My thoughts on the song "Punsanda Reta…"

It is nighttime. 

A young, recently married woman is seated in a small mud hut with a thatched roof, in the middle of nowhere in the ancient jungles of the East. The period as we know it would be the early twentieth century. But it could be the late fifteenth century as well, as such dates are of little significance to her. It is as if time has stood still on her land since time immemorial. This is how life has always been there for centuries.

The moon shines in the sky, casting its soft glow on the dark jungles below, which surround her little abode. Owls hoot, crickets chirp and elephants break branches in the surrounding forests, sending out the only signs of life in the jungle. But she is all alone, with no other person in sight. 

A small Kerosene lamp burning dimly in the corner is the only light, with the stars there to keep her company. A cold breeze is blowing from the direction of the ancient weva (water reservoir) situated nearby, which is the only sign that this particular jungle was once a great human settlement. She drapes the cloth covering her torso tightly over her shoulders to ward off the cold. 

She is longing for her husband who has left their little home to protect the crops they have planted together in their jungle clearing from wild animals through the night. She tries to imagine how her husband must be feeling, lying sleepless in his Pela (Treehouse) now; cold, lonely and full of uncertainty about what might be in store for the night.

Life itself is a daily struggle for survival. This song captures the essence of life in the dry zone perfectly.

You can listen to the song on YouTube (linked below).