Daku

Daku.
Daku in dark forest on a full moon night.
Daku lost.
Daku sitting by silver with
no sound of his
only of the flowing glitter.
Daku staring into his reflection.
Daku hideous with dirt on his face.
I see him from the branches afar.
Daku tending to his white horse,
cleanest thing he owns.
Daku contemplative
learning on a tree branch.
Daku with dank expression
looking on the full mon.
Daku un-flinched with
errie sounds of night owl
or something else ?
Or many such jungle calls
at a distance.
Daku mumbling
incomprehensible remnants
of the day gone by.
Daku drinking from
stream finally
quenched.
Daku who I want to
draw and his dark green forest
with his dark grey face,
his bloody hands and his worn
jewelry and booty packed up
on his horse.
Daku gazing into his

reflection again and again.
Daku myth or
Daku endangered.
Daku Robinhood or
Daku fantasy or
Daku someone dark in me.
Daku daKOOL.
Daku gone.
Daku not of today's world.
Daku of some long gone by
tranquil forest
of simpler crimes
of simpler times.

I hope this art form of nautanki lives on and we see the talent of the artists for whom this is a life.

(This is a post that was intended to be made three months ago.  Surprisingly, after watching the play I blogged about in my previous post, while walking out of the theatre I happened to look at the festival calendar posted on the wall and found Sultana Daku as a listed performance.  Not that anyone reading this blog would notice the posts made eleven years back about this very show that I was part of in the Bay Area. I wrote about that experience extensively (read here).

This came out as a result of being a daku. I couldn't stop this from being written and for it to be written in this manner.)