An Ode to Goddess Ḍhākēśvarī

Touch with feet sheathed in dust,
Let oozing blood color the flowers;
Graceful Damsel, discard you must
Etiquette to shake Heaven’s towers!

The azure-necked God, Mā, kiss:
Of poison do suffer your share;
Roaring agony of deep seas
With cloudburst, to relieve, dare!

The demon army at its gate,
And captured goddesses chained;
Has deserted th’ battlefield, of late,
The lazy king Indra who reigned.

The Himalayan streams now wash
Divine girls’ kohl-hued tear,
Past the demons’ nails dare brush,
Or touch them, all shaken with fear!

Glacial flow of the Ganges now

Is crimson with the blood of Gods;

An eclipsed moon is waiting though

The pole star’s moved amidst these odds.

Pick up Thy mantle and riding hood

From the dust, tattered and torn;

Wipe off tears, intense as would

Sea tempest in hysteria mourn.

Unkempt locks in a hairbun tie,

Let what hurts be your shield

Dig up from grave, courage t’defy:

Unhesitant ego ne’er to yield.

Śiva’s trident and Viṣṇu’s disc

Have caught rust of prolonged disuse;

So, captive Mother, in careful risk

Let rouge in your cheeks diffuse.

Once in a quest, Śiva to woo,

Ūmā, you had as ascetic girl

Walked unfaltered steps; so do

Now: your unscathed wings unfurl.

Marijuana has lulled them all

The male Gods to deepest sleep;

Ride the Winged Horse and call

The war cry from the lofty cliff.

Hiding thyself in the dark

Pampered girl of Mountain King,

Waiting for Gods, as demons lurk,

Mind scathed and heart throbbing...

Indra’s chariot has not run

Laden with arms, a war to lead;

Kartikeya, Thy warrior-son

Tries talking diplomacy instead.

Filthy hands have dared, Thee, touch!

Eye red from traumatic tears;

Better discard Thy softness such

And burn in anger all Thy fears.

Come out, My Fair Lady, of yon

Quiet manners, when you’re sad;

Replace the lyre with a falchion,

After all, when Mercy goes Mad!

Hold Thy sword in a steady hand;
Who can endure seeing Thee weep?
Rudrāṇi, wear hibiscus garland,
Blood-soaked, like a lioness leap!