God chose the worst possible day. Her cries foreshadowed the flood of misery that was to be her life and the life of those who were interlaced in this twisted curse of darkness and misfortune. And they had proof; proof that this curse was no hoax but an unholy warning of credible nature.

‘It was a cosmic, demonic transaction’ said the midwife, petrified to hold the blood-bathed infant in her hands.

She hastily handed it over to the man with gentle hands and rushed out of the house. The distant dhol in the Ganpati procession sounded suddenly so soul-sucking, like death knells, like the timer of a ticking bomb. Shankaracharya had to multitask although he was in no condition to. He hosted the naming ceremony and the funeral on the same day. Only close relatives arrived; to pay respects and to bid farewell to Shankaracharya forever. Nobody wanted to be in touch with the girl who was born on the last day of the processions, on the birth anniversary of the Kairajni.

There was a Kairajni Devi Temple beyond the hills, deep in the jungle, a few kilometers from the village, Jhandawli in Maharashtra. It had obviously been demolished and deserted but her morbidly indestructible statue remained still. She was once the ‘village deity’- until three girls died in her temple some years ago and she became the beacon of terror and darkness. Any day but the last day of Ganpati Pooja is a green signal for god to deliver the baby, but not Kairajni Devi’s ‘alleged birthday’. Now the transference shall occur.

Nobody associate with her, for she is cursed.

Shankaracharya named her Parvati, in hopes of invoking a divine sense of feminine godliness and breaking the curse. It wasn’t until Parvati was three years old until she realized how special she was. Untouchability was eradicated from the village, thanks to the British; but they stood no chance against the omnipotent Kairajni. ‘Ostracized her’ is perhaps far too a liberal phrase, unable to grasp the gravity of social evil. The only human contact she had was her father. Without schooling or socializing, Parvati made friends with birds and trees. Birthdays were hell-loops; why life was one too. Parvati had befriended her tears and the tickling sensation that they gave her as they beautifully slid down her umber cheek.

Of course her father lost his job in 1947, on Parvati’s eighth birthday. Every year was a shindig of mourning. He lost some land two years later on the same day and then he lost his goat the next and sometimes he lost his temper; but never did he lose his physical restraint. Each event of misfortune was involuntarily credited to Parvati. It was impossible to untie this knot she had with her doomed fate. Kairajni wouldn’t let her.

In 1957, Parvati had a nightmare. It was astonishingly her first one. Slumber was the only capsule of relief, it was the only safe shell her tortoise-head could bury itself into; but no more. She dreamt of a city, with some magical lights flying in the sky. There she was, alone on the dark road, trembling with trepidation. Kairajni walks towards her in a black sari. The ground beneath her feet disappears as Kairajni’s rash hands with sharp, crooked nails embrace her throat, her atrocious face psychotically glaring down at her. She wakes up, gasping and wheezing.

They say power inspires fear. But can it go the other way round? Can you be so afraid of something, so exhausted out of pain and misery, so weary of the reins of fear that enslave you that you decide to break free? That you decide to be brave? What’s the worst that could happen? Nothing’s worse than the moment; everything’s better than the breath you draw.

Parvati never believed in God. Initially, Shankaracharya forced her to learn shlokas and Ganpati Stotra but soon her atheistic persona outshone his devotion. The concept of some lifeless statue empowering her seemed incredulous. Kairajni lived in her soul, in the hearts of the villagers and had power over her. The conventional gods and goddesses played no role in her life, she simply refused to put her faith in them, have expectations from them just to end up being disappointed. Even after praying her situation remained the same. The disappointment that followed made her feel like a fool on top of all the misery. What had God ever done for her? What began as a subtle movement of unconventional atheism percolated slowly to become a well-reflected and witty but naturally suppressed, blasphemous outburst. Where to channel all that misery? A temple seems to be the perfect emotional dumping ground and the idol a perfect blame-taker.

To rub salt over the wound that was her birthday, this nightmare struck like a melted wax on a cake. On the night of the blood moon, while the fatigued village slept off the exhaustion of the Ganpati Dance Parvati strode mindlessly to the temple of her alter-ego. She was on the precipice of exploding. Her heart raced, but she knew it needed to be done, she knew the bitter consequences of procrastinating the inevitable. She held a lamp in her hands, crunching and stamping the dry leaves and scouting the twigs aside as she stood at the dismantled walls of the temple. There was but pitch-darkness.

