Shakti: The Feminine Divine (15 page)

Having watched what happened, even the most strident moralists, who had vociferously declared that they would never accept a bastard born to a buffalo as their sovereign, felt that a quick rethink may be merited.

After subduing the various factions by the strength of his reasoning and brute force, Mahisha ascended the throne of the asuras. Once in power, he wasted no time in gathering together those whom he perceived to be responsible for the untimely death of his mother and father. He proceeded to exact bloody vengeance on them all. He felt that it would be poetic to have them buried neck deep in sand, before unloosing a herd of stampeding buffaloes, with him at the lead, into their midst. The massacre marked the beginning of his reign.

Mahisha, with Rakhtabija always by his side, had a coterie of equally bloodthirsty companions, who were raised high in the asura army hierarchy for proving their loyalty to him and demonstrating an appetite for savagery comparable to his own.

Ciksura and Camara were his chief lieutenants and ministers of war. Nobody knew much of Ciksura’s past. Like many who were part of the despot’s inner circle, the demon seemed to have emerged from the shadows. The moniker ‘Ciksura’ was not his real name, but one he fully earned for it meant ‘one who inflicts pain’. Camara was equally vicious and a
favourite of Mahisha’s, given that his bestial nature sprang from the yak, which was believed to have sired him.

The court of the new demon king was composed of similar panjandrums, who seemed to be overflowing with the milk of unkindness.

Mahahanu, the ‘large-jawed’, was one such. He had acquired a fearsome reputation due to the doings of his mandibles of death and the predilection they had for feasting on the flesh of his enemies. Asiloma, the prime minister, ruled with an iron fist, functioning under the adage that all accused were guilty and deserving of the third degree and death, irrespective of whether their guilt had been proven. Parivarita had been handpicked by Mahisha for gathering intelligence. They called him ‘the invisible’ because no one had even set eyes upon him, yet his presence could be ascertained by the trail of blood invariably left in his wake.

Bidala, known as the ‘fetid one’, was the beloved friend of vultures, because he made generous contributions respecting their culinary preferences. The notorious Tamra was Mahisha’s finance minister, who made it clear that he expected taxes to be paid either in coin or blood, since both were equally dear to him. Baskala, Trinetra and Kalabandhaka rounded out Mahisha’s dreaded cabinet and together the lot of them would account for the bodies that choked the three worlds in a never-ending succession, afloat in pools of their own congealing blood.

Mahisha had ridden to power on the mandate that under him, it would be the asuras who would reign supreme. He promised to clean out the trash that was the inept Indra and the rest of his meretricious ilk. He was as good as his word. At the head of one of the most fearsome armies ever assembled,
Mahisha set out on his conquests, which were to culminate with the sack of Amaravathi and the extermination of the devas. The horde from hell swallowed up all the territories around and Mahisha’s kingdom swelled disproportionately until it became grotesquely obese, with the fat of the land spilling out on all sides.

Wild stories about the buffalo demon, who rode into battle with a massive herd of carnivorous buffaloes, were circulated. It was said that these hellish creatures had been weaned on blood and the meat of men and Mahisha himself led the charge as one of them. When he stomped his colossal hooves, it was said that the earth’s crust was disturbed and threatened to split asunder.

Mahisha would flare his nostrils, and with lowered head and heaving flanks, launch himself into battle, tearing up entire divisions, with his terrible horns impaling countless soldiers. Thereafter, he would gleefully toss them up into the air before rending their insides and leaving a mess of entrails for the carrion birds to gorge on. The mighty hooves would smash ribcages, stomp on pulsating hearts until they quieted and smash through skulls till the brain matter oozed and became indistinguishable from the mud, blood and excrement from bowels that had involuntarily voided themselves.

The rest of his army and his wild buffalo herds complemented his viciousness. Put together, none could hope to withstand them, not even the gods. Rambha had done too good a job of insuring the life of his only son. Millions went to their deaths, using the last seconds of their life to bewail their fate and to curse Rambha, Agni, Mahisha and his fellow acolytes, who worshipped on the altar of undiluted evil.

