Sunil P Narayan : Fallen into Nothingness

Beirn

Fallen Into Nothingness

I

Vijayā came to me in a dream asking for forgiveness
I ran as quick as I could, the arctic wind filling my lungs
Tiny pricks of needles only to make me cough and stop every several minutes
He followed me to the end of the road, grabbing my shoulders too hard!

I fell into his arms and sobbed softly
Sounds of trees and birds are mute
Vijayā asked me the question again
In the language of the Devás, I told him “No, only Bráhman can answer it!”

His pain makes him turn the world into a garden
Flowers are poking out of fields of tall grass
Roses, lotuses, lilacs and plums
I am given this gift to change my heart’s anger

No, no! I can’t do this!
I ran again, though this time fell into a hole
He followed me there and held my body down
The awesome strength of a wrestler or even a god

Vijayā asked me again if I could forgive him
Gasping for air I reached for those dry lips of his and sucked his breath
The sweet strawberry sitting at the back of his throat slid down mine
I breathed his joy for the first time in years

My arms resisting his as he took off my garments
Thighs wide and white like the Himālayas clasped my chest tightly
I shouted so loud for they rub against my thin ribs
I am in a defeated state for which he accepts

An hour later, watching him sleep with his head on my breast
I cannot say no for this man is impossible to escape
Vijayā stalks me like a tiger hungry for human flesh
I look back, seeing complete concentration in his eyes
Almost as if the brutal savage will hunt me again for sport

With each conquest he responds in the words sweet as rose pollen:
“You’ll always be mine. No one else knows where we are, so accept this new life of ours.
I offer my protection and heart to you, please don’t refuse it”
At times I see angels at night hovering beneath lit clouds
They’re watching a pulsating ocean of our heart’s love
Hṛṣīkeśa-Devá’s guardian touches my back to let me know Vijayā’s love is more precious than my destiny

II

Śyena-Devá opens his wings to form a dome for us
He takes caution to not look
He buries his yellow beak in his chest not noticing white feathers fall onto our backs
They melt like snowflakes
Hṛṣīkeśa sent heaven’s angels to bless us with a promise

I waited so long for you to come to me my mighty sire
Each day passed with voices coming in all directions
None faced me courageously like you did upon catching my lustful stare
I became blind to avoid seeing my exacerbated pain
You are the vessel of anything rough so a woman’s pain is a pinch to you

It was too many days of tears locked in my heart by the bitter voices
No one knew who I was or cared for that matter
A long time ago I saw the demon’s world so my atman fled to safety
The color of the sky was the taint of the executioner’s blade
Your face formed out of the clouds to witness the deliverance of justice

My bare neck stitched with plastic thread several times but now hangs unattached
The cuts cannot heal for encrustation is my pox
I feel as if the cobra’s venom snuck into my arms to destroy my life
The torturer weighs my pain against morals but to him one is heavier than the other
You place your hand on my shoulder and rub till the sore is gone

If you saw me now there are no regretful scars
My distorted image slid off when I looked in your direction
Life flooded my limp body once again
My eyes opened to see only you standing obliviously to your surroundings
A rākṣasaḥ took my body in a previous life to feed his selfish lust

No strength in my body could shove him to the floor
His teeth sharper than my brother’s sword poked many holes in my arm
The blue blood trickled to my wrists
His hands gripped my neck tightly till my lungs gave out
My life saved his own but at what cost?

Keśava, my brother, young and ignorant of the world’s dangers
Constantly played with his toys to cope with the rākṣasaḥ raids of our lands
He sensed my demise yet kept his tears locked in the heart
The rust of the lock grew dark brown after seven years
His hair turned completely grey like the fire smoke

Every night my hopeless brother prayed for me to return with his mangoes
Yes, he wanted me to pick mangoes from our special mango tree in the forest!
It was there I stumbled upon a long, black-haired rākṣasaḥ with two small eyes
His jaw hung so low you could not tell whether speech or the ability to scream was taken away

I found my way to you amongst a world oozing with malice
Vicious cuts worn by Bhūmī-Devī as a nasty gift
She grabbed my ankle pleading for me to borrow her tormenting state
I could not resist easing my sister’s pain

III

The deep blue color your skin wears provides shelter for the morals given by Vāsudevāya
You shared your gift with me without asking for anything in return
I prostrate to you as a grateful wife!
A saint sent by Nārāyaṇa to deflect the harsh spirit of this world

My ātman etched in the heart’s canvas a symbol of your generosity
It wasn’t tangible till you left an imprint on my chest
The sign of Vāsudevāya’s boon is the power to absorb the world’s love
Why do you make me feel as if Bhūmī-Devī needs to donate her children’s love to me?