Bats hovered over her head, deafening her to death. She took a frisky sprint inside. She managed to squeeze herself through the shattered door of sharp stones without getting pierced. There she saw her life flash in front of her. It was like looking into the mirror. Those big black eyes, a horrendous nose grew like a mushroom out of the bark. She noticed the similarities.

‘O Kairajni Devi, Ka bara mi! Why me! Why have you picked me to torment? Enough of this curse! I cannot take it any longer’ Parvati broke down.

‘Forgive me if I have sinned, Maaf Kar, but leave my soul at once, stop this pain!’

She did not waste a moment, nor a tear on irrelevant details. The saturation was due for eighteen excruciating years. A whooshing sound passed from behind. Parvati’s heart skipped a beat. A rat ran across her foot. She let out a short shriek. Parvati looked up at the figurine. Kairajni’s eyes shifted in a fraction of a second and stared down at Parvati. Her shrill voice echoed around the valley. She began crawling back as the lamp dropped out of her hand and in the sheer darkness the shadow of Kairajni advanced at her. Her voice dried out as she scrambled herself; rushing out of the temple. A sharp stone pierced her. She fell as she bled.. She groaned in pain. A viper hissed two feet away from her on the ground. Her eyes moistened and pumped. Her jaw quivered in panic. A dark shadow walked near her. She felt it in her bones.

A light glared above her head. Parvati caught a glimpse of a man. The world began to blur. She looked at the silhouette of the man who tackled the snake and threw it away. Her lids shut. She merged into a dense limbo, fading away. Strong arms lifted her.

Shankaracharya did not know what the right thing to say or to feel was. He was thankful, ashamed, delighted and angry all at once. Mihir and his family were invited over for dinner. Parvati was cooking in the kitchen.

‘Had your son not rescued Parvati and brought her back home safely, I don’t know what might have happened. He is godsent! We are forever indebted.’ Shankaracharya said in a pleading tone.

‘Fate, I suppose, put Mihir and his friends at the right place at the right time.’ Mihir’s mother said.

‘It’s funny how a silly game of dares saved your daughter’s life.’ his father commented.

‘Quite a brave man, venturing at night near the temple of the she-devil herself’ Shankaracharya said.

‘Military training has prepared him for worse’ his mother boasted.

‘I don’t quite believe in all this kaka (uncle), besides your daughter was also the brave one in that case.’ Mihir said.

‘Whatever it is, Beta, you saved her. You saved my foolish child.’

Parvati came into the living room, serving the plates on the cool cow-dung flooring. She looked at her savior. A well-built youngster with a thick mustache. He must have a good appetite, she thought to herself. His timid sister sits next to him. She smiled at Parvati, who returned the smile back. Parvati felt content after being complimented by the guests for her hood. It was her first time playing hostess, having real contact with the outside community.

Days pass as Mihir often paid visits to Parvati. The village warned him of her curse; of the misery and suffering she is destined with, but he chose to ignore. She learned that his parents are natives of the neighboring village but he was raised in Bombay city.

‘That’s where I’ll go after this summer ends. Back to the city, all of us will. I am expecting a promotion sometime next year, then they’ll post me somewhere around the country,’ he said with pride.

‘Does that mean I will not see you after summer ends?’ she said disheartened.

‘What if you were to come with me, everywhere I go?’

Parvati was filled with delight, yet she knew what the right thing to do was. She constantly begged him to stay, refusing to marry him.

‘Don’t you know that I am cursed. I want to come with you but I can’t because-you saw what happened the other night. Wherever I go, the darkness follows. I inflict pain to all who surround me. Kairajni won’t let me. You know how she is, what she is capable of. That is why no one would even think of befriending me, let alone marry me. She made me kill my mother at birth, why would you want to risk yourself and your family?’

‘I don’t believe you are cursed. None of us do, we will have you as you are.’ he said in a rational tone.

And the prolonged argument went on for days until Shankaracharya intervened and accepted the proposal on his daughter’s behalf.

‘He’s a good man, good men don’t ask for a hand that desperately, he loves you, you will never get a chance like this again’ he said.

And so Parvati and Mihir got happily married the next week. On the bus-stop, Shankaracharya cried; cried out of happiness. ‘My only daughter’ he said as he embraced her. His tears dissolved in the scarlet Sindur ( a red tikka- a symbol of marital recognition for a woman) on her head.

‘Don’t you worry, we will treat her like our own’ Mihir’s mother said, and they did. Mihir’s family wasn’t too traditionally devoted either, so it was easy for Parvati to fit in. Mihir’s father worked in a small printing press and his mother was a small-time entrepreneur making homemade sweets and snacks.

