Shakti: The Feminine Divine (7 page)

Resting her head on his shoulder in a friendly fashion, Shakti sighed in contentment and began to unburden herself, the way she did only with him. ‘Can you believe how fast time flies even for the gods? It does not seem that long ago since Brahma lost his head and his heart over me, setting off a chain reaction, which nobody could control. If memory serves, the last time around there was unrequited love, incestuous passion, definite ravishment, an arrow of retribution, enmity aplenty and a whole lot of painful introspection. The scariest part is that it does not end there and we will have more of the same, and then some, for evermore!

‘Surely we can use a few gods and goddesses for ourselves, can’t we? Too much of everything hinges on our ability to prove ourselves worthy of the faith reposed in us by the mortals and immortals alike! Have you considered what would happen, should we fail? You know as well as I do that we are not infallible, even if to the mortals such a statement is tantamount to blasphemy! It does not seem to bother you in the least, does it? Sometimes, I wish your unchanging equanimity was mine.’

Vishnu brushed the side of his head against hers gently, knowing that she would find it comforting, before framing his reply. ‘But we do have gods and goddesses for ourselves…I have you and you have me. For me, it has always been enough. And then there is Shiva. Maybe even Brahma. We are not alone.
We complete each other and through each other, we complete ourselves. As…’

Shakti interrupted him by punching his forearm hard with her free hand. ‘How can you possibly say that? Usas was all alone… Rudra may have done what he thought was best in his inimitable style and you stayed out of his way, because you never interfere with his designs where I—or anybody else, for that matter—am concerned. But none of it changes the fact that the trauma that overtook Usas was hers alone to bear! I could do nothing, nor could you! Don’t you dare say otherwise!’

‘Even the gods cannot avert the hand of fate and spare themselves or the mortals tragedy. You and I do our part to maintain balance in the cosmos. Beyond that, there is nothing we can do. My equanimity stems from my acceptance of that unchangeable fact. The fact that Usas was alone makes her a hero. As the goddess who ushered in light, she discharged her duties to perfection and the gratitude of the three worlds will be hers as long as our collective memory holds out. It was not possible for her to escape fate, but the way she regrouped and fought off defeat in order that she might leave a legacy of hope was truly inspiring. It will be a lesson for future generations.

‘As I was saying before the violent interruption, we are not alone. And we need never be as long as we keep those we love best in our hearts. Finally, even if the gods were to fail, it need not necessarily mean that it is a catastrophe from which there is no coming back. To the determined, failure is nothing but a temporary setback, which teaches you the importance of not succumbing to stupidity and letting your pride get the better of you en route to your target.’

‘True enough…’ the Goddess concurred. They sat in silence for a while, simply glad to be together, doing nothing more
than shooting the breeze.

Shakti’s thoughts veered towards sexual violence and she gave voice to her thoughts. ‘There is something about the sexual act that seems to effectuate a tidal wave of volatile, often contrary emotions that have the potential to engender beauty and ugliness both. You can either love it or remain content with abstinence, but it is impossible to be completely cut off from fornication and its effects, no matter who you are.’

‘Exactly,’ Vishnu continued her strand of thought as though it were his own. ‘The fusion of two bodies in the high heat of passion yields almost unlimited amounts of energy. If this energy is properly harnessed there is life; if not, things are likely to get messy! And for life to be perpetuated sex is a necessity. It is quite a potent tool, and very few have what it takes to wield it properly without harming themselves or those around them.’

Shakti nodded in agreement. ‘Speaking of messy sex reminds me…Brahma is suffering from a guilty conscience and it is only a matter of time before he comes running to you, unable to withstand the physical manifestations of the same. You should probably get your rest. I’ll stay with you. He does not know it yet, but he’ll need me as well to see him past the troubles he has manufactured for himself, and which he does not deserve to be extricated from!’

‘Does that mean you are determined to wring out an apology from him about what happened to Usas?’ Vishnu demanded. ‘But that is very unlike you! You have always maintained that regret-fuelled apologies are mostly useless, because they serve only to make the offender feel better, and don’t do anything tangible by way of redressing the wronged party. I have heard you say that rather than demand forgiveness, it is more fitting for one to make amends and do the utmost to
correct a wrong.’

