It is a time of celebration. The Bhairava and Bhairavi are to be united. It is a wedding in the lush green forests of Bharat, hidden from the malevolent eyes of civilisation.

The bride and groom know they are here for each other, but don't realise the wedding. It is a playful match of Kalika, orchestrated by Nandini. The Aghori is the priest, Argha is the witness, and nature is the ritual.

Everyone is invited to see from a distance.

****

To the inhabitants of the Mukherjee palace, Hrishav was summoned by his Guru, and wouldn't arrive home unless he was dismissed. As of Maya, who was she?

Where did she even live? They didn't know anyone of that name.

Maya, as a new student, was worried about her absence triggering certain troubles. Curiosity couldn't be suppressed, and the Aghori understanding her doubts, allowed her to venture out of the forest and into the town. When she got there, no one seemed to know her. The existence of any Maya was smudged. She was perceived as a lost woman, or some lunatic or perplexed visitor. Satisfied with the powers of her teacher, she returned with a beaming face.

Then passed a whole week. Hrishav spent half of his day cleaning and scrubbing the floor of the hut, trimming the grass, feeding the animals that came and massaging the feet of his Guru. Maya learnt secret recipes from Argha and herself cooked splendid dishes for the Aghori. He was pleased beyond measure by the khichdi she had cooked, so much that after the first taste, he ran to offer it to Kali. Maya followed him, stopping by a tree to see a form of the Devi only a few could. She was carved into the bark and adorned with sindur. This was a mother who didn't mind eating the already touched food of her devotee. Maya sat beside him in bliss, tears trickling down her warmed cheeks as she saw the Aghori sing to Kalika and feed her himself.

There were certain lessons that Hrishav and Maya were taught seperately, and the rest of the spells they heard together as a soon-to-be couple. It was still a very awkward idea. Maya had not really thought of marriage or companionship, and she didn't know if she had a reason to reject whom Maa chose. Of course, he had to improve, and she would be the method to it. She would be his conscience, the surge of cosmic power in his mortal vessel.

"When I roam the world," the Aghori was imparting his knowledge with an open heart, "I dress up as a Vaishnava. I see it gives me a sort of acceptance and apparent isolation. My garb, my chant of Vishnu, doesn't make people too attentive of me. I blend in like sugar in milk. To people who know me a little better, perhaps close enough as a human but not more than flesh and bones, I disguise myself as a Shaivite. I go 'Bam Bhole' and they clap after me! But here now, my children, to the ones who have a part of my soul, who have become my spiritual family, I reveal my true self- that my spirit is made of Kalika. It is she who governs me, it is she who encompasses the world I dwell in."

Hrishav and Maya looked at each other, a smile flashing on their lips. His were parched and tired, cracked from dehydration. But there was not a sign of complaint in his face. Instead, he glowed akin to the blemished moon. Maya's joy was more cautious, still thinking if the sea waves were going to embrace her softly or thrash her on the rocks.

Unbeknownst to her, she had stepped into the waters. Her senses rowed the boat that was her body, and her subtle knowledge was the ferryman. The soul was the traveller, on a pilgrimage to the Sarvaloka Manidweepa.

There was so much that she learnt during this time. Puja, yagna and homa were the lowest of the practices, kept for the people who didn't know how to seek within. In the words of her Guru, internal submission was the highest.

"The one who truly loves her will do anything as if she were desiring it. They will lay down and think of her while staring at the stars. They will cook fish and think of how to make it the best for her. Anything they do, however mundane may be to the world, is elevated to godhood. That is a divya, someone who has ascended. In the middle is the hero, vira, one who fights the contradictions within and without, wages war against ignorance to reach the nectar. They are actively using the blessings of human birth to attain liberation. The lowest, uninitiated ones, who goes around reading books to books and walks temples to temples, and yet is distracted by temptation, is a pashu. Animal is the mind which thinks scriptures alone give wisdom. Foolish is that Brahman, the janeu holder, who boasts himself as superior.

"To a pashu, even tantra won't help. The epiphany must be realised delicately."

Hrishav flinched. The sharp inflection in the voice of the Aghori was directed at him. He knew he had began as a vira, but his position was at stake.