Parvati had bonded with everyone in a very short period of time/ She was the jewel of the house. She cooked and she read. She cleaned and she cared. She knit and she played with the dog. Suddenly her life was full of everything. Warmth melted the cold night as dawn arose.

It was a small house in the city. There were six of them in a one bedroom-kitchen house, in a chawl, counting Sonu, the dog. A year passed harmoniously. Parvati became accustomed to the city culture smoother than she expected. Sure there were not many trees and birds, but who needed trees and birds now? Here no one mistreated her, no one saw her indifferently, here she felt at home.

The night before her birthday, she had a fearful vision. A premonition. Her old arch-nemesis, her nightmare made a special appearance in her dreams.

‘I didn’t sleep sound last night, Mihir, I had a terrible nightmare.’

‘Happens darling, take a quick nap this afternoon’

‘No you don’t understand, I saw her again, I think something bad is going to happen tomorrow, I know it will, I can feel it. I thought leaving Jhandawli would break the curse, bu-’

‘It’s all rubbish, there is no curse, there is nothing demonic about this, forget all that now, I don’t want to hear of this again’ he brushed it under the carpet, just like that. Her new friend, Sapna tai, the neighbor, said the same thing.

‘Vedepana! (nonsense) You village-side people believe in all sorts of nonsense, Huh, don’t worry bai! (woman/dear)’

How she wished that were true. There was nothing more she wanted in the world but to feel normal and safe. But she knew she’d be lying to herself had she said all was to be fine.

The neighbors and family had gone out to the simple South Indian restaurant on the other street. It was Parvati’s first birthday celebration. She unusually felt special, in a good sense. The restaurant was completely empty because everyone was out on the streets, dancing and chanting the songs of the Ganesh Festival. For a fleeting moment she had forgotten all about the dark omens and her worries.

As Parvati turned the keys of the house, her mind jolted and she went into a frenzy of nothingness. She opened the door and stood still. The home seemed deadly silent. Sonu didn’t come running, leaping at her feet. She stood all alone in the house. She walked slowly into the kitchen, a sense of caution in her footing. Her gold bangles made a rhythmic sound. She gave a loud scream.

Mihir heard her yells from the chawl grounds. He charged his way up the stairs, up the congested chawl. Without bothering to take his shoes off he rushed to the kitchen. Parvati had collapsed in the corner, right beside Sonu’s corpse.

‘I-I sa-saw her-I saw her strangle him, I heard his squeals, poor thing- and cries, I swear I did Mihir, she’s here, she’s come to kill everyone.’

Mihir inspected the scene. He saw bits of plastic cover torn and chewed and a blue slab of poison stained over the place . He patted Sonu’s furry motionless back. He shed a tear.

‘He ate the rat poison, Parvati, nobody killed him’ he gently said and hugged her.

‘He must’ve gotten curious, stupid thing-he was with us since I was a child-’

‘I’m so sor-ugh-’ Parvati burst into a flood of chaos. ‘It’s my fault, I killed him, I must leave, I simply must.’

And Mihir convinced her all over again that it was a mere coincidence that this happened on her birthday. She denied and he counter-argued. It went for months until Parvati’s storm of anxiety subsided. All seemed to be proceeding peacefully but Parvati knew that wouldn’t last for long. Her happiness was ephemeral. And she was right.

The next year she had a similar prophetic sensation. She didn’t sleep the entire week. What was to happen next? On the evening of her birthday, Parvati stepped out of her house to go to the terrace. It was the first time she had stepped out that week; she had locked herself home; in fear of losing another loved one. On the terrace was Sapna tai, hanging wet clothes on the string. The floor was moist with soap water that dripped out of the clothes. And her foot slipped and she fell off the railing-less terrace of the chawl.

‘The cycle will endlessly repeat, let me go, that monstrosity will haunt me eternally, whether you believe it or not, please.’ Parvati told Mihir heart-wrenchingly.

‘No, it wasn’t your fault. It was not your fault that she was clumsy.’ he said, again.

Her in-laws tried convincing her of the same.

‘It’s not you, Bala (child) , all those villagers have filled your mind with this darkness, such cruel practices, oh you poor sweet child’ her mother-in-law said. Momentarily it comforted Parvati, knowing what a gracious family she had married into, but deep down she knew that they were not safe. How could she live with the fact that she had killed the woman who was like a mother to her?

