Posted by: tsopr | March 27, 2011

Sunil P. Narayan, Indian-American Poet

Sunil P. Narayan‘s work has been a long, enriching journey that absorbed the world’s eccentricities to create a masterpiece of color, surrealism and human emotion. The past two years witnessed a climatic moment in which his writing churned out emotionally inducing poems. It is his intent to help people access feelings they rarely get to experience.

                                          Featured Poetry of Sunil P. Narayan

Mdvanii* Stirs Her Lover’s Desire!

The grand couturiers of Paris say Mdvanii is an immortal muse who lives in the heart of every artist
From her chair she imparts ideas to a grand couturier expecting nothing in return
Sitting on a silk seat containing the feathers of Zeús’eagle
The legs made from the crushed material of diamonds

She sees her master in all directions, a large man standing proudly
Yet, is trapped in a luxurious home with no one to keep her company
How can an emotional lady survive this arduous life?
Her enlarged heart and sophisticated walk enchanted the socialites of the city

Now, the reality of Mdvanii is a preserved muse for a demanding couturier
She looks upwards to see lust and creativity colliding
From such a powerful fight pearls strung with gold fall into her hands
A meager compensation for a sumptuous lady!

She sighs before changing into her evening dress
The spring season once blossomed like her marigolds
Surprising all who lounged at the saloons
As if Gaïa was splashed with the color of the forest trees!

In the corner of her room a closet with shelves perfectly lined with
shoes made from colors of the rainbow
Pink, blue, red, orange and yellow!
Each day she picks a pair to match her silk gloves
A string of pearls to tie around her waist, gold bracelets to place on her light wrists, and moonstone pins to hold her thick hair in a chignon

A refined lady has choices, choices and choices!
Twenty evening dresses made for the Queen of Norway hang from the hooks
They’re waterfalls of creamy colors from the Amazon jungles
For each one gold thread was sewn into the fabric to form a blossoming magnolia

As she puts on her heels Charles wraps a silk shawl made of crushed rose quartz
around her supple body
He adorns her smooth neck with a ruby necklace so long it rests between her breasts
She barely notices this sweet gesture while applying pink blush
Her eyes in the shape of the waning Selēnē are lost in serenity

A man who drinks to squash his guilt must continue to lavish his goddess with pieces befitting the Queen of the Universe!
Gemstones smuggled from India are crushed into light powder
He sprinkles it onto white strips of cloth then smoothes it out
Although, a doubt pricks his mind, making him feel guilty for doing a cruel deed

His clients knock on the rotting door of his studio demanding their garments
Charles shoos them away as if they are wandering beggars
His mind fixated on a refined woman entrapped in his heart
He gives her potent lust to taste yet Mdvanii rejects it

What seems to be the magnificence of couturier is in fact Mdvanii!
She runs along his arms tickling him
With one hand the resplendent muse blows blue petals into his mind
To her surprise the wind snatches her white hat snickering in delight

Mdvanii’s eyes turn red with bubbling anger
She’s a cat ready to pounce a taunting mouse!
On his sewing table a large red gemstone manifests
Cut in the shape of a tulip, its sharp edge is hardly noticeable
Passion gives it color for which Charles fixates on

He rubs the edge unaware of blood sliding down the treasure
Mdvanii plays her games without giving a reason
She is a muse of few words but her actions have a language of their own
Charles will never see her inner world for he was devoured by his own

* Mdvanii is a registered trademark and copyright of BillyBoy* (2010). It is used with permission from BillyBoy* & Lala”.  Fondatioin Tanagra is an organization for the Arts, culture and fashion. It is the only organization in Europe (it’s located in Switzerland and the website is: to house the largest collection of Elsa Schiaparelli pieces. It also houses works of art produced by artists for BillyBoy* and Lala. A famous actress by the name of Eve Plumb, aka “Jan Brady” of the TV show The Brady Bunch, gave some of her lovely paintings to BillyBoy* and Lala. 


A Guarded Secret

Īshwar and his lover saved Bhūmī-Devī from
persecution, thus the many arts of mankind blossomed
like the mallikā
Everywhere the delightful scent of Svargáloka encircled
the minds of unimaginative men and women
Thrusting them into a fantasy of a guarded jungle
with celestial flowers and rivers endlessly flowing
towards the sunset!
Blue butterflies follow the trails never taking a moment
to rest

While the selflesss Parinirvivapsā-Devī will offer a tender
touch to any one who asks, her abundant hair began to
fall to the grassy floor
No one knew about this humble maiden who kept
two isolated lovers alive for many years
She was stricken by a dreadful abandonment
It is the thorny fate all women run away from

One warm night, a small bhūruha containing the heart of
the divine muse dropped onto the bank
She grabbed it before the hovering balíbhuj could swoop
It was the fire that consumed Īshwar and Parīkṣit
during their lovemaking
Too hot and heavy to hold when fresh but glistening and
light when cool

As she lost herself in admiring the pearl, its surface changed
from white to deep red
Parinirvivapsā-Devī turned away from Rajanīpati-Devá,
hiding her treasure with kuṅkumam palms for no one
can take away what is rightfully hers!
She had no diamonds or turquoise jewelry yet
Rajanīpati-Devá is bedecked with nīlagandhika pādakilikās
and maṇícīras
Śatárūpa-Devī’s gift to her shall be hidden in the soil
so no one can find it!

The next morning Parinirvivapsā-Devī saw a woman
clothed in a light yellow śāṭī in the forest inhaling the
mixture of campakas, bakulas and mādhavīlatās
She carried a basket of yellow kundamālā though did
not speak
Her eyes were two blue pools reflecting the majestic
Hidden by a yearning for love in the form of
deep pink satin

The ethereal seer’s skin as white as the yuthikā had
no scars
It was adorned with māṇikyamaya armlets and
necklaces of yellow, orange and white!
The hair woven tightly was covered by long strands of
On each wrist a prāvṛṣya bracelet sparkled under

No parāgas were worn though the śāṭī covered her feet
She walked from one mākanda tree to another, her
dress fresh as if it were just bought at the market!
Her long neck lengthened to capture the scent of fragrant
orange flowers
She is a perfect jewel unknown to mankind yet loved
by the Divine!

A secret pearl offered to a miserable woman as a gift for
showing compassion towards the son of Sarasvatī-Devī
Parinirvivapsā-Devī’s daughter looked at her for a few
In her mind she heard the name “Ouimi”
Sounds can be rubies crushed by hammers but to her
they were the jingling of maṇíguṇanikara

When she awoke from a nightmare she heard the calming
name “Ouimi” from the rāgitarus
A lost spirit whispering her name
She seems so far away like the golden rājabhavanam of
Unreachable by a small being such as an earthly creature

A tired devī touched her tummy, surprised by a life
forming inside
She was left wondering how such a miracle could
befall her
For many months her belly swelled while the mādhavīlatās
continued to multiply
It was the least a celestial plant could do for a generous

When Ouimi saw her mother for the first time she gazed
at her with sincere gratitude
The varṣártu grew more violent yet no rain drop
touched the radiant face of a newborn child
Sāvitrī-Devī blessed the loving nourisher with an oracle
inside a red jewel
By instinct Parinirvivapsā-Devī buried it near her resting spot

It is where Sāvitrī-Devī dug it up and pushed inside
the motherless āryan’s mind while she slept
To mankind a gift is an oracle who can guide them to
righteousness, though to a woman a child is all she
She can wear the most luxurious garments and still
feel empty if there is no one to share them with
A child is her pricelesss treasure for each moment
is more valuable than a parihārya or parihāṭaka set with

Collecting mālatī off of vines that cover marble
sculptures is the enchanting Ouimi’s favorite activity
The smile of each one belongs to Lakṣmī-Devī
She touches the hard lips to feel the expanding
It has an alluring scent that rubs against her cheeks to
give a permanent perfume!

Every day a blissful mother laughs with her daughter till
Sóma-Devá awakens from his needed rest
It is the sound of a dundubhí echoing through the
minds of all mortals, devás and devīs
When the rain hits the ground hard these creatures hide
under the branches
The giggling of Ouimi helps them to endure the
temper of Índra-Devá

Ouimi has no reason to be angry since she sits on the
vájratulya laden chair of Bhūdevī
A fortunate fate she received when her mother and Bhūdevī
became sisters
The comfortable lap of a selfless mother is what Ouimi
will ask for in every afterlife
Nothing to her but the unlimited grace of a mother matters

A Swan Who Wallows In Lotus Laden Ponds

She walks into the banquet room of the Château de Versailles feeling out of place
Such a refined lady with skin as soft as a doe’s coat
Pearls that dangle above her swan-like neck
Eyes so tranquil, flutter like butterflies in a garden

A woman who floats from room to room unaware of everyone’s presence
They look into those lotus petal shaped eyes to see a secret world
Gardens stretching for miles fill the air with the scent of roses
Uṣás-Devī cannot help but inhale this sweet perfume

Radiant marigolds bask in the Sun’s warmth
Jasmine trees stand tall to give shade for all of Pṛthivī’s critters
They lay at the base sighing for amour had consumed them
A gazelle who once nestled at the feet of Pṛthivī-Devī is now an elegant lady

Yes! Suraiyā is the child of Pṛthivī-Devī
Her hands decorated in emerald rings have fingers that flow like the Gangā
So pure and gentle men have followed her around the world just to be caressed by those fingers
They are savages who have succumbed to the feminine power of an untainted goddess

Yet, why does she not look at these men?
At the far end of the room gourmet Indian dishes line up a long glass table
An aroma of mixed spices travels through the air
Men who smell it divert their eyes to Suraiyā

She stands before the table delighted by such a sumptuous feast
Her hands move towards the glass spoon dipped in the dāl bowl
Ashamed by bad manners Suraiyā pulls her hand back
The host who has been seduced by Suraiyā’s beauty tells her
it is quite alright

A smile transforms Suraiyā’s face like Uṣás-Devī bathing the world in light
Those eyes of her enchants the host, bringing him to his knees
His heart grew ten times with each pulse sighing in joy
A goddess has locked eyes with a humble king

An elegant lady created in the nest of the Pṛthivī-Devī looks into the eyes of many
The pain, the happiness, the frustration, the excitement, the joy!
These emotions are the colors in her gardens
And all men, women and children have their own inner gardens

Suraiyā’s lotus-petal eyes see the world’s inner beauty permeating all things
Even the Sky, an ocean for the Devás, is a jewel created by Pṛthivī-Devī!
Suraiyā’s śāṭī is fashioned from the Devás’ water
A long train from her shoulders floats above the floor as she walks around the room

All guests spend hours watching Suraiyā create a stream with her śāṭī
The scent of lilacs flows from the fabric into their noses
Śakra-Devá’s heaven cannot compare to the moment they are lost in!
A rarity in this world is locked away for centuries but comes out when humanity
has submerged in harmonious bliss

Un Lourd Secret

Mdvanii spoke to her brushed chienne when he
whimpered at the sight of a still empty bowl: “Il est
toujours par voie de douleur que l’on arrive à plaisir”
To be given grapes and bread is a reward not a
One must starve for as long as his master deems fit
Mdvanii is the master of all couturiers!

Her coiled black whip is made from the skin of
deceased orphans
Oiled each day by her esclave’s sweat
It shines under the dusty ceiling light
With one lash she frightens her shivering putain

Aldric begs for a lengthy bruising by the chipped
Unfortunately, Mdvanii will not relax her firm hold
on his body this time
She is in control of the narcissistic esclave’s ego
Its skin is punctured by the heels of her ruby-studded

A few nights ago it dawned on her: great pleasure can
be achieved if one walks all over this vermin’s chest
Ripping bits off the skin with her glue-covered red
He will scream as a torrent of blood flows down his
A poor old German seamster being forced to endure
heightened torture!

Dragged by his owner across the muddy floorboards
Aldric’s hair is pulled harder with each grunt
The scalp rips off of an unwashed head every time!
Mdvanii reminds him a good designer never succumbs
to arrogance: afin de connaître la vertu,
nous devons d’abord nous familiariser avec le vice

The room is made out of solid steel to keep the crying
of a belittling artist sealed
It is un prostitué’s screams of enlarged pleasure
drowning out the neighbor dogs’ barking
Mdvanii puts cotton balls in her ears when the nipples
of her fat cochon are stretched to the waist by two short
chains with unpolished hooks
This toy is attached to a block of cement stained covered
with his tears

Aldric cleans dirt off the floor with his tongue, exposing
his scarred derrière
His chest swells and dries till skin sags from the bones
A pêche freshly picked from the nobleman’s garden
becomes mushy right before the farmer’s eyes
Perhaps Mdvanii is a domestique, tilling the soil of
centuries worth of bitter pride

It must be broken and put back together so the world
will lower their heads in respect
Flaming torches shall no longer melt the king’s palace!
Instead, they will turn on the noblemen for betraying
their loyal domestiques!
Preaching of false notions for an ideal reality

A calm muse sits in her chair to read a newspaper on
She is interested in the behavior of noble rulers and
To her their power lay in the twisting and beautifying
of the people
Everyone becomes a victim of another person’s ignorant
mind or the partaker in the fruits of carefully constructed

It is a world so tightly wound yet absorbing all the
sweets and stale bread one can get their hands on
Functioning as a monstrous machine with oil flowing
from one end of the pipe to the other
Devouring the human essence as if it were un gâteau
aux fraises
A field covered in white balls of joy disappear with
each grab: l’ordre social au détriment de la liberté n’est
guère une bonne affaire

Our dear Antonia tortured by self-destructive authority
A poor Austrian girl who simply wanted to fit in
No one could stand looking at the images of her dressed
luxuriously like Déesse Vénus
She was a symbol of unfiltered disgust
The clock struck midnight and Mdvanii must retire to
her opal chamber
She bids goodnight to Déesse Diane for her friend
Remains hushed when the screams of Aldric fill
fill the foggy streets of Paris
He finally falls asleep despite having not been fed
scraps of old sandwiches

Our grande dame never tires herself of debasing elite
She is a humbled secret covered in diamond dresses
Only those with greedy claws can unveil the violent
nature of a cursed muse
If they are daring enough to rip her skin off that is!