A soldier flung into the battlefield to fight Bráhman’s enemies
Slaying rākṣasaḥ after rākṣasaḥ with Sarvāsuravināśā-Devī at the other end
I saw this relentless, snarling monster pull limbs apart

It threw them to Sarvāsuravināśā-Devī’s lion as a snack
He scratched every mind with his tiger-claws
While smiling at me when the blood of the last demon is lapped up by her lion

The foreseen apocalypse begun after Sóma-Devá indulged in his unstoppable lust with an
Apsarāḥ
They partook in rich wine after the devá’s sandalwood paste washed off with milk
Stayed outside for the whole day letting the ocean’s waves reach the farm lands

The Nakṣatras waited in subservience to their husband Sóma-Devá
Sóma-Devá forgot his important task so shrouded his abode at dawn
In this careless act the rākṣasaḥs saw a chance to cause chaos amongst unguarded
villages

The world saw fire and dark rejoice in union while demons stormed the cities
Wrecking the homes with axes, blades, arrows, spiked-clubs and torching the children whose hallowed parents are already buried in the ground

Laughter filled the smoky air after cries for mercy submerged into the sea of blackened bones
Cheekbones smeared with black charcoal, full lips dry after sapping the sweet marrow

IV

A treason these black creatures have committed against Bhavānī-Devī yet Sóma-Devá is no where to be seen!?
His legs will become lame when Varuṇa-Devá crushes them with his mighty fist

A shameless devá who rewards tempestuous nymphs with an abundance of gold-threaded red silk
His plump hands eagerly give such a possession only worn by Mahālakṣmī

A bastardly devá he is!
Where there is no concern in his silent heart undeniable regret exists
It pulsates in his conscience till he screams for his wife

No woman can soothe his outbursts for his insides pinch his soul
Such a sensitive entity…vulnerable to Sóma-Devá’s abusive body
Such a shame the spirit has to witness illuminated divine reduced to a mortal’s misery

Let this serve as an urgent message for all those who have lost themselves to the seduction of all-consuming pleasure
One drop of rose water from the golden bowl will snap you into another reality
The Devás venture into such a world for their enjoyment but mortals are bound by
a weakness: death

Mortals act like the Devás and feel justified but our minds have already shed layers till nothing but the ego remains
The ego is a sneaky cobra….death is a mouse
Oh Sóma-Devá!

Why do you succumb to your heart’s greed!?
To waste your virtuosity away on heartless tempests!
Eons of austere meditation pass on to the next generation of divine beings

Yours is just an ignored toy so the body red from constant arousal
Like a monkey in intense heat
No devá will hold your hand with sympathy in their hearts for you have soiled your place in heaven
Varuṇa judged you as corruptible!
Gone are your selfish prostitutes and white marble palace!

To cope you waddle in a lake alone while the gopis laugh at your impotency
You easily forgot your service to humanity
To wane and wax so the rākṣasaḥs remain imprisoned in Bhavānī-Devī’s steel chamber
Gone is your people’s immovable devotion!

V

I knew your thoughts by staring at your limitless entity after the rain retreated
The air laid down on my feet like a cat, sighing as the heated caressed it
You waited for everyone else to go back to sleep
Then showed me the large pearl in your necklace

I threw a red lotus by which your hand quickly caught it
It released the smell of ripe mangoes under the summer’s sunset
The Aśvins are envious of my affection towards you
Plotting till the end of time for my ladoo!

