Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Navratri - 55 fiction:
Note - This post is dedicated to Navratri, with each story depicting one of the nine forms of Goddess Shakthi.
Story 1: Durga – The invincible:
They waited; hyenas relishing the anticipation of the kill. The waiting game will pay. She will get exhausted; will break; will deliver. They have the whole night.
Moments melded into minutes; minutes into hours.
The dawn broke. They ran leaving 2 of their buddies at her feet bleeding, the knife still in her hand, her eyes still burning.
Story 2: Bhadrakali – The auspicious:
The kid raced through the fields laughing at the top of her voice. The wind swiveled through her loose hair as she tumbled into her father’s open arms. He lifted her over his shoulders with a surplus smile on his lips.
Nothing new; Nothing much; He did not really care when celebrating his daughter’s youth.
Story 3: Amba – The Mother:
Her child slipped and fell down with a tearing shriek. The pain jack sawed through his tender body. She rushed to her child, dried his tears, cajoled him, checked him for serious wounds, cleaned the mud off him and she left him alone.
Left him alone to pick himself up once again.
Story 4: Annapoorna Devi – The Provider:
She could never breast feed her baby. The doctors were kind enough to explain with patience. But all she heard in the damning silence was her own soul wailing.
Hard decisions; harder to live through them; Months passed.
She never breast fed and her kid’s still healthy. She sighed. Love cannot be breast fed.
Story 5: Sarvamangala – The joyous:
She always laughed loudly; especially after arriving there. Her voracious mirth; verbally signed; Deep and sonorous; lucid and warm guffaws; brimming with unsaid humor; listless possibilities and life in abundance; the happy echoes reverberated not just with air, sweeping through corridors of the old age home, touching and cuddling the few listening souls.
Story 6: Bhairavi – The Fierce:
The sickle in her hand moved with a practiced rhythm as they went through all the unwanted weeds. Their dry roots were torn apart from the earth without mercy. After going through the entire field, she sighed with satisfaction.
The land owner paid her in full without any questions. She still had the sickle in her hand.
Story 7: Chandika – The Supreme:
Chaos reigned. Chairs were thrown. Curses exchanged. Parties formed. Favors fished. Violence sought. Bullies brought. Politics played. Nobody was listening to nobody; Bedlam on riot.
She came into the room with a brisk walk. A deep hush was followed by a warm greeting of the kindergarten kids wishing their teacher Good morning.
Story 8: Lalita – The Beautiful:
She sat on her bed, staring at the mirror. A frail old woman stared at her back with drooping breasts, generous age lines, white wisps of hair, pale pallor, wrinkled skin, over her bent body. She sighed to herself.
“The years had been kind”. Her husband whispered to her “you still have the brightest smile”
Story 9: Bhavani – The merciful:
Her chubby ten year old eyes looked at him with a sad glint.
“I am not able to break the chocolate into two.”
“Oh” his squeaky voice responded, his eyes caught between her and the small spherical candy.
“Shall we wait” she asked thinking for a while. “For another same chocolate,... then share.... eat??”
I wanted to bring out the different faces of Goddess Shakthi - with simple everyday women. I took the help of Wikipedia to get to know all the forms of Shakthi and then, wrote stories that best suited the various shades of their nature. I wish all of my friends, reading this post- a Subh Navratri.
For people, interested to know more about Navratri - a prominent Indian festival, kindly follow the link here. I have avoided putting many pictures, so as not to disturb the flow of the fiction and also, no to disrupt the respect for the Goddess that the festival and the idea of the fiction is based on.