Shakti: The Feminine Divine (16 page)

Mahisha rounded on the Destroyer next, determined to make the experience last. Shiva caught the glint in his eyes that bespoke a hardened addict so far gone that it would take a miracle to bring him back. The three-eyed god made no move to turn tail and flee, however, as the demon approached him with a measured pace, anticipating the moment of his triumph and salivating with pleasure. As he drew close enough to look into his eyes and see the pity in their fathomless depths, Shiva vanished from sight. Thwarted and driven almost mad with childish disappointment, Mahisha turned his full attention to Indra.

Killing the three-eyed god would have been sweet, but it would be even better to give the monster who had engineered the deaths of his mother and father his just desserts. Mahisha slipped into the comfortable hide of the buffalo, which was like
a mother’s warm embrace that had been denied to him. He would pluck out every single one of Indra’s thousand eyes and feed them to the crows, he swore to himself.

Kicking up a veritable duststorm with his iron-black hoofs, he plunged headlong into the mad charge, goring aside all in his path, even if they were one of his own. Nothing in the three worlds was as fearsome as that heaving mass of rippling muscle and flesh, with his mightily curved horns that seemed to spread out as far as the eye could see. The out-thrust muzzle had saliva dribbling from the side, which left a glistening trail along his jawbone.

Covering ground faster than was rationally possible, the juggernaut of death with flaring nostrils closed the gap between himself and his intended victim. The bristly black hair flattened out across his massive rump and powerfully corded legs, pumping with a mesmerizing rhythm that had an unearthly beauty. As the unstoppable avalanche descended on them, consuming everything in its path, deva and asura alike fled pell-mell from the scene, unmanned with terror.

Indra alone held his ground, balancing lightly on his feet and positioning himself to hurl the indestructible vajra at the wall of black granite, not deigning to avail of the relative safety his elephant Airavata could have afforded him, as it would have spelt the death of the mighty pachyderm. He hurled his weapon and it flew true and straight. It ought to have plunged into the buffalo demon’s heart, slicing the scabrous hide like knife through butter, but it ricocheted off his chest and bounced harmlessly aside. It was too late for Indra to flee. He stood rooted to the spot, looking laughably perplexed, when the great bull’s horns ripped into his flesh. The expression remained frozen on his face, altered somewhat by the blood that trickled
out of his mouth as Mahisha mauled the king of the gods until nothing was left but his mangled remains.

Agni nodded at Kama in appreciation of the remarkable trick of illusion that he had pulled off as they fled to safety, mounted on the god of desire’s innocuous-looking parrot, with Indra balanced between them. Their king opened a bleary eye, took in the scene below, where his violent death was seemingly in play, and swore long and loud as they made good their escape.

By then, Mahisha was cognizant of the deception that had been played on him. Indra laughed aloud at the flummoxed expression on his face but stopped when the buffalo demon vented his fury on all those who were unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity. The deposed king could watch no more. As they approached the remote mountaintops that would be their home for a long time, Indra wept into Kama’s back.

With none left to fight him, Mahisha became the undisputed emperor of the three worlds. He could have opted to engage himself in the pleasures afforded by the treasures of Amaravathi, but he could not be bothered when there was so much pain still left to be meted out. The worst fears of everybody, sans his followers, were realized. The unthinkable had happened. All hope was extinguished and there was nothing to do but accept that life would be a tortuous saga of never-ending tears. They would all pray for Mahisha to die young and if that were not to be, then they pleaded that their own lives be mercifully cut short. But there was to be no awakening from the nightmare while new chapters of horror were continuously being scripted. Darkness descended upon the three worlds, without the promise of a new dawn.

The devas, who had gone into hiding, could only watch
helplessly as Mahisha laid waste to the three worlds. They did what they could by way of damage control, but they might as well have tried to curb the flow of molten lava from an erupting volcano by tossing ice cubes in its general direction. Gathering together the tell-tale evidence of numerous outrages he had perpetrated, they went to Shiva and Vishnu.