Nearly a century ago, her dominating Charles died
leaving her empty of satisfaction
He taught her to be quiet and grateful for his kindness
In her heart she always yearned for the excitement all
women experience when visiting a new boutique de
marque: lecteurs sensual excédentaire pitié chez
It is the only jewel she held onto during her escape
when he lost himself in glasses of bière

Mdvanii begin to hop from couturier to couturier, noticing
the chic girls were too involved in their looks
Their blue purses and fur-coats were the new trend of
Decades ago, all of a sudden a rainbow splashed the
Everyone had to own velvet gloves with gold sewn
into the edges or shoes adorned with a diamond rose
on the front

Mdvanii sighed in disappointment at how obsessed
the city became with her new lover’s collections
There is more to life than luscious garments or jewelry
made of black pearls
By nature, it is her duty to dissolve the extravagant
culture imprisoning the wealthy people of Paris
The pain seamsters both grande and petit experienced
in the beginning is incomparable to the mutilation in
the end

She witnessed generations of couturiers indulge in
yards of bright fabrics made of crushed gemstones
for the sake of it
Smiling as domestiques dress them in silk and satin
when their money could be used to feed the starving
The artists of Paris no longer remember their simple
For they excitedly jumped into the river of fame: ce
n’est pas mon mode de pensée qui a causé mon malheur,
mais le mode de pensée des autres



Īshwar was born from the heart of Sarasvatī-Devī
As a white-skinned boy smiling so sweetly

His power lay in the strings of his mother’s vīṇā
plucked for her amusement
Nāga flowers cover the surface of the shiny
jackwood kudam

Sniff along the dandi etched with the sacred words
for Gāyatrī-Devī
It is the scent of Índra-Devá’s pāṭala trees!

One wishes to inhale such sweet perfume while
pondering Sūrya-Devá’s multitude of brilliant arms
They reach around a shy Bhūdevī to charm her into
eternal union

Such a day the Devás still reminisce while drinking
sweetened sóma
Their golden chalices etched with praises from
devotees who spent their daily lives to meditate on
sublime beings!

Ink containing crushed moonstone was used to write
sensual calligraphy
It was Īshwar caressing their cheeks like a caring
mother who aided them in impressing the Devás

He wears a white ṣāṭī adorned with blue turquoise
stones from one end to the other to form a flowing
A design her most sacred divinity, the Gáṅgā-Devī
blessed before the satin was decorated with jewels

His hair flowing like a river is woven and adorned
with mallī flowers every morning
His slender ears are decorated with śirīṣa flowers

Īshwar delighted in drinking cow’s milk when
visiting Umāpatiḥ-Devá at his modest abode in the
Upon request the generous ascetic provided him a pot
of fresh milk to take home

He wanted to turn such a lovely gift into a ṣāṭī that
floats in the air like the monks’ jasmine incense
In each step it brushes a man, giving him the light of

Trees bow in respect to the kind-hearted boy of
He brings joy to all with his generous touch and
warm eyes

Let us praise the muse of mankind!
Let us touch his uncovered milky feet to rejuvenate
our minds!


Sóma-Devá glowed intensely, hiding his smile from
the world
He sleeps happily after watching his faithful
muse write ślokas praising his sharpened purity

The hand moves fast across a banana leaf
Not a second to sigh, for the muse is fasting
till sunrise!

His mind fixates on the joyous devá
Wondering if he is all omnipotent and capable of
loving everyone

Sóma-Devá never appears during the day
However, he is fond of the chilly evening

Each time he lifts the heavy yellow blanket off
Bhūmī-Devī body
He shows her a sky black as tar with countless of
tiny sómas

An ocean of mystery that shines like Bhūmī-Devī’s
vaidūryas strewn all over our ocean’s shores
He leans forward to dip his fingers in the water

A snake slithers in front of Sóma-Devá, breaking the
He lunges into the water scared by such an intrusion!

Bhūmī-Devī sees a mauktikaratna falling into her lap
Finding delight in the perfectly polished surface

Joy lighted her whole body as she looked over this
precious jewel
For scratches before hiding it in her vájra-encrusted
jewerly box

A devī who is hardly spoiled cannot help wanting to
own a rare find!
It is a soul as round as Lakṣmī-Devī’s mauktikamālā
glowing with the optimism of a saint!

The kumudinī flowers blossomed in Bhūmī-Devī’s
garden, releasing a scent to send her into a world of
temptuous leisure!
Candrá-Devá tucked inside Bhūmī-Devī’s jewelry
box, rolls along the silky purple cushion as the devī
explores the bountiful jungles

Blue and white balíbhuj sing to get her attention, not
stopping till she glances at them
With excitement they dance on the branches for she
blessed them with eternal refuge

To be looked at by the smiling devī is to become
enamored with her vibrant beauty!
In each step her feet gives nourishment to squashed

The plants suddenly spring up with leaves catching
the rain drops and the bugs wake up eager to gather
She smiles while her bhūruha glows repeatedly in


The muse who writes poems as tribute to the naked
Remains in awe at its brilliant strength!

To endure the disastrous solar conflicts unscathed
shows a firm footing in Pṛthvī-Devī’s ocean floor
He is unmoved by all the damage caused by petty

The one thing to cause deep sorrow is losing the
sacrificial union his devotees share with him
He has been in a dense state of fear throughout his

When asking Sarasvatī-Devī to create a muse to keep
humanity from leaving the Āryan dhárma
Rajanīpati-Devá knew the risk of living on Earth

The Devás fear touching the muddy paths with their
bejeweled feet
Such clean and smooth soles can absorb the wave
of inner filth

Black energy forms a stormy world within each
Lightening strikes all life leaving
Dyauṣpitṛ-Devá coughing from inhaling so much

In this age humans have begun to shed their
To accept greed as their new skin!

From morning to night they think of how to steal a
brother-in-law’s satin slippers
Or what ways to tempt a noble saint to deflower a
chaste devádāsī

All for their own amusement!
Without looking at the consequence of behaving
recklessly their hearts turned into black rocks

Devoid of the fire that brightens in the heart!
Is such a quality correct for an Āryan!?

The ātmā slowly begins choking as the body moves
about the town
Unaware of what is happening to the shell’s mind

It lived peacefully till the world was shaken
violently during the varṣártu
Frightening it for lightening hit mountainsides,
sending boulders of rocks into the villages!

The heart’s condition disrupts the flow of the pure
Bit by bit it freezes giving the mind a vague look at
the surface


Closely tied to the eternal spirit we are!
Too focused on ourselves to care!

Īshwar, oblivious to this dilemma lives his life as a
Meditating on the Supreme Mother and writing praises
to all the Devás

His life before awakening on Rátnavatī-Devī is
unknown to him
Even though he comes from Śakrá-Devá’s svargá his
memory only begun when he awoke in the protective
arms of Rátnavatī-Devī

A child who was reared in the rightful place of the
Left his teary-eyed mother, whose lustrous love was
dripping with distress

Her heart sunk like an elegant swan abandoned by
its loyal friends
Falling into the abyss where nothing can breath

To her love is shared with those who have
selflessness in their nature
It comes as pure as the melted snow from Himávat

A taste rivaling that of the heavenly nectar the Devás
yearned after defeating the Rākṣasas in
However, all the food the Devás gorge upon during
banquets are not delectable when tasting the love
Rátnavatī-Devī has to offer

Such a kind-hearted devī she is!
Allowing us mere mortals to inhabit her lands to do
boundless plundering!

She begs for her trees to be spared from the torches
of blood-thirsty armies
If a constant flow of tears forming a puddle at her
feet do not make a difference then what will!?
She asks for the knowledge of virtue to be consumed
by all in childhood
To her horror the Ṛṣis have abandoned their homes to
live in subservience to Himávat-Devá

Where will our defenseless children turn to for
Where will they go for guidance!?

In this age hope seems useless
Although, a shining boy with deep blue eyes
will save the human race from destroying itself


In the previous age Dharitrī-Devī opened her heart’s
doors for the orphaned Rātri, Uṣas and Priyā to walk
They were astounded by the nīlagandhika laden
marble palace filled with the scent of blue roses

She provided a journey to eternal bliss without
any hurdles thrown at them
To please her daughters with luxury befitting the

It was her compassion in dire times that shone like
the bhārgavakas in a mahārāja’s crown
An enormous emotion that could shake the
universe in one step if latched onto anger

It was her might and gentleness the Devás revered!
Although, in this present age her wrinkles show an
exhausted state

Such a tired old maiden whose grace flew through the
Sky like white cranes
Reviving the ātman of all who steered away from the
path of the Āryans

She could soften the spikes protruding from one’s heart
Turning them into tall roses with hints of her eye color

The doe whose lashes so thick and long fans the dust
off crusty jewelry boxes
To open and admire the bhārgavakas scattered on top
of the pink cushion

Human character is a jewelry box waiting inside the
cracks of Dharitrī-Devī’s skin
For a kind soul to break the latch with his steel blade

Any farmer who tilled the field would miss such a
rare find!
He thinks of his children first and leisure last

Long trails of sweat from his forehead fill his eyes
Vivásvat-Devá’s heat turns it into acid water

He screams so loud neighbors run to his aid
The terrified farmer fled to the forest to dive into the
blue lake

Dharitrī-Devī shakes her head in disappointment at
this spectacle
Her brother is no longer pulled by the selfless virtue
their mother gifted to them

She cannot stand a human screaming till the
pāṇḍaravāyasas squawk for peace
It is a cruel deed to commit towards someone who is
loyal to her

With her vájradaṇḍa she stomps the ground in
Glaring at Vivásvat-Devá emanating enormous pride


The world suffered a fate far worse than the previous
It lost the ability to create poetry, music and dance!

Our Supreme Mother’s name remains lost in rumor
and satire
Her divine love replaced by that of the need for
unrestrained hedonism

She was nipped of her bond with the human race
For the reason her compassion went unappreciated
by the mahārājas

A saint who can turn the world faster on its axis than
Kumāra-Devá had to be created immediately!
Īshwar is the answer to Bhūmī-Devī’s crisis!

Made from the virtue of inspiration he brings life to
all dead beings
Turning the eerie silence of a forest into a symphony
of orange and red birds chirping in excitement

Pushing rocks off old texts to let his curiosity take
him on a journey
As his fingers turn the yellow, muddy pages, his mind
is zapped into an alternate reality

The conscious runs too fast for the memory to keep up
A kaleidoscope of many universes become large and
small by his will!

With each one he can smell Sāvitrī-Devī’s kundamālā
A scent untainted by the alcohol breath of Śakra-Devá

Before him the pages of the book become white and
The wrinkles smoothed down by his own selfless

He was caught up in the secret guarded by the
immortal mahāṛṣis
His mind suddenly throbbed as if Śakra-Devá forced
dozens of bowls of thick sóma down his throat

He could not understand why he saw everything nor
the sweet smell that distracted him from looking at
Exploding compacted balls of surreal colors in large

An explanation his young mind is capable of
Sits still in the belly of a cursed swan


Īshwar’s home was a jungle filled with mango trees
He enjoyed filling his belly with the soft mangoes

Succulent fruit sucked from one end to the other
Smooth surface that leaks juice if touched

White kámalakhaṇḍa elongated to reach this
blue-eyed muse
They shake when he is preoccupied with writing, to
create more beauty for the spacious abode

Īshwar sleeps on the tiger-skin rug fashioned by
A man would complain of the grassless bed for it
is not soft at all!

A boy with the patience befitting a ṛṣi is appreciative
of such a miracle
Turning to a mighty ascetic for help is only possible
when destiny has planned it even if one cannot
recollect such a fine deed!

When the kuvalaya-īkṣaṇā boy begins to dream his
mind transforms into heavenly kingdom
Where the poets are revered by the Devás as the
vessels of truth

The virtues of mankind sit in their sealed mouths
How do such beings speak when faced with an
impending doom?

