Colours of My Empire

My Eye and Tongue

The fall of dynasties, where I am called the most. Both sides make me slave away while they spill blood and suffer over their own Karma. They then proceed to then curse me for completing my days work, completing a goal they writhe in deadlock. Such are the actions of the little hypocrites, humans.

I am the Kali mother, the dark mother never loved by the child. I have grown tired of my eternal vitality in which time ceases to exist.

Through the sea of endless endings, endless flicks of swords brought about by war, I remember seeing in particular a human in whose lifetime there were brilliantly glowing seconds of birth and hundreds of thousands of bloody deaths. To a goddess of chaos and anger, there is a juxaposition in this lifetime unlike any other I had seen in my children; vengeful screams clinging to life, the insignificant little finish, and the rebelious cries of an enfant clinging to inexistance. This life is bathed in wails and screams clinging to what they cannot have, among these human ones are always my own: echos of my bloodlust, hate, anger and sadness. To what do I cling? Dear literate Jury, I cling to being finite. I cling to the existance of a begining, which I have forgotten, a middle, of upward enlightenment and downward duds and finally I cling to the oh so televised end and true nonexistance. 

It begins with this dynasty. I remember little in my semi permanent nonexistent state, but a favourite set of clothing gifted, finery in my favorite invisible colour. "My only hope of coping with my existance." It is my golden cage.

The creator of the cage is one laughable lover of humanity, three eyes wise, the third universal god, husband, lover, lord, master and the man so far out of my arms, Shiva.

This time, while wearing the invisible clothing that only seems to gain in thread count, I am ripped from them by fateful words.

"Your marriage has been conformed," the voice sneered. A hero, no less, spoke the leer.

I stood in the corner of the King's Great Harem, wafting perfume tickled my nose and was refused at the registry of my senses, my invisibility reinstated itself, so I opened my third eye just a crack enough to see and enough to rebel against my husband. However death was near and I was called.

"My two daughters, Kali and Durga." I awoke as I heard my names claimed by executioner blades, calm, glinting. A twitching of fingers and an aching in my legs as the third eye on my forehead pulsed, I wanted blood meaning a mob was angry. But my master hed me tightly at the collar, he wouldn't let me spring into action just yet. I screamed as he held me at an uncomfortable calm.

The hero raised his wicked dual swords above his head, mocking the rise of the chaos in me, the twitching rapid and hunger growing, heartbeat loud in my chest, ears and forehead. I licked my lips several times feeling my pupils dilate rapidly and contract with the same vigour.

With as splintering crack and two wet dull thuds, and driping red arms hit the floor. Beautiful, vulgar. The hero had shown no mercy like a good fearless consort of chaos. I recognized his fierce sword style, retained in only my memory. Extavagent and deliciously distracting, I begin to remember it's uses in the great battles of old in which my third eye opened a record half way to witness my careless children dropping their weapons of mass destruction on Earth and blowing entrails sky high like firework. I enjoyed those festivals called wars so much that the ache in my three eyes are unbearable.

Sadly, in this time comparable to only the mutts ripping each other to shreds in alleyways. Watching this hero, I admit was like seeing the champion dog. I enjoy his performance,
his......efficiency in dealing death.

It made him so different than the Noble gods who chose him, he understood the value of each of his movements and the amount of bread it would take to repeat them again. Primitive beauty no one but I saw.

I saw the hero that day, a dog in glinting armor wielding golden swords, silver and gold dangled from his ears and neck.

A dog.

The evil Gupta family fell as the Maurya rose, his body was prostrated infront of the people he'd once oppressed and their eyes bore worse judgement then my own would soon enough. He asked them to be forgiving people, the dog pleaded using my name as a bondage between himself the people he would master, that vengeance would be taken and misery would plague the evil King.

And so his fate was sealed, by the blue sweat of the damaged and his red kings blood, the maddening purple mixture of the two banished him to the tiger forests to be exiled. A forgiving punishment deemed to correct by Chandragupt: "Give him the chance to learn and reconcile his ways amongst the sun kissed jungles, a damaged person is afterall still a person!" 

Of course no one saw the sniper's arrow crack the Gupta Kings skull and pierce through the soft brain underneath soon after, no one heard the dull splint of the mind shattering the other side and no one felt the juices that leaked to the ground after that. No one considered this to be a thought in the cranium of their revolutionary, progressive leader.

The dog King.

The hero was known as the forgiving and loving King, his name was Chandragupt, concluded by Maurya and he started this interesting story thousands of years prior.

Economies improved, I was troubled less and less. Stone palaces and stained silver temples were replaced by gold, and in the villages the frail pauper women replaced by healthy young mothers. The cycle continued, I fell asleep to it's rythmic, waves of births higher than deaths.

The Greek King Seleucus and Chandragupt became allies, his new country Bharat was known all the way to Zhongguo and the Han of the Eastern Seas.

Bharat was Glorious, shining in gold and silver from trades, lush with vegetation, bound to the other empires through marriage and trade, peace ensued and the world knew of the Kshastriya Warrior Kings of house Maurya that sat on top of all.

Greece had allied itself with Bharat and marriage between the two sides became legal and acceptable, immigration was also encouraged and Universities developed.

But who craves peace and prosperity as such? Lulling it may be but certainly, I wouldn't wish it.

The thought of what I want...completely alludes me, just like all other things human.