‘You are right, of course. In this case, Brahma should devote all of time towards serving Usas’s every need to make just reparations for his crime. But for obvious reasons, it is doubtful that the Dawn would wish to spend eternity forced to endure the sight of his countenance. As for me, I want what all women want! Brahma will bloody well give me the respect that is my due and only then will I bail him out!’

‘Usas would have forgiven him… She has moved on and that would not have been possible if she had insisted on holding on to the emotional baggage. Hate and vengeance are heavy burdens to carry. It is always better to lose them on the wayside or they will slow you down inevitably. But of course you know that, because she was a part of you and still is.’

‘Forgiveness is a wonderful thing, of course. However, the worst thing about being nice is that it is a standing invitation for everybody to take advantage of you. There are times when niceness can carry the day, but there are others, equally important, when it is imperative that you embrace your inner bitch.’

Vishnu rolled his eyes at the Goddess, who was insisting on being exasperating. ‘You are confusing virtue with foolishness. Being good and acting smart need not be mutually exclusive. Why should every nuance of an individual’s character be shaped with the sole aid of acting as a deterrent to the evil-minded amongst us? As opposed to being modelled along the lines of a magnet that attracts all that is right with the three worlds, at least by way of reciprocity? Being a bitch seems like the surest way to attract rabid curs, if you ask me, and little else.’

Shakti laughed out loud, just the way he had known she
would. ‘You are right, again. Why should either Usas or I experience grief or bitterness for the shortcomings of another? Why become prickly and box out the best parts of us, just to make ourselves feel better protected from the diabolical villains out there? It is preferable to take the moral high road, even if there are those who will always try to drag you down into the muck where they wallow, trying to induce the hapless into joining them. From that perspective, what you say makes absolute sense.’

Vishnu’s best friend kissed him gently on the forehead. She coaxed him to sleep, placing his head on her lap, and Sesha lovingly bore them both. Vishnu slipped willingly into yoganidra, his sleep of rejuvenation, under the control of Yogamaya, which was the current role of the Goddess, to replenish the energy reserves so lavishly expended in his role as the Divine Preserver. Shakti also relaxed, but she would not doze yet. Brahma was having trouble resting and the turbulence of his spirit, writhing in misery over his past misdeeds, made her feel almost sorry for him.

The object of her thoughts was tossing and turning while fulminating endlessly even as he chased after elusive sleep. ‘Sometimes, a lousy day in my life feels like entire aeons,’ he was thinking somewhat petulantly. The least he deserved was a night of restful slumber.

Not for the first time, Brahma envied Vishnu. He seemed to have no trouble sloughing off the dead skin of the past and divesting himself entirely of its pull, which oftentimes felt like being trapped in the squelchy depths of quicksand or the swirling currents of a whirlpool. Brahma had no such luck. His thoughts were whirring around with such ferocity that he thought his head must surely split asunder and spare anyone
who fancied decapitating him the unpleasant task.

Brahma dwelt on his shining achievements and the avuncular disposition he always showed his children. No matter what his detractors said, as the Creator, he had tried his best to take care of his own, although it had to be admitted that he had inadvertently caused a fair bit of trouble on account of his actions. Even so, in his opinion, the mental turmoil he was undergoing was mostly undeserved. After all, he had not harmed anybody deliberately. One would think his inability to sleep was because of a guilty conscience!

No sooner had the last thought struck him than guilt hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. Panicking, Brahma fought his wayward thoughts, trying to fend them off as they forced him to make acquaintance with the monsters that lurked in the dark dungeons of his mind, feeding off his regret and lying in wait to do him in. Shutting his eyes, he emptied his head and heart of all feelings, sweeping them hurriedly under the carpet of his subconscious, where they would no longer find him an easy target for their painful insinuations.

Having summoned up every ounce of discipline he possessed and accomplished his task, Brahma dropped off at last, having been granted a temporary respite from a painful past. But deep sleep remained elusive. Buried demons stirred to life and clawed their way back to the surface, demanding attention, clothed in the hideous trappings of nightmares.

