Dussehra

The sky was pale pink,with the reds clustering towards the setting sun.It was drizzling.I woke up from my siesta,startled by the intimidating roar. Soldiers reported that the source of the roar was an astounding beauty with eighteen hands..mounted over a lion..Nothing has shook my heart so far..No,it is not fear..

“Prime Minister,Go with a portion of our army on my behalf.Show her who Mahishasur is.Don’t harm her.Tell her she could be my Queen.”

Will she come?I haven’t seen her.But it seems like I know her more than I know myself.What would be her eyes like?Will the moon coyly hide behind her eyes?Or will the sun set into her eyes?

“Maharaj,She refused your proposal.She said she is both the creator and the creation.She said she wants to meet you in a battle.”The Prime minister said.

Did she stride into my empire or..?My heart..it aches.

“A woman’s pride lies in her desirability. Tamra,My trusted General,Go and humble her pride.Do not harm her.Trap her in your illusions.”

Tamra will bring her.She will be the Queen..Her face will be my day and her feet my night…and she,my life..

Night..

Tamra’s efforts have gone in vain.She is challenging me.What kind of a woman is she?It seems it is time for words to retire and actions to stir the dust..

“Durmukha!Bhashkala!let our army be ready.Let the horns blow.Let the flags flutter in the wind.Let the war begin!”

The horses vanished out of my sight.A lonely wind hummed a melancholy and swept into the balcony,caressing my untidy hair.I was surprised to realise that I had been praying for her..She is the Queen and she is ruling me..Will the boon save me this time?

A sleepless night and a despondent day gave birth to an evening with blood stained stories.A lost heart perched upon the tree of losses,yet chirping and singing the tale of spring..The leaves are falling..

My armour..it seems like I am wearing it for the first time.Ah!there is a strand of grey hair.Pluck it..or no let it be there.This is war..

This is my first war.So far I had been playing around.Nothing was as challenging as this.I always wanted to win.Today,the war is within me.I want to win and I want to lose too..

Ah! My men!Durmukha and Bhashkala are burning down with the dusk..Oh my dear Tamra.. And there lies Asiloma and Ah,this is Bidala’s head and where is my Sikshura?….Where is She?

Moments were clowns..and she was waiting for me.In the light of her eyes, I could see mine.And for the first time I had contempt for myself. My eyes were stagnant with lust that the mosquitoes of promiscuity bred night in them.

I asked her one more time..She seeks war..

She was stronger than I thought,an apt counter for an invincible.Her arrows were less severe than her eyes.The serpent shaped weapons were nothing in front of the curly hair..Man is not strong enough to attack her..I wasn’t born a king,but I was born to be a King.

Nine days and nine nights passed.In the course of war,I changed my forms many a times..or rather she unravelled my inner powers..She has defeated my flamboyance,my pride,my lust..The lion,the elephant and the snake went back to the jungle on that the moonlit night..

She is undoubtedly more powerful than me.She could have slayed me in a moment..Why is she not doing that then?

Dussehra

The tenth day..Red was radiating out of her cloth to garnish the last leaves of autumn.Her army has almost wiped out mine.Its the final wave.Today I am what I really am..devoid of masks and shadows..away from the stage,I am no longer an actor.I am the bull headed Mahishasur.I leapt upon her lion.She pressed the trident into my chest.I fell back.I knew I had no heart.Still,it was bleeding.The wound that I had been yearning for all this life..An unknown cocktail flowed out of my wound..No,it wasn’t blood..

I am still a warrior.I rose and kicked her..I could hear my mother’s voice,filled with joy “He is kicking..”I could hear my Father’s happiness..And now I could see her..She was fierce and tender..like the lotus in the scorching heat..I saw the lustre of her discuss..It was nothing in front of her lustre…

A final note..

I thank her for making my death so beautiful.She chose fall for my end.Trees draped their leaves in red..Sun’s rays kissed the sand passionately..Day and night and rain and sun came together..that dusk..to bid me farewell..On those last moments,when life and death held each other,I forgot to count my breath..Then I realised why she waited for the tenth day..Red was in the air..flowers and vermilion,her saree and the sky..blood and love..

Every year every body celebrate my loss with truimph..Every day I thank her for helping me win for the first time..Every year I celebrate her victory..

(The above write up is just an adaptation of the original version. There is no intention to mislead or cause confusion.)