and performance, these “heroines” are the intense women in love; in religious
commentary and interpretation, they represent the human soul and the “lover”
is the “male” deity. He has either not come to see his girlfriend (portrayed by the
dancer), or is involved with another girl. Depending on the scene that is depicted
in the song, the dancer (na ̄yika ̄or the “heroine”) exudes grief, anger, or rage at
his tardiness or imagined behavior. The stances for such a behavior are pre-
scribed by formulaic convention; thus there are a range of moods expressed
when the deity, here envisaged as the male lover, is just absent, or when he is
known to have spent time with another woman. The Bha ̄rata Natyam dance
recitals are replete with dozens of such songs.
In literature and performing arts, the romance and the passion between the
soul and God is sometimes seen to be similar to that between Sı ̄ta ̄ and Ra ̄ma, the
woman poet Meera and Kr.s.n.a, or Ra ̄dha ̄ and Kr.s.n.a. Sı ̄ta ̄ was married to Ra ̄ma
and they belonged to each other (svakı ̄ya ̄); but Meera, and in some versions of
the story, Ra ̄dha ̄, were married to other men (parakı ̄ya), yet longed for Kr.s.n.a. In
some cases, a woman may be seen as belonging to “all” and only going to one
man for a price (samanya). These three situations become paradigms for the
human–divine relationship in poetry, song, theology, literary and performative
commentaries. Consider the following “padam,” a genre of classical Karnatik
music in south India, which is sung by musicians and choreographed by
dancers. It belongs to the second category; that is, a woman who is married to
one man, yet longs for another:
My dear, handsome, good natured Venugopala!
I was married when I was very young.
Now, my husband beckons – and I have to take leave.
But do not forget the love I have for you.
The lotus and sun are distant from each other – but the distance is insignificant^2
And so too, wherever I am, my heart will be at your feet.
I shall always regard only you as my Lord
And that gives me the courage to bear all that comes my way in life.
(Attributed to Ks.etrayya, seventeenth century;Sahana raga^3 )The voice of the woman in this and later padams is not that of a helpless
woman who simply waits for her “man” to come. Here is a married woman who
is addressing her lover, in violation of the norms. Songs such as these and those
of the woman poet Mı ̄ra ̄ remind us that chastity and marital fidelity, which are
crucial concepts in understanding of women in the normative texts on dharma,
are bypassed when a woman is enthralled with her “man.” The environment is
even more different in some other padams which speak of the samanı ̄ya ̄heroine;
the one who will go to the highest bidder. The speaker is the male lyricist,
Ks.etrayya, speaking in the voice of a sophisticated courtesan:
Pour gold as high as I stand, I still won’t sleep with you.
Why be stubborn, Muvva Gopala? Why all these tricks?
You set women afloat on your words,576 vasudha narayanan