Ever since I've begun understanding their importance, difficulties and times of despair have become my greatest teachers. They encouraged me to rid my life of all delusions. People whom I considered integral to my existence, things I longed for, ideas that I despised were all diversions meticulously crafted to swerve me away from my goal. As I moved away from the shell, I realized that answers to all difficulties lie in the basics. Even a deluge of pain can be defeated by remembering something as simple as a childhood memory.
My childhood was the best time of my life for reasons both obvious and unusual. With no one to steal away my parents' love, I was a prince in my own right with everything I needed and everything I wanted at my disposal. I had a perfect life which was about to be made better with something I am yet to fully comprehend - a touch of divinity.
One night, my brave father took up the extremely difficult task of putting me to sleep. When I demanded my favorite lullaby which my father didn't know (or any other lullaby for that matter), he somehow convinced me to listen to the only thing he could remember - verses from Durga Saptashati.
Durga Saptashati comprises of seven hundred verses authored by Sage Markandeya describing the victory of goddess Durga over demon Mahishasur. Traditionally, these verses are recited in a specific order along with several hymns and mantras. Those who know how, meditate on these verses to reach a higher state of consciousness.
My family has a tradition of worshipping the goddess. Like all my ancestors, my father was a Shakti Sadhak. When he was my age, my grandfather had initiated him just like he was initiating me. Through years of rigorous penance, he had amassed vast amount of spiritual energy. Many believed and I know that he had the ability to enliven any mantra, verse or hymn by merely reciting it. His recital of the verses of Durga Saptashati that night was no different.
There was a street lamp next to my room. Its golden yellow light, after being diffused through a ventilator right in front of me, was falling on the mosquito net hanging over my bed. The resonance of my father's deep, baritone voice completed the soothing ambience.
While the energy stored in form of my father's memory was rippling through the environment, another energy was playing the game of light and shadows on the mosquito net. Every moment something new was being created. Each words added a bit of detail to it and each verse made it a little clearer. Random lines took shape and irregularities became features. Everything I couldn't understand vanished into something very familiar.
Legs - it had four of them - strong and muscular, a massive torso, a long tail and a head held high; a formidable beast. What initially looked like a bull turned out to be a lion. I could clearly see his fiery eyes and sharp canines. He was pounding his paws and shaking his mane in an eerily slow motion.
Still more like a puff of smoke - glowing, gradually transforming, sometimes into something vague, sometimes into something recognizable - the lion contorted to make an addition to his back. A Sun like sphere expanded into a skewed triangle that curled into a rough female figure.
Her arms, all ten of them, didn't take long to reveal themselves. The silvery shine next to them formed the weapons she held in her hands. Her sari added a reddish hue to the environment. Like the afternoon Sun the brilliance of her crown and her earrings was making it virtually impossible for me to see her face.
I wanted to get closer, embrace her, talk to her, play with her and, if my father would allow it, ride her lion. After all, that's how you make someone your friend. I was sure that she had come to meet me and I had no intention of letting her go, ever (I didn't).
Suddenly, I could clearly see her. Extremely beautiful, she resembled my mother a lot. Mounted on a fierce lion, wielding various weapons in her ten hands, wearing a red sari and magnificent ornaments, right in front of me was goddess Durga.
I greeted her with a smile. She sweetly smiled back.
That was the moment when I fell asleep.
Doubt is a modern age malignity found in grownups. Children perceive everything with their unadulterated conscience which allows them access to divinity. I cherish my childhood. Whenever life makes me falter, I make it a point to go back to the child that I once was and reunite with him.