They are not meant to utter words of eloquence
Their hands speak to the curious onlookers

The written word is more precious than one’s ego
It lasts for eternity, taking many refreshing guises

When all of mankind disappeared like the mist in the
jungle during the winter season
The texts will lay under the ground undisturbed

Dharā-Devī will suffer terrible episodes of
However, she will not let go of the precious Word

Mahādevī is encapsulated in the many scriptures
mankind has a lack of regard for
They choose to create their own paths without
listening to the pleas of the ātman

Īshwar shall live for eternity to protect these holy
texts from the thunderous temper of Dharā-Devī
To achieve such a path he must learn the past
mistakes of the Devás and the mortals


The morning flew by slowly with trees covered in
cold rain
The punnāg trees caressed by the wind, shook the
drops off its petals

Deer awake from dreaming of forested paradise
To gather the family before dining on the
Dharā-Devī’s tall grass

Small snakes slither in between the hooves towards
the holes in the mud
Quietly so as to not alert the sleeping mice

The deep blue lake with ripples of foam gives a loud
A swan has fallen from Dyauṣ, unable to continue

He moans on his back limp from flying for miles
without water
A hunter who has no restraint shot an arrow through
the swan’s neck

He came to the meadow with a velvet bow and a pack
of long golden arrows
His will to hunt the most beautiful bird in the
kingdom was too great

The mahārāja could only be pleased by the vicious
deeds of his chief hunters
He enjoyed hearing their tales of raping virgin girls
and killing herds of grazing gazelles

If the smiting of harmless character cannot satisfy
this uncouth monarch then what does?
An unlimited potential in such a lord is a grave

He screams for help, scaring off the curious grey
hares and red foxes
His neck moves wildly about to shake the arrow out

Īshwar heard the agony of a man with wide eyes
He heard the gurgling pain of a depressed soul!

This sweet boy ran to the Parinirvivapsā then stopped
when noticing no one was there!
In the center of the heaving water lay a white haṃsá

Tears dropped into the clean water
Making it sigh with sympathy

Īshwar treaded the deep body with firm feet
Crows fly down to bite his head

Blood soaks his hair yet his eyes remain fixed on a
noble creature in need
Standing before the dying haṃsá his hands caress the
swollen neck


Unable to contain his tears he let them fall onto his
haṃsá’s belly
His heart suddenly closed its window, becoming
willful to save this victim

The soft bird whose wings were kept close to his
Whimpered as the compassionate muse carried him
to his resting place

For hours the white creature writhed with the golden
arrow stuck in his long soft neck
Īshwar soaked his purple ṣāṭī in warm water and soap
before cleaning the blood off this poor animal’s body

It was a sight no devá could stand to witness!
All of Índra-Devá’s brothers and sisters turned away
when hearing the piercing screams

Īshwar had begin pulling the arrow from the neck
while rubbing the swan’s belly tenderly
He shushed him to sung a lullaby once locked
away in his memory:

Rest your head on my lap, sweet child
No more worrying tonight
Índra-Devá blessed you with strength
To keep you in his flourishing light

Rest your fears till Sāvitrī rises
Dream only of Candrá’s soothing glow
Leave your hands in mine so I can kiss them
Skin as spotless as Kailāsa’s snow

You are lost in your pleasure garden
Drinking coconut juice from a wooden bowl
Yet, I am lost in loving the joyful eyes you
A feeling your heart is eager to dole

Small steps you once took towards my
welcoming arms
Laughing with each graceful fall
You look into my eyes to see a radiant
My love for you is as generous as a golden

Rest your head on my lap, sweet boy
No more worrying tonight
Índra-Devá has blessed you with strength
To keep you in his welcoming light


Īshwar’s long hair rested on the haṃsá’s side
His rose perfume traveled into this creature’s orange

As he awoke he shook his head
Īshwar laughed and pet the haṃsá’s neck

When inquiring of who this wounded creature was
The ascetic cursed to live as a haṃsá lowered his head
in embarrassment

Unable to speak of a curse which deprived him of
human luxury
The taste of fruit and love are reserved for those who
speak and walk upright

Īshwar cupped his new friend’s curved beak, looking
adoringly upon the swan’s face
The bandaged creature introduced himself as Parīkṣit,
an ascetic who was cursed to be murdered by a hunter
while in the form of a haṃsá

The way to break such a horrible spell is by meeting
Bhūdevī’s waterfall of inspiration
To touch it as if it was a pearl just pulled from the
mouth of a seashell

Water unparalleled by Gaṅgā-Devī herself springs up
miles towards Dyauṣpitṛ
So cool and refreshing one cannot help but drink
from the fountain three times!

Looking down into the shimmering water the world
suddenly transforms from a dry land devoid of
Into a kingdom of bright colors and myriad creatures!

Sāvitrī-Devá may be resplendent but he is humbled
when the colors of Bhūdevī’s creations become
brighter as the water is sipped from gentle hands
As if all the dirt floating in her womb diminishes by
divine will!
Enchanted by this description, Īshwar wondered
where such a fountain existed
Parīkṣit told him the fountain exists in human form
safely guarded by Bhūdevī’s mṛgárājas


Īshwar held Parīkṣit tenderly in his arms
Caressing his long feathers to restore his beauty

A lonesome haṃsá is struck with amazement by how
selfless this stranger is!
People are too self-absorbed to take notice of the

When weeks have past with Sūrya-Devá retreating to
his abode to let his sister submerge into darkness
Parīkṣit’s wound healed completely for the touch of a
thoughtful boy made him feel as fortunate as Gaṇápati-

His heart had grown large with each kiss from the
soft-skinned beauty
He could not utter a goodbye so decided to leave
quietly before Vibhāvarī-Devī overwhelmed
Rātri-Devī with her radiance

The māyūra were sleeping soundly under mākandas
If Īshwar were to be warned of something serious the
māyūra would shout in unision

Indeed, they did when Parīkṣit got up to run from the
He flapped his wings as practice before taking one
last glance at his savior

The magnificent māyūra that flirt by opening their
bright feathers awoke at that moment, noticing an
ungrateful haṃsá taking small steps away from their
They shouted and fluttered their feathers, awakening
a loving companion!

Īshwar saw Parīkṣit waddling away from him
He was distraught a friend would leave without
saying goodbye

Leaping to the entrance of the forest, Īshwar blocked
the haṃsá’s path
This healed being looked up into the muse’s eyes to
see flames clashing

Our selfless boy had marked his territory with just
one glare
Parīkṣit accepted his place, thus remained in the
bountiful forest

These two quiet creatures did not speak for weeks
They merely lay next to eachother smiling as the
mākanda offered its ripened fruit


They spent days under mākanda entwined in amour
Unable to consummate a tender relationship
storytelling became a much-needed distraction

Īshwar listened carefully while sitting in front
From the shiny orange beak of his beloved haṃsá
came the first tale

The game between six siblings whose mother wanted
to test their grasp on unfiltered motherly love
A challenge of proving the heart’s worth before a
towering nurturer

Devotion flows from Himávat-Devá to the green
plains sloping into secluded villages
As delicious as chilled coconut juice, all children
reach for this milky stream

The stream flowing from our Supreme Mother’s heart
into Himávat-Devá’s mind is what the children will
never figure out
Their faith in an omnipotent devī has surpassed that
of the Devás!

One day Mahādevī observed her children from her
Pārijāt-covered seat
Vāyú, Vivásvat, Sóma, Śākra, Pṛthvī, Rātri, Vāk
and Vibhāvarī played a game of hide and seek in
the campakâraṇya

To her they were the most beautiful in all of her
Worthy of her precious love for there is no sinful
bone in any of her shiny children

However, they fought for long periods of time
without stopping to catch their breath
Always about their white skin and lush hair, never
over their mother’s heart!

Mahādevī gathered her daughters in one group and
her sons in another
She told them both there will be a game of tug-o-war

The rope will be fire fashioned by Agním-Devá
Sisters will hold one end and brothers the other

The one person whose feet do not slip will prove
he is most worthy Mahādevī’s lavish generosity!
A sweet-smelling candrákānta paṭala full of
maṇíkarṇikās, maṇícīras decorated with haritâśmas
and māṇikyamaya parihāryas


Pṛthvī looked at her mother puzzled by such a silly
She stood by her mother’s side holding her hand

The barren devī found herself in a comfortable spot
once again
She inhales the scent of the flowers flowing from her
mother’s seat

It is more relaxing to remain quiet while watching the
Supreme Mother entertain her
A game she plays shows the complexity of an ancient

Who is this sublime devī that sleeps on saffron sheets
While her children play on top of a large bed made of
red silk?

They cling to the bedposts made of haritâśmas as
if the jewels were theirs all along!
Unable to grasp the choice a selfless mother makes
for her children

Mahādevī’s heart is closed from the world for she
cannot share the mystery that makes the universe
It will burst the eardrums of her children and the
heads of her mortal subjects

She is the red blood that boils when fists clench
She is the moon that radiates for eternity when
darkness submits to noble character

Her lotus-petal, golden eyes shimmer when
Vivásvat-Devá looks at his caring mother
He smiles showering her with rays of joy

Long black lashes clasp the rays to absorb them
Her eyes shudder from the enormous bliss contained
in all

He reaches for her arms to look into those soothing
To see an abundance of Śephālikās blossoming to
please him


Pṛthvī-Devī watched her brothers whose silky hair
shone like their prāvṛṣya laden parihāṭakas stand on
side of the bare ground
Her sisters whose woven hair carries the scent of
vánacandrikā stood on the opposite side

Their wooden sandals firmly planted on the dry
Hands decorated with aṅgārakamaṇi rings clutch the
flaming rope

The boys in their yellow satin dhotīs tied by draping
kákṣa, stuck their chests out like warriors
The girls’ blue silk ṣāṭī flowed like the rivers of
Kailāsa, so alluring yet filled with secrets

Excitement was in the air and the baskets filled with
yuthikās add an aroma befitting such an occasion!
Flowers with the color of purity shower these adoring

Mahādevī watches from her golden throne with eyes
glued to the clear spot in forest
Who will prove to be most worthy of her finest

All the Devás think of the prestige that will be
bestowed on one fortunate child
To receive this gift of opulence is to become the
most treasured creature of all the Supreme
Mother’s empire!

The Devás dream of being their mother’s favorite
child for it is a position anyone wishes more than
anything in life!
To receive the comfort of the grandest luxury is to
experience everlasting bliss

Pṛthvī-Devī owned only a green ṣāṭī for her main
concern in life is to please her mother in every
second so she will never feel unhappy
She rubs feet white as Himávat’s snow and
padmarāga soles with appreciation for this lovely


Rátnavatī’s skin covered with forest and water sighs
in sadness at how her thin neck is bare
She dreams of wearing maṇíguṇanikara while looking
upon butterflies resting on śivávallabhas

She inhales the sweet perfume as if the flowers are
hers only
Vivásvat warms her body with a massage to untangle
the tight knots

For once our beloved devī feels she is special
Her identity is just as important as everyone else’s

No one ignores her, no one degrades her
Her scent that rivals that of amṛta

All who wish to experience a bright heaven which
Air made out of bliss should reside with Rátnavatī

She owns a myriad of ponds contaning padmaṣaṇḍa
of blue, pink, red and white!
Wearing a padmamālin the Devás immediately
prostrate before her when she arrives at Bráhman’s
palace to offer spend time her

In her hand exists a long śivápattra with petals
perfectly curved to her desire
It breathes the scent of the ocean to please her
whenever she wishes

When the Devás ask their radiant mother why
Rátnavatī does not seek the lustrous fabrics and
perfectly cut pearls they are met with silence
Bráhman does not care for such finery for her task
as a mother is to care for little ones who are always
demanding her attention

Rátnavatī is the same as her brilliant mother whose
eyes remain in constant observance
She feels her heart beat faster when seeing the joy on
her siblings’ pearly faces


Rátnavatī watches her siblings stretch to impress their
They tie their hands with white cloth to protect
against the hot rope

These little kṣatriyas think they are going to war over
an unseen box of sparkling treasure!
What such foolishness their egos choose to bathe in!

Rátnavatī laughed as the Devás and Devīs shouted
insults back and forth
To rile the opposite team so as to ensure a victory

The Devás pull the fiery rope hard, laughing as the
Devīs lose their footing
They were stunned when Uṣas pulled twice as hard
making them stumble!

Our yellow devī whose light floods the world every
Snickers at the thin legs her brothers possess

Bráhman’s children shout louder over how hard the
other side is pulling
Calling eachother names when asking to be gentle

They frown when jerked three times in a row for
The fire brightens under the watchful eye of

White clothes that protected those sweaty hands
have burned to a crisp
Now scorched flesh is set aflame as the fire’s tails
lengthen with each pull

Bráhman’s children view themselves as supremely
To her shock they are suddenly behaving like angry

Accusing each other of not being fair yet refuse to
abide by the rules
Her frustration with such behavior became
Rátnavatī’s state

These two beautiful creatures share the same nature
For Bráhman could not bear to create only effuglent
devás who will forget why they exist


The shameless Rātri throws her sandalwood shoes at
Vivásvat hitting him in the face
He screams as his eyes become bloodshot

With a strong will as hot as his skin he begins to
growl like a lion
He grunts with each tug and chortles with the
momentarily slips of Vāk

Vāyú, who is gentle and loving, is shocked by Rātri
He blows in her direction dust to burn her eyes

She shouts of the unfairness of this boyish mischief!
Her eyes bleed yet she continues to growl while
pulling the rope harder

The game went on for hours with no break!
How can a little devá or devī be so bold!

