“Sunsets are for romantics, Sunrise is for hard core optimists” dsw
In the dark before dawn, a rooster crows. Such optimists are roosters! The believe absolutely in the light that arrives inevitably after even the darkest night. The rooster is the celebration of yin and yang, of dark and light. Have you ever wondered why a rooster doesn’t not crow at the setting of the sun?
But today the night insists on its full play, remains resolute against the call of the cock.
I think of Narada the Divine Meddler. And Kaniya the Kumari. Shiva – Lord Bholenath. Protector of fools, lover of lovers. Perpetually stoned. Wandering, minstrel-ling sometimes.
Women have been known to go mad with love for Shiva. Do crazy things. Sati burned herself alive to show the true meaning of sacrifice. Came back as Parvati, stalked Him. Lived like a wild woman in the forest and burned for Him.
Kaniya fell in love with Shiva at one sight. “Marry me!” she requested. “Okay,” agreed Bholenath and wandered off flicking his dreadlocks in the salt laden air. Shiva can refuse nothing to those who burn with love for him, whose eyes are flames and whose soles melt stones.
Kaniya struck a pose. She stood on one foot on a rock in the ocean and yearned for Shiva. Yearned and burned. Yearned until her longing became a landmass that spread out from the pinpoint of her love struck heart and spread out like a blanket at the foot of the Himalaya. She yearned some more, the land mass began to butt up against the mountains. The mountains emerged from the ocean scattering shells and sea water. Grew cloaks of snow and gazed down on the landmass that had arrived at their feet.
Kaniya’s longing bought the Gods closer to earth. Shiva began a journey to the ends of the earth for a marriage arranged to take place at midnight. No Bharat, no drums. No dancing. He came alone like a lover walking at midnight.
Narad saw his chance for some divine meddling. Crowed like a cock at dawn. Shiva awoke from his dream of Kaniya. Far away in Kailash, Paravti rolled her holy eyes. Thunder rolled across the heavens. Shiva thought dawn had come and slunk home like a married man. No doubt a Divine Domestic of Cosmic proportions ensued.
Meanwhile here at the ends of the earth, Kaniya became a Kumari – Virgin Goddess. Her footprint burned into solid rock.
This morning at the end of the earth, it is still dark when I open the door to the rooster serenade. The lighthouse strokes rays across the land. I think about all the potent symbols strung along this coastline like jewels in a necklace. The goddess burning for love, the poet saint of India, temples and churches venerating faith which in its rawest form is hope.
Its an optimistic way to start the day.