It is the Guru who is higher than even the Lord. He is who shows the path of the Divine to the pashu. Lucky is the disciple who gets a guru that liberates him with just sight, touch or any sensation. Lucky is also the Guru to get a disciple worthy of understanding his wisdom.

The seer has had teachers many in his life, and to the cannibal he now offers his oblations. And as per the instructions of the now elevated Nandini, he takes the fruit to the cannibal.

The cannibal is a godly meat-eater, who strikes the animal of duality, eats flesh to control his tongue, and sees in the shunned hermaphrodite his Satchitananda. He is a bhogi and a yogi, who enjoys for the sake of the Mother and only upon her order.

Alas, his divine touch, that once blessed the seer, has now been forgotten by the latter.

The cannibal knows Nandini well, and knows he what she wants. If a kind touch does not teach the seer, his wrath shall.

****

It was an unexplainable friction that Maya and Hrishav felt manifesting between their shared space.

There was a tug that pulled them towards each other. It had been there subtly, below the surface of consciousness, being suppressed by delusional hatred and prejudiced ego. But after handing of the impassioned rose, which Hrishav had thought to be a mere mocking step, the pull intensified. There was an urge he felt to look at her, steal a glimpse of her before resting on a frown. Perhaps there was a fear too of what he had done, but as a Shakta– a very imperfect one at present– he was not confronting the deeds he had done against Maya.

Thus from a vira, that is a hero, he was slowly descending back to being the animal, the pashu.

Wordless were their exchanges. Maya and Hrishav together visited Argha. The blissful Argha, a unity of man and woman, greeted them with a coy smile. "What brings the couple here?"

Neither denied being a couple. They were, after all, ordained to be so by Maa. It wasn't their choice.

"Take me to my Guru."

The request made by Hrishav made Argha widen their eyes. "I see." He ran a finger under their chin. "Let me see where he is now."

Closing their eyes, Argha ignited the telepathic connection, the string that attached them to the Aghori. A buzzing noise rang in the ears of the couple in front. They watched Argha with a curious flicker in the eyes. The transgender finally heaved a sigh. "He is in the forest. Follow me."

"The forest?" Maya gulped. "Isn't that unsafe?"

"To you, maybe. But one who has attained Pashupati dwells amongst the beasts." Argha smiled. "Don't be afraid. You are going to meet your Guru. Give up all your fear and doubts. Know that if your Guru is there, you shall be untouched even by the lightning bolt. His mercy is the supreme."

Maya took their extended hand. "As you say. I believe you, and through you I believe my soon-to-be Guru."

Hrishav was stunned by the warm bond. Argha didn't spare him a glance, as if he had done something so diabolical that his mere image was a curse. Not questioning the fiery judgement emanating from Argha, he followed them out of the slums.

The prostitutes were less busy during this time of the day. They brushed their teeth and sent their kids to the market. Shocked were they to see the notorious Argha along with the Mukherjee palace inhabitants. To them, it was a case of peculiar grooming. Perhaps the girl was to be taught the ways of pleasure by Argha, so that she could become the mistress of Boro Babu.

It was a custom of the highest tantrics to roam around as the sordid beings of society, disguised as dirty beggars, sellers of body and drunkards. A clever curtain to protect the sacred knowledge of kaula, that is, the sacred secret art of worshipping the merged wisdom of Shiva and Shakti. Argha skillfully used it, placing their reputation at risk for the sake of guarding Mother's spells.

Through the same shortcut that they had traversed earlier, Argha took them deeper into the heart of the forest. Twigs crunched under their feet, squirrels scurrying for nuts crossing by their side. The branches swayed to fan the enigmatic Argha, their enchanting eyes speaking to the cawing crows. Their language was something unknown to civilisation. The wild boar cut through the bushes to make a way for the three, surprising Hrishav and Maya.

"I have seen enough of their powers, and yet I am in awe every time," he told Maya. "Argha is divine."

The two of them were asked to wait by a tree and Argha walked towards the south. More tense by silence than the ticklish kiss of the leaves, Maya decided to start a conversation with Hrishav.

"Boro Babu, I have a question regarding your Guru. Nothing disrespectful, just an inquiry."

"Tell me."

"Has this Aghori been your Guru since the very beginning?"

