O Lord of all the worlds, O God of Gods,
O Soul and Stay of all things that live and move,
O Five-faced ONE whose begging palm feeds all –
The vision of whose sixth face, the ONE SOUL
Is the reward of all that have learnt to give –
O Benevolent Lord all compassionate,
There is naught that my father can hide from Thee.
Maheswara, it is the wisest alone
That know Thee as the Source of all the worlds;
For one must put one’s life in tune with nature
In ego’s pristine innocent quiescence
And knowing action’s finite value, bound
By cause and effect, seek through humbler worship
To rise to worship of the FORMLESS ONE.
“Daksha, my father, rooted by his ego
In lower worlds of the divine where he moves,
Has challenged the EXALTED Power that hails
Beyond the blaze of the world of PRAJAPATIS;
So near Thy world! – yet pride and ignorance
Have flung him far away from Brahman’s world:
Let me show myself: he may realize.
O Loved ONE, I advise not that you should go,
For Daksha is aflame with fury and hate,
And wants us not there, as we may presume.” “My sweet and loved Lord whom the worlds revere,
It matters not much if he wants me not there;
Do let me go for I should like to see
What folly stirs his swollen empty head.”
“You may” consented Siva reluctantly:
And Dakshayani, the destroyer stern
Of Daityas, found her way to Daksha’s home:
But not a soul that was there to smile
Or cared to give a nod or glance of welcome;
And Daksha’s anger was as plain as fire
And craven priests and Brahmins eyed askance.
Things were plain, plain enough and black and ugly:
O God! Her father’s hatred ominous
Rose up like a hill of smoke, multi-peaked
With flares of hatred: Brahmins cowed by might
Had acquiesced in insult to the ONE LORD –
Her Lord, and sacrifice of tamasic type
Was to drag earth to an abysm’s brink!
O Daksha Yagna Vinasini, Hail.
Thy will is plain: none shall dare to propitiate
The monstrous powers that defy the Lord;
The usurpation of the lofty seat
Of Holy Power shall not be winked at:
The sacrifice of Daksha must be destroyed –
He offers the Divine to the proud Devil!
May all the worlds be blest: Siva has known:
His legions led by VEERA BHADRA stream in,
The sacrifice unholy comes to an end
Ere the fire is lit: Brahmins, priests and gods,
Assembled for the sacrifice profane,
Lie wounded, bleeding, begging, praying or dying:
Lord Siva manifests, and humbled DAKSHA kneels.
O Devi, Chid Agni Kunda Sambhootha,
Thy work has been done, Thy form disappears
In consciousness, the primal fire, Thy Source,
To manifest again as Himavan’s Child.
For mighty Himavan, unequalled in the worlds
For silence, purity and sublimity
Is peerless, too, in his deep humility.
Three were the Bhootaganas of Siva
Of strength immense, unconquerable in war,
That harassed the Swan and the Brahminy Kite
The Vahans of Lord Brahma and Shri Vishnu –
And fierce was the curse of the three-eyed Lord
That smote them down to sinful asuric birth
As Soorapadma, Singhamukha and Taraka.
Maya, of an asuric dynasty,
Lost all her sons in battle with the gods;
By the side of the dying and the dead
She vowed revenge eternal and ferocious
That she would humble the gods to the dust
In ruthless battle stern, harsh and severe
By sons born of a saint in her next birth.
All wishes find fulfillment; all desires
Are gratified; they function till renounced
Or satisfied; the force of KARMA blends
With longings, and determines one’s embodiment
And environments where guna as desire
Can find the guna, longed for as the object:
Thus Maya won rebirth and bore asuras.