One by one, they came and garlanded Shiva. Some hugged Him, others prostrated themselves completely, till Shiva raised them up gently, as though to put life back into them. Still others, blessed Him by placing their palms on His head, and Shiva accepted the blessings with the utmost humility. Although He was Lord and master of these hills and mountains, He knew some of the denizens were as old as the earth itself, and to be blessed by them, was indeed an auspicious omen. One such woman managed to appear from behind some very fierce looking tribesmen of the Smasaan area. The Smasaanis, as they were called, were noted for their fierce ways and their impregnable isolation. It was rumoured that they were adept at black magic and concerned themselves with the most bizzare rituals. Some said they were absolutely comfortable with death and dead bodies, treating the funeral pyres as a normal forester might light a bonfire to keep himself warm. But Shiva had an old association with them; one that showed openly on His sincere smile as He acknowledged the tribe. “Babham Bhayankar!” cried the tribe leader as he poked his spear skyward, as though to pierce a hole in an unseen ethereal enemy. “Babham Bhayankar!”chorused the rest of the tribe, as more than a hundred spears went up. “Shiva Shiva Shiva!” suddenly shrieked the old woman, startling even Shiva with her abrupt and high pitched call. Something about the appearance of the woman made Him look at her again, more intently. She was short, fair, and had wavy grey hair, which was let open—something a little unusual for someone her age. Normally, women would tie their hair up in a bid to make it look denser than it actually was, but this woman had a growth which was like that of an adolescent. She had wrinkles all along her face, wrinkles that traversed from one side completely to the other, like latitudes and longitudes; and almost half a dozen of them together gave her the appearance of an ancient mountain, replete with gorges. Shiva noticed that she was extremely beautiful, and that there was something very youthful about her despite the wrinkles and the grey. “Yes, mother…” He smiled. “Do not call me mother,” she said rather shyly. “I think of you as my Lord—the virile and youthful yogi Deva!” “Ah, but I am off to get married,”smiled Shiva, amused at her humour. “Be that as it may, and I am so happy for you and your bride to be,” said the woman. “But I still think of you as my Lord, is there any stopping that?” She said teasingly. “No, I guess you can think anything you wish in your own mind, because that is the privilege each human has,” said Shiva. “And who said I am human?” cackled the woman. “I am just a flame that burns in your love, my Lord. Even as I watch the dead burn in the pyre. Fire levels all. And I saw not one, but two bodies being levelled today,”she said, bringing a strangely mystic smile on her face. “Hold your tongue, woman!” Nandi lunged forward in anger. But Shiva raised a hand and gestured him to stop; He saw instead, the face of a beautiful girl emerge on her wrinkled skin for just a flash of a moment,and then quickly merge back again. “What is your name?” Shiva asked gently. “Gita,” she replied shyly. Shiva noticed He was in the region of the mountains called Mahakaleshwar, and promptly said aloud,“Gita Mahakaleshwar!” She blushed completely and the elementals began to laugh. “Gita Mahakaleshwar!” she repeated her new title. “I like it!” And then she spoke strongly in an altogether different voice, loaded with conviction and knowingness,“It is all as you wish to play, my Lord. You are the King of the mountains, the King of the universe, Lord of all, but you have one lady from eternity, and She is the owner of He who owns us all.” “And you do remind me of my son, Sunder,” she added.“So, I think I can revert my position and bless you as a mother, indeed.” “Thank you,” said Shiva.
Tuesday, 10 May 2016
THE TANTRIKAS OF KAILASH
One by one, they came and garlanded Shiva. Some hugged Him, others prostrated themselves completely, till Shiva raised them up gently, as though to put life back into them. Still others, blessed Him by placing their palms on His head, and Shiva accepted the blessings with the utmost humility. Although He was Lord and master of these hills and mountains, He knew some of the denizens were as old as the earth itself, and to be blessed by them, was indeed an auspicious omen. One such woman managed to appear from behind some very fierce looking tribesmen of the Smasaan area. The Smasaanis, as they were called, were noted for their fierce ways and their impregnable isolation. It was rumoured that they were adept at black magic and concerned themselves with the most bizzare rituals. Some said they were absolutely comfortable with death and dead bodies, treating the funeral pyres as a normal forester might light a bonfire to keep himself warm. But Shiva had an old association with them; one that showed openly on His sincere smile as He acknowledged the tribe. “Babham Bhayankar!” cried the tribe leader as he poked his spear skyward, as though to pierce a hole in an unseen ethereal enemy. “Babham Bhayankar!”chorused the rest of the tribe, as more than a hundred spears went up. “Shiva Shiva Shiva!” suddenly shrieked the old woman, startling even Shiva with her abrupt and high pitched call. Something about the appearance of the woman made Him look at her again, more intently. She was short, fair, and had wavy grey hair, which was let open—something a little unusual for someone her age. Normally, women would tie their hair up in a bid to make it look denser than it actually was, but this woman had a growth which was like that of an adolescent. She had wrinkles all along her face, wrinkles that traversed from one side completely to the other, like latitudes and longitudes; and almost half a dozen of them together gave her the appearance of an ancient mountain, replete with gorges. Shiva noticed that she was extremely beautiful, and that there was something very youthful about her despite the wrinkles and the grey. “Yes, mother…” He smiled. “Do not call me mother,” she said rather shyly. “I think of you as my Lord—the virile and youthful yogi Deva!” “Ah, but I am off to get married,”smiled Shiva, amused at her humour. “Be that as it may, and I am so happy for you and your bride to be,” said the woman. “But I still think of you as my Lord, is there any stopping that?” She said teasingly. “No, I guess you can think anything you wish in your own mind, because that is the privilege each human has,” said Shiva. “And who said I am human?” cackled the woman. “I am just a flame that burns in your love, my Lord. Even as I watch the dead burn in the pyre. Fire levels all. And I saw not one, but two bodies being levelled today,”she said, bringing a strangely mystic smile on her face. “Hold your tongue, woman!” Nandi lunged forward in anger. But Shiva raised a hand and gestured him to stop; He saw instead, the face of a beautiful girl emerge on her wrinkled skin for just a flash of a moment,and then quickly merge back again. “What is your name?” Shiva asked gently. “Gita,” she replied shyly. Shiva noticed He was in the region of the mountains called Mahakaleshwar, and promptly said aloud,“Gita Mahakaleshwar!” She blushed completely and the elementals began to laugh. “Gita Mahakaleshwar!” she repeated her new title. “I like it!” And then she spoke strongly in an altogether different voice, loaded with conviction and knowingness,“It is all as you wish to play, my Lord. You are the King of the mountains, the King of the universe, Lord of all, but you have one lady from eternity, and She is the owner of He who owns us all.” “And you do remind me of my son, Sunder,” she added.“So, I think I can revert my position and bless you as a mother, indeed.” “Thank you,” said Shiva.
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