By all reports, Mahisha was completely unhinged. He had declared that four-legged beasts had far better qualities when compared to their two-legged masters and, as a result, it was in the best interests of the three worlds that inter-species breeding be encouraged. It was his vision that ultimately a superior race would emerge that would trump Brahma’s myopic version of humanity.

To further his grandiose scheme, he was forcing the mortals to mate with beasts of his officers’ choosing. Millions of women had perished either during the coupling itself or during the delivery, when beasts tore them apart to emerge into the world bathed in the blood of their mothers. The horror-struck celestials poured out their grievances to Shiva and Vishnu, whose faces contorted with fury. They all called upon the Goddess, begging her to have pity on them and rescue them from the fiendish Mahisha.

Vishnu spoke words of comfort to the devas, assuring them that the Divine Mother would not let them down. His voice throbbed with the intensity of his faith and the devas, deriving encouragement from it, returned to their hiding places with lighter hearts.

Shiva waited until they had departed before he spoke. ‘Do not attempt to find Shakti. She needs to do this on her own and if there is anything she absolutely detests, it is the violation of her privacy. But you know that, don’t you?’

‘I do…’ Vishnu replied pensively. ‘It has been so long since I have spoken to her, but that is hardly atypical. Shakti always says that nothing affords her more bliss than solitude. But eventually she will get tired of her own company and then track me down for a bit of conversation. I should not be surprised by this protracted silence from her end. Yet, in light of the present circumstances, I would not mind knowing what is going on in that head of hers. There is a certain disturbance I am sensing, but she will not let me reach out to her.’

‘She just wants to spare us the sharp edge of her temper. That is all there is to it. In her eyes at least, the two of us are far too childish to deal with her anger and if we try, she is concerned that we may get burnt. The way she sees it, Mahisha is a part of her and every act of wrongdoing he has committed gives her acute pangs. She feels them as if they were her own. It is the same with his victims—their pain and suffering is hers as well. Their pitiful cries affect her in the manner of whiplashes and her rage, ever slow to rise, has come fully to boil. But she will have to contain it within her and find a way to channelize it before it grows a life of its own and destroys everything indiscriminately.’

‘The way it has with Mahishasura…’ Vishnu blended his thoughts seamlessly with Shiva’s. ‘How does that fellow hold in all that bestial passion inside without exploding? I don’t envy the Goddess one bit, having to deal with him! Rambha was clever to make sure that his son was invulnerable to the male of the species. It is all in her hands now and we can do nothing but wait in patience. Shakti is more than up to the task of taking on and putting an end to the buffalo demon but even so, I wish that there was something more I could do to help.’

‘You are helping her…’ Shiva reassured him gently. ‘I don’t think anybody loves her more unconditionally than you. In fact,
she told me that the pure spirit of friendship that embodies your relationship is the truest form of love and I would do well to emulate you. Besides, she is far too independent to enlist our aid and has always made it a point to tell me that our well-meaning intentions notwithstanding, we tend to be more of a hindrance to her plans than anything else.’

Shiva was right about so much, Shakti thought, comfortably ensconced in the fortress of her solitude. Musing about her relationship with him made her smile. She had given over a part of herself into his safekeeping and he had treasured it as Parvati. Theirs was a bizarre relationship. She resented and envied that little part of her and he resented her for keeping so much more away from him. It was hardly the perfect relationship, but they were both worth fighting for, which was why, despite the volatile emotions that got in the way all too often, they always found their way back to each other. There was comfort to be had from the last fact and neither of them would have wished for anything different.

Vishnu had always been content with what little she chose to give him and she was grateful to him for that, but he had an annoying tendency to place her on a pedestal and worship her. This, coupled with the great burden of his expectations, were the reasons why she felt compelled on occasion to give him a wide berth, the way she was doing now.

Mostly though, her thoughts lay with Durga, the part of herself that she loved best of all. The warrior goddess had emerged when Usas had been mercilessly violated, assaulted and driven from the heavens. Born to avenge an ancient crime and prevent its reoccurrence, Durga was an invincible presence safely ensconced in an unassailable fortress. Shakti could feel her pulsating anger as Durga prepared for the inevitable battle,
impatient with the delay.

