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The Birth of Death Ii

III

Brahma thence forged a form— a female-head, 
Born of impending need, a weird form—
Black as born of darkness, tongue and mouth red, 
Eyes burning yellow, like a raging storm.

Uncertain she stood facing what was South, 
Mighty confused on her cosmic mission, 
And waited to hear a word from Lord’s mouth, 
Which when came struck, a lightning from heaven. 

My daughter, Death art thou on a goodwill, 
Thine mission: to kill all life in due time, 
Born art thou of my rage, and aught thou kill,
Good or evil, all whenso reach their prime.

Hearing of her mission all life to kill, 
Poor maid shed tears of genuine deep-felt grief. 
Forever mindful of mankind’s goodwill, 
The Lord saved— just a few drops on a leaf. 

Suppressing her motherly grief, somewhat
Emboldened by Brahma’s eternal grace, 
She breathed in courage if for a moment, 
Said, bowing creeper-like, words wisdom laced: 

O thou great Sire, pray hearken if ye will, 
I wonder why one would want a woman—
A mother and born kind— to come to kill, 
Killing life, O Good Lord, I never can.

I’m scared of sin, be thou graceful to me, 
Forget the act, can’t even imagine
And shuddered to think of the slain many,
No, can’t carry out cruelty so mean.

There may be need this suffering to rid, 
Yet, pardon me, I seek thine kind refuge, 
O Ancestor, with folded hands I plead, 
Not equal I feel to the task so huge.

Let me please thee with arduous tapas, 
She said; but still the Lord passed His decree: 
Do carry out what thou art born to do, 
Worry not, no evil shall come ‘pon thee.

Naught much can be done on what ordained is, 
Get on to thine mission, have faith in me, 
Thou shalt incur no sin, count on my bliss, 
A trigger, thou art hands of Destiny! 

A woman— kind of heart, called ‘pon to kill, 
Feigns if she could utter a word of will, 
Protest, pretend, nor procrastinate still, 
Say yes, nor no, when served a bitter pill.

IV

And to escape from the Lord’s scorching rage,
Meditated—both thoughts and words on mute,
Standing resolved for long years on one foot. 
All in a far off tranquil hermitage. 

She failed when to soften Brahma’s mind still, 
Meditated still more for twenty years, 
And pleaded, ‘spare me Lord but I can’t kill
Innocent life, nor stand their grieving tears.

This too when failed to move Him, she took to 
Deep silence— of thought speech and inner soul, 
To try soften Brahma’s unmoving heart; 
Said he, ‘Life’s born to fulfill karmic role’.

Resist not, my daughter to me so dear, 
Duty’s call cleanses one’s inner being, 
Divine will shall assist thee; have no fear, 
No’ne can blame thee if there’s no more breathing.

Go ahead, in men shalt thou as man find, 
In women as woman— image of mine; 
Life shall grow old, decay— both flesh and mind, 
Let it conspire to kill in course of time.

Life shall get born in a perennial chain, 
A new life to live, both body and mind, 
O to carry on all over again,
Life picks up whence ere was it left behind. 

I’ve saved copious tears ye shed in my palm, 
Let them ailments be of a varied kind, 
Emotions ill, desire to hate and harm,
They’ll do the trick as clock’s set to unwind.                      

No bane, a boon death be, man’s greatest friend, 
Creation scarce can culminate sans Death,                   
There’s no new beginning if there’s no end, 
Let Death get born along life’s very breath.

And so was Death born in those ancient years—
As boon to life that begets new body, 

To carry on with the onward journey, 
Soul survives in new flesh and endeavours.

And armed with a new lease of added years,
Life strives forward, or oft in reverse gears,
A journey so long, and so arduous,
Hard to finish were Death not auspicious!
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   Epic, based on Mahabharata | 01.06.12 |

Copyright © Aniruddha Pathak | Year Posted 2017

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