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No man can be beyond a woman. I believe that women are extraordinary and love them however they are. I simply love women.
My sanctum santorum is a woman, my mother and the most appreciative quality I find in my wife is her womanness.
I had wanted one blessing in life – to have a daughter. I prayed for it with a goddess, promising to give anything for it, and was blessed with one.
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The nourisher Kamadhenu, the thirst quencher Ganga-Bhagirathi, the hunger destroyer Annapurna, the teacher of speech Vani, the teacher of writing Lipi, the embodiment of words Akshara, the bringer of knowledge Vidya… are all women.
I love women. My first teacher Mohini, a woman. I stand and bow in obeisance whenever I utter her name (I wrote this standing up).
All male teachers taught me by punching my back but all woman teachers taught me by patting my back. That’s the ‘womanly’ difference.
My first love, Premalatha. Even though it was the tree she hugged, not me, she became my mind… I climbed the steps of our college and lost my mind to Susheela sitting on the second step. I love women.
My world, my land, woman – Ila, Vasundhara! My country, woman. Mother Earth. Mother India. My language, woman. Mother tongue. My culture, my nature both woman. My nourisher, my carer, my grower, my adviser, my sufferer, my pamperer, my wellwisher to all – ‘I love you!’
The irrigator of our land, the rivers, woman… Ganga, Yamuna, Kaveri, Netravati, Sharavati, Sita.
Our galaxies too are a cluster of woman: Ashwini, Bharani, Rohini, Swati, Revati, Uttara…
I do not know why men have prohibited the entry of woman into some temples. Even god may not have fathomed the logic.
The altar in my house has only woman – Sevantige, Sampige, Gulabi, Jaaji, Mallige, Dasavala, Shankapushpa Kedige, Parijatha.
Not just that, Bhakti, Bhavana, Aarati, Shraddha, Pooja all reside there.
In Ramayana, I liked Urmila and in Mahabharatha, I liked Subhadra! I love them both.
The most divine of all deities are women: Lakshmi, Saraswati, Parvati, Shakti, Durga, Kali, Mahishasura Mardini, Rambha, Menaka, Tillotama.
There’s no doubting the proverb, ‘girls are the apples of our eyes.’
Even in poetics: moon-faced, lily-eyed, champak-nosed, jasmine-smile, pearl-teeth, coral-lips, kewra-nailed, swingy waist, swan-gait…
Kalidasa breathed woman in his works: Shakuntala, Urvashi, Malavika. I love you all!
I visit Belur-Halebidu as the statues of woman summon me.
Folksongs ‘Chelvi Chelvi,’ ‘Kalita Hudugi,’ ‘Garati Gangavva,’ ‘Suvalali Suggalamma,’ ‘Sevanti,’ ‘Savati,’ ‘Oragitti,’ ‘Pataragitti.’ These songs never stop reverberating in my ears. Really, I love women.
‘Mukajji,’ ‘Sarasamma,’ ‘Phaniamma,’ ‘Kanura Heggadati,’ ‘Chandavalliya Chaluve,’ Raktakshi.’ These literary works I like the most.
I love women.
Singers Lata, Asha, S Janaki, P Sushila, BK Sumitra; players Sania, Saina; runner PT Usha; boxer Mary Kom; dancers Hema, Sridevi, Madhuri; actresses Kalpana, Bharati, Waheeda, Smita Patil; writers Triveni, Vaidehi; pilot Kalpana Chawla; industrialist Chanda Kocchar, achiever Indira Nooyi – these extraordinaire women.
I love women. I love them.
A woman is what a man is not.