From the window of my mansion in Himālayas’ forest I offered salutations to
you, the fair white lotus
A divine creature sought after by every astrologer
Now, you are missing from the sea of twinkling sea urchins
A mortal hiding in secrecy while kings switch to deviance
And soldiers bring injustice to those who seek help

The rākṣasaḥs aid in the rājās’ adventures of guiltless sin
They’re waiting for the right time when you sacrifice your last bit of power for their conquest of the world
If any thought crossed my mind that you would be the cause of our problems
It couldn’t manifest, for I was enamored with your breadth of light
Light dressed with the spotless virtue of compassion

It gave Bhūdevī the nourishment she needed when sobbing for being childless
To my surprise, eons later you gave everyone a lit candle in the midst of her turbulent lashes
Your sympathy for the suffering of others has no boundary
It is as limitless as Gangā-Devī in the spring
A heavy burden for a rākṣasaḥ is a devá’s noble trait

Uṣas-Devī turned to Varuṇa-Devá to ask about your whereabouts: “Where did my lord go?”
Varuṇa-Devá could not answer for the world was suffering more than you
While mankind’s hope is steeped towards nothingness, your lips touch the
refilled wooden bowl
Always displeased with the remaining drop hanging from the rim
Always asking for more, more and more!

When a man gives in to the weakness of his mind he is connected to it
His mother’s words of noble character become a child’s folktale
I am disheartened when seeing my friend throw himself into the tavern
Little by little his mind is eaten by alcoholism

A sickness worse than Śrīmatī Rādhārānī stricken with sudden depression when Keśava leaves her home
Your love for humanity withers under the scorching Sūrya
I cover my ears to not hear your sobbing
It pains me to even wonder what your body has become

VI

I left Bhūdevī’s side after witnessing women and children decapitated by the sword of evil
Men and boys sold into slavery by warlords
The world in anguish has sunken into the cosmos
It waits for Nārāyaṇa’s warrior to fight for us again

In my heart I knew he would come on a white horse wielding Mahākālī’s talwar
He galloped onto the battlefield forming a dust wind that enveloped the entire Āsura race
Shouting Nārāyaṇa’s name with pride!
Chopping every foe’s head off a banana bundle from its branch

One, two, three and many more heads bounce as they hit the floor
He crushed their heads like coconuts and licked the watery blood till the skin turned blue
His roar is Bhūdevī’s earthquake, terrifying Indrāṇī’s servants!

They blow conch shells to alert the Devás of the eon’s apocalyptic battle
All the Devás ride into combat with their chariots, armed and drunk on fury
Even Yamarāja wields a noose to snatch the hideous Āsuras by their necks!

Rāma-chandra’s immortal army joins the fight with their hearts emanating Nārāyaṇa’s love
Lightening attacked the ground with such force the forest’s creatures ran to Bhūdevī’s caves
Fire surrounded the battlefield to keep blood from spilling onto her green sari

The Āryas and Āsuras skinned each other down to the little toe forming a lake of blood
No one retreated for their egos saw death instead of glory
Why is Mahākālī simply observing this battle?

She sits atop a tree, her eyes glowing with anger
Every child has slipped into the ether world without a sorrowful wail from the Devás
To my horror Mahādevī lost her sanity, releasing a bloodcurdling scream

The birds flew into Bhūdevī’s arms for the raging devī’s voice terrifies them
She leaped onto the bed of corpses unaware they are Devás
A spiteful grin adorns her face
For her moral authority is unparalleled in the universe

My husband stood alone before the remaining hundred Āsuras
They blocked every direction so no escape could be made
A man who could push your body into the soil with his foot is now the prey
Mahākālī’s screamed once more sending the voices of the Āsuras into the netherworld

VII

Speechless they looked in her direction then froze as hard as the Himālaya’s icecaps
One by one the untouchable shadow knocked off their heads with her mace
She scooped each head to quench her thirst for blood before smashing the skulls with her barefoot
I could not bear to look at her savagery for in its naked form a mother’s wrath brings even Nārāyaṇa to his knees!

In my heart I bowed down to Kālarātri-Devī’s terrible power
The awesome flesh-eating devī who jumps from the mountain top to the ocean’s
floor
Anklets made of Āsura wrist bones jingle like the devádāsī’s bells
I prostrate before your measureless power in eternal obedience

The Āsuras’ skulls crack under her pink sole becoming dust
No one dare challenges the bloodthirsty devī!
For her gaze casts a spell of fear on those who challenge her
A herd of lamb unable to rise from the funeral pyre
Kālarātri reduced this sinful army to a dozen for my husband

She leaped back onto her tree to watch him execute the demons
Her role in this fight against evil has been fulfilled
The flow of blood into her starving belly symbolized this moment
A legion of Āsuras would have sprung from each drop of blood yet
Kālarātri’s tongue long as a cobra’s catches it before it hit the ground