Still the Divine Mother, Shakti hesitated as the prayers and cries of Mahisha’s victims resounded in her ears, as did the increasing scepticism about the abilities of the gods to do anything worthwhile. She herself came in for more than her fair share of criticism: ‘Mahadevi is as bad as Mahisha! He torments us by unleashing his terrible power and she tortures us by withholding hers! The holy men counsel patience, for the Goddess will save us all in good time, but that is a luxury only she can afford, because it is not her but our mothers, wives and daughters who are being raped by wild animals and demons!’

‘There is no god and no Mother Goddess! An omniscient being would never allow evil on such a scale to prevail. Every day, terrible crimes are being perpetrated against all without distinction. Nobody is exempt from suffering! If such be the will of the Goddess, then we shall spit upon her name!’

Shakti did not hold their unreasonable attitude or relentless railing against them, because she was fully aware that their doubts emerged from her own uncertainty. As for the outpouring of hate, it was not the hardest thing to take if you were aware that love and hate had their roots firmly entrenched in each other.

The Goddess wished the accusation, that she remained unattached from their misery and was too detached, was true. Their pain as well as Mahisha’s caustic fury was hers to bear too and she grieved for every one of them. But it always maddened her to see the three worlds descend into such a state of chaos, especially since it could have all been averted with just an ounce of good sense and a pinch of reasonable judgement.

The truth was that Shakti was having the worst crisis of faith herself. The males of the species had been given more chances
than she could remember to do something great with their power. Instead, they had made a shambles of their responsibilities by spreading death and destruction senselessly wherever they went and ill-treating every female they came across.

‘Mahisha and Indra are not entirely different from each other,’ she mused. ‘The latter may have become a hero in the eyes of his followers, but the truth is that the hero and villain of this piece are equally responsible for the war and the crimes of hate. I am tempted to let Durga rip out both their heads and allow their blood to cleanse the land they have polluted with their joint misdemeanours!’

Shakti sighed as her frustration and anger coursed inside her, gathering power and threatening to erupt from her in a cataclysmic explosion.

Taking a deep breath, she urged herself to calm down and emptied her mind of every treacherous thought that had taken root there, even as they pranced about like a barrelful of hyperactive monkeys. Ever so slowly and with repeated interruptions, she managed to rid herself of them all, allowing the welcome shroud of silence and nothingness to fill the sudden void in her consciousness. With these two guides she would find her way towards answers, both for herself and everyone who had reposed their faith in her.

The worst of her anger and volatile emotions seeped out from her pores—toxic little wisps of colourless smoke—leaving her feeling wonderfully buoyant, yet curiously grounded. For the longest time she drifted thus, refusing to actively seek out solutions, inducing them to approach her of their own accord. When she finally opened her eyes, Durga broke free, knowing that her time had come. She was ready to take on the task that had proved too much for the Destroyer and the Preserver.

The Battle that Was; or Wasn’t

T
HE WARRIOR GODDESS
stepped forth to do battle with the buffalo demon with none of the pageantry and fanfaronade her followers might expect from her. Durga had opted to wear no armour, nor carry any weapons. She did not even deign to ride out on a suitably fierce mount, instead walking with a measured pace, her unshod feet traversing the harsh terrain that seemed unsuitable for one as seemingly delicate as her. Clad in a simple red sari, hair unbound and her only accessory being the dread purpose that lit her up from within, she headed out to meet the buffalo demon.

The forces of nature alone witnessed her departure to meet Mahisha. The winds howled in glee, the waterbodies swirled and eddied, giddy with excitement, and the earth trembled in anticipation of the wondrous happenings that were about to unfold.

Mahisha heard about the woman who was to be the death of him from his agitated spies while seated on his throne, made
entirely of the sharpened horns and sundried hides of the buffaloes he favoured so much.