The fiery rope became so thin it diminished!
Bráhman’s children were bruised and covered in

No team won the game for it was played with every
rule broken
Neither will receive the sparkling treasure in their
mother’s chest!

Bhūdevī watched her brothers and sisters wash their
faces in a large pot of water from the lake
She smirked for the prize did not exist at all!

Bráhman whispered to her admiring daughter the
real reason for such a challenge
She laughed before describing the real treasure is the
limitless love she has for her children

It floods a dry riverbed when the snow rapidly melts
Bringing life to everything slumped over the ground

The sparkling blue river never loses its beauty
Even when a rain of fire turns kingdoms into

When one begs for money he is not remembering
the moment his mother fed him her milk
A selfless act to nourish a creature brought into this
new world

Her heart grows with each pulse of amour
How can a child melt the glassy exterior of a woman’s

He is able to with eyes filled with playful innocence
Two smiles fixed in a state of joy!

The sacred gem is Bráhman’s love for all her children
who simply wish to receive it
Money, power, fame and glory are rocks when
compared to the boundless river springing forth from
our Supreme Mother’s heart

She tested her children to see if they viewed her love
as being more precious than any jewel
The Devás and Devīs who tugged the fiery rope till
their fingers bled onto the floor cry over which side
fell first

Will the Supreme Mother reveal the truth?
No, she takes her tired children in a tender embrace

With the end of her saffron ṣāṭī, the Holy Mother
wipes their flowing tears
She kisses the cuts and burns till they fade away

Perhaps these playful Devás will never understand
the mind of their mother
Fortunately, at least one child does!


Īshwar gave a hearty laugh for the tale of the mighty
Devás behaving foolishly in their childhood
Parīkṣit begin to laugh for he too found it to be

The smiling haṃsá asked Īshwar where his mother
Softly, this sad boy uttered words of pain

He had no idea where his mother is!
The last memory he grabbed onto was when he
awoke in this forest wearing nothing but a white ṣāṭī

Parīkṣit nuzzled Īshwar’s open palm to offer his
The lonely muse hugged his new friend tightly

The following morning they found themselves in the
same sitution
A student learning the follies and joys of humanity
and its divine rulers

Parīkṣit began his second tale, one of unexpected
He advised Īshwar to not run away when hearing
the ruthless part for it is where fragrant wisdom
can be obtained

Śaṃvat, an old hermit, lived in the mādhavīlatā
forest far from civilization yet close enough to the
He wrote poetry during the day and meditated on
Mahālakṣmī-Devī’s unique beauty at night

To him she was a woman whose beauty is sharper than
that of the other devīs
She is unpercievable by the human eye, but the
ātmán can see her from the pādakilikā set with
bhārgavakas to the puṣkarêkṣaṇa face

He was rarely bothered by the giggling village girls
Gopīs ventured into the forest to collect
heavenly-scented mādhavīlatā

Yet Śaṃvat did not notice them at all!
Bráhman enchanted him with her passionate energy
flowing through space like milk poured from a pot
onto the liṅgaṃ

The aroma of such a gift is more pleasant than the
celestial kánakacampaka tree
A stream of the pollen from her púṣpagranthana
Containing this emotion sinks into the devotee’s

When one gopī, Śriyā, decided to play a joke on this
faithful lover of Mahālakṣmī-Devī
His adoring devī switched the girl’s destiny to the
other end

She was meant to be the favorite muse of the Mahārājá
Puṇḍárīka’s sculptor later in life
Now, she will soon endure an intolerable fate no girl
has the strength to!

Śriyā went back to her village to write a false letter
on her mother’s last banana leaf
Her words of a dire emergency in the nearby
temple for Mahālakṣmī-Devī will surely hook his

She smiles devilishly when approaching the sleeping
Quietly, so as to not stir him, she places the carefully
written letter next to him

Rātri-Devī took a rest to let her carefree sister
Vibhāvarī-Devī soar through all open spaces in the
Śaṃvat yawned, noticing a green banana leaf with
sensual calligraphy

On it was written the Mahārājá Puṇḍárīka’s edict to
destroy all the temples of villages, towns and the capital
A statue of his mighty self will be erected in her place

This crime is made against the most compassionate
devī in all of Bráhman’s land!?
Who has the audacity to behave so cruelly!?

A tired old man he surely was, but never failing in
defending the honor of our holy vessel of
He grabbed his pāreraka and ran to the village

To his shock Mahārājá Puṇḍárīka postrated before the
pearly sculpture
He offered cakes, money and śatádalas in return for
protection against misfortune

Śaṃvat asked a girl approaching the mandira about
Mahārājá Puṇḍárīka’s order to demolish the temple
She laughed, telling him no such thing can happen
for their Nṛpáti is a devotee of Mahādevī’s most
charitable devī!

It dawned on him he was subjected to a heartless joke
Anger flooded his body turning it hard and black like
a volcano’s cooled lava

He offered his lover pañcāṅgapattra plucked from a
nearby lake
The naive gopī watched from her window laughing
quietly to herself

What fun it is to treat a solitary old man like a child!?
He is surely the most gullible hermit out of all the
ones who inhabit Gańgā’s forests

Śriyā thought, “Tonight I will leave another note but
write about the statue being defiled by ásuras”
As Rātri-Devī showered Dyauṣpitṛ with her many
crystals, this fair-skinned gopī with wide eyes and a
voluptuous body walked towards the forest with a
fresh note in her hand


Being naive is something Śriyā knows all too well for
it leads to ridicule and scorn
She is too hopeful to assume an early death will latch
onto her

Śaṃvat was told by his rājñī the same deed will occur
He chose to lay awake with eyes closed to deceive his
talentless jokester

Śriyā tip-toed towards the saffron bedsheet Śaṃvat
is slept on
Leaving a message written on a banana leaf next to
the hermit

As she turned to leave her pādukā was clutched by
the scowling hermit
She glanced at an angry bearded man whose neck
became veiny

Śriyā whimpered when he demanded an explanation
She told him it was an act to humor herself for she
had nothing to do in her spare time

Śaṃvat’s skin turned bright red before he began
degrading her virtues
His tongue became sharp as a knife, pricking the
ego till it bled entirely

She sank to the floor with her head lowered in shame
Shedding tears of regret for behaving viley

Śaṃvat saw genuine sorrow though it did not matter
to him, justice must be delivered!
He picked up his bowl of water scooped from the


Śaṃvat shouted, “You who have made a fool out of
a man thats spends his life
swimming in the milky ocean
Mahālakṣmī-Devī presides over
this sparkling realm with the utmost
gratitude to her husband

Those who surrendered to her
divine love did so willingly
Their only wish is to live at her feet
and be carressed by her soothing

A rare gift that for many is
impossible to receive
To my horror you spat on my love
for the Supreme Majesty!

I curse you to never know the
feeling of amour in this life or the next!
Your heart will shrivel before old
age arrives leaving you devoid of
of the red ocean that forms ripples
when lust and admiration interwine

Alone you lay in a room with
scurrying hungry mice
Crying over your friends who died
in your youth without saying

Deaf and blind after an angry mob
beat you viciously with sticks
For letting the mandira’s
Brāhmaṇa purchase for your

The raging devoteee threw the holy water on this
heartless girl
She looked up to find no one standing before her!

Śaṃvat vanished into thin air leaving all his
belongings behind
She sat still for a long time, unable to make sense
of a merciless deed

In her mind curses were a myth for no one could
possess such a power
Although, she was overwhelmed with terror as the
poison seeped into her skin

Īshwar interrupted, “What happened to her?”
Parīkṣit answered, “The curse unfolded exactly as
it was given
Her skin remained as soft and
shiny but internally nothing


Īshwar asked his smiling friend for another tale
One with a strong woman who posssesses a spiky

Parīkṣit licked Īshwar’s pink palm and nuzzled it
He said if grapes were fed to him he will share a
a powerful tale

Īshwar laughed showing his sparkling white teeth
His smile became like Sūrya-Devá’s: two rows of

He fed his affectionate entertainer with green grapes
One by one his doted swan swallows

Ruffling his long feathers a tale is rushing to the
back of his beak
Īshwar listened closely so as to not miss any hidden

Dāruṇa, a sadistic mahārājá lived as a bachelor
He was content with just seducing courtesans and
eating past midnight

It was the life his forefathers indulged in greedily
For a mahārājá is destined to please himself only

Those who come across his path to confront such
needless behavior are met with a gada made from
His Majesty’s power over people was more exilirating
than the sóma!

He commanded their attention effortlessly
If any girl or woman shouted an insult she was sent
to his dungeon to be beaten and raped by the prison

He delighted in hearing stories of screams filling the
cold, filthy blockstone cells
Rats bite into unwashed feet to drink the poisoned
A mere thought jumping from one’s mouth to the
ears of a tyrant
Is hardly worth depriving innocent women and girls
of their dignity!

Unfortunately, bravery amongst Mahārājá
Dāruṇa’s army shakes from the toes to the
chiseled face in fear
They are always lowering their heads to avoid staring
into the eyes of their lord!


A maharṣi whose name is Púṇya could see the
past and future
She walked into a village asking strangers for food

A kind fisherman could not resist helping an elderly
He offered her a bed to sleep on and as many days
she needs to satisfy her hunger

Pleased by an offer of fresh milk, dhal baath and
seasoned fish
The wise elder asked her smiling host about the village

Púṇya waited for a response though the fisherman saw
through the room’s open window to see a kṣatriya
suspiciously staring at him
His knees wobbled uncontrollably, breaking his

Púṇya asked her host what the matter was
No words could be uttered for the host’s attention was
held by the devious kṣatriya’s eyes

The the sage turned to look at an armed man
His skin color black as coal shone under the Sūrya

Eyes yellow like a cat’s squinted to peer further into
the house
It was as if Yamarāja had come to capture a sweet
fisherman’s soul

When glancing to the floor he noticed a joyous rṣi
eating off a banana leaf
Scooping baath in one hand and sipping fresh milk
with the other Púṇya turned to face the nosy soldier

By firmly concentrating on his feet Púṇya cut them off!
He screamed in agony as blood gushed onto the street

Legs shook violently, squirting blood onto terrified
Sobbing and writhing from the excruciating pain, a
spectacle Púṇya ignored while finishing her meal

The fisherman hurried to the window to close its
He paced back and forth anxiously for Mahārājá
Dāruṇa will accuse his guest of witchraft and
him of giving her refuge

His advice for the gracious elder is to leave when
Vibhāvarī-Devī warms the world with her
immesurable body and stay away from this place
Mahārājá Dāruṇa will sentence a even stranger
to be tortured for many years before confessing her

Púṇya understand the emphasis of this dilemma
She saw deep fright in his beautiful green eyes


Púṇya watched this lovely man fall asleep on the bare
cement floor
She was offered a soft bed to sleep on for the night
but chose to lay down next to him for it is wrong to
deprive someone of their comfortable living

By her will this noble rṣi transformed into a senuous
apsará with a thin waist, wide hips and full breasts
Weilding a vīṇā made of wood from Śakra-Devá’s
bountiful prântara

She is an indīvarâkṣa musician submerged in eternal
Her long hair pulled back into a thick bun is adorned
with pañcāṅgapattra at the top

She wears a dark blue ṣāṭī decorated with vájratulyas
along the border
It floats in the air as she glides over the ground
smiling to let others feel welcome in approaching her

Her smooth hair is coated in the scent of a surapuṣpa
So divine the Devás shower her in ketakī petals as a

Her long fingers gently plucking the strings of her
wooden instrument to enchant onlookers
Children follow her across the village to listen to the
heartbeat of Bráhman

The apsará’s full lips are curved and red like the āmra
Her skin is as white as Nandi’s milk and posssesses
the softeness of a haṃsá’s feathers

She is a muse sent from purú to lift a tyrant into
Her healing touch will melt a stony heart

Unfortunately, some gifts are worth rejecting!
For she is not heavenly but has noble character
as her precious adornment

Mahārājá Dāruṇa was told of a celestial muse
who inspired starving children to sing and dance
She brought entertainment to the people who have
forgotten such a thing exists!

The sounds she produces are pleasing to the ears
It was a gift she wanted to give to dispel the dark
cloud hovering above the villagers


Mahārājá Dāruṇa ordered his yuyudhānas an
order to bring this intruder to his bhavanam
His men found her singing to a crying widow to lift
her spirits

They grabbed her without speaking, though she did
not shout or kick!
She was pulled towards the rājabhavanam while
gliding above the ground much to their annoyance

The yuyudhānas pushed her into the rājá’s court then
closed the white marble doors
She stood before a giant with arms so large a tiger
would flee at first sight

His eyes looked into hers to conquer an insolent
To his surprise he saw nothing but a glowing spirit
untamed and expanding with each breath like

He asked a silent musician what her name was
To the Mahārājá Dāruṇa’s shock she did not

He told her to give him an explanation for her
disruptive deed
The passionate muse she did not flinch or speak for
she was enthralled by the laughter of his bitter subjects

The tyrant squeezed the muse’s arms tightly and to his
astonishment she did not whimper!
Becoming irritated the most powerful rājá in the world
screamed at her yet this fearless apsará did not shake!