Mihir got a promotion and the entire family shifted to a new house for a new start. Parvati bore a child. While it started off as a news of hope and joy, Parvati had her insecurities and fears sprouting out now and then. That year her father was to come to the city to see the new house and meet his grandchild. Parvati couldn’t sleep that night. She begged him to come after her birthday in her letters, but the letters reached too late. Her birthday was two days away.

‘I hate this time of the year, every time Ganpati Bappa comes, he takes something away from me, every-time, he has shaken hands with her, I swear it.’ she cried.

Two days later the news struck the house like a thunderbolt. Parvati spiraled into depression. The bus her father was traveling in had fallen down the ghats. (valleys)

‘I can’-can’t take this anymor-’ she sobbed for days.

‘Think about our daughter, think about her future. I promise you when my next pay comes, we will take you to the clairvoyant, Saptrashi Yogi, I promise’ Mihir said.

Parvati knew they could not afford to visit this master of occult sciences, rather they didn’t believe if he actually was of any use, but he seemed to be her only chance at sanity. Down the line, Parvati lost friends, she lost her second baby, Mihir lost his comrades. Death and misery encapsulated them. The child was five when Mihir’s father died in a religious act of terrorism in the local train. Ganpati became the time of the year that promisingly brought trauma, every time, without fail.

‘They cannot be coincidences, can they?’ Mihir began questioning.

The Yogi had no answers.

‘Terrorism is on the rise. Pakistan has lost the first war, so they are devising plots to harm us by unfair means.’ rage burnt through his body.

The next year Parvati lost her mother-in-law to a cardiac arrest while Mihir was on duty in Assam. She wrote her birth date on the death certificate as salt-droplets moisten the paper. She took the sharp knife on the nurse’s desk that night. Nobody saw her. She held it above her wrist. She silently whimpered. The six year old walked and asked her mother what she was doing. Parvati had no answers. She dropped the knife and embraced the little girl.

Mihir returned after a few months back home.

‘We have no money left, Parvati, half of it went in the funerals, half it on my sister’s educatio-’

‘But it’s good that we sent her away, for her education-’

‘What are you talking about! She is an orphan girl away from home! HOW IS THAT GOOD?’ Mihir yelled in frustration.

‘We can’t afford any treatment or advice, we can’t afford your madness!’ he stormed away.

A few months passed. Parvati made up her mind. She wound up her things, stuffed her clothes and belongings in a suitcase. While Mihir slept, she quietly walked out of the bedroom. The kitchen lights were on.

‘Aasha, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?’

‘Praying’ she said.

Parvati smiled.

‘Praying doesn’t help Beta. Praying is useless. Aai (mother) never went to school but she knows the truth. You learn science and math, and you will know that praying is of no good.

‘Are you going away?’ Aasha asked, looking at the closely packed bag. Parvati swallowed speechlessly.

The bedroom lights turned on and Mihir walked out, sounding overwhelmed. He conversed over the telephone anxiously.

‘YES!’ he roared no sooner than the telephone call ended.

‘Oh please, don’t go, you-you know why-must you gamble with your life after everything that has happened? Kairajni will come for you, she will not pardon you!’ Parvati ran out of breath as the words slipped her lips.

‘This is war-I’ve been asked to lead a troop- up in the North, I couldn’t possibly refuse this honor! Now if I’m going to die, at least I’ll die a martyr.’ he answered.

Mihir left for the borders. Parvati stood on the pedestal of their house, dripping in desolation. The war ended in a few months. She read the news and read closely the names of the martyr soldiers the next week. No sign of Mihir. She sighed in relief. On her birthday, she did not know what to expect. A military servant brought news.

“We are sorry for your loss, Parvati ji-we don’t know if he died or the enemy captured him, but it is safe to assume that he isn’t returning, he was a brave man-your husband.’

Parvati sat numb in the chair, holding the letter from the military in her hands, all day long.

Another year went by as Parvati raised her daughter alone; protectively and fiercely. Aasha missed her father. She had learnt hymns and read stories of God and his blessings in school. God fascinated her and gave her hope. She prayed, but Parvati scolded her, refusing to let her believe in God. Later that year, Mihir’s sister who was studying in Uttar Pradesh got kidnapped and killed. Parvati hosted a funeral, but Parvati had no tears or emotions left to shed. She becomes a phantom.

‘What’s left with me now to take? Huh? Are you satisfied? Are you happy now? You won’t let me die, you won’t let me run, what more do you want?” Parvati addressed Kairajni.

Ganpati arrives early the following year.

‘I want to go participate in the parade, mother.’

‘No, no we can’t.’

‘But everyone goes, and this year they have something called a cracker, wouldn’t you want to see it?’ says Aasha.