The Creator was trapped in a feverish landscape from which there seemed to be no awakening. He saw the phantasm of a beautiful baby girl and found himself drawn irresistibly to her. Everything about her, from her near-bald head with the little down, to her tiny toes, spelled perfection. Even in sleep, his love for her made his heart ache.

She was sucking blissfully on her thumb when he flew into a dreadful rage and smothered the life out of her with a passing cloud that was pregnant with rain. First he was suffocating her and then he was drowning her. He was filled with horror, but he could not stop. Her death came almost as a relief, because it stopped him from hurting her anymore. He sobbed in his sleep, willing her to understand that it had not been his intention to harm or hurt her in any way. All he had ever wanted was to love her to death.

Brahma cried out aloud, tossing and turning as he fought off the sleep, which held him in its shroud, but to no avail. He was under attack. Millions of crows were attacking him in a seemingly concentrated rush, beady eyes glinting with evil intent as their talons tore into his flesh and ripped them to shreds. Sharpened beaks competed for a piece of him and he watched in helpless terror as a dozen of them fought over a mangled ear, which was weeping blood. They went for his eyeballs last and plucked them out, but not before he had watched them feast on his genitals.

A pair of eyes burned into his skull, boring holes into his brain, laying its contents on the muddy earth for the carrion to examine. His guilt was laid bare for the three worlds to see and he could only watch in naked shame, crying piteously for the mercy he knew would not be forthcoming.

A lone archer aimed his arrow of fire at his groin and Brahma tried in vain to cover it with his hands, but they had been lopped off at the wrist. Stray dogs were fighting over his bloodied fingers, which flopped around like fish out of water. The last thing he remembered was the impact when the arrow struck, the blinding pain that coursed across his body and the high-pitched keening, which he recognized as his own.

Brahma fought with furious intent to escape from the limbo world, willing himself to wake up so that he may be released from the relentless nightmares that had robbed him entirely of his peace of mind. And so time rolled on unhurriedly and at what, to Brahma, was a glacial pace, an unwitting ally of the shadowy tormentor who was inflicting such pain on him.

When the nightmares eventually gave ground to encroaching wakefulness, Brahma felt as if he was breaking the surface of the sea after being held down in its murky depths to the point where death seemed inevitable. He gasped aloud to take in mouthfuls of the blessed relief that was finally within his reach. Gratefully, he looked around and found himself comfortably ensconced in a lotus bud that had taken root in the navel of his dear friend and trusted protector, Vishnu.

Brahma wept with joy. It felt so good to finally feel safe and secure in this haven, which was so familiar to him. He felt as though he had been born again and after the horrors of his tortured sleep, this was exactly what he needed to revive himself. Vishnu would not let anyone hurt him here. Interlopers, even if they were all in his head, would not dare to violate the sanctity of the Preserver’s abode, which offered succour to all who sought it.

He stretched languorously and the lotus, which was perched prettily on its stalk, blossomed under him, every petal reaching its full growth in a riotous infusion of colour as they spread out in perfect alignment. Brahma was awash in bliss. He had finally been restored to a safe space, where he would commence the rites of asceticism to magnify his powers to their full extent before he set out to create fresh new worlds. The past was truly behind him and the demons that had haunted the
hallways of his memory were finally defeated. They would not bother him anymore. Or would they?

The apprehension he had fled from seemed to have closed in on him with a suddenness that was terrifying. There was nowhere to run. If his antagonists could get to him after he had sought refuge in the divine person of the Protector of the universe, they could get to him anywhere. The lotus that had felt like heaven moments ago suddenly felt like a trap into which he had been expressly lured, so that the monsters could converge on him en masse and tear him apart.

Panic surged through the Creator. He fought to extricate himself from within the confines of the lotus and throw himself at Vishnu’s mercy. But he fought in vain; apparently it was within his scope to create the universe and imbue it with precious life, but not to leap clear of a flower! All he could do was hope and pray for a miracle. Meanwhile, he had no choice but to wait and confront the monsters created by deeds past. And come for him they did.