A fictional piece on yana’s ‘Bhairaveshwara shikhara’
As I stood over the slippery slope with my feet trying hard to grip the wet land beneath, a lightning struck. So razor sharp it was that it cut my mind with the intensity of an electric shock. As the droplets of water converged along my eyebrows, I feared it for my sweat before I realized it was raining. I stood with the stillness of a rock. You stood in front of me, naked. Under the giant clouds that vied against each other to proclaim that power lies above and not in the roots of our thoughts or in the roots of this land, you stood naked, completely exposed but strongly and superlatively imposed.
I wondered who would ever dare to even provoke you. The thunderstorms? Were they really hitting you or just screaming for the lost power? Like an angry barking dog that came running out before it realized that it stood against a raging bull, the lightning struck and disappeared even before it had arrived. It struck again and again. As I gasped for cover, you stood alone, motionless. In the darkest hour of the earth, the lightning would come again and try to cut you unnoticed. It may burn me or those trees, but you? Never. It may not even force a crack on you even when you are asleep.
After a while the clouds gave up, the storm had lost its turbulent force, the lightning never appeared again. I knew they would come back again soon, like they have done after each defeat of theirs for thousands of years now. They come back to wrest the lost power, I guess. It rained again as if to calm you down. You let the drops of water pass through your body. Did it tickle you? Did it bring down the rage of silence in you? Does the rain romance you when you are asleep? It seemed the rain was trying to lure you, I felt the voyeurism. But you were the least responsive. You just stood, never moved as if you were least bothered.
As I strolled back, I wondered if you would one day decide to explode. What would it be if you would release all your power and destroy everything that is ever made of? I have little doubt that you can crush our bodies to powders but I doubt if you could do the same to our egos, jealousy, or selfishness!How isolated you are! You seem to hold the force of this world in your stomach. An isolated force you are. I went close to your feet and skimmed your rough skin. I didn’t beg a wish or ask for any forgiveness, I just wanted to feel your force. It is that strong force that has restrained the power inside you to not explode for so long.
I turned back to see if you had decided to explode by then. As I stared at you again with same alacrity that of a child, I thought how beautiful it would be to feel your force, to suffer your brunt. I stepped backwards when I saw your eyes of vengeance. I feared you would explode. I kept looking at you. My mind was shut. After a while it seemed you had closed your eyes. How would you ever respond to a creature like me I thought!
They call you ‘Bhairaveshwara’, a name that I little know of. I’m lazy to dig the science behind your name. To me you are a ‘Force’. Who made you and what is made of you doesn’t interest me much. I prefer not to use my mind and hold my hands and bow, standing in front of you; instead I choose to open my arms and lose my mind, in awe of you.