Ch 8: Headless Woman

It was a cold, restless night, with the winds howling like forgotten ghosts. Kali lay on his bed, shrouded in the stillness of sleep, yet the air felt different, thick with an unsettling tension. The moon outside had taken on an eerie crimson hue, casting its light through the window.

A strange, heavy silence filled the air before the winds howled, shaking the room. It felt as though something was calling him. Kali's eyes snapped open, and he sat up in bed, his heart thudding in his chest.

Sweat slicked his brow, and he could feel an unnatural pull in the air. His senses were heightened—he knew something was wrong. He stood up, disoriented, and staggered to the window. Outside, the world was draped in shadow, and the moonlight flickered ominously. The air felt dense and heavy, like something ancient and powerful was stirring. Then, he heard it.

Screams—men crying out in pain. The sound was strange, like multiple voices in agony, not just one. Kali's heart pounded harder in his chest. What was happening? Without thinking, his feet carried him out of the house.

The streets were eerily quiet as he rushed down them, the cries of the tortured souls growing louder with every step. The air around him seemed to thicken, the chill of dread settling over his skin. He didn't understand, but his body knew the way. And then, he saw her.

A woman stood at the center of the street, her figure bathed in the eerie crimson light. Her appearance was both haunting and hypnotic. One hand gripped a sword, dripping with fresh blood, and in her other hand, she held her own severed head, grinning at him with a crazed, terrifying smile.

Her eyes were wide open, but they held nothing of humanity. They were empty, void of all emotion except madness. The woman's laugh echoed in the night. It was not a normal laugh. It was deranged, cruel, like the laughter of someone who had lost all sanity.

Her voice sent chills through Kali's spine. He could not move. He stood frozen, his legs rooted to the ground, as if the air itself had conspired to trap him. With lightning speed, the woman turned her attention to a man who had approached her. Without hesitation, she swung the bloodied sword, cutting his head clean off, and it fell to the ground with a sickening thud. But she didn't stop.

She laughed louder, her face contorted in joy as blood splattered across the ground. The woman didn't care. She was a force of destruction, unleashed without mercy. Kali's mind raced, but his body refused to cooperate. He could feel fear crawling up his spine, making him tremble. The woman's gaze then locked onto him, and he felt the weight of it like a physical force. She was coming toward him. His legs shook, but before he could move, she was upon him.

The woman stood there, her headless form towering over Kali, but her presence was strangely comforting in a way that made him feel both vulnerable and safe. As she leaned closer, Kali could barely move, his body trembling with fear and confusion. Her severed head, held in her other hand, dangled loosely with a smile that could almost be mistaken for a mother's gentle care.

"Do not fear, Chinnaah," the woman said softly, her voice like a warm breeze, soothing and familiar, yet foreign. Her tone was soft, like a mother speaking to her child—tender, calm, and reassuring.

Kali's mind struggled to comprehend the situation. He wanted to run, to scream, but his body wouldn't obey him. The words she spoke, though so kind, only added to his confusion. How could this terrifying figure speak to him in such a gentle way?

"Chinnaah, my child, why do you tremble?" she asked, tilting her head in a way that almost seemed as though she cared for him. "You are confused, aren't you? You have been through so much, and it is natural to feel lost."

Kali's mouth went dry. His eyes were wide, unable to look away from her headless body, yet he couldn't bring himself to ask anything. His voice felt stuck in his throat.

Kali's heart raced, and he tried to speak, but the words failed him. What was happening? Who was she? Why did she speak to him as if they had known each other forever?

"Chinnaah…" She paused, her voice soft, her words wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. "You are so much stronger than you realize. The pain you feel, the fear that haunts you—it is not forever. This moment, this suffering, it will pass. But only if you learn to rise above it."

Her voice continued, still motherly, still gentle, as though she were speaking to him like a caring mother would to her own child. "You must protect those who are innocent. Even if the cost is your life, you must never turn your back on the ones who cannot protect themselves. Never lose your guard. You are a warrior—your purpose is far greater than you know."