When Kālarātri came into existence time had bended inwards
Such pain seared its skin leaving holes that could not contain light
Light is unbridled and time is its servant
One overpowers the other without a just reason
Such is Kālarātri, the rebel who sprang from the bent body of time

Her unbridled nature has been the daunting tale of many slain Āsuras
Who is this Āsura with bones for a skirt and fangs so long as the waning moon?
The Devī of Night may keep time from losing its beautiful figure
Her power cast a spell imbedded in Viṣṇu’s galaxy
Unwavering no matter what cruel game the rākṣasaḥs play with Time

Brāhmaṇas ask for the great bringer of destruction, Kālarātri-Devī, during yajña
In secret they call the ghastly devī an Āsura
Her skin color is as black as the ocean’s pearls
Yet her hands reach for children’s palms to offer motherly love

In my heart she is my tender mother awaiting our reunion
I sit before my altar to adorn my ishvara with marigolds
Bathe the black marble in cow’s milk and anoint the forehead with bright roli
Singing my heart’s praise for her magnificent beauty

VIII

My dear mother, to the world you are death but to me you my very thoughts
Selfless love blanketed by ferociousness
The Āsuras and the Devás cannot mask their pangs of jealousy
Your eyes are little pools of faith in my intentions so I offer
my abundance of gratitude

The tale of Śiva sacrificing his life to Mahādevī is true!
The newly born goddess was a nightmare to the world after
defeating a demon king
Her ego swallowed the victory
As a result, becoming the mind’s furor

Such madness led the slayer down a path of human annihilation!
The end of this eon would have been mankind’s apocalypse
Most of the Devás fled to Pṛthivī’s ocean caves for shelter

The one who remained laid down on the muddy path leading to the Himālayas
She trampled all plants and animals till seeing a naked blue devá
An ego once the largest in the galaxy reduced to that of a child’s

Śiva with the crescent moon in his long brown hair took the form of a motherless baby
Sleeping serenely with his little thumb in his mouth
A selfless deed to rid of the world of needless bloodshed

A second before her foot touched the infant’s chest her mind shook violently
Its eyes opened to witness the heart’s inferno of guilt
The kuṇḍalinī rushed to the heart threatening its existence

The dark-skin devī succumbed to the realization of what her power could do
The heart struck by pain so sharp her legs shook before the deep blue child
Suddenly night turned into day snapping the kuṇḍalinī out of its fixation

The Brāhmaṇas sing of the next moment with welling eyes
Mahādevī whose skin turned fair picks up the smiling baby in her hands, offering
her breastmilk

The devī who felt terrible anger now sings a lullaby to awake him
Hours pass without Mahādevī becoming agitated by her child’s silence

IX

As daylight leaves Pṛthivī the white boy and his mother remain locked in an embrace
In this state the pair remained for years while she recovered from the torrent of abuse

Mahāyogin forgot who he was, the mountain dweller who only talks when Bráhman excuses him
Kālikā, forgot who she was, the harbinger of unspeakable massacre

A mother and her child inseparable so the world could breathe again
Such a bond the Brāhmaṇas sing of without stopping to catch their breath
Agním is transported to the moment when Kālikā met her defeat

In his eyes a mother sits on the floor holding her infant
Where once he saw the comet penetrate the soil now exists a victory for
Pṛthivī
Such a kind mother for she hunched her back to allow Kālikā and her son sit on top!

The way my sweet savior looks at me is like that of Kālikā’s baby
He carries me in his arms adoring my laugh as his steps shake the ground
Gently he lays me down on our bed

To hold my gaze with his own
I forget to take my bathe because his hands push my pelvis against his
Our love is a tiger biting into garnished poultry

Unbeknownst to me, Pushpavān shoots a floral arrow of passion into our hearts
Why does he intervene in our privacy!?
I look to the window and see him peering in
Shyly his eyes dodge our naked bodies

His white body washed with cow’s milk before going on a search for couples
That nose of his finely pointed to lead the way
He pulls the bee-string of his sugarcane bow to send a vibration to our hearts
Amused from pinching them with lust from the floral head of his arrow

