Untitled - Katha

16 ◆
Pointing an accusing finger at the jatadhari, the hermit from Torsa
rasped, “It is forbidden for an untouchable to become a disciple.”
“Disciple? Untouchable?” The jatadhari roared. “I do not have
disciples. I do not initiate anyone. I live in total solitude.” He
sighed deeply, then continued, “But I am aware of the five rules
of initiation: Do not initiate a sinner, an evil-doer, a person with
no respect for mantra, a person with no respect for a teacher, and
one with a stained soul.”
The hermit from Torsa took one step forward, “Do not initiate
the lazy, the enraged, those with unaccounted wealth, beggars,
or those proud of their knowledge. Differentiate not between
man and woman. Those who come to me seeking solace are the
wretched and the ignorant.”
The sound of buffalo hooves rose over the verbal duel between
the jatadhari and the hermit. The animal tried to break free as it
was being hauled away to the slaughterhouse. It wanted to escape
the death that came in the form of pilgrims. But the harbingers
of doom kept tugging at it. Shoving. Yelling. Prodding.
Ratnadhar still lay limp on the ground. The ascetic lifted him
in his arms and looked towards the temple. “Ma! Ma! Ma
Chinnamasta! Ma Chinnamasta! Ma! Ma!”
Someone threw a stone. But the stone did not touch the
jatadhari. None could comprehend what suddenly came over
Dorothy. She ripped through the crowd and flung herself at the
jatadhari’s feet, sobbing uncontrollably.
The munshi, nonplussed, said, “It is time for the master to
return from the college. The buggy must have stopped in front of
the gate.”
The hermit from Torsa wagged a warning finger at the swarm
of devotees in front of the jatadhari’s dwelling: “What are you
The Man from Chinnamasta