"But every pashu has the chance to change. It takes eons to reach here, so do not waste this human birth. Realms of the Devas are rigid with their own rules and dictations. Only in human birth can you with your personal judgement decide what to do."

He elaborated further on the need of the proper path. "There are several states of being, so many gradations of consciousness in this life of Kaulacharya where yoga meets bhoga. The best and highest of course is the state of natural sahajavastha, in which oneness with the Divine is felt spontaneously and always; the middle is one of concentration and meditation; the lowest is of laudation, and lower than the lowest is the stage of deliberate homa and puja. One always begins from the lowest, but is given a fair chance in the broader scheme of Time to go higher.

"The Mother in tantra is focused on through mantra. Mantra is the deity. A change in syllable will lead to transformation in the manifestation of Adi Shakti. A deity of a particular mantra must only be worshipped through that, and not otherwise. The mantra pervades the yantra. Yantra comes from the world niyantrana, which means to regulate and subdue. It brings the soul and body in line with the ultimate goal."

Days and nights were filled with sacred wisdom. Maya was stunned to fathom things she never knew. Indeed, it was one thing to read about tantra from her father's books, but it was another to hear the same, and then deeper facets, from the blessed mouth of her Guru. Falgun was the father whose seed sprouted her mortal life; the Aghori was the father who gave her life meaning.

Now, whatever she did, she remembered Maa in it. And she told herself that she too was a part of the greater Divine. The Shakti without which Purusha is immobile and inactive, she was part of that unyielding light.

One such night, after talking to Maa about her day's activities, she fanned her Guru and waited till he was asleep. She then went out to admire the azure night, the pale full moon, and the silvery clouds.

Under the vast, star-strewn expanse of the midnight sky, the moon hung low and round like a celestial lantern. The rays transformed the ordinary into something ethereal. Trees stood silhouetted, their shadows stretching long and mysterious. The air carried a gentle crispness, tinged with the faint aroma of damp earth and blooming night jasmine.

Near the pond with a twig in his hand, Hrishav sat drawing the three eyes of Kalika. "Trinayani," he whispered. "Pora kopal amar (my fate is burnt)."

He wore nothing over his body, only a short dhoti was draped around his legs. With his back exposed towards Maya, she observed the scars his skin wielded. They were a shield to further attacks, if any, by delusional pride. The red, jagged lines gaped as if screaming to be healed.

Maya ran in the cottage and brought with her a bowl of paste made from antiseptic turmeric and other herbs. She sat beside him and applied it over the wounds.

Hrishav paused. His eyes darted to her yellowed palms. They were shaped like a lotus petal- wide at the base and had a conical tip at the top. The mound under her forefinger was plump. He suppressed a grin. She would be rich.

The red lines sewn over her palms were filled with the medicinal paste. Whether it was that, or the gentle feathery touch which was so soothing, he didn't know. But as a vira, he had to confront. As a vira, he also had to accept.

Accept, he gulped. Her.

"Thank you," he said. "He is as harsh as he is kind."

"You have incurred his wrath." She huffed. "As expected."

He chuckled. "I do not feel bad not being the more favoured student. Every parent has a favourite child." He watched his and Maya's reflection swirl in the mirror of the pond. She was frowning. "By the way, you cook so well. When we get back home, I won't let Rani cook for me. You will. It's just how you know the right amount of salt to sprinkle. So minute and perfect."

Nothing reached her ears. The word where she was stuck- home. When we get back home.

"I haven't forgiven you," she blurted. It hurt her cheeks the way she blushed, the way her eyes teared out of her control. Did she have a dam in there? It was breaking. Crumbling.

"And," she continued, "me cooking for you exclusively will make the rest suspect us. I do not think it's what is safe."

Hrishav plucked grass from the soil, dirtying his hands with the mud. What else could he do? He had to do something while he thought of a good reply.

"We can't avoid destiny, Maya," he sighed, "it's inevitable-"

"Well, we would have avoided each other otherwise."

The raging ocean. The high tide. The waters blowing up all and overflowing. Those were her eyes, a whirlpool where he left sparks of fire. They drowned, submerged in her fragile anger.

"I respect this decision of Kalika," Maya blew her nose and swallowed, "and I will take you as my husband, if that what this means?"

