3. Of creatures and crosses
As the thin sheet of dusk would fall upon the fields, the stories
would start filling the hearts of the people. Stories of the gods, stories of the goddesses and stories of the white ghosts that would send shivers down the spines. Amongst all other mythical characters that young Ramchandra’s grandmother told him stories of, the one that seemed to particularly encapsulate his imagination was Bhiwabali, the mighty, responsible for holding up the load of the entire universe on his strong arms. Wide shoulders, bulky feet and a hefty build, Bhiwabali was such that he could easily defeat an Irani henchman in a duel.
The gods, his grandmother would say sitting under an umbar
tree, resided in the heavens and controlled the cycle of life and death. They created mother earth and sprinkled it generously with a kaleidoscopic arrangement of flora and fauna. Death, like life was certain. One day, as the earth wept profusely, the gods ran down from the heavens for her. The world had become a ludicrously burdensome place. It had become too cumbersome for her to bear all the weight. Thus she wept. ‘Take some creatures off my body’ she pleaded. The gods had to produce a two directional path of life and death. They made
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Of creatures and crosses
