The Sweet Palani

Muddupalani is not a name that has ever caused a revolution, nor did it set a 1000 ships sailing. But what it did achieve, is to me a cause to celebrate. Muddupalani was a courtesan in the court of Pratapasingha, the Maratha ruler of Thanjavur in the mid1700's. She wrote a remarkable epic poem in Telugu called Radhika Santvanamu (Consoling Radhika). An ordinary poem about sex - the voice of a self-aware and bold woman talking about a woman's sex life. No great thoughts, just an unabashed celebration of a woman's desire, an honest statement of her jealousy, a sympathetic portrayal of her dejection. She was in her own words:

Which other woman of my kind has
felicitated scholars with gifts of money?
To which other woman of my kind have
epics been dedicated?
Which other woman of my kind has
Won such acclaim in each of the arts?
You are incomparable,
Muddupalani among your kind.
She adds:
A face that glows like the full moon.
Skills of conversation, matching the countenance.
Eyes filled with compassion,
matching the speech.
A great spirit of generosity,
matching the glance.
These are the ornaments
that adorn Palani,
When she is praised by kings.


The following is an extract of hers from her epic poem Radhika Santvanamu:

Radha Instructs Krsna's New Bride in the Arts of Love2
[Radha has dressed up the young bride, as Krsna waits in the
bedroom.]
` How will the lips of this young girl
suffer his bites? He is the killer of the demon Kaitabha.
How will her breasts bear his clawing? He's a lion of a cowherd.
Can her tender thighs take his vigour? He wrestled Cantlra
to the death.
Will her smooth body survive? He's an elephant-killer.'
All the women were joking like this, and lla bowed her head
in shyness, her face all red. Radhika drew close to her
and offered comfort:
`When your husband holds you,
push him gently with your breasts.
If he kisses your cheek, touch his lips with yours.
When he gets on top of you, move against him from below.
If he gets tired while making love, quickly take over
and get on top. He's the best lover, a real connoisseur,
extremely delicate. Love him skilfully,
and make him love you. That's my advice.
But you know best.
Loving has its own laws.' And she taught her.
Then she said, 'Go quickly. The good hour
is passing. Meet your lover. Don't delay.'
And she led her gently to Krsna, and said to him:
` Her breasts are tender as young buds. Unlike mine,
they won't hold up if you claw at them.
Her lips are like leaves. Mine are full-blown coral.
Don't bite too hard.
My thighs are used to wrestling with you,
but hers are soft as bananas.
Her whole body is a fragile vine. Mine is tough
as gold. In a word, she's not me.
Not equal to you in love.
Innocent. New to the art.
You have to know how to handle her.
Do you need me to tell you?
You're good with women.
Just touch her lips with the tip of your tongue.
Don't squeeze.
Kiss her cheeks lightly.
Don't scratch.
Caress her nipples with your fingertips.
Don't crush.
Make love very very gently.
Don't be wild.
I must be crazy to talk like this.
When you and she are deeply in it,
wrestling with each other,
these rules of mine won't hold.'
Then she handed 'la over to Krsna.
But really she wanted to come too,
and held on to Ila's sari. Ila loosed her fingers:
be back soon,' she said.
And Rddha went, her mind a jumble
of misery and joy.
Lying on her bed, alone, she thought to herself:
`You can give money.
You can give away your own family.
You can give your very life, that isn't easy to give up.
But to give your own husband
to another woman—what woman can do that?
By now I'm sure she's sucking at his delicious lips.
Or already pounding his naked chest with her breasts.
Probably moaning like doves.
He's on top of her, and she's pressing against him.
She's quite skilled to begin with. Maybe a bit shy,
but by now he's won her over, freed her
from any reticence. He's brought her close,
touched her everywhere. Taught her everything.'
She kept thinking. Tortured by love,
she couldn't close her eyes.
Inside her, she was burning.
As for Krsna, he was busy
with the girl.
(Shamelessly "borrowed" from a resource available on wesleyan.edu, dunno if this infringes on any copyrights, if it does I'm sorry but this deserves a wider reading, at least from some of my friends)