Daughters of Kalika

১৮. the vessels of kalika

There are Seven.

****

An icy breeze toyed with Maya's open hair, causing a chill to slither down her spine. It was a wuthering night that rustled near the closed windows.

It was 1 o'clock, as dark outside as it could be, as silent as a heap of dead. To the otherwise sunny Maya this could have been another romantic night to dream, but lately her fondness for any man (here, she coughed) Hrishav had dwindled significantly that she knew crushes were way different to love. The face of Hrishav didn't soothe her mind. She was going back to Catherine and it didn't help.

This was her room. This is where she slept. This very bed.

Is she... here?

"No way will I turn off the lights tonight."

Her muscles tensed like a rope winding around her bones, crushing it with the build-up fear. She stared at the slow fan hanging from the ceiling and going round-and-round, in circles like the wheel of life, returning to the same spot again and again...

"What began this murderous string in the very beginning? The villain isn't born but made."

Catherine knew who the culprit was, and supposedly also their pawns, if any.

"Lucifer, she called them. A man I suppose, though a woman can be cold-blooded too. The devil himself."

Catherine had probably thought about the murders just like her while laying on bed, speculating and making theories. Maya was literally following the same path.

"Even Hrishav is a common factor between us!"

Which is quite awkward and creepy.

"He is possibly not over her yet. And I should give him space. I need to act like a twenty-five year old woman and not just be one."

Sleep pressed on her eyelids and she struggled to keep them open. Her limbs and body fell heavier, as if molten iron solidified on her body. She was unable to move, reluctant to make even a little movement that signified she was alive. Her breaths were rhythmic and matched with the whistling of the wind outside. Like hypnotising music it lulled her to sleep.

The lights of her room flickered, turning off on their own. The bolt of the window unfastened and it opened with a metallic screech. Shadows crept inside the room, floating above the bed.

Maya, unaware of it all, slept soundly.

****

Hrishav had draped himself in a red dhoti. He was all alone in the garbha griha, determined to carry out the very ancient rites that fuelled his existence. He carried a brass dhunuchi in his right hand– it had a flared shape with a thick stem that opened into an enormous cavity. A curvy long handle was attached to it, a grip for his fingers

His body swayed to some inaudible melody that was only singing to him. Each step he took was as graceful as that of a majestic swan, his midnight-black hair bouncing with life. He let his stretched hands swim in the air as his toes turned in a smooth circle. Streams of sweat trickled down his body. The smell of frankincense overpowered his senses, puffs of smoke filling the space.

With both hands he clutched the dhunuchi. Then, he began taking rounds of the idol. One, two, three... and so on it went, until the sixth one. He emerged from behind the idol with a conceited smile. The breeze banged on the doors of the garbha griha, but Hrishav had taken the vow already. He had suffered a lot, more than any man he ever knew. He wished to live and not just survive with the trauma of the past chasing him. All his pain and sadness would go away...

He would do what his heart desired, and he desired to savour the ripe, forbidden fruit.

So, despite all the risks that would come, he made a daring choice. He began his seventh circle. But as he went behind the idol, he never came back. Time ticked away, but there was no sign of him. He had vanished like an illusion of the goddess herself.

The surroundings became darker as moments passed by. The air was growing thinner, squeezing the last drop of life out of lungs. Flailing her limbs like that of a drowning man, Maya woke up from her dream.

Her ears heard her own scream. She had been dreaming. And again, it was a peculiar dream.

"Behind the idol? Hrishav went there, but didn't come back."

Why didn't he come back? Will he die? Should he have not taken that seventh round?

"Seven... it seems to be an unlucky number for him."

She rubbed her eyes, adjusting to the darkness. Everything seemed normal in the wake of consciousness, until it registered in her mind.

She had not turned off the lights before sleeping. The window wasn't open either.

A clot formed in her heart. Claws of sinister fear ripped apart her sanity. She wanted to shout for help, but someone had probably sewn her mouth shut. The only thing she could do was gently turn her head. She looked up at the ceiling which appeared blacker than usual. Something crawled on it, blots of light blinking on the surface. The fan had stopped spinning.

The shadows moved like molten obsidian gold caught between two layers of glass. They had a life of their own, morphing into shapes that gave rise to disfigured figures. Only after some time did Maya realise properly that five women were floating above her.

None of them had eyes, just empty sockets akin to an abyss. They wore tattered clothes. Maya recognised two of them– the woman in the middle wore a yellow frock with bluebells on it, and the one to her left wore a familiar saree.

"Cat-catherine... Ra-radha..." She formed the words as her teeth clattered.

The ghosts nodded their heads. The ghost at the farthest right raised her hand. Maya, for a moment thought she was going to choke her to death, but instead the spirit spoke, "I, the Vessel of Joy...

The one to her left raised her palm next. "I, the Vessel of Mercy..."

It was time for the farthest left one to follow. "I, the Vessel of Strength..."

Now, Radha whispered, "I, the Vessel of Motherhood..."

Catherine, standing in the middle, just smiled. She too formed the abhaya mudra, the symbol of fearlessness, and said, "And I, the Vessel of Love, we all bless you, Maya, the sixth Vessel of Valor, to end the injustice caused by Lucifer, the seventh Vessel of Knowledge."

And like the imagination of a child the five Vessels of Kalika faded away into the unknown. The lights turned on, the window shut closed with a clank and the fan began moving with regular speed.

But Maya, seized by the utter shock of everything, unable to fathom the supernatural, fainted.