Later, it would be surmised that perhaps this was the
reason Mahisha passed a decree that the conquered would henceforth be relieved of their tongues and eyes, so that the victors may be spared the poison that spilled forth from their lips or the malice that seeped out from the eyes.

Millions died to assuage the insatiable appetite for killing that the asuras had grown acclimatized to under their ruler.

The endless victories saw the treasury filled to overflowing and Tamra, who maintained that you could never have too much gold, was orgasmic with delight. They also amassed a wealth of slaves, since it was the prevalent practice that every time they sacked a city, the skilled craftsmen were separated so that they may be suitably employed by their betters, while the rest were ruthlessly put to the sword. And yet, Mahisha was not content with his acquisitions. He vowed not to rest until every inch of the three worlds came under his yoke.

Mahisha’s army became notorious for the sheer speed with which they covered ground and the number of victories they notched up. The twin instruments of terror and destruction served him in good stead and all bowed before his might. His battle strategy was to strike hard and fast, consuming all in his path by sheer strength of numbers and a stomach for matchless barbarity. If a well-fortified kingdom held out against the asuras, it was his practice to besiege them and starve them out, but he was not above poisoning their water supply as well, thereby forcing them to surrender.

Indra took in the excesses of the buffalo king with mounting outrage. He rallied the immortals—Agni, Surya, Yama, Varuna, Kubera and Vayu—and they gathered by his side.

‘Mahisha has sent an emissary to me, demanding my surrender,’ he began. ‘Needless to say, it is against the code of
dharma to kill a messenger, so I took the high road and merely broke his nose before sending him packing. I am told that Mahisha’s delicate buffalo sensibilities have been offended and he has vowed to kill me and raze Amaravathi to the ground. Rather than wait for him, I suggest we go after him ourselves. What say you?’

The war council remained silent for a few moments before Yama gathered the courage to speak what was on all their minds, ‘Thanks to the boon granted to his father long ago, no man can slay Mahisha. Perhaps we should broker a truce to assuage the endless flow of blood and then pray to Shakti to deliver us…’

Indra interrupted him tersely with a quick glance at Agni, who was looking determinedly impassive, ‘I am well aware of this, Yama. It is not my style to run away from the unacceptable facts of existence, like the tendency of some to grant boons to homicidal maniacs. Nor do I fancy making off to a safe refuge when the fate of so many hangs in the balance. Hiding behind the skirts of a female, even if she is a goddess, makes the option of dying seem so much more tempting by comparison.

‘The vaunted courage of the devas and our invaluable skill plus experience ought to work to our advantage. Moreover, it is to curb the senseless massacre of the mortals that I feel we have no choice but to fight. With our combined resources, we can absorb the brunt of his attack for as long as we can, deflecting his wrath from those more defenceless than us. Vishnu and Shiva will come to our aid and together we can fend him off until the Goddess makes her move.

‘If we make the cowardly decision to surrender and disappear to submerge ourselves in tapas, do you seriously think Mahisha will be content to wave goodbye to us and settle
for my throne? Of course not! He will just be furious that we have deprived him of the chance to capture and humiliate us.

‘My spies have told me about his plans for all of us. Varuna will be responsible for cleaning out the latrines in the kingdom. Kubera is to wait on Tamra, subjected to his especial brand of cruelty, dressed in rags and fed the leftovers of his dogs. Yama will be their watchman and Kama will be a sphincter for anyone who feels the need for one. Agni will be given a winsome bride from among Mahisha’s prize she-buffaloes and as for me, the buffalo demon remains at a loss about how best to strip me of my pride.

‘If we deprive them of the opportunity to make fools out of us, the humans will be made the focus of his killing fury. They will be annihilated as a race and there will be nothing but blasted ruins and burning wreckage for Shakti to fight for.’

Taking in their morose expressions, Indra adopted a cheerier tone, ‘It is not my funeral yet. Allow me to remind you that we have been down this road many times before and survived to tell the tale. Eventually, we will be rescued, although as in the past, I wish that Shiva, Vishnu and now Shakti would not take their own sweet time about this. But they cannot be rushed and if inclined to explain, which they seldom are, we will just hear a whole lot of hooey about the natural balance inherent in all things and the inexorable dictates of time and fate, which we screw with at our own peril. It makes you wonder if prayer and sacrifice is good for anything at all.

