The Jasmine Vine And The Mango Tree മുല്ലവള്ളിയും തേൻമാവും

My heart pounding My Vanajyotsna in my arms, I stood still, as Shakuntala With tears in her lovely eyes Came to bid me farewell. The breeze had stopped Not a leaf moved in the Ashram ‘Twas as if even Deerghaapanga The tiny deer calf, favourite of Shakuntala, Had forgotten to breath. I still remember the day When, as a tiny toddler, Shakuntala planted me, Just a little mango sapling In the Aashram premises. She always cared for me We grew up together I bore flowers for my playmate To adorn her lovely earlobes And honey-sweet fruit for her taste buds. She planted in my shade a tiny jasmine shrub, She called her Vanajyotsna Declaring her my swayamvara vadhu. But I dreamt of Shakuntala as my bride May be led by the remains of a past human birth. Time passed, as flows a river, unstopped Shakuntala has transformed from a lotus bud Into to a fully blossomed flower. She met Dusshantha, the king of Hastinapura, They fell in love and got married. Was I jealous or just worried for her After the king left for his palace? Now she is leaving the aashram to join him, Who had failed to keep his word To send his coterie to fetch her. Life in the aashram has come to a standstill. My grieving heart is consoled And my eyes wiped dry By the moist lips of Vanajyotsna.