She stood still for seven hours in which the ruler of
all tried to provoke her in every way
He threw food at her, threatened her with a knife,
crushed Śakrá-Devá’s sculptures and burned the Veda

To his aggravation she remained as still as a statue
As the evening arrived Mahārājá Dāruṇa fell
asleep in his maṇívara-encrusted golden throne

The muse manifested a poisonous dagger in one hand
She floated towards the lord’s side, covered his mouth
with one hand and stabbed him in the heart with the

His Majesty’s screams were muffled as he struggled
against such a cruel deed!
Deceived by the appearance of a gentle courtesan he
certainly was!

He died after the sixth stab, slumping in his throne
The village’s savior disappeared smiling before
Vibhāvarī-Devī opened her eyes to shower us with
rays of light


Parīkṣit eyed a bowl of freshly sliced mukhapriya
Īshwar quietly peeled some more as his friend
became lost in a story of bravery and principle

Parīkṣit opened his mouth to receive dripping orange
The taste travelled down his throat releiving him of
years without enjoying such fine treats!

To Īshwar’s surprise Parīkṣit had another tale to give
A moment in our world’s history that shall be relived
till the end of time

Like a pūtâtman’s life in Índra-Devá’s svargá,
mortals live steadfast in their own pleasure gardens
smelling the púṣkara that bend for them

Pañcânana was born in an empire ruled by Mahārājá
The creed laid down by the omnipotent leader is for
all subjects to devote their mind only to the boundless

To swim in his everlasting light is like a child
enjoying the calming embrace of Gáṅgā-Deví
And drink white wine from his candrákānta vase
with great gratitude

The people’s lord is the direct descendent of
Savitṛ-Devá through his father’s side
His skill of incredible speed rivals that of the
shooting rays of Savitṛ-Devá

The House of Sūryakara is reborn in each century
but the presiding devá remains on his heavenly throne
Mahārājá of Sūryaprabha’s subjects give sweets and
money as an offering to him for the protection of
their descendents

The fear of gutting punishment never leaves their
A curse leaving them jittery and alert of every action

No other devá could live in anyone’s home
Mūrtis of them are prohibited by law!


Born into a family of brāhmaṇas, Pañcânana had a
strict upbringing
She was rejected by her father when asking to
participate in yajñá and study the Ṛg Veda

No girl deserves to offer pétva to Agní-Devá
Their minds are too meager to grasp the profound
knowledge of the holy scriptures

Grooming for marriage and motherhood is the
appropriate education
For all girls must be prepared to serve others
perfectly throughout their lives

Pañcânana laughed at such a foolish notion
She even ridiculed the sacred rites

To her girls who are the purest in all of the empire
were often beguiled into submission
Their virtues twisted and thinned till the heart

Is this the noble behavior of Mahārājá Parigarvita’s
To fall into a trap where marriage eventually becomes
draining vessel!?

Cook, clean and serve others till old age when one’s
daughters have begun to endure the same cruel fate
Pañcânana said “No! I am much better than that!”

Against her father’s wishes she went to another
village to purchase a mūrti of Mahākālī-Devī
A sculptor put the large golden statue in a cart to be
pulled to Pañcânana’s home

Pañcânana grinned for she has begun her path to
Mahādevī s heart
To reside in the center of her most supreme beauty
is to observe Mahādevī in her true ravishing form!


The mūrti stood in the center of her room on top of a
nīlagandhika alter covered in red silk
Bhadráśraya piṇḍaka filled the room allowing
Pañcânana to immerse herself in deep concentration

She sprinkles rice on her mūrti before touching its
eyes and heart with a blade of grass dipped in pétva
On a nepāla bhājana she sprinkles rice so her loving
mother can sit on it

With mālatī dipped in water from the Gáṅgā she
washes her mother’s feet
In an oblation of water mixed with milk, honey,
yoghurt, ghee and sugar she dips her finger into the
bowl to rub onto the devī’s lips

Next to the treat is a glass of fresh water from a well
Pañcânana secretely took water from her mother’s
kitchen to replenish Mahākālī-Devī’s thirst

With a new mālatī she dips into a bowl of water and
in the bowl of sweet food to sprinkle her mother
When Pañcânana finished bathing her, she wrapped
red silk around the neck, draping it over the shoulders

Our blessed devotee adorns Mahākālī-Devī’s chest
with a golden sacred thread
She applies sandalwood paste to her forehead and
anointed it with kuṅkumam

With many a mālatī and its leaves she surrounds her
New bhadráśraya piṇḍaka are lit to enchant a beautiful

She lits a lamp filled with pétva on a plate to wave
before her Iṣṭa-devatā
To give her mother lunch she offers slices of
rúciphala and drākṣās

Clasping her hands together in prayer she walks
Her mother asking her to protect her always

She looked into her tender eyes she saw red smoke
flowing in circles
Electricity forming as the swirls move faster

Pañcânana took her polished vīṇā, beginning an
evening of music filled with hidden memories
Mahākālī-Devī listened to her thoughtful daughter’s
music as hearing subtle sounds of emotions

Each one signifying a moment in her oppressed child’s
From the painful humilation at the hands of a violent
father to the first dream of sleeping in her accepting

Pañcânana noticed her Iṣṭa-devatā’s face soaked in
She pushed the vīṇā off her lap to hug her tightly

Both cried for the rest of the night, forming a large
puddle of loneliness on the cement floor
Understanding her daughter’s need for a stream
of love Mahākālī-Devī remained inside the mūrti


With each breath of her mother she saw a different
flickering light of color
A candle whose voice would speak to her softly

She could barely understand what was said, though
in her heart she saw Bráhman opened her eyes
A white ocean calmly resting under Candrá-Devá who
looks upon her brother with adoring eyes

Pañcânana used to spend many vārṣikāns attempting
to reach her mother
She screamed in horror when pushed back to Pṛthvī-Devī

Sūrya-Devá thwarted each attempt to keep this
ambitious daughter of Mahākālī-Devī from succeeding
He saw her fidelity growing faster than
Hanumān-Devá’s mischievous tail

From his emerald throne he watched carefully in a
No dissident would dare reach a devī without fearing
brutish punishment!

A special bond reserved for men of the highest
spiritual state
Yet, here is this young creature ignoring his
magnificent self!

She gave her life to Mahākālī-Devī who does not exist
in any of the sacred scriptures of Mahārājá Parigarvita’s
For they are written as tribute to our lord’s supreme

Mahādevī was regretfully ashamed of her narcisstic
To erase his power she sent a sculptor from
Svargáloka to Pṛthvī

Her request was for sculptures of her daughter
Mahākālī-Devī to be created
Hence, an Āryan girl will feel the natural pull of her

She would reach the market by foot with money
earned from selling butter to blacksmiths
When seeing the collection of gold, silver and copper
sculptures she would know by instinct which one is
blessed by Mahākālī-Devī


One black evening a storm brewed outside
Pañcânana closed and locked her windows

Heavy rain turned dry mud into a river descending
into the fearful Gáṅgā-Devī

The roofs of homes were cracked by large balls of
All families huddled in front of a blazing havana
wondering what could have angered Sūrya-Devá

Lightening struck house after house setting them
Every wall hit by a giant black rock, crumbled from
the intense force!

Every man, woman and child ran outside screaming
for help
“Where is our lord? Where is he? Please save us our
our protector!?”

Throughout the panic-stricken village Pañcânana
remained in a deep meditative state
A body gave a white glow as she purposefully got
lost in the immeasurable love of Mahākālī-Devī

Mahākālī-Devī’s heart melted into a milky sea for
she had succumbed to the delight of motherhood
Her daughter swam unharmed by the many floating

The world’s most fortunate being had achieved the
highest state one can reach as a mortal
She completely surrendered to her mother to remain
in her arms forever

How is it possible for a mere mortal let alone a young
woman reach a realm unknown to mankind?
No one is selfless enough to accomplish such a feat!


I will take the risk of revealing a truth: in the previous
life of the Brāhmaṇa’s daughter she was an extremely
powerful sage who could shake the world with her
The Devás feared another war with a mortal who
clutches the magnificent divine powers

In their minds Anāpadi was a threat to Índra-Devá’s
reign over all life, both heavenly and earthly
Fortunately, she was only interested in becoming one
with Mahādevī

Anāpadi lived as a hermit in the bakula forest,
listening to the songs of her Holy Mother
The melody caressed her cheeks to let her know she
is in a nurturing womb

Every time she left the world to listen to her mother
sing a mantra pieced itself together
When awaking from this slumber she wrote the
enchanting songs furiously across fresh banana leaves

Lines written in black ink tempt Anāpadi’s heart to
spring into a lake of passion when glowing
The scent of her mother’s padmaāsavam emanates
from the leaves comforting he saint

For decades her fidelity towards Mahādevī was a
virtue she guarded with her thick will
Unable to see any other view on love as valid

To this tired, old woman the one love that exists
forever resides
In the womb of a the forgiving and thoughtful
Supreme Mother

She brings her strength to the surface to squash
egotistical enemies
She brings her tenderness to her hands to sooth the
shaking grief of her battered children

What greater parent one can ask for?
Anāpadi viewed Mahādevī as her sole mother

Unforeseen by the Devás she was imbued with great
powers as an act of appreciation from Mahādevī!
The heavenly bodies cannot defeat such a woman
for their powers are small in comparison

Lacking the amṛta to churn these energies into
a massive force
The color of white eventually became less appealing
due to the internal stronghold of humility

By terrible a hermit who sleeps in the Holy Mother’s
lap was born a mortal!
When reaching her last few years on Pṛthvī the body
crippled unexpectedly

In one gasp it broke into countless of pieces like a
mahārājá’s porcelain vase knocked off its pedestal
Oh! Such a sad ending this poor daughter endured!


Anāpadi’s ātman rested in a sublime state of peace
Truly happy with the silence for it gave her many
blissful dreams

When awaking from centuries of naps she sensed
something wrong had occurred
Looking at her unshapely body she saw a radiant light

She didn’t have arms, legs, teeth or anything of the
human nature
Even the blood that flows through red flesh to give it
life did not exist!

It dawned on her she had died in a solitary life for her
love for the Supreme Devī needed that much attention
What shall one do at this point?

Anāpadi did not achieve mokṣa so had to reincarnate
on Bhūmī-Devī
Her new form will be a Brāhmaṇa’s pious daughter

She will stay in the protective arms of the Supreme
To avoid the terrible consequences of mortality

The Anāpadi the world knew lived as a solitary
Her family died unable to find her after several

A young girl who woke up realizing she must find
her mother
Ran into the bakula forest to find her, though never
coming out

In many lives before she took the form of a hermit
Reaching for the sky in hope the Holy Mother would
grab her hands

The reason for choosing a spiritual path regardless of
the pressures of life is the courage that exists in the
Anāpadi possessed a blind passion to reach further
than the starry Dyauṣ regardless of the snow storms
and the Vārṣikān


Pañcânana sits before a mūrti in her bare room
All of her luxury and personal belongings stripped
as punishment

A mūrdhaka received an edict from Mahārājá
Parigarvita to deprive her of all the things that
that make a person a normal citizen!
However, what she really wanted in this life was to
be sleeping in her mother’s arms

She begged here righteous father to protect the
mūrti from harm
He ignored her plea for he did not believe in
rescuing a disobedient daughter

Her mother who imparted values turned away in
As the wife of a brāhmaṇa she could not aid a

Women had no choice but to follow the orders of men
It was their duty to take heed to a man’s advice afterall

Pañcânana looked at her mother with tears flowing
down her soft cheeks
Mahākālī-Devī heard the cries of her abandoned

She opened her eyes as frustration turned into an
Our dear mother fought to contain her rage for she
must be aware when the mūrdhakas arrive to take her
daughter away

Mūrdhakas stormed into this willful daughter’s room
One reads a message from a silk scroll: “By Mahārājá
Parigarvita’s law, harboring a devá who isn’t the
mahārājá of all celestial and earthly life, Sūrya-Devá
is punishable by imprisonment in the deepest
dungeons for six months, with little water and food,
a hundred lashes and lastly, death at the claws of
ten tigers!”
Pañcânana stood up proudly with her fists clenched
Even in a dire situation she knows her life will be

Wiping her tears before looking at these scoundrels
She gutted them with words manifested by enveloping


“Why is it that a citizen of this wealthy
empire must submit to a devá she has
no connection to?
Is it because Mahārājá Parigarvita is
descended from him, so we must
follow a divine being blindly?

I may be a righteous brāhmaṇa’s
daughter but I am not a dog
I do not bend to the wishes of a tyrant
nor do I follow laws which restrict the
freedom of my heart!