‘I said NO, and that is FINAL’ Parvati raised her voice as her nostrils dilated. There was nowhere to run, there was nowhere to go. There was no money to pay for the bills or the house let alone an orphanage.

“We can survive on his pension, the money the government gives us after his death; that’s fine for us,” she managed to conjure up that explanation every time someone was concerned about her finances.

A migraine seized her head on the night of her birthday. Kairajni’s voice echoed in her thoughts.

‘Get out of my head’ she whispered to herself. She suddenly realized that her daughter was missing. She yelled out her name.

‘AASHA! AASAHA! Where is she? Where is my little girl!’ She circled around the locality, screaming and screeching.

Colors flew in the air. Dhol plays loudly. A procession of lakhs of men, women and children with turbans and tikkas  (red powder on the forehead) dressed in vibrant colors in saris and kurtas chokes the streets. The aroma of Modaks and sweets fills the air. Parvati squeezed through the crowd, her voice dying in the loudness of the instruments and ruckus.

‘Agrugh-ahha!’ she grunted in pain. Night fell The crowd dispersed. Parvati cried her name out over and over. Her throat blistered and dried. A dark shadow swiftly moved past Parvati.

‘Ahh-ohh-no-noh-’ she stammered. She ran. A wind blew behind her as it chased her. The clouds shadowed the moon. The street stood alone. Voices hissed in Parvati’s head.

‘No, no, not again, not my baby’ she said. A rat ran across her foot. The shadow pursued. Parvati ran into a dense structure of close-ended alleys. She ran as she screamed, yelled and cried, calling her daughter’s name.

‘AASHA-AASH-ASHAA!!’

She spotted her. There she stood all alone, crying at the end of the alley.

‘Oh, oh my baby’ Parvati ran as she gripped her firmly in her arms, sliding to her knees.

‘Where were you-’

‘I was lost-sorry mot-

‘We have to go home, now, com-

The wind hustled forcefully. Ahead lay only one path. All other directions seemed dark and blocked. The street lights flickered. A woman walked towards them. Parvati shoved the child behind her, she held onto her hand tightly.

‘What’s happening to you mother, I’m scared’ Aasha said in a low voice.

‘Stand right there, d-d-don’t y-you word-rry- Aai’s here, she will not let anything, anything h-happen to you’- she said, with cadence in her voice and a tinge of bravery.

Kairajni walks at a slow pace. She wears dense make-up, a nose ring attached to her ginormous nose. Crackers burst in the air making loud earth-shattering sounds. The sari’s black dupatta fluttered like the demonic flag in the air. She cunningly smiled. She approached, closer and closer.

‘You will not hurt my daughter, you monster, you evil demoness! YOU STAY AWAY FROM US’ Parvati bombarded. She sweated as her breaths grew rapid and unsteady.

‘What’s happening mother, mother!’

‘Let’s see what you can do, there is nothing you can do, not my daughter!’

‘Mother! Who are you talking to!’ Aasha pleaded.

‘You’ve always controlled my life, you’ve always caused me pain, well no more, enough of you!’ Parvati screeched..

The girl began crying, she let go of her mother’s hand. She ran in the other direction.

‘NO, NOH, COME BACK, AASHA!’ Parvati’s voice broke.

‘You’re scaring me, I want my mother back, what happened to you!’ Aasha began sobbing.

‘Oh Bappa, please, please save me,’ Aasha chants a Stotra. Then she mumbles the gayatri mantra.

‘YOU COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!’ Parvati commanded.

‘No!’

‘There is no BAPPA! THERE IS ONLY ME!’ Parvati screamed violently.

‘If you see a woman and you talk to her then I will see my Bappa and talk to him! I believe in him!’ the girl revolted

The world halts.

Parvati lapses into her own head.

The sounds mute. Her breath stops. She closes her eyes. She sees nothing. She sees white and pure white. A glow brightens her soul.

‘I don’t-I don’t believe in you-not anymore’ she whispered. She opened her eyes.

Kairajni faded into a tornado of dust, just like that.

The child stood still in front of her. The street-lights stopped flickering. The winds died and the darkness faded. Parvati exhaled. The little girl ran and embraced her mother. Parvati wiped her tears. She held Aasha tightly in her arms.

A man’s silhouette walked from a distance. Parvati lips part in dismay. She instantly recognized the man who walked towards them.

‘Oh My God, it’s over, it’s finally over. Huh!’ she chuckled.

Kairajni will not bother her now. Never again. She can though – but only if Parvati believes.