X

One night I set a trap of honey on the window sill
Kāmadeva, so naïve of the mortal’s playfulness
One or two tricks I hid in my closet
In the evening the handsome devá sat on the windowsill ready to tease us again

My husband came home from hunting with Śakra-Devá in Gangā’s forests
While I took a bath Kāmadeva struggled to release himself from the bees’ honey
His skin begin to peel off, staining the wood with blood
My lord saw this invasion thus shot five arrows in rapid succession, piercing the
Devá of Love’s stomach

I rushed to my room, screaming in terror at this atrocity!
An innocent game turned into the murder of a playful devá
My heart broke into pieces which my husband hurriedly gathered
Before he could create a rose vase again Varuṇa-Devá caught me by the hair
Vijayā begged him to let me go but the wise devá’s own heart
is filled with disappointment

I tried to grab hold of my loving kṣatriya yet even the lord’s strong morality kept me
from succeeding
Varuṇa-Devá thrust me into the netherworld without speaking a word
I stand in the misty valley a humbled mortal
I gave you my sweet lord many years of selfless devotion
My hands constantly worked in the kitchen for you

I am stuck in this realm of rākṣasaḥ souls
Spirits bent on vengeance for their murder
I live inside the tree for am too scared to face the sadistic spirits
No pure soul exists but me
How am I pure if my reckless behavior caused the death of another?

I have acted without thinking yet do we not all behave in such a way?
The Devás behave foolishly when courtesans dance for their pleasure
I slaved in the kitchen with the smile as pleasant as Sūrya-Devá’s
My sweet savior sees me watching from Vāsava’s shimmering moonstone-encrusted palace
He thrusts his sword in the air as a salutation to my hands adorned with the finest rubies

You are my loyal servant in our tiny abode and I am your loyal servant too
Now that you are so far away my bracelets fade away leaving behind cold wrists
My most prized possession is taken away to degrade my love for you
In secret Vāsava’s courtesans praise my bravery in this cruel exile

Without the shameless character of the Devás they are vessels of joy and desire
I knew their heart’s intent from the beginning
It certainly lied with no other!
No devá shall touch these luminescent creatures ever again

XI

Yes, they will be under my protection
No hand dirtied with the blood of a rākṣasaḥ will caress a courtesan’s thigh
They are above such a barbaric manner!
Śakra-Devá groomed his subjects to be greedy swine but I scold them openly

While rain falls onto my sari it continues soaking in the muddy water
I cry in agony for the first memory of me hunting you has brought me into a sorrowful state
Millions of miles forward with the eyes of a gazelle I saw you eating an apple in the shade of a tree
Proud of evading the chase you forget my eyes can see everything

You are too proud to admit defeat so maintain silence for weeks
Oh! This childish game you play!
You don’t make a sound even if I kiss your sweaty neck

Such a strong tree trunk unbreakable even if Śakra-Devá lightning bolt were to hit it
I asked Bráhman to give me a child but instead he gave me a man
A man with playfulness to bring out my laughter

Run and hide in the Himālayas, my rājā!
I will find you and caress those mud-caked cheeks
You slip in the slushy field of grass but pull yourself up like an ambitious king

A goal of escaping my speedy eyes
My soldier, I will always find you hiding in some cave
Suckling the drops of salty ocean water

They are pleasing to your warrior nature
A warrior enjoys nature’s womb without abandon for he is not as reserved as one thinks
Bound to a code of living his mind wants salty water to quench his thirst
I see that part of you since your nature is not limp by the fear of disgust

In the morning you are stark naked standing in the soft blue lake
Waiting for the Sun to dry your oiled arms
I sigh as your soapy hair becomes soft like a baby otter’s back
If you turn to look at me my eyes shyly look towards the sky

XII

The sky is a long trail of smashed blueberries
To pick one is to peal the roof so the galaxy can be seen
Wilted lotus flowers crown the head of a rākṣasaḥ
But vibrant orange marigolds and yellow orchids decorate yours!

