Devi’s Quest for Immortality | Tom Thomas Koshy

It’s a very common thing that during the beautiful Theyyam dance, the Hindu ritual, the performer himself converted into a deity after discarding their original identity. However, this time a huge mass of dark, irritating clouds formed around Devi’s eyes when she came to know that the dancing God grasped her presence among the large crowd of people scattered in front of the temple.

Hurriedly ceasing the performance, as though distracted by Devi’s attention, he lanced towards her at the next moment as expected. His brows winced, wanted to ask about something serious with the living Goddess.

Instinctively, Devi realized his sudden change of body language, her face blanched and began to dodge behind the devotees when the huge masked scarlet figure approached her with a conspiratorial grin. However, as soon as Devi’s bare feet put two steps back, through the unpleasant dirt that rolled her soft skin beneath, he scurried to catch her at any cost so that there was no way to hide from those fiery red eyes which were illuminating constantly.

Like an innocent antelope, Devi remained skeptical as though she were in a vulnerable position to a predator appeared in front of her unexpectedly during grazing. She skipped her heartbeat when he began to talk to her and looked back and forth for a chance to escape.

No way. Their eyes met fashionably.

“All right Devi, I admire you…You’re a woman…” It was a hasty roar rather than an appreciation.

Devi wondered.

So, who’s a woman? Subsiding the heaving of her breasts and attempting to catch a deep breath, she pondered the definition of a woman. Devi was moulded with the finest specimen, though, her face was generally distorted by merciless pale red cystic acne as though lunar craters on Earth’s moon. However, it was a deformity that enhanced her original feminine beauty like ripened wild strawberries as her tightly masked emotions lurked inside it carefully, waiting to kill somebody in an ambush, especially with love.

“Do you love immortality, Devi?…” He asked fiercely.

The voice was metallic and resonated among the rhythmic, melancholic beats of the drum which accompanied him. Devi was so confused about which one was more vulnerable- either his fuming eyes in the oversized headgear or the glinting flambeau on his hands.

“Yeahh …” Devi replied softly as she welcomed the intense fragrance from the burning camphor which penetrated her nostrils, and kissed her senses, with a swaggering show of confidence.

“Why?”

“To meet… Jojo…He’s mine.” Devi managed to say it in the sweet mixture of chill and darkness that embraced her body. Her small, astonishing, nose stud shimmered once more in hanging oil lamps decorated over the old, deteriorated walls of the temple.

“I know Devi. He’s also waiting for you. I will help you to see him… Come…Give me your hands…” The divine figure invited Devi benignly with an offer that she couldn’t refuse. His hands slowly reached out to Devi. Though there was a moment of hesitation, Devi stretched out her arms, and her body quivered as though a strong wind ruffled a smooth, glossy dune without short notice.

That was a last hand. Devi was nearly killed in an ambush.

Initially, Devi felt nothing. There was only a slight numbness when she put her hands on him. Suddenly, she realized, the long, painful distance to eternity as her body began to melt. As the event progressed, Devi became redundant, witnessed helplessly when her fingers were burning one by one, furious fumes discharged from soft, warm flesh just like an active geyser. Devi swallowed reluctantly, but she couldn’t withdraw her hands as it was too late.

“Ahhww….”

From her inner heart, Devi whined in a feeble noise, immediately fell to her knees and merely kissed the ground in agony as if she were smashed down by a steel baton without a forewarning. Devi had almost become liquid, struggling for life, sweat beaded from her temples which now began to accumulate in her cupid’s bow so that she could taste the salt index of it for a while. But the excruciating pain was nothing in front of her love towards Jojo as Devi was ready to give her own life as a ransom for him.

Like a slowly burning Cuban Cigar, Devi was fading sluggishly….

“Devi …”

Oops!!!… Devi acknowledged that her terrible phantasy had popped like a soap bubble, but, still, she could feel the spectacular, alpine ice crystal formation around her eyelids. She recognised Afsana, her senior officer in the Thiruvananthapuram village office who appeared in front of her. Obstinately, Devi straightened her spine, with a flushed face, she looked at Afsana while fiddling with her long strand of hair carelessly in her chair as though she were gazing at a pest that irritated her too much.

“Devi…Did you prepare the list regarding the pending old age pension distribution which must be sent by noon?.”