"It does. In today's society we can't pursue a life as Bhairava and Bhairavi unless married. Although, the marriage will be a hush-hush matter for now."

"Yes." She nodded with an air of innocent frustration. "That is exactly how it should be. I will be loyal to you and I expect you to be the same."

"Yes. We will be. No mistress, and no Ramu-"

She glared. "You are so envious. I have no feelings for anyone, not even you." She jutted her chin. "I am stone-hearted."

"It is a stone where we invoke Maa." Hrishav pursed his lips. "It was a joke."

"A bad one. Princes lack humour." She wiped her tears. "I do not hate you, alright, and I don't love you too. I do have sudden moments of intense dislike towards you, thanks to your previous deeds, and I hope it will go away with time. I am saying all this to clear that even though I will respect you as a husband, as my companion in the life of tantra in the long run, I don't know if my heart will blossom for you."

"Indeed." He smiled with clenched jaws. "Some flowers never bloom and see spring. Some marriages remain one-sided and fruitless."

She did not speak any more. He nudged her by the elbow. "Are you done?"

"Huh?" She stared at his arm. "Oh, yes. Wait," she almost jumped, "I call you Hrishav now. What to do when we are, uh, back home?"

His lips formed a crescent upon hearing her last word. "When alone, you call me by my name. In front of others, Boro Babu."

Silence. Nothing asked. Nothing answered. But so much was impatient to be demystified. Sitting on the bank of the pond, the unlikely pair contemplated on each other, although wary of such a confession. It would be equivalent to walking over a thorny carpet, to spill boiling water over one's head if they had to pronounce anything sweeter. Yet, Maya knew he was the oil to her lamp. And Hrishav knew she was the monsoon to his wished harvest.

"I won't say that I love you either," he said, his tone as cool as the loving beam of the Chandra, "but I am not unwilling to see it grow. No, not for the sake of my Guru. He is a catalyst."

Maya's eyes widened. She couldn't keep peering into his eyes, but like a skilled magician he kept her in his hold.

"I know I cannot undo the past." He placed a hand over hers, pressing firmly to colour his fingers in the dust of the turmeric that rubbed off her skin. A leaf passed between them, falling in between. Blinking her eyes, Maya gazed at his beaming visage. His speech was interrupted by a firefly that dared to linger near her forehead. He swatted it with his muddy hands, lining her hairline with the grace of Bhumi.

It was done.

"But I also don't want to alter anything," he cupped his palms akin to a beggar, "for it will keep me away from the place I am in now. If the cost is my redemption and disrespect, I am willing to bear it. I promise, Maya, I will actively try to mend my ways. Forgiveness isn't something to be wasted, so don't forgive me. But give me an opportunity, like my Guru did, to be better."

Maya parted her lips, a dry tongue struggling to utter something. A gasp resounded.

"I am not a sinless man, and I won't be any different. I am not someone who thinks a lot about karma. I just do what must be done. But this time, I assure you, the dedication will be more than just fulfilling the orders of Maa. I will do it because...." He was monetarily swayed by shine of her pupils, "because I want to."

Maya wheezed. "I see."

Hrishav cleared his throat. "Was that a lot? I know. For me too. It came out like it was piled in for so long."

"You should be a mystery to even yourself."

"At least I hope not to be one to you anymore. But Maya, one thing I want to add before we retire to sleep."

She waited with bated breath. "Yes?"

Their entwined grip strengthened. Hrishav memorised her chilly stiffness. "In the future, you will come across a side of me that is sure to make you believe I am a monster. But know that I am a son of Kalika. I am her too, in a way."

He lifted her hand, keeping it on his lap.

"Like Shiva saw beyond her bloodlust and calmed her, you shall too love me completely."

****

word count: 2564 words

An enthusiastic reader had asked me about the update and I had said it will come near the weekend, but as you know such creative pursuits are, inspiration struck me now and so here is an early update.

Thing is, I have some things to do in offline life. It will keep my writing, most possibly, at a pause until 8th December. I won't be able to give another update before 1st December for sure. I will try to do something after the 1st, but no commitment made. An update after the 8th, definitely.

Next chapter will be important tantra wise. Then we will shift back to the mystery again. We will speed up mystery wise, things will come to light.

Keep some patience honey bunnies and re read to gather clues!