You wear my handpicked flowers as your sentimental jewelry
I give you golden rings laden with lapis lazulis but you
are more fond of my garden’s flowers
A man who is known all over the world as the drunken slaughterer
Indulging in a drink made of crushed soma and water before battle

Are proudest of wearing my rejuvenated garden’s flowers!
Perhaps the smell reminds you of our erotic union in the jungle

Sūrya-Devá turns black like kohl, a single dot in Dyauṣ Pitā’s smooth forehead
He strokes the Sūrya’s chest gently to see if he is suffering from distress

Sūrya-Devá has nothing to say so Dyauṣ Pitā’s remains neglected
You are outraged by the long cruelty Sūrya-Devá enacts on such a fragile friend

His skin so thin if broken the world would be sucked into nothingness
Like water when forced by Sūrya-Devá to take one last breath

He brings joy to Pṛthivī when pulling the far end of her sari to his chest
Showing us the milky craters and swirls of summer colors condensed into
gigantic marbles of blue, red, silver, brown, purple, orange and pink!

My goodness! It is as if the rainbow ran away from the windy monsoon to lie on Viṣṇu’s transparent floor!
We can see the Devás enjoying passion fruit while celestial musicians play the tabla and sitar, singing hymns to a past eon of harmonious innocence

We can smell our mother’s lotus syrup as it pours into Pṛthivī’s garnished womb
All the malnourished black ants jump into stream for a drink
People went about their business in the market square to trade mangoes and silver pots with Indrāṇī’s inscriptions
Their eyes glistening after Gaṅgā touched them at the morning bath
Simple-minded mortals trading their heirlooms for a safety net not worth a year

XIII

They knew what was to come but I didn’t…
I should have known, my lord!
I should’ve soared through the streets disguised as a canary
Watching for any sign of guiltless malice

I wait every day under my banyan tree
My hands have shriveled from the prolonged droughts
I beg for water but no one offers me a pot
When Bráhman heard my suffering he refused to end my life

My tree’s leave are gone
Starved for three months, I eat only the air
If one were to see me the stem is snapped in half

The petals dried to a crisp and pollen swallowed by the demons
Like a gardener who disposes of his tarnished beauty
dispose of me my lord!
Gather sticks for a funeral pyre so I can reunite with my husband

My hair has turned completely gray and cheekbones sag to the jaw
I don’t want anyone to see me in this nasty state
For the a single second would make them vomit

A rose once so tall has shrunken to a weed
My dear hero has no way of seeing me but he knows I am lost
You haven’t told him yet but he will learn soon

If you forgive me for my error I will calm him down
Vijayā inherited the temper of his father Kārtikeya, the Devá of War

Once the devá fretted over whether to strip him of his powers or not
I convinced them to allow the contemplative child to blossom into
their fearless protector

XIV

I cannot read the mind of Bhūdevī’s children
Hence, you go in my place to discover a dreaded secret

A home scorched, leaving nothing but children with glassy eyes
The Āsuras put a spell on their minds to rend them defenseless before
snatching their hearts

With each city the homes of families are destroyed as a blood filled the streets
Once the parents are all eaten their bones are fashioned into necklaces
They created a bloodbath to fill bathtubs with the blood of children

A stick with a child’s skin attached is used by a nervous servant to scrub an Āsura’s back
Oh those poor innocent people!
A harsh image etched into my memory

A smirk appears on every devá’s face for a sport is about to begin
Role the dice and bet on a wife!
Offer your kingdom for it is only people!

This world is for students not quite ready for the puppet-game of the Devás
Foolish kings wallow in the ego’s prized muck
Unaware of the Devás tugging at their strings

The treason Āsuras committed upon Bhūdevī’s ground is an abomination
The rulers of our lands have been maneuvered in the direction of such corruption
Even the purest race of divine beings is seduced by such an easy conquest!

All emotions appear and disappear with a change of the rules
Boys cannot play for they are cats distracted by manipulative mice
A trap with gold coins at the center become their
achilles heal
All noble creatures moved to the rival of the heart without a second thought

Fallen into a state of fixed sadness followed by eyes dissolved by the burning tears of the soul
Morality constantly fought with every ruler’s cowardice
To punish them Varuṇa-Devá cast a spell on their tears to act as knives against the skin
May the wise one turn them into whimpering dogs

XV

My champion watches with rage from beneath Bhūdevī’s soil
Bang! Bang! Bang! He pounds the thick ceiling with his fist!
Shouting Viṣṇu’s prophecy of a gloomy end for
Do they not feel the horror women experience when Bhūdevī is chained to tree posts for the rākṣasaḥs’ pleasure!?