You can strip me bare and let the tigers
devour my flesh but as long as
Mahādevī resides in my heart
I will never give up my will! Never!!!

It is the Supreme Mother who rules
over all!
Her warmth and just character lead
the actions of the Devás and the
human race

She is the thought forming in your mind
and the breath you inhale
She is everything you see and is beyond
what our simple consciousness can

If you touch my mother she will destroy
you in an instant!
In Bhūdevī’s previous lives she governed
her children till they died!

Her power was feared by all yet respected
as the most virtuous quality
No one challenged her rule, no one dared
to mock her!

Our Holy Mother’s strength is beyond a
mortal’s grasp
Even her godly children are unable to
accomplish such a feat!

Will you take the risk of laying a
trembling hand on her stiff arm?
I dare you to try! Your life will
end before you can scream!”


Trembling in their shoes these kṣatriyas laughed at
such nonsense
Two brushed her aside and laid their dirty hands on
the sculpture

The ground shook as it emnanted deep red energy
Stone cracked like an egg releasing whipping rage
throughout all the lands

Those who defiled women choked as their bodies
received hundreds of lashes
Throats burned as the lungs slowly shrinked from
the disappearance of consumed water

Kālikā-Devī lunged towards the kṣatriyas blazing
from the naked toes to the disheveled hair
Her hair wild as the moonsoon storm snaps at

She screeches so loud their eardrums could not
withstand it
Blood flowed from the ears onto the floor

Kālikā-Devī licked the blood off her weak victims’
Smiling as they shed tears of fear!

The terrible devī’s skin color is black like charred
It is the night sky hiding secrets a mother chooses
to never divulge

She opens her mouth, exhaling deadly black smoke
into the mouths of shaking soldiers
Their bodies fell to the floor, bonelesss and without

She laughed while kicking these empty shells!
To her such a sight is amusing

Our rageful divine mother who shows compassion
in dire moments stays focused on conquering the
foe of virtuous nature
Innocent people crouch in fear though remain

In one hand Kālikā-Devī weilds a mahāvadha and
in the other she holds a gada
She looks at her child with a smile to let her know
she will always come to her rescue when she is
being persecuted


Pañcânana, lost in the sight of her mother’s
unsurpassed beauty touched her feet to offer
In her eyes the need to sacrifice herself to the
consuming fire that is Mahādevī is clearer than
the Gáṅgā

Kālarātri-Devī blessed this child with her soft touch,
opening the door of her heart to allow her
vulnerable daughter to walk through
Pañcânana gave up the perils of being human to dwell
in the essence of her mother

The luminous devī cannot be defined by the written
She sees all the troubles and joys in this world but is

Her strength becomes the shield she uses when
gazing at her children from afar
She remains translucent to absorb their emotions

Every girl is harmed for the sake of power
Every woman is humilated for entertainment

Passivity is not Kālarātri-Devī’s way though
punishment is!
She squashes the poisoned ego in all its forms

Her gada breaks the shell to punch the flesh till it is
She drinks the blood of her enemies as if it is Sóma

Her mind fixated on annihlating all who poses a
threat to her soveriegnity
Our Supreme Mother: the defender of the righteous
and ruler of the limitless ego!

She leaps to Mahārājá Parigarvita’s palace dripping
blood from her padákamalas across the village
With one angry roar she demands the ásura to come
outside and fight


The fearless foe is quickly dressed in military garb
His breastplate made from silver is etched with
protection mántras given by Sūrya-Devá

His crown made from the stolen gold of Laṅkā is
adorned with yellow citrines
They form the long senuous rays of Sūrya

On both arms armlets made from the tusks of
pañcanakha display mántras for victory
Mahārājá Parigarvita’s polished gada is clutched by
his shattering fist

Before leaving his lustrous golden palace, he went to
his bedroom chamber
Upon seeing a tearful rājñī firmly holding a plate
with a lit lamp, a small pile of rice and a small pile of

Rājñī Bhāvinī shook for a pinching fear of her husband’s
death sits in the stomach
She muffled her sobs while waving the lamp for her

With one finger the distressed rājñī annointed her
her lord’s forehead with kuṅkumam and sprinkled
him with rice
In her heart she was screaming for a truce to take

A voluptuous rājñī with pearly skin sunk into a state
of terror when watching her victorious husband
walk into battle

Mahārājá Parigarvita kicked the entrance doors,
breaking them off their hedges
He stood a hundred feet away from Kālarātri-Devī
whose eyes pierced the emperor’s heart with a
menacing stare

They are two craters of black water forming ripples
Our Holy Savior’s disgust with the selfish ego is
magnified ten times when seeing this stray dog
sticking his chest out


The two bloodthirsty warriors did not budge till
Vibhāvarī laid down in her yellow satin bed
The incorruptible devī jumped, laughing at how
pungent the vile giant is!

Even in the beginning of a battle she finds humor in
smallest things
It gives her power a second to grow larger

Our Holy Mother screamed with such hot intensity
the dogs’ ears bled
It was deafening for the people whose ears are not
strong enough to handle such a powerful wave!

A million daggers she spit towards the towering
None punctured his flesh or scratched the

He laughed at such childish tricks!
For a devī is no where near the immeasurable powers
he possesses!

She is merely the creation of Bráhman’s will
To be pulled and squeezed for at his leisure

Many yards our greatest warrior stood from the foul
Flinging fire, poisoned darts and axes at his chest,
arms and legs

Nothing could hurt Mahārājá Parigarvita!
It was as if the monster was beyond mortality!

She grew frustrated with the difficulty in conquering
her daughter’s corrupted nemesis
Her eyes shot fire when the emperor begin degrading

They whipped the dirt path setting it aflame
Kālikā-Devī leaped through the smokey air,
landing in front of lord whose heart is meagre


Kālikā-Devī’s hair became a stream of fire whipping
everything in sight!
Stunned by such recklessness Mahārājá Parigarvita
striked her with his silver gada

Another surprise! Kālikā-Devī did not fall!
She hit her enemy’s chest and legs with her jagged
sword though the armor would not crack

How can a divine weapon forged in her flaming heart
not make even a dent?
She striked his body harder and harder in attempt
to break the impenetrable garb

Mahārājá Parigarvita laughed as he hit her stomach
ten times
Kālikā-Devī remained standing without any bruises

She lunged at him, biting his neck as if it were raw
The Mahārājá of Sūryaprabha howled in great pain
for the sharp teeth sank into his flesh all the way

Enraged by this foul act he threw her to the end of
of the village
She cackled knowing his weakness is the bare neck

Kālikā-Devī’s hair lifted her up as the fire from the
blood-soaked path devoured empty villages
During the battle she urged her children to run to the
mountains to keep eachother safe from her wrath

She grew taller than three Bhūdevīs combined while
her hair set her aflame
an unlimited inferior that enlarged with each breath!

She walked towards her great enemy bringing him to
his knees
He realized his effort to conquer a devī would not have

She is the ultimate divinity who received no attention
through the length of his dynasty
How such a circumstance came to be?

Kālikā-Devī’s steps shook Bhūdevī frightening
She prostrated before the Supreme Mother to offer
her heart’s respect

Kālikā-Devī looked down to see Mahārājá Parigarvita
crying hysterically for mercy
Our grand warrior smiled before picking his body up
to her mouth

She looked into his wet eyes to see what he is feeling
The swollen ego crumbled into pieces to open a box of
permeating insecurities

Kālikā-Devī put him in her mouth to crunch till nothing
except the bones are left
She closed her eyes to see Mahārājá Parigarvita’s mind
melt into small drops


Kindness is given to the ones with pure hearts
One cannot find love if his virtues are missing

Virtues are the māṇava a person wears around his
spotless neck
A golden ornament the Divine would bestow on
anyone who is willing to forsake all ill qualities

As long as it remains unhooked one’s beauty
will blossom like the kṛṣṇákanda
In the bulb sits pollen poured gracefully by

The puṣkarêkṣaṇa devī expresses the beauty of an
adoring doe when her children vie for her attention
Unable to decide whom to lavish her virtues upon,
she divides them amongst them all

In Lakṣmī-Devī’s realm, the Kṣīradhi forms waves
in an attempt to reach her padákamalas
She notices their desire so dips her feet into the ocean

The resplendent devī sighs as the waves carresses
Her nights and mornings are spent taking care of

She gazes at her husband with genuine appreciation
He created her during the Samudrámathana

Fearing for what may happen to a radiant devī
He grabbed her body when she emerged from the
crashing waves of the Kṣīradhi

Her white body glowing so brightly the features
could not be seen
She was purity in its greatest form!

Nārāyaṇá saw in her virtues moving in a circular
Sending the newly-born devī into a state of ectasy

Lakṣmī-Devī smiled for eternity even though her
intense joy simmered down
Her husband one day realized morality was created
to keep the universe from destroying itself


Īshwar smells the fresh mālatīmālā he made for
One of his pleasures is to collect flowers from a tree
so he can fall into a paradise when dreaming

Parīkṣit’s throat begin to itch from not drinking the
whole day
He waddles to the misty lake to drink the cool water
and play in it

Parīkṣit and Īshwar slept facing eachother, satisfied
with the pleasing circumstances
A relationship that shall last till the end of the world!

Parīkṣit dreamed of his home where havana blazed
during each yajñá
He chanted prayers for Uṣas-Devī to keep the light in
his heart flickering forever

A taste of divine genoristy is something most do not
have the fortune of experiencing
One morning Parīkṣit received the blessing from
Uṣas-Devī he had been seeking

After Uṣas-Devī finished bathing the world gently,
Parīkṣit prostrated before her to offer his respect and
He made a promise to devote his life to keeping the
moral strength of humanity intact

In this dream an unexpected surprise unfolds causing
Parīkṣit to smile with joy
Śatárūpa-Devī rose from the havana wearing a white
śāṭī laden with marakataśyāmas along the border

Proclaiming Īshwar as her son and the sacred muse
of humanity
His dhárma is to inspire artists to produce works
espousing the joys of possessing virtuous character
in times of great distress

He will also write scriptures made of the tales
memorized by his loyal companion, Parīkṣit
These two will go from village to village to
share monumental events in hopes the people
will be inspired to create art in the name of

Parīkṣit will create divine melodies with a vīṇā
While Īshwar sing these stories as lovely as the

Parīkṣit cried in despair to the supreme muse of all
“How can I help a friend when my lord cursed me to
die in the form of a swan!?”

Śatárūpa-Devī understood his delimma, thus kindly
carressed his cheek
In this moment she blessed a compassionate hermit
to be free from a cruel fate


Awakening when Uṣas-Devī filled the sleeping
Bhūdevī with her joy, Parīkṣit touched his face,
arms and legs
Excitement rushed to his heart making him stand up
to shout Mahādevī’s exalted name

Īshwar awoke to see a bearded man with black hair
flowing to the small of his back
His brown eyes smile at him!

The muse hugged his friend tightly for he was
breathtaken by this unexpected moment
A man with a scarred spirit sighed for the first time
in many years

He smelled like a man and looked like one too!
Parīkṣit’s white skin shone under the blazing Sūrya
like satin

The world’s savior cried in enormous joy for he
Could touch and hold his friend the way male
companions do!

After a few deep breaths he asked his friend how the
malicious curse was lifted
He listened carefully to a dream in which a
compassionate devī broke Parīkṣit’s cage

Śatárūpa-Devī broke the curse by revealing the name
of her son who is the heavenly muse
She did so for it was time to begin saving the voice of
Mahādevī from extinction

Too much knowledge was thrown into the havanas
for the sake of retaining power over a gullable
The sacred scriptures which lay in layers of soil were
tossed by our youth who found hunting and
rendevouses with gopīs to be pleasurable

He was shocked by all of the news Parīkṣit shared with
To not know why one suddenly wakes up
in a forest far from civilization without any
memory is terrifying

He had been alone for years and cried under the
Candrá-Devá who at times joined him
To him there was no life before the forest!

