Crying and screaming, Surpanakha circled around the shrubs and trees, dripping blood. The blood was mingled with the snot that came from her weeping, and she wiped these away from her disfigured face without thinking. Even when the pain had subsided a little, the bewilderment remained, that the one she’d worshipped should be so without compassion, so unlike what he looked like. It was from here, in this state, she went looking for Ravan.

The Wedding

The Wedding

SEVERAL MILLENNIA HAD PASSED, and Shiv was still meditating, now and then coming out of his trance to take a few long-drawn-out puffs of ganja, then returning, his eyes red, to the trance again. The tiger skin on his shoulder was dark and hung loosely. From the knots of his hair, which looked as if it hadn’t been washed for centuries, the Ganga poured out, a trickle. The crescent moon, like a cheap trinket you might buy at Kalighat, was also lodged in the matted hair. The forehead was covered with ash that hadn’t been wiped away in a long time; the only thing faintly resplendent was the third eye, which, whenever it opened, shone with more light than the moon.

Meanwhile, worlds ended, began; and the sun rose and set behind him, making the peaks of Kailash dazzle whitely and mutely during the day, casting a pale orange glow upon them at the time of its disappearance. Night came; and then it ebbed away after a few hours, and the sun rose again, slowly.

Vishnu muttered to a friend:

“Well, it’s time he woke up.”

The friend shuddered.

“There’s such a to-do when he does.”

Vishnu said:

“I wish our gods had, now and again, bouts of insomnia, and that their samadhis were a little less deep. Waking them means so much expenditure, that the three worlds are impoverished for years to come, and no living creature, with all the noise, can sleep for days…” He sighed, didn’t quite seem to be himself; then called out: “Kama!”

The god, suspended in air, about to release an arrow from his bow, heard the call. Distracted, abandoning his task, and leaving the couple below silent, he appeared before the Preserver of the Universe.

“You called, Lord,” he said. Vishnu nodded. He said something in his ear; Kama paled.

“N-not that,” he stammered. “I’d be undone!” Vishnu waved a hand casually. “You might be temporarily put out of action, no more,” he said calmingly. “Besides, you can’t die—remember? We need him; he has duties to attend to. All he does is meditate, play his damru a little, and smoke ganja with his cohorts. He’s become most unsociable in the ordinary sense of the word.”

“I’ve always kept my distance from him,” said Kama fastidiously.

“So have I,” said Vishnu. “Anyway, think about it…”

“Have I a choice?” asked Kama, already thinking of how to extricate himself. Vishnu read his mind.