‘Meanwhile, rather than waste our time, all that is left for us is to kick every single hairy asura backside that we possibly can. As for Mahisha, it is too bad that his kinsmen proved too inept to kill that blasted she-buffalo who birthed him. But he will get what he deserves and I promise you, we will all live to see it!’

With those rousing words, the devas prepared to battle with the worst threat they had ever encountered. The celestial forces fought Mahisha’s minions for a hundred years, using all of the fabled weapons in their arsenal and every ingenious strategy they could come up with. Rather than throw the full strength of their forces at Mahisha, whose demons and beasts outnumbered them and would have made mincemeat of their paltry defence, the devas split up into smaller fighting units whose lack of numbers were compensated by their increased mobility. They used this to attack the demons like a swarm of bees would a gigantic predator. They swooped down from behind the storm clouds the thunder god had positioned to give them cover and attacked the exposed flanks, doing as much damage as they could with their assorted paraphernalia of weapons.

When the demons attempted to swat at them, they melted away into the aerial spaces from which they had materialized, where their enemies could not reach, leaving them writhing in agony or in the final death throes, frustrating them no end. Some of the asuras elevated themselves, but Indra struck them down with forked lightning. Their burning remains descended on their comrades, scorching them and adding to the fires that had flared up everywhere, ignited by Agni.

Vayu conjured up deadly hurricanes and terrifying tornadoes that blew apart scores of asuras. The high-pressure winds he generated ripped apart the heads and torsos of their opponents. Varuna unleashed the power of the waterbodies he governed. His tidal waves flushed many out of existence and the sea monsters he summoned made short work of the asura defences. Yama rode into battle on his black buffalo, using his staff indiscriminately, spreading death like an unstoppable
contagion. Indra fought like never before.

But spirited though their efforts were, they were not enough. For every asura they slew, two seemingly rose to take its place and for every trick they employed, Mahisha came up with something far more fearsome. The asura king had grown adept in the tricks of sorcery and illusion and with the strange power he enjoyed over animals, he released wave upon wave of creatures that combined the blood of men, asuras and the fiercest predators alive. Nothing could stop them in their tracks, not fire, wind, water or even Indra’s thunderbolt. They threw the devas back with the sheer strength of their amalgamated bodies, corded with muscle that made for an impenetrable armour, equipped with claws and serrated teeth, pummelling away at the gods until they were forced to give ground in the face of this ruthless onslaught.

Vishnu arrived next at the scene of the battle, borne aloft on his mount, the eagle Garuda. Much to the joy of the devas, Shiva came as well and invigorated by their presence, the devas fought with renewed vigour and heart. The tide of the uneven battle shifted. Asuras lay dying in all directions and foolish hope raised its head among the celestials.

All traces of optimism were stamped out quickly, though. Mahisha was indefatigable and seemed to thrive on every challenge or hardship that obstructed his march to Amaravathi. Assuming the form his mother had blessed him with and bellowing like a maddened beast, with Rakhtabija providing a chorus with his primeval battle cry, he launched himself on Vishnu and his mount with a ferocity that the Preserver himself could not withstand. Snorting fire, Mahisha tore at Garuda’s legendary feathers, a single one of which could support the weight of Mother Earth.

Unable to stand Garuda’s plight, Vishnu hurled his chakra at Mahisha. It struck the buffalo squarely in the chest. That should have been the end of him, but it rebounded like a boomerang, having caused nothing more than a glancing blow, which Mahisha shrugged off with ease. He charged Vishnu again and again, wounding him in many places, revelling in the sight of the mighty lord weakening before his very eyes and growing faint with pain. Finally, the Preserver had no choice but to retreat to Vaikunta and recuperate before attempting a return.

The joys of being the harbinger of death had begun to pall for Mahisha. But vanquishing a powerful foe like Vishnu, famed for his victory over the strongest among the strong over countless ages, acted like a powerful intoxicant. Mahisha was propelled to dizzying heights of ecstasy. But the very intensity of the high caused it to burn out with the same speed. He desperately needed another fix.