When he begged Parīkṣit to bring his mother to him
his wise friend lowered his head in disappointment
He felt the pangs Īshwar harbored though could not
fulfill this request yet

Our world’s most sensual bard told him the duty must
be fulfilled before his mother lets him come back home
A boy whose eyes are serene as a swan’s, it is
unbearable to watch when he’s sobbing

He may be as emotional as a child yet his strength keeps
him from committing suicide
It his shield against the sins humanity hungrily gobbled

His virtues grew more intense as the years pass for
Mahādevī created him this way to aide her children
Īshwar eventually realized something bigger than
himself demanded his compassion


The amorous Īshwar took his friends cold hands in his
to kiss them
His full lips soft as a pillow suckles the knuckles,
giving warmth to the hermit’s joints

Parīkṣit’s heart was washed with red water to give his
flourishing love more passion
He took his lover’s chin in his hand offering an
ensaring kiss

A moan escaping from our darling boy is the pink
smoke that floated in his heart
Parīkṣit caught it with his hand to inhale the
rose-scented perfume

Ectasy flows from his head to the naked feet
Clutching Īshwar to his chest he tore the white śāṭī
into pieces leaving a voloptuous boy half-naked

His fair body, slender and curvacious with a lustrous
Black hair so long and thick, is used as a pillow

Brāhmaṇas say nīlakaṇṭha are the most elegant creatures
Bhūdevī gave birth to
However, to Parīkṣit the limp slender beauty is more

He looked at his admiring preṣṭhatamaḥ from the small
head to the little toes
Nipples pink and large tempt him to chew on them

Indeed! Our brave sage pinned Īshwar to the ground
His teeth pinched the joyful boy’s nipples making
him shout in pleasure

For an hour Īshwar moaned as his nipples were softened
before receiving a massage by a strong tongue
It is a teasing game Parīkṣit learned in his youth

The smitten muse’s hands rested on his lover’s
mountainous back
He sank his nails into it when teeth bit into his shoulder


Next to the two lovers lay tattered clothes
Their bodies kept warm by the hot passion pulsing
in every inch of flesh

Īshwar had no idea he could find pleasure in biting
and pinching
He turned his lover onto his back, straddling him and
clutching his shoulders

To Parīkṣit’s surprise his anukūla knew a few tricks!
His loins were softened by the boy’s forceful

He moans as sexual lust over took him due to the
furious massage
Parīkṣit bucked eight times sending Īshwar flying
through the air!

Sūrya-Devá catches him by the waist to prevent a
sudden death
He lays his loyal devotee next to Parīkṣit whose face
had turned bright red from the unrestrained tease

He carressed Īshwar’s chest while looking at him
with sorrowful eyes
White skin covered in sweat glistens under the

A once miserable haṃsá who swam in the
buddhisāgara, left it to delight in the essence of a
To not know the other good things men are capable
of is to forget about human existence

Parīkṣit transformed into a hungry beast, carrying his
heroine to the bank of the Parinirvivapsā
He lays him down on the wet mud, touching those
high cheekbones

The uncouth sage licked the sweat off those thin arms
as if they were sugar cane
His slave moaned when every inch of his body was
kissed to make him cave into being his lord’s servant for

Īshwar feared what would happen if he tried to
He screamed when his delicate waist was clasped
tightly by knees hard as boulders!


The pain was too much yet Parīkṣit did not care
He covered the boy’s mouth to begin massaging his
twitching tanúhrada

Two fingers forcefully slid inside, swelling the pink
His dirty nails tickles the surface making the youth
shudder in pleasure

Īshwar shouted for his man to pound his poṭa to reach
a climax under Dyauṣpitṛ’s curious observance
Noticing animals peeking from the bushes, he wanted
to please them all with a display of insatiable lust

By the time Parīkṣit had finished relaxing his virgin’s
muscles he got off to turn him onto his belly
Ankles were tied above his sweet companion’s head

He watches a sore purīṣaṇa gaping to invite his phallus
to plunge into it
Grasping the light muse’s legs the lord begins ramming
his pauruṣá all the way to the back without any breaks

For an hour years of pent up bhága is exhaled by a
pure youth
He felt his soulmate’s meṇḍhra strike him repeatedly,
warming his cold body during a freezing midnight

Over and over Īshwar was kneaded by the force of a
madanâṅkuśa that increased with each strike
His body became red from the toes to the head,
signifying the melting of the heart

A bhoga overwhelmed him, hence there was a
need to freeze it
Pleasure remaining constant is coveted by the
deprived Īshwar

The lovers grunted in ratábandha, accidently letting
their seed spill onto the ground
Mādhavīlatā flower seeds that flew to the bank sank
in from the weight of their bodies


The throbbing piṇḍika that plowed our gentle boy’s
tight flesh had loosened it
A feared sword elminating the knot to offer needed

Parīkṣit slept in his gentle lover’s arms as Candrá-Devá
opened its eyes to see if his faithful devotee was spared
from harm
He became calm at the sight of a glowing Īshwar

In any conquest the victim becomes a foul-smelling
cloth to be discarded
Parīkṣit was the hunter searching for something to
mangle for his own amusement

His heart attached itself to Īshwar’s for their love is
more luscious than the amṛta
An exhausted poet layed on top of his ruler in a kiss

They shared a breath that tasted of exotic fruit
Indeed, the love of the Devás is exotic for only
those with minds and hearts pure as the mahāpadma
can sniff the elongated flower

Parinirvivapsā brushes against them throughout the
Asborbing the scent of the maithuná between two
kindred spirits

Parinirvivapsā-Devī sighed for a dream manifested in
reality before her eyes
She begun to pray to Bráhman to bring her this
fortunate fate

Her wish to experience the uplifting sensuality
flourished like her bosom
The animals who mate before her are clueless about
their friend’s feelings

Everything living in her world is unaware of the
beautiful character she posseses
The quaility of wanting love is unheard of in our time
but she cherishes it like a noble lady who frequents the

Copyright © 2011 Sunil P. Narayan

Glossary I

1. Agním-Devá/Agní-Devá – The Vedic God of the Fire.
2. Agníparvata –Fire mountain.
3. Āmra – A mango tree. Mangifera Indica is the botanical name and the family name is Anacardiaceae. The mango is the national fruit of India.
4. Amṛta – The heavenly nectar that gives immortality when consumed.
5. Anāpadi – Without danger.
6. Aṅgārakamaṇi – Coral (amber).
7. Agníparvata –Fire mountain.
8. Anukūla – A faithful or kind and obliging husband.
9. Apsará – A Svargáloka courtly dancer who is beautiful and voloptious.
10. Āryan/Ārya – Respectable, honorable, wise, faithful or noble man.
11. Ásura – An evil spirit, demon or ghost.
12. Ātmā/ātmán – The soul.
13. Bakula – Is a small tree with fragrant white-yellowish flowers. The biological name is Mimusops elengi and it comes from the Sapotaceae family.
14. Balíbhuj – A sprarrow.
15. Bhadráśraya – Sandalwood.
16. Bhājana – A vessel, pot, plate, cup, etc.
17. Bhága – Sexual passion.
18. Bhārgavaka – A diamond.
19. Bhavanam – Palace.
20. Bhāvinī – A noble or beautiful woman.
21. Bhoga – Sexual pleasure.
22. Bhūdevī – (also known as Rátnavatī, Pṛthvī-Devī, Dharā-Devī, Dharitrī-Devī and Bhūmī-Devī) is the Goddess of the Earth.
23. Bhūruha – A pearl.
24. Bráhman – The universal soul from which all spirits come from and eventually return
25. Brāhmaṇa – A person who has divine knowledge (a priest).
26. Campaka – Is an evergreen fragrant flower tree. Its botanical name is Magnolia champaca and family is Magnoliaceae.
27. Campakâraṇya – Champaka forest.
28. Candrákānta – Sandalwood.
29. Candrákānta paṭala – Sandalwood chest.
30. Devá – Means “god” as in “the God Śiva”. When referring to the entire Vedic or Hindu pantheon deities one would say, “the Devás” or “the Gods”.
31. Devádāsī – A temple dancer.
32. Devī – means “goddess”. When referring to the goddesses of the Hindu pantheon or Vedic pantheon one says “the Devīs”.
33. Dhárma – Duty, practice or prescribed conduct.
29. Dhotī – A piece of unstitched cloth that’s seven yards long. It is wrapped around the waist and drapes to the feet.
34. Dyauṣpitṛ-Devá – Dyauṣ (sky), pitṛ (father), Devá (god).
35. Gada – Mace, club or bludgeon.
36. Gaṇápati-Devá – The God of Wisdom, obstacles and the remover of obstacles.
37. Gáṅgā-Devī – The Goddess of Knowledge and one of the main rivers of India.
38. Gāyatrī-Devī – Gāyatrī-Devī is the divine being representing the Gāyatrī Mántra
(Rig Veda: Book III – Hymn LXII – Line 10). The purpose of the verse is to grant a devotee (typically a Brāhmaṇa) of Surya-Devá divine powers. In the Skandá Purāṇa, she is described as a second wife of Brahmā-Devá:
[May we attain that excellent glory of Savitar the God:
So May he stimulate our prayers (Rig Veda: Book III – Hymn LXII – Line 10)].
39. Gopī – A cowherd woman.
40. Haṃsá – A swan.
41. Hanumān-Devá – Is a half-monkey/devá who presides over physical strength
42. Haritâśma – A turquoise or emerald.
43. Himávat-Devá – King of the Mountains.
44. Indīvarâkṣa – Lotus-eyed.
45. Índra-Devá – (also known as Śakrá-Devá) is the King of the Gods, the sky, the rains
and heaven.
46. Īshwar – God.
47. Iṣṭa-devatā – A chosen tutelary deity.
48. Kailāsa – A mountain within the Himālayas (a chain of mountains in Nepal).
49. Kákṣa – A belt
50. Kālikā-Devī – The Goddess of Death and Transformation (her synonym is Kālarātri-Devī). As a form of Mahādevī she is referred to as Mahākālī-Devī.
51. Kámalakhaṇḍa – A group of lotuses.
52. Kánakacampaka – Is a white flower that’s fragrant and has a long tassel that blossoms and hangs during the evening. It’s botanical name is Pterospermum acerifolium
and its family name is Sterculiaceae.
53. Ketakī – Is a shrub or tree with very fragrant flowers that have long, pointy bluish-green petals. It grows in Southern India and blossoms during the Summer season. The botanical name is Pandanus odorifer and the family name is Pandanaceae. Its nicknames include Kewda, Screw Pine and Umbrella Tree.
54. Kṛṣṇákanda – The red water lily. Its scientific name is Nymphaea pubescens and family name is Nymphaeaceae.
55. Kṣatriya – A soverign or member of the military.
56. Kṣīradhi – The Ocean of Milk.
57. Kumāra-Devá – the God of War.
58. Kumudinī – An assemblage of red lotuses or white water lillies.
59. Kundamālā – A garland of a type of jasmine flower known as Jasminum multiflorum. It’s common name is “Star Jasmine”.
60. Kuṅkumam – Red powder.
61. Kuvalaya-īkṣaṇā – Lotus-eyed.
62. Lakṣmī-Devī/Mahālakṣmī – Goddess of Wealth, Good Fortune, Good Luck, Beauty and Fertility. When the prefix of “mahā” is used the name refers to Mahādevī, in the form of Mahālakṣmī.
63. Laṅkā – The island of Sri Lanka.
64. Madanâṅkuśa – The penis.
65. Mādhavīlatā – It is a fragrant white flower called “Spring Creeper”. Its botanical name is Hiptage benghalensis and family name is Malpighiaceae.
66. Mahādevī – The Supreme Goddess who is the female equivalent of Bráhman.
67. Mahāloha – Great iron.
68. Mahārāja – A great king.
69. Mahāṛṣi – A great hermit, ascetic or sanctified sage/saint.
70. Mahāvadha – A mighty or destructive weapon.
71. Mahārājá Dāruṇa – Mahārājá means “great king” and dāruṇa means “rough, sharp, severe, cruel, pitiless”.
72. Maithuná – Copulation, sexual intercourse, sexual union, marriage.
73. Mākanda- A mango tree.
74. Mālatī – A woody climber with fragrant white jasmine flowers. Its botanical name is Aganosma dichotoma and family name is Apocynaceae.
75. Mālatīmālā – A garland of jasmine blossoms.
76. Mallī – Jasminum sambac (botanical term) is a fragrant white flower and is grown
all over India. The species comes from the Oleaceae family. The synonyms for this flower include mallikā and vánacandrikā. It’s common names include “arabian jasmine” and “tuscan jasmine”.
77. Māṇava – Sixteen strings of pearls.
78. Mandira – A temple.
79. Maṇícīra – A garment adorned with jewels.
80. Maṇíguṇanikara – A multitude of strings of pearls.
81. Maṇíkarṇikā – an ear ornament consisting of pearls or jewels.
82. Māṇikyamaya – Made or consisting of rubies.
83. Mántra – Sacred text or speech, prayer, song of praise.
84. Mauktikamālā – A pearl necklace.
85. Mauktikaratna – A pearl.
86. Māyūra – A peacock.
87. Meṇḍhra – The penis.
88. Mokṣa – Release from worldly existance or transmigration. The term represents the eternal seperation of the soul from the physical body.
89. Mṛgárāja – A tiger or lion.
90. Mukhapriya – An orange.
91. Mūrdhaka – A kṣatriya.
92. Mūrti – An image, idol or statue.
93. Nāga – Mesua ferrea (botanical term) is a tree with fragrant white flowers and dark green leaves. It is grown in Assam, India and comes from the Clusiacea family.
94. Nandi – An attendant of Śiva-Devá.
95. Nārāyaṇá – Viṣṇu-Deva.
96. Nepāla – Copper.
97. Nīlagandhika – A blue ruby.
98. Nīlakaṇṭha – A peacock.
99. Nṛpáti – King, prince, sovereign.
101. Pādukā – A shoe or slipper.
102. Pādakilikā – Foot-ring, ornament or anklet.
103. Padákamala – A lotus-like foot.
104. Padmaāsavam – Nectar of the lotus flower.
105. Padmaṣaṇḍa – A multitude of lotuses.
106. Padmamālin – lotus-garland.
107. Padmarāga – Made or consisting of rubies.
108. Pādukā – A shoe or slipper.
109. Pañcanakha – An elephant.
110. Pañcânana – Very fierce or passionate.
111. Pañcāṅgapattra – A red lotus flower (mytholgical only).
112. Pāṇḍaravāyasa – A white crow.
113. Pāreraka – Sword, scimitar.
114. Parigarvita – Very proud or arrogant.
115. Parihārya – A bracelet.
116. Parihāṭaka – An armlet.
117. Pārijāt – Nyctanthes arbortristis or “coral jasmine” is a flower within the Oleaceae family. It is also called “Śephālikā”.
118. Parīkṣit – One who examines.
119. Parinirvivapsā – The desire of giving (it is also the lake that nourishes the forest Īshwar resides in).
220. Pāṭala – Stereospermum colais (botanical name) is a large tree with fragrant yellow flowers that blossom during the Summer season. It belongs to the Bignoniaceae family and is grown all over India. Its common names are “Trumpet Flower Tree” and “Yellow Snake Tree”.
119. Pauruṣá – The penis.
120. Pétva – Clarified butter.
121. Piṇḍaka – Incense.
123. Prântara- A forest.
124. Prāvṛṣya – The Cat’s Eye gemstone.
125. Preṣṭhatamaḥ – Dearest, most beloved.
126. Priyā – Beloved (a reference to the character “Priyā” from the epic poem
127. Puṇḍárīka – A lotus flower or tiger.
128. Punnāg – A fragrant white flower tree that grows in coastal areas. Its botanical name is Calophyllum inophyllum and it comes from the Clusiaceae family. The common name for it is “Alexandrian Laurel”.
129. Púṇya – Pious.
130. Purú – Heaven, paradise.
131. Purīṣaṇa – The rectum or anus.
132. Púṣkara – A blue lotus flower (mythological only).
133. Puṣkarêkṣaṇa – Being for a moment in the sky.
134. Púṣpagranthana – Wearing a wreath or garland of a flower(s).
135. Pūtâtman – Saint, ascetic.
136. Rāgitaru – The red or “passionate” tree.
137. Rājá – king or prince.
138. Rājabhavanam – The royal palace.
139. Rājñī – Queen, princess, the wife of a king.
140. Rātri – Night (a reference to Goddess of the Night or Ratri-Devī).
141. Ṛg Veda – One of four holiest scriptures of Ancient India. The word means “Hymn Veda”.
142. Ṛṣi – A hermit, ascetic or sanctified sage/saint.
143. Samudrámathana – The churning of the Milky Ocean.
144. Śaṃvat – Auspicious.
145. Sarasvatī-Devī – (also known as Śatárūpa-Devī and Sāvitrī-Devī) rules over the intellectual realm and the artistic realm. She is the wife of Brahmā-Devá who is the creator of the universe or the God of Creation.
146. Śatádala – A white rose or lotus flower.
147. Śāṭī – A strip of cloth used to make a women’s dress (also known as a “sari”).
148. Śirīṣa – Albizia lebbeck (botanical term) is a fragrant white flower tree from the family of Fabaceae. It is grown in the tropical part of India and appears during the Summer season.
149. Śivápattra – A red lotus flower (mythological only).
150. Śivávallabha – The white rose (its synonym is Semantī).
151. Śloka – Hymn of praise.
152. Sóma-Devá – Is the God of the Moon. His other names are Candrá-Devá and Rajanīpati-Devá. The juice made from the sóma plant is called “sóma”.
153. Śriyā – Happiness, prosperity.
154. Surapuṣpa – A celestial flower.
155. Sūrya-Devá – the God of the Sun (also known as Vivásvat-Devá and Sāvitrī-Devá).
156. Sūryakara – A sunbeam.
157. Sūryaprabha – Bright as the Sun (a reference to Mahārājá Parigarvita’s empire).
158. Svargá – Heaven.
159. Svargáloka – Indra’s heaven.
160. Tanúhrada – The rectum or anus.
161. Umāpatiḥ-Devá – Is one of many names for Siva-Deva, i.e. Sarva, Bedha, Rudra, Sitikantha and Surapa. He is the God of Destruction.
162. Uṣas – Dawn (a reference to the Goddess of the Dawn) is also known as
Vibhāvarī-Devī and Uṣas-Devī.
163. Vajra – A diamond.
164. Vájradaṇḍa – A staff studded with diamonds.
165. Vájratulya – Lapis lazuli.
166. Vāk – The Goddess of Speech.
167. Varṣártu – The rainy season.
168. Vārṣikān – Of the rainy season.
169. Vāyú – The Vedic God of the Wind.
170. Vīṇā – A musical instrument which is used by Sarasvatī-Devī and is part of the South Indian classical music style (Carnatic). It’s components include dandi (the neck) and kudam (the resonator).
171. Yajñá – Worship, devotion, prayer or praise.
172. Yuthikā – Is a type of jasmine flower known by the botanical name of Jasminum auriculatum. It is from the Oleaceae family.
173. Yuyudhāna – A warrior or soldier.

