Narabali

Chapter 6. The Benarasi

Sitting on a mound of skulls and bones,
Nandini swings her legs, licking some pickle brought by the seer.

"I remember motherhood," she whispers. "Although, I still am a mother."

The seer looks around. His eyes fail to follow the words of Nandini.
Instead, he searches for the tug.

Something pulls him. Someone pulls him.

"The Goddess is kind," Nandini says. "Offer her all you have."

The mention of the Holy Mother jolts him back to reality.
"I will," he promises. 

"But you fail to recognise the ocean," Nandini says. "You are the eternal fire– the lava beneath the earth, boiling in the very core. Above you is a body of cosmic water. Down from the Akashganga. Molten stars. And the milk of Indraloka."

The seer wonders. "Will the ocean not extinguish me?"

Nandini roars. Her laughter echoes in the vacant temple. "Fool! A storm carries both rain and lightning."

****

Maya avoided Boro Babu during the whole preparation of the puja. A ten-hand distance between them all the time. Fluttering away at the sight of his enormous shadow. Not looking into those glowing eyes.

He was a hunter. And she, a doe. Lost in the forest, orphaned. A perfect prey. A delicious dinner.

Luckily, everybody was observing a fast today, except the servants of course, and so Maya could make an excuse of maintaining distance for the sake of not maligning their pure garments. But not every Mukherjee respected the traditions of Kalika. Tirtha was too nonchalant and had almost brought in a fish fry inside the house when Shalini smacked him. He laughed, but seeing her irked, decided to throw it away.

"If you want to have some food, there's some sooji from last night. And a bunch of fruits. In my room."

"Did you eat too? My aunt is breaking rules!"

Shalini groaned. "That's not how you talk to your aunt. If you want to eat, go to my room. But don't let anybody see."

Tirtha bowed and touched her feet. "You are the best." Shalini chortled at him praising her and went towards the kitchen to oversee the bhog preparation. Mother was to be given the grandest feast.

Maya concluded that Tirtha had a loving relationship with his aunt. It wasn't anything shocking. He was her brother's son, and both weren't so far in age too. If somebody could indulge and pamper him, it was Shalini. Maya presumed the Rajon to be too strict, and Boro Babu she would rather not comment on.

Obeying the instructions of Lalon, Maya drew an alpona on the courtyard. She had melted the khori maati and mixed a few drops of aalta in it. It gave it a beautiful pink colour. The pattern started from a simple circle, growing into a sun whose rays exuded glory, and then the celestial body became the part of a peacock. Maya admired her art. In order to make it even better, she sprinkled the petals of marigold around the little sun, as if its beams had taken the form of soft flowers.

Lalon got up and inspected the artwork. His eyes shot up, but Maya saw more than anger in them. There was a flicker of amusement, a respect for her creativity. But his skinny hands crossed, lips furrowing down. "Who told you to make it so complex?"