“I am the Queen, the gatherer-up of treasures, most thoughtful, first of those who merit worship. Thus gods have established me in many places with many homes to enter and abide in. Through me alone all eat the food that feeds them, – each man who sees, breathes, hears the word outspoken. They know it not, yet I reside in the essence of the Universe. Hear, one and all, the truth as I declare it. I, verily, myself announce and utter the word that gods and men alike shall welcome. I make the man I love exceeding mighty, make him nourished, a sage, and one who knows Brahman. I bend the bow for Rudra [Shiva], that his arrow may strike, and slay the hater of devotion. I rouse and order battle for the people, I created Earth and Heaven and reside as their Inner Controller. On the world’s summit I bring forth sky the Father: my home is in the waters, in the ocean as Mother. Thence I pervade all existing creatures, as their Inner Supreme Self, and manifest them with my body. I created all worlds at my will, without any higher being, and permeate and dwell within them. The eternal and infinite consciousness is I, it is my greatness dwelling in everything.”
– Devi Sukta, Rigveda 10.125.3 – 10.125.8
Ten, exhausting days of war as the moon waxed for nine nights. Her bosom heaved as her breathing become synonymous with the soft roars of her mount, the loose strands of her around her face danced with the light breeze. Behind her, she could hear Chamundi cackling with glee as she severed another head while blood splattered down her front. Further ahead lay a severely wounded Raktabheejan who looked like a pest-eaten leaf in autumn – tattered and dead.
Her senses were obstructed as a strange ringing filled her ears, her eyes reddening. Her hands trembled as they held on firmly to her trident, albeit moist with perspiration. All she could focus on was that of the bull charging at at great speed, kicking up a dust storm. She let out a blood-curdling scream as she threw up her trident and deftly caught it again, her hand up high above her head as the buffalo charged ferociously at her, inches away from her hungry mount.
The buffalo leapt as the lion gave a mighty roar and vaulted over. With its two large paws, it struck the buffalo in its chest, the lion’s long nails digging into its hide as the buffalo fell with a disgruntled snort.
Without hesitation, Durga propelled herself up with her right leg on her mount and swiftly pressing the trident straight on the buffalo’s chest as the enourmous buffalo grunted in pain, echoing the remnants of her war cry.
Her bosom still heaved, her leg still supported by her mount, as she watched the light leave Mahishasura’s eyes. She yanked out her trident and let it fall beside her, as her lion gave out a triumphant roar, the conches deafening.
…
This short story marks the end of my Navarathri series as we welcome Vijayadasami. In all honesty, I had so much fun doing this because I learnt that there was a world of tales that existed outside of Amar Chitra Katha comics. Knowledge is always a potent gift that one could easily posses and I am glad that I reached out for it.
I focused on the celebrations of different goddesses for nine different nights, talking about the character that they were said to possess and the story behind their manifestations. I also attempted to draw attention on how these goddesses were actually present in our everyday lives as the women we interact with.
This Navarathri, I celebrated women. I celebrated a Parvati, a Brahmacharini, a Chandraghanta, an Aathiparasakthi, a Skandamata, a Katyayni, a Kalaratri, a Mahagauri and a Siddhidatri. I celebrated a Durga, a Lakshmi and a Saraswathi.
I also came across many different posts that talked about the worship of women for nine days and abuse them for the other three hundred and fifty-six days. I cannot help, but to feel remorse that this could be a sweeping statement of generalisation but nonetheless, true.
There are men, who prays to Durga in the morning and belts their Durga at night. Men who leer at Lakshmis in the temple. Men who are extremely quick to pass a scathing comment at transgender women like Mohini. Men who automatically think that a Ganga is “asking for it” if she decides to wear a skirt. Men who touch Shaktis in public through a clandestine manner, knowing that she would shun away in embarrassment than to shout in defence.
Time and time, my father always reminds us that women in a household are goddesses. He taught us that we must respect, and we must always demand respect and not attention in return. My father, a man of his words, has until now never laid a finger on me for the very fact that he respected me as a goddess of the household – pretty much why I hold this man dear to my heart, a man I who has my respect.
This Navarathri taught me that women are a cosmic energy.
I celebrated them with my words and I hope you did by reading too.
Happy Vijayadasami. Let us help eradicate the evil within one another and celebrate the cosmic energy. Let’s continue celebrating them.
File Photo : Upasana Govindarajan (Pen and Pencil).