Glossary II

1. Aldric – Is a reference to Karl Lagerfeld and is an Ancient Germanic and French name that means “old ruler”.
2. Antonia – A reference to Marie Antoinette, the Queen of France
3. Āryan – A Sanskrit term for respectable, honorable, wise, faithful or noble man.
4. Bakula – Is a small Indian tree with fragrant white-yellowish flowers. The biological name is Mimusops elengi and it comes from the Sapotaceae family.
5. Balíbhuj – A Sanskrit term for sparrow.
6. Bière – Beer.
7. Bhārgavaka – A diamond.
8. Bhūdevī – (also known as Rátnavatī, Pṛthvī-Devī, Dharā-Devī, Dharitrī-Devī and
Bhūmī-Devī) Is the Sanskrit name for the Goddess of the Earth.
9. Bhūruha – A Sanskrit term for pearl.
10. Boutique de marque – A designer shop.
11. Buddhisāgara – ocean of wisdom.
12. Campaka – Is the Sanskrit term for an evergreen fragrant flower tree. Its botanical name is Magnolia champaca and family is Magnoliaceae.
13. Charles – Is a reference to Charles Frederick Worth (10 October 1825 – 10 March 1895) who is the father of Haute Couture. He created his own fashion house in Paris, France with financial support from Swed Otto Bobergh. His brand was the first of its kind and with patronage from Empress Eugenie of Imperial France the couture label gained international fame. Worth’s clients included Princess Pauline Clémentine de Metternich, Empress Eugenie of Imperial France, Queen Maud of Norway and Cora Pearl (Emma Crouch). He catered only to the wealthy and the royalty (France, Spain, Norway, Austria, Italy and Russia).

Worth didn’t create simple designs, he created masterpieces. The way his
business worked was instead of creating garments according to exactly what the
customer wants he created many garments based on his knowledge of historical
European and current fashion, then had his models show them to clients four
times a year. If a client liked a garment she put in her order and received it
exactly as Worth designed it. Worth is the first couturier to be creative so while
his designs have hints of historical fashion he was very in tune with the changes
of fashion. The garments reflect society’s taste. It is why his couture house
became the dominant one in Europe.

His business was continued by his sons Gaston-Lucien Worth and Jean-Phillipe
Worth. Gaston-Lucien was the first president of the Chambre Syndicale de la
Haute Couture (located in Paris). The organization established guidelines for a
couture house and for the business aspect. One of the concerns in fashion was
plagiarism so there were rules enforced to protect the designers’ ideas. Other rules
include having 20 people in an atelier to produce at least 50 garments per year;
two showcases had to be held (one in January for the Spring season and the other
in July for the Fall season).
14. Cochon – A pig.
15. Couturier – A fashion designer.
16. Derrière – Backside or bottom.
17. Déesse Diane – Diane, the Roman Goddess (Déesse) of the Moon.
18. Déesse Vénus – Vénus, the Roman Goddess (Déesse) of Love.
19. Devá – Is a Sanskrit term for “god” as in “the God Śiva”. When referring to the entire
20. Vedic or Hindu pantheon of deities one would say “the Devás” or “the Gods”.
21. Devī – Is the Sanskrit term for “goddess”. When referring to the goddesses of the Hindu pantheon or Vedic pantheon one says “the Devīs”.
22. Domestique – A servant.
23. Drākṣā – A grape.
24. Dundubhí – Is a Sanskrit term for a type of large kettle drum.
25. Esclave – A slave.
26. Gaïa – Is the Greek Goddess of the Earth.
27. Grande dame – A great (grande) lady (dame).
28. Kundamālā – Is the Sanskrit term for a garland of a type of jasmine flower known as Jasminum multiflorum. It’s common name is “Star Jasmine”.
29. Índra-Devá – (also known as Śakrá-Devá) Is the Sanskrit name for the King of the Gods and the God of the Sky, the Rain and Heaven.
30. Īshwar – A later form of the Sanskrit word Īśvará which means “God”.
31. Lakṣmī-Devī/Mahālakṣmī – Is the Sanskrit name for the Goddess of Wealth, Good Fortune, Good Luck, Beauty and Fertility. When the prefix of “mahā” (great) is used the name refers to Mahādevī, in the form of Mahālakṣmī.
32. Mādhavīlatā – The Sanskrit word for a fragrant white flower that’s also known as “The Spring Creeper”. Its botanical name is Hiptage benghalensis and family name is Malpighiaceae.
33. Mahādevī – Is the Sanskrit name for the Supreme Goddess who is the female equivalent of Bráhman.
34. Mākanda – The Sanskrit word for the mango tree.
35. Mālatī – A Sanskrit word that means “a woody climber with fragrant white jasmine flowers”. Its botanical name is Aganosma dichotoma and family name is Apocynaceae.
36. Mallikā – Is the Sanskrit term for Jasminum sambac (botanical term), which is a fragrant white flower and is grown all over India. The species comes from the Oleaceae family. The synonyms for this flower include mallī and vánacandrikā. It’s common names include “arabian jasmine” and “tuscan jasmine”.
37. Maṇícīra – A Sanskrit word that means “a garment adorned with jewels”.

38. Maṇíguṇanikara – A Sanskrit word that means “a multitude of strings of pearls”.
39. Māṇikyamaya – A Sanskrit word that means “made or consisting of rubies”.
40. Mdvanii – A highly aesthetic sculpture created by BillyBoy* that serves as a prototype for many different sculptures of the same quality (i.e. Ouimi, Ishwar, Soraya, Dheei, Edie, Muio-Bix, Jobii, Yucef, Rhogit-Rhogit, Zhdrick, Tiimky). All fit into the Avante Garde and/or Haute Couture genres of fashion.
41. Nīlagandhika – A Sanskrit word that means “a blue ruby”.
42. Ouimi – The sister of Soraya (Suraiyā).
43. Pādakilikā – The Sanskrit word for foot-ring, ornament or anklet.
44. Parāga – The Sanskrit word for sandal.
45. Parīkṣit – A Sanskrit word that means “one who examines”.
46. Parinirvivapsā – A Sanskrit word that means “the desire of giving” (it is also the lake that nourishes the forest Īshwar resides in).
47. Parihārya – The Sanskrit word for bracelet.
48. Parihāṭaka – The Sanskrit word for armlet.
49. Pêche – Peach.
50. Petit – Small.
51. Piṇḍika – The penis.
52. Poṭa – The rectum.
53. Prāvṛṣya – The Sanskrit term for the cat’s-eye gemstone.
54. Putain – Whore.
55. Rāgitaru – A Sanskrit term for the “red or ‘passionate’ tree”.
56. Rājabhavanam – The Sanskrit term for “a royal palace”.
57. Ratábandha – Sexual union.
58. Rúciphala – A pear.
59. Śāṭī – Is the Sanskrit term for a strip of cloth used to make a women’s dress (also known as a “sari”).
60. Svargáloka – Is the Sanskrit term for Índra-Devá’s heaven.
61. Sarasvatī-Devī – (also known as Śatárūpa-Devī and Sāvitrī-Devī) Is the Sanskrit name for the goddess who rules over the intellectual realm and the artistic realm. She is the wife of Brahmā-Devá who is the creator of the universe or the God of Creation.
62. Selēnē – The Greek Goddess of the Moon.
63. Sóma-Devá – Is the Sanskrit name for the God of the Moon. His other names are Candrá-Devá and Rajanīpati-Devá. The juice made from the sóma plant is called “sóma”.
64. Suraiyā (Soraya) – Is the Persian word for “a brilliant gem”.
65. Sūrya – Is the Sanskrit name for God of the Sun (also known as Vivásvat-Devá and Sāvitrī-Devá).
66. Un gâteau aux fraises – The strawberry cake.
67. Un prostitué – The male prostitute.
68. Varṣártu – The Sanskrit term for the rainy season.
69. Yuthikā – The Sanskrit term for a type of jasmine flower known by the botanical name of Jasminum auriculatum. It is from the Oleaceae family.
70. Zeús – The Greek King of the Gods and the God of the Sky and Thunder.


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: