Here’s a tongue-in-cheek account of the plight of Goddess Durga, on Earth, her parents’ abode, in verse, by Tapati, in Different Truths.
Here arrives autumn with sky, a deep blue crystal,
With clouds floating like huge cotton balls,
The earthy aroma is calling with sweet smell of Lotus,
For my descent, the yearly invite from heaven to soil…
But now the appeal makes me shiver!
“Why my Lord”, I ask,
“Durga” being the epitome of woman power,
What is it that makes me scared?
I can see my devotees galore,
Dawn to dusk running busy,
Clubs have turned into honeycombs,
With meetings and funds coming easy.
Harrowing threats clout my mind,
I am no more a goddess of worship,
More of a toy in their hands to fiddle,
Not sure how they make my image and look.
The bitter taste of last year still lingers,
When people thronged and
Deaths followed, in a stampede,
My towering idol was cut down, from thousand feet to size,
I returned bleeding with my four kids,
Crying in hunger and teary eyes…
Here from the sky I can see
Beautiful pandals embellished across roads!
Having doubts of my idol, a mammoth one
Or a few inches small.
Fear not it be with thousand eyes or nose, quite unfeminine,
Scared of the artistic themes, with thoughts so genuine.
Don’t want a body of autumn leave or a figure like a film heroine,
Does it help to kill the Asura, with no power within?
Or if one adores me with homely slippers, today’s common fashion,
Out of sheer will to please someone’s passion?
Kartik would look like Bahubali and
Asura like Katappa, the villain,
Saraswati beaming with books,
Will Laxmi be happy with a mask of Kat, Priyanka or Jacqueline?
My Ganesh will cherish the foods, I know,
But where to stay for five days…
In pandals like a fort or some famous temple,
Hope not it looks like a toilet,
With the ongoing cleansing craze.
I wait for the Puja to come,
With wrecking nerves and fears in my heart,
Lord will you save me
When I drown in waves of the thematic flood?”
Photos from the Internet
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