Vakṣaṇī Dharmā : The Song of Mahabharat

1|The Curious Case

The night was dark and cold but the illumination of lamps and torches kept the dark at bay but did little to the chill. An idol of the Goddess Mahakali was the centre of attention for the ones gathered there. However, the one who stood beneath it was the mediator of that attention.

Her ink black hair billowed in the wind, flowing past her waist that contrasted with the blood red dress that she wore, the length of its skirt in sync with her hair. Her lips that looked as if they were stained with blood, stood out on her ivory face among her other features.

She would have been considered attractive, had it not been for her eyes.

Those dark irises, clouded by thick lashes, held pure malice. They held a feral gleam under the light of the torches, especially when her hands held a ceremonial dagger that glinted wickedly at its tip. She held the dagger above her head, her lips moving consecutively with foreign verses.

A priest stood behind her in the shadows, throwing handful of vermillion at the idol of the deity, coating her dark figure in red. The atmosphere was tense and disturbing.

The handful gathering present there knew the height of the situation they were available for. It was a ritual. Not a normal one though.

A ritual of black magic.

"Your Highness, the required mantras have been recited, you may continue with the sacrifice", The priest announced to the woman, handing a basin with his eyes cast to the ground.

The woman nodded, a manic smile playing on her lips as she took them from the old man's hand and placed it under the raised altar, right under the chin of a young girl.

A semi - unconscious girl.

Her eyes remained half closed, unable to move her body as the women above her raised the dagger for precise momentum. The girl, Mrithika, closed her eyes—accepting her fate when her body gave up all the strength to fight back due to the drugs injected in her. A deep sense of drowsiness settled upon her. She hoped it would in the least ease the pain that was about to follow with the actions of the dagger.

"Jai Ma Kali", The woman whispered, bringing down the dagger in a swift move. Just when she was about to slit Mrithika's throat, bells strung over the altar swinged in the air viciously as the speed of the winds increased—spraying the vermillion powder in the air.

The woman stopped abruptly. Her open hair whipped around her face, distorting her vision with its midnight colour and the intensity of the winds increased. The ground shook beneath everyone who were present for the grotesque ceremony.

The idol of Kali was the only object that remained unscathed in the violent manner of Nature. Torches and lamps that held fire were now extinguished, unable to defend the darkness that engulfed the place once more.

The woman's alluring features contorted into rage as she screamed, "WHAT'S GOING ON IN HERE"?

The priest was terrified as he answered the woman, "It's a sign of bad omen, your highness. Or perhaps, the Goddess is not happy"!

"What do you mean not happy? When I sacrificed my son, none of these theatrics appeared! Pandit, did you even accurately pick the auspicious hour"? She gritted her teeth, glowering at the priest who cowered at her piercing glare.

"I did, Ranisa. I-I am equally as surprised as you are", he sputtered. The woman remained furious. A brief gust of chill ran across her figure as she heavily breathed.

The winds came to a rest and the bells were reduced to soft chimes. The earth stopped shaking. The place became still once more. No holy ashes or vermillion flied in the air. The woman let out an indignant huff and swiped her ruffled hair back.