदत मागण्याइतका, ओरडण्याइतका पण त्राण राहिला नव्हता. गाढवाच्या रुपातला तो राक्षस जवळजवळ दोन पायांवर उभा राहिला होता, पण घामानी चिंब भिजलेला मोहन त्याच्या लाथा घालणाऱ्या पुढच्या दोन पायांना घट्ट धरून त्याला थांबवायचा प्रयत्न करत होता. त्याचे स्नायू ताणलेले स्पष्ट दिसत होते, आणि त्या झटापटीत मोहनची शक्ती कमी पडतीये हेही त्याच्या चेहऱ्यावर स्पष्ट दिसत होतं. 

[sharngapani]

Jury's out on this, sound off in the reblogs folks

Meme spotted by the sharp eyes of @sharngapani

[sharngapani]

[sharngapani]

[sharngapani]

Narayan is all brilliance and bloody hands, feral wanting and tears that never leave the eyes, words sharper than knives - the curse of knowing what is necessary, and knowing that he has to be the one to do it - because no one else will no one else can. Because he cannot let their souls pay the price so he will sacrifice his own, over and over again until there is nothing left. He will let them see him as ruthless and deceptive and terrible. He will let them walk away and never cry out because he cannot waver because they depend on him whether they like it or not . Because there is always a price to be paid for doing the right thing no matter how much you paint over the blood.