One day, Shiva the Destroyer started walking among people.
Curiosity and a little sense of perversion to see how these humans lived before He took their dreaded life.
Walking among them, looking from time to time at them.
They weren’t nothing like the Gods. Less emotions and lesser emotions.
No deep pain, no deep sense of death. None wanted to die. They were yearning for immortality.
Stupid fools! they don’t know how much we wish to die and be relieved of seeing their foolishness.
Shiva the Destroyer was walking coldly among humans when one little human girl caught His eye.
She smiled teethlessly, looking courageously at His snake-bitten hands and at his skull chain.
Shiva the Destroyer was pleased to find a human who would dare look into His eyes.
What is your name, little human? He waited for a reply which wouldn’t come.
He looked in her eyes, big, deep, black eyes. She had it all there: magic, love, fascination. The seed of the Gods.
She could be a Goddess one day – the one that dared look Shiva in His eyes.
And Shiva, the Destroyer of Worlds and Recreator of Universe, smiled to the little girl.
She gazed smilingly in His eyes, through Him, she was reaching to His inner lotus, when Shiva the Destroyer felt He was sick. Her gaze was catching the flower of His soul, coldness was getting in His limbs and Shiva the Destroyer started to tremble. His sacred lips started mumbling destruction words.
The little girl would still gaze in His soul, reaching her hand to feel its fire. All the moments of His ageless life, the Destruction and Recreation of so many worlds and so many people, His fights with so many Gods, His love with the one Kali, she could see it all inside His lotus.
No sound of death would she hear coming from Him, no sparkle could He cut into her eyes, as no words would get out of her mouth. Shiva the Destroyer realised these in His last heartbeats.
One of the humans, of the non-Gods, of the one born to die, relieved Him of a thousand lives heaviness. She took His lotus in her little hand and smiled teethlessly. She was but a deaf, mute, blind little girl. Nothing to defeat the greatest God of them all. Then she had purity. The ability to see inside one’s soul, to discover their inner essence, their lotus. She was a soul collector. She would see the most fascinating lotuses and pick them out of Gods and people.
Don’t cry behind the death, great Shiva! Your lotus is the most beautiful I have seen so far. It has the Black of destruction, despair and death and it has the Red of desire, passion and blood of recreation. It has the White you wear when you’re alone and the yellow of happiness and awe. I know you invented the colours of the world, great Shiva. When the world was only white and black, and there were no humans, there was only Trimurti, colourless blood fell out of your bored heart and turned red when meeting the black and white of the seas. Fear grabbed your heart and you saw yellow coming out of the newly born red and the old white. What is this brahman trickery? You asked in silence, waiting for the white and black to answer. And blue was their answer. When it met yellow, it turned green. As red turn violet when it met blue. Shiva the Destroyer would create the colours with the blood of the black and white, and each petal of his lotus would have a different colour.
As He was falling dead near the little girl, His eyes could see the colours coming out of her mouth and eyes and skin. She had swallowed his lotus and she was turning black and white. As her smile was losing colour, He knew she was the original black and white stat. The state which had no colours and no emotions, as well as no Gods and no humans. Purity.