Murderous bastards these rulers most certainly are!
A curse on their feeble, disrobed bodies!
For their next life I shall curse them to be crunched by a cobra’s teeth
The suffering felt by the motherless children when the rākṣasaḥs dismantled their bodies you will endure till I let go of your body

Know this you putrid race of disobedient mahārājas: I curse you to be reborn as diseased rats!
Your bones bit down on by a cobra who does not know your sick mind
His heart is loyal to Śeṣa for he understands the virtue of honor
Your honor is inside a copper pot in your wife’s kitchen for she could not hide her shame
any longer
A devī is elegant in character but a devá is a slave to fickleness

In my gentle heart I cannot destroy the infected leaders of our country
Their knees may be black as the hands of lurking rākṣasaḥs
But their souls are not supposed to be handed to Yamarāja-Devá for consumption
I have the power of virtuosity gifted to me by Mahālakṣmī and the power to hand punishment to those who spit on her affection
I bow down to the blue feet you adorn with blue gemstone rings

Each one is made from the moon’s glossy marble
So perfect that Sūrya-Devá looks upon you with noticeable envy!
Nārāyaṇa, your body is curved to match the sensuousness of Śeṣa, King of the Nāgas
Who is the galaxy’s coiled bed decorated with the blue devá’s prized emeralds
A humble snake without its poison reigns over his seduced children

Give me a chance to spin the three-limbed wheel of life, death and rebirth Viṣṇu!
Place me on my lord’s throne so I can lift Bhūdevī’s black veil tonight
If Varuṇa will become enraged then I plead you to not divulge our secret
In each eon there is foe too enormous Bhūdevī runs to a sea cave at the furthest corner of the earth
She trembles while praying for Varāha’s rescue

He dove into the electrifying milky galaxy to pull her out
It could have ended his life but he possesses limitless valor
A devá who will save anyone even if the she is ill-mannered
She saw his eyes of unbeatable determination masking a cursed mind
The grateful goddess touched his conscience to soothe the numbing anxiety
The lotus flowers lay beneath your feet undiminished
They grow so full with life that Mahālakṣmī turns away to hide her jealously
Pṛthivī received her right to protect her children in the next left when you lifted the curse

XVI

I saved my husband from pain-inducing hallucinations after a sage hexed him for tripping on his dinner plate
Give me the same boon my mother had the rare fortune of receiving before she became one with the milky ocean!
The power to take away a demon’s magick is what I need to save my sister
Pṛthivī is raped continuously screaming my name, can’t you see she needs my help!?
From my parents’ booming lovemaking came me and Pṛthivī
I, the smaller moon of this universe and she, the fertile earth

Nārāyaṇa, you took me into your arms and taught me the Āryan way
Pressured my erring nature to dissipate like the universe when it was a billion years dead
The loudest vibrating shock could be heard within my mind
Your intent was to groom me, my omnipotent eternal sky

I was the guardian of Pṛthivī’s children to keep her oceans will not swallow them
My lord, I cannot help but touch your feet a thousand times!
My serene, nurturing sire, if your eyes stretched any wider we would see many universes in your mind

It is such great anxiety I feel now that you changed your mind
I am lost in a misty realm without a lit candle to show me the way
Have you abandoned me my doe-eyed lord?

One voice shouts at me with a sneer, that I might enjoy living in a jail cell
On a floor covered with the charred bones of children
If it be true then perhaps I deserve this hell
I regret making the mistake, it was a shameful thing to do
Kāmadeva is gone, my husband is gone, and now the world is barren
Sūrya takes this opportunity to rape a depressed Pṛthivī
Pṛthivī lost her joy to the demons who wished her dead
Her womb is devoid of the seven oceans

In this dying state the lush earth will become a forgotten carcass
Soon the universe will give way for a billion years of pure darkness
Such a dire condition!
Her black sari will appear under the Sun’s enormous entity every few centuries
What seems like the wind is just the end of the fabric

In such a moment millions of sacrificed souls shall reach for their mother
Only to realize their purpose is to be recluse
Such temptation a mortal possesses, to be one with her again
If one looks to his left or right there is the same transparent spirit

They’re floating in this black universe which is without boundaries
The material is cool as the arctic wind
But bitter like the bees’ unsweetened honey
None have a form, a life or touch…only the thought remains

- Sunil P. Narayan


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