Devi-III

Devi-III

Appearance and postures can be so deceptive.

If you thought Devi only symbolized Shakti, the power, to eliminate the evil and make the good prevail; if you thought Devi was all about women empowerment; If you thought Devi was only a champion of the human rights; and if you judge Devi by Chandi Path then you are miles off the mark.

Just a shade below her enviably, glistening skin of polemics, postures, postulations and proverbial sayings, she is a woman. She is feminine. She is a Desire called Devi.

Back home, still bubbling with energy after spending hours with her devotees, Devi was very much on her toes. She was all lungpower and nimble footed, as she attended to household chores and exchanged pleasantries with her guests and aides.

In a delightful mood, looking fresh and magnificent after a shower in a traditional Bengali sari with little drops of water flowing down her hair, Devi chirped, “Have I put on weight? You know, I can knock down these extra pounds of fat. I just got to do a little bit of exercise.” I said, true. But wondered when? Though she had a multi-gym in place at home, I never got to see Devi working out.

Rather, it is her mouth that takes a heavy beating everyday. Devi is a big-time foodie. Loves to ravish gourmets of all variety. Other than principal meals, she is into snacks and tit-bits all the time. And possibly when her jaws pain because of mastication, her tongue begins flicking a chewing gum.

Rolling the gum with the tip of her tongue and pointing it towards me, Devi flippantly said: “Don’t be lazy. Let’s go to the market. Buy some fish and vegetables. The fridge is empty.” It was to be Devi’s day out!

She was all grace and confidence. I watched in awe as Devi picked up money from ATM and then reaching the market, lost herself in the cacophony of the fishmongers. I was right Devi loved to devour. She couldn’t choose, she went for all kinds of fish up for sale.

But there was a surprise, someone who symbolized power, adamant attitude, obstinacy and ruthless elimination of evil, couldn’t stand to see a chicken being beheaded, sprinkling of blood and sharp edges of a butcher’s knife.

“You love hilsa and mutton, so I will cook them today. But I need to buy vegetables. I cannot do without them. You should have them too!” Devi blurted out, as we were returning home. She caressed my hand and said, “Are you hungry? Let us go back and have dinner first.”

Cook? Who is going to cook? Devi is going to cook? But Devi is an empowered woman. She is the nemesis of a devil called Mahishashur. She fights like a man. Will she enter the kitchen to cook? Life has so many surprises. And people have such wrong notions!

The woman who people saw as feminist personified, was in reality feminine to the core. I just watched in absolute fascination as Devi in a sky blue sari, delightfully washed the fish, simmered the oil, marinated the fish with spices and cooked with all perfection and focus. “Don’t stand there and watch. Help me cook. Had I married you, I would have left you for this,” Devi quipped.

I went beside her. But pondered at the same time that you are with the laziest bum in the world. And you stick around with him like a leech and make love to him like a bitch.

Devi is no less a pain. She is very pernickety. Never happy with whatever assistance I gave to her in the kitchen. She just wants it her way and the problem is that she then doubts whether it is the right way. “Why are you so confused?” I asked her. “I take my own decision,” she retorted. I loudly thought `indecision you mean’.

Never tired of mischief, she banged into me thrice as she laid the table for the dinner. A wonderful cook, Devi watched as I quietly began to eat. But there was a problem, the mutton was slightly hard, I felt it needed to be boiled more. Realising my discomfort and unwilling to accept her fault, Devi shot: “You mortals have your mutton tender. But learn to relish the mutton firm and supple.”

The message was loud and clear to me. This is how she worked on the man she loved. She was not going to take any complain and he got to eat his share of the flesh. And secondly, if he nagged too much, he would be denied, in the long night ahead, the delight of the firm and supple flesh of his immortal.