"No." He leaned against the bark of the tree. Staring up at the flying jungle babblers, he said, "I started my journey under the Guru of my Dada Rajon Vijay. Later on I met a Bhairavi Maa. She was the Guru who moulded my foundation the most, and encouraged me to meditate on Matangi Maa. Then, three days before she died, she told me to visit an Aghori, giving me proper directions to meet him. I waited until her death. Since she had no child, I did her last rites like her son and watched a mourning period. Then I visited this Aghori. It was also then I realised Argha was his consort in the path of tantra."

"You knew Argha before this?"

"I did. Thanks to my, err, visits to the prostituition area. Further credit goes to Tirtha. I went there regularly to fetch him home, and one day stumbled upon this transgender. Somehow we build a rapport."

"You don't go to prostitutes?"

Hrishav's jaw hung open. "Well, as much as it is a custom among the royals to relish bodily pleasures, I am a celibate." He narrowed his eyes. "And you must also remain so during the course of your learning. So don't have too much fun."

"As if I have had fun." She scoffed. "It was your nephew who ran after me. He is worse than a dog during the mating season of bhadra."

"Careful, dearie." He chuckled. "He is still my nephew."

"I know." She clenched her fists. "You disrespect prostitutes for him. Like you can buy women with money just to give to your nephew."

"Look Maya, prostitutes earn by sleeping, alright? And I never meant it that way. I do despise how some of them fly around me like bees around pollen, but ultimately I get their situation. You need to accept the rules, Maya, the rules of this world. It's better for Tirtha to pay them and get laid instead of, well, force himself on some reluctant girl."

"You really need to sort out your thoughts."

"And you need to learn to defend yourself."

"Of course." She blew on her nails that she had freshly trimmed. "From men like Tirtha who try to disrobe me, and men like you who choke me."

Hrishav stiffened. A pale shroud of darkness flashed across his twitching face.

"I am impressed by your physical strength, Hrishav," she said with a smirk. "You literally lifted up a grown woman with one hand. I know I am not weightless. You could have killed me that day, and see now, I must accept the same man as my companion."

He placed a caressing hand on her cheek, prompting her to face him. His gaze glimmered with a strange admiration. "You aren't afraid of me?"

"I can slap you again, if I want."

"Perhaps you should, because I hurt you."

She didn't like the way his hand was gliding on her neck. "You bloody–"

The interaction was interrupted by Argha. They came out of the veil of shrubs and beckoned them to follow her. Hrishav retracted his hand upon the glare of Argha and maintained a two-hand distance with Maya.

Crossing the border, they entered upon a clearing. There was a well-cared garden, a little pond, and beyond that twirled blades of long grass. The little wildflowers whispered to the gelid breeze. A rough path led to a humble hut of mud and straws. Maya fancied seeing a pair of glowing orbs peeking from the canopy, but keeping in mind the assurance of Argha, she concentrated on her goal and not on any lurking predator.

Sitting near the pond was a man with matted locks and skin rubbed with coarse ash. His beard reached his hairy chest, tangling with the mala he wore. A red dhoti was draped around his sturdy legs. Although his hair had greyed to a snowy shade, he still looked as robust as a young man of twenties. The rippling muscles of his lean arms boasted of rudraksha amulets.

When his eyelids lifted, it revealed enraged, bloodshot eyes. They landed on Hrishav and made the latter shudder. Hrishav fell to his knees, as if struck by a shower of blazing hot coal. Maya immediately knelt and held him. "Boro Babu?"

The Aghori raised a brow. "You don't need to worry about him, my child."

Maya looked at him. Rage didn't gush through crimson-veins that popped on his eyeballs anymore. When she saw him, he looked just like any fatherly figure. His appearance was anything civilisation would reject, but that didn't make Maya feel bad about him. She felt oddly relaxed when he smiled at her.

He poured out the contents from his sling bag. Rolled out a skull, some bones and a tattered book, along with a cane. He took the cane and spoke to Argha, "Take Maya inside the hut. You know what to tell her."

"As you say."

The Aghori rose to his full height, an enormous six-feet-and-eight-inches, and hurled attacks on the wriggling Hrishav with his cane. Maya shrieked, but before she could halt the taming session, she was dragged by Argha inside the hut. They bolted the door and made Maya sit on a khatia.

"You have the blessings of Neela Saraswati. You have the blessings of Kalika and Matangi. Instead of looking down upon yourself, think how fortunate that Hrishav is to have you as his assigned partner."

His screams and cries could be heard. Maya fidgeted. "But he is in pain."

"He should be." Argha gritted their teeth. "He didn't follow his Guru's teachings. He became too proud of his wisdom, and he shamed you for your status. Even hit you. A woman who wasn't at fault."

The Aghori used the foulest of slangs to humiliate his disciple. Hrishav begged and apologised, but the words that came to Maya's ears were faint and fogged.

"Tantra does not see if you are a shudra, a Brahman, or a kshatriya. You all are equivalent– uninitiated pashu, unaware of the fickle nature of human life as well as the opportunity it provides. Human birth is greater than any other, even birth as a Deva, if you want liberation. But some people," Argha patted her head, "like you, have accumulated karma from your past, which has helped you begin on the path already. Yes, Maya, you are a natural vira. A born hero.

"As much as one should not think they know everything, it is also advisable to not be ignorant of your potential. You have received this birth after much turmoil and hard work. Do not let the dedication go to waste. Recognise that Hrishav must work with more reverence and humility, and that you, as his Shakti, must keep him on the path. Don't let him go astray. And don't let yourself be maligned too."

The commotion outside had quietened. Maya took in the words of Argha and reflected within. "I will not allow him to insult me in any manner. I will be considerate of his shortcomings but not see that as his destination. I shall push him towards the good."

"And see yourself for what you truly are," Argha embraced her, "you will be a Bhairavi, Maya. It is not easy. Not at all. You must keep your knowledge a secret, and also not forget it while masquerading to the world that you are a nobody. This path, tread on it cautiously."

But she couldn't deny the dislike she still felt towards him. Perhaps a sadness it was, that he had wounded her, a chasm carved in her dignity which only he could fill. Her hands would fail on their own.

"A yoni is self-purifying," Argha said. "It is like a yagna. A fire that is holy forever. As a holder of that ever burning fire, you are pure too, Maya. Eternally."

She teared up. No man or woman had ever said her something so heartwarming. Coming from a transgender, the race that was proclaimed to be magical, it felt more surreal. She revelled in the joyous giggles of her heart, resounding from the very minute particle of her soul. The tears of happiness sanctified her being.

"I am not impure," she repeated. "I never was."

"Neither is Hrishav." Argha's gaze softened. "He needs a pasha to hold him in place. He is not yet ready to be free."

Maya wondered about the scars that would be on his body after the rigorous beating from the Guru. Maybe it was a nectar too, to be scolded by the Guru. But it wasn't nice to sob because of a man. She couldn't bring her heart to wholly accept him.

"No rush," Argha said, reading her mind like everytime. "Time will prepare you two."

And the time had begun.

****

word count: 2330 words

I am happy after writing this chapter. Happy. Seriously. Things will fall into place.

I have kept some references to tantra and in future chapters we shall know more. However I will keep that limited, only as much is needed for the book. I don't want to take a wrong step, knowing very well such things should be known less. And I know less too. That being said, my answers to your questions will be short and measured.

On that note, I want to ask you guys to not read books like Manusmriti, Garuda Purana. Also Lal kitab, unless you are called to. And if you take up Arthasastra then do read it keeping in mind that it's a translated version, yes, and of a book that was written years ago. I want to say so because I don't want you guys to go jump into the wrong things.

In future chapters, we will know the importance of internal bhakti more than rituals and books. Books and rituals are important, but nothing is greater than bhakti. The submission you do to Goddess or any of her forms in your heart. Like sleeping on bed, listening to a song and imagining her. Writing her poems. Talking to her about life when alone.

It's that love, like a family, that matters. Books won't teach you that. Tantra says same that what matters most (beyond everything, but mind it, don't follow like a blind fool) is bhakti, love and devotion to the Mother.

Since we are talking about love, I want to recommend my friend _abhipreeti_ book Teller of Lies. It's a sweet book (has drama but happy ending) which will give you all the feels. It's very nice, not those copy paste plots. It's very good and touched my heart. Do give it a read

And as always, if you are liking Narabali, then vote, comment and share!