favourite faces for favourite mythic ladies: Saraswati with Aishwarya Rai
Goddess Saraswati, who is fair like the jasmine-coloured moon, and whose pure white garland is like frosty dew drops, who is adorned in radiant white attire, on whose beautiful arm rests the veena, and whose throne is a white lotus, who is surrounded and respected by the Gods…
She has beautiful jewels, but Saraswati rarely wears them. It seems foolish to adorn herself in those things, nothing more than trinkets, items given to her that she never would have sought out herself. Ah, but if she could wear music it would be different. Saraswati would drape herself in melodies and wear a crown of silver semibreves.
Or language, her gift to man. She could make herself a pair of shoes with nothing but words, and everywhere that Saraswati went would add more and more layers until she was covered to the thighs in impenetrable black ink boots. She could untwirl the words when she needed them or leave a trail across India, the stories of her travels as told by her own feet, unravelling behind her with each step.
Or science then? With a choli made of the planets as they continued on their constant orbits, tracked by Saraswati’s fingertips. Or maybe it would be new, unknown planets? Maybe her body would make a new universe. Her sari could be green like the newest spring growth, and she’d paint it with the breathing veins of the leaves. Eventually it would grow like an oak and wrap Saraswati’s skin, botany giving birth to mathematics and geologies and chemistries.
But there’s little use for gowns that don’t track the stars or seasons, and what would she do with a golden crown that knew no poetry to share?