“No ma’am…I am working on it…”

“Please do it fast Devi…I don’t know what will happen when it is not put up by today”. Afsana raised her voice.

“Sure ma’am…” Devi hissed like a rattlesnake.
Sluggishly, she looked past Afsana as she paced towards her room quickly after listening to the multiple disturbing phone calls. When she disappeared, Devi slammed the file in front of her with a loud noise.

“Damn…” She muttered.
After some time, surprisingly, Devi became aware that she was being knuckled. She understood that some slender finger joints snaked through her temples from the backside. But as soon as Devi found that it was her friend, Revathy, she became annoyed and immediately flipped those hands in vexation.

“Leave me alone, Revathy, please!”. Devi said defensively.

Curiously, Devi peered at her from the rear side as she saw her after a long four months of maternity leave. Though Revathy was very pretty in her early thirties, she now looked like a middle-aged lady with a distorted body after the pregnancy. Her puffy face and bloated tummy which bulged out in the green salwar overall produced a stubborn bulbous figure. However, Devi was provoked suddenly when she felt some kind of mixture of jealousy and anger injected into her bloodstream.

“I am very happy that you enjoyed your holidays Revathy…” Devi barked at her and was bombarded with a chain of complaints spontaneously.

“What?”. Revathy didn’t understand anything.

“Oh…You didn’t understand? You have a mysterious knack for getting all your privileges by flattering that mad lady Afsana…You grabbed about four months of paid leave from her at the correct time … When I requested to extend my leave after my husband died, she brutally threw my letter into the garbage by saying damn government rules…”

“Oh…really? …I will ask her…” Revathy blushed and glanced at Afsana’s cabin to ensure that she couldn’t grasp their conversation.

“She told Jojo is just missing…Neither to be declared as dead nor alive yet…So I have to wait another forty days to be proclaimed as my husband is dead…What a stupidity! ”

Devi lost her husband who was taken by the giant seashore currents last week and presumed to be dead when both of them visited Thiruvananthapuram cliff beach as a part of their honeymoon. The newly married couple couldn’t understand the fluctuating nature of the sea in the evening, which resulted in the permanent solitude of a young lady.

Revathy remained silent while Devi suddenly burst into tears.

“ You know …Jojo…I love him deeply. On every doorknock and bell, I expect him…When I look at every newspaper, I wish there would be a piece of news regarding him…Jojo is alive and he has escaped…But I know it will never…”

Devi couldn’t complete it…

In the office, time flew by like a shooting star and punctually at four ‘o’clock, Devi received a gift from Revathy, though she was not expecting it that time. She took Devi’s chin affectionately and gave a long, deep kiss on her notorious pimples when she brought an envelope, which was presumably from Devi’s cousin in Thiruvananthapuram.

“All right dear….Everything will be fine…”

Devi gasped, was as quiet as a graveyard, squeezed her legs tightly and tried her best to remain stone-faced while keeping the envelope towards her breast as though the secret Oppenheimer’s trinity test report. She swallowed her remaining saliva when she acknowledged that she was running out of time.

AFTER THAT, DEVI BECAME MAD….

At each instant, Devi lost her authority over her body movements, her eyes lost their usual charminess to attract the outside world while she was on the way to her hostel room. She understood that her body had lost its capability to deposit the precious musk beneath her soft marble skin that could produce a strong earthy aroma- as it now began to generate a lingering vinegar odour due to profuse sweating.

Devi opened the door briskly, her black salwar was drenched, and her bare feet paddled like a drunkard woman, whose vision was fading gradually. She tried her best to catch anything to avoid collapsing herself. In an unsuccessful attempt, Devi’s long, slender legs cheated her once and she toppled over the wooden chairs like carelessly, overthrown jasmine flowers. However, she rolled and managed to raise her torso from the mosaic floor.

Desperately, Devi realized that something was overflowing through her right abdomen with an overwhelming pain. She cried aloud, her hands snaking through the salwar slit to clasp the gall bladder region while noticing the decolouring of the dress at the bottom. Devi felt a blackout when she saw her hands drenched, disguised in vermilion after embracing the long, deep scar which ruffled her smooth hazelnut stomach skin mercilessly.

The same souvenir which she had received accidentally last week when the coastal guards rescued her after leaving Jojo for eternity. Now it was alive again!

Devi cursed herself and stretched her trembling arms to take the envelope near her. She opened it and became pale, brows furrowed as some photographs, a small message and a deteriorated wedding ring which lost its usual, divine glossiness cascaded through her hands. As Devi read that note, she acknowledged that a double-edged knife plunged gently into her left breast, causing the artery to stop pumping blood to her heart suddenly.

“A BODY WAS FOUND NEAR KANYAKUMARI. IDENTIFIED AND VERIFIED AS JOJO”.

Devi didn’t cry.

Instead, on the spur of the moment, a devilish smile danced on her face as though she were glad to proclaim her husband’s death. Devi leaned forward and took a photo of Jojo’s decayed body affectionately.

Initially, her fingers, which were smeared with red, twitched upon the pic at a snail’s pace, but after that, Devi’s thumb raced vigorously to deface it with intense pleasure. Devi grinned awkwardly and enjoyed thoroughly vandalising it with the red lava that could melt everything in front of her. When she was exhausted, Devi threw the envelope content somewhere immediately as though she were afraid of some obscenity content in them and got to her feet.

Devi couldn’t estimate the boundaries of her emotions. Purposefully, Devi ignited her insanity at its peak level, her stormy madness blazed through her veins which seemed to last for her lifetime. Devi whined softly as she felt that the world was shrinking with an urge to dismantle her, so, she buried her face in her hands and took two steps back aggressively which resulted in cascading on the floor again like a waterfall.

Curiously, Devi became calm for a while, closed her eyes now and started to enjoy an erotic dream, though she doubted its vividness. Devi couldn’t say whether that was erotic or not because it was also a sheer torment. However, she darted herself fully into the fantasy as though she were scooping up the immense pleasure from it for one last time. Devi tried her best to get some relief from it, her left hand was sauntering through her messy hair strands carelessly while the other was clawing upon the wounded abdominal muscles in wrenching pain.

The dream was full of shambles…slumpy figures… Jojo…Devi … The Thiruvananthapuram city which she loved most…

Finally, that scarlet figure poached into her mind without her permission… His furious eyes…The Dancing God- The Messenger of Death! Devi’s colourful desirous dream whisked away immediately and now it was transformed into a nightmare. Devi tried her best to close her mind’s doors securely as though to avoid that uninvited guest at any cost.

She fought for air, buried her face in her elbows and groaned loudly in agony.

However, Devi got his invitation.

Not surprisingly, on the next day evening, Devi created a marvellous, coquettish sculpture on the Thiruvananthapuram cliff beach with the help of sand and water. Just like a beautifully carved marble statue, Devi’s stellar anatomy was stretched out and illuminating in the Auric sunbeam that nestled her gently. The cold, steady, surging seawater mercilessly popped up her body as her dress was embraced by the fine, pale yellow beach sand. Devi’s sensuous, hazel-coloured eyes became motionless and didn’t show any emotions when the roaming hungry seagulls, swooped down and approached her with sympathy. They gave her some company, became desperate and shot themselves into the disguised golden-coloured sky as she wasn’t sensitive to anything around her.

Devi was on her chest, outspreading her hands and legs lazily like a stunning lotus flower in the mud, whose face showed a bizarre affectation of nonchalance, as though she were waiting to fall back in love with her hubby after a petty fight. However, even at that time, Devi was not ashamed to show the wedding ring on her left hand- engraved skillfully as ‘Jojo & D’.

To Devi aka Devi Krishna, her love was so divine. Not just volatile lust or a selfish race to accomplish a temporary desire. As her dream predicted, Devi got wings to achieve immortality, though it was an extremely painful way to move on. Death approached her like a rattlesnake, very silent and vigilant, however, Devi was so clever and managed to find her better half forever!

Talking about me, I am from Kerala, South India, currently residing in Canada, though my family is in back home.About my writing inspiration, It’s always Ian Fleming, who created the fascinating and immortal character James Bond 007 which I liked most from my childhood .I am also a fan of post fleming authors including John Gardner and William Boyd who tried their best to add Fleming’s flair in their Bond novels.Gardening, reading and spending time with pet dog are my hobbies.