Latent Prayers

I felt so special, and you could see it in my grin,

I could notice the change, as I was warmly welcomed in.

No chiding or beatings showered on me unlike the other days,

Suddenly the terrible cage had transformed into a happy place.

My bruised black feet washed, the terrified me, coaxed lovingly,

“Make sure she sits on that beautiful pedestal custom made for her !”

I saw my tormentor transform into an ardent worshipper.

I wasn’t alone, I had come with a friend few years elder to me,

Lured her to tag along with the promise of getting a full meal for free.

Unexpectedly, we were showered with deep reverence & care as never before,

Gifts and food and blessings and adoration galore.

Suddenly my friend felt a bit uneasy, she got up, she couldn’t stand being queasy..

And then the worshipper saw, to her dread and horror..those scarlet drops of blood.

Wrath engulfed her soul, rationality drowning in the furious flash flood.

And then it was all dark and silent , sinister & darker than the human heart,

as the little girl lay sprawled on the floor, uncomprehending as to where did it all start.

And then ‘they’ came, in abundance, something she had known forever,

The abuses , the belt, the kicks, the screeching noises and the familiar pain in the head as she was dragged across by her hair,

As I stood aghast, watching everything with a dead stare.

I wasn’t lucky too….I wasn’t spared the traumatic treat.

All I remember is watching the saintly couple beat their heads as they screamed something about ‘caste’ & ‘dire mistake’ into my flushed face.

The gifts scattered, the bright red veil in tatters, the broken bangles piercing our skin,

we were thrown out of their luxurious inn.

Had the goddesses within us vanished ? Was that life-giving blood the reason we were banished ?

‘Mother’ they call her as they bow their heads in front of the smiling idol,

As the locked little Durga working in their homes await their arrival.

And so I vouch for latent prayers, of seeing the goddess in all her forms within breathing souls..beyond the conventional societal layers.

Pray through your actions, let the meaning of those mystic chants seep deep into your inner self,

Remember, she’s SHAKTI, the creator, the indomitable feminine strength, much more than a picture placed on that wooden shelf.