Her words were like a balm to his troubled soul, despite the terror that filled him. It was as if the woman knew the deepest parts of his fears and doubts. The warmth in her voice was undeniable, even though her form was so terrifying.

The sensation of her hand gently gripping his wrist was strangely comforting. She wasn't threatening him. She was holding him, as a mother would hold her child, offering reassurance in the midst of chaos.

Her voice was tender, each word hitting Kali like a wave crashing against his chest. It wasn't just advice; it was a promise, a maternal wish for his survival. "You are not alone, child. Even when you walk the path of pain, I will be here."

Kali's heart thundered as he felt the warmth of her words. A strange comfort flooded his soul, and yet, his confusion grew deeper. Who was this woman? He couldn't answer that question, but something told him she was more than just a figure from a nightmare. Her presence was familiar in a way that made his fear melt, if only for a moment.

She smiled, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Kali felt a glimmer of hope. This woman—this strange, woman—was right. Despite everything he had been through, he could feel the fire within him, waiting to be ignited.

"Be the protector, Chinnaah. Be the light for those who cannot see the way."

Before Kali could respond, her figure began to fade, her headless form slowly disappearing like mist in the morning sun. Her severed head, which had smiled at him just moments ago, was the last to vanish. "Remember, Chinnaah," her voice echoed faintly as she disappeared, "Never lose your heart, no matter the storm. You will find your way."

Kali's arm shot out instinctively, desperate to hold onto her, but before he could touch her, everything went black.

Kali woke up with a sharp intake of breath, as if his body was still trying to catch up with his mind. The dream lingered in his senses like a shadow he couldn't escape. He glanced around the room, disoriented, the soft sunlight streaming through the window making everything look so familiar yet so distant. His heart pounded with the remnants of a fear he couldn't quite place, the images of the headless woman still fresh in his mind. Her voice, so kind yet so powerful, echoed in his ears: "Never fear someone when it comes face-to-face, Chinnaah!" His body trembled at the memory, but he shook his head, trying to dismiss the unsettling feeling.

His mother's gentle hum from the kitchen pulled him out of his thoughts. He sighed, rubbing his face, trying to steady his racing heart. It had been just a dream, hadn't it? But the intensity of it left him feeling as though something important had been whispered to him—something he couldn't yet understand.

"Kali, you're awake!"

His mother's voice called out from the kitchen, breaking his thoughts. He heard the soft clink of utensils, and before he knew it, his mother appeared in the doorway with a warm smile. "Go freshen up and come down. I'll have breakfast ready for you." Her eyes, filled with kindness and love, made him feel a sense of peace, though the unease in his chest remained.

Kali nodded and made his way to the bathroom, trying to push aside the lingering fog of his dream. The calm of the morning seemed to fight against the storm raging inside him. He splashed his face with water, trying to cleanse the chaos in his mind, and walked back to his room to get dressed.

After a quick bath, Kali stood before the small mirror in his room, wiping the droplets of water from his face. The quietness of the house wrapped around him, offering a kind of solace. His mother, already at the kitchen, had placed a small container of kumkum (sacred red powder) on the table, waiting for him.

As he walked towards her, she smiled softly, taking some of the kumkum in her hand. She gently applied it on his forehead, right between his eyebrows. "For good health and blessings, Kali," she said, her voice like a soft melody, filled with warmth. "May Krishna's love guide you."

For a moment, Kali closed his eyes as the kumkum touched his skin. The warmth of her gesture comforted him, and he found himself thinking of the headless woman again, her calm and motherly presence. "You'll be alright. Never fear. Help those in need. Protect the innocent." Her words echoed in his mind, as though she had been trying to prepare him for something. But for what?

As he sat down for breakfast, his stomach growled in anticipation. But before he could reach for the food, his mother stopped him gently.

Kali looked up at her, a soft pang of concern tugging at his heart. "Ma, you're fasting ?"

His mother smiled warmly, the glow of love and dedication shining in her eyes. "Yes, Kali. It is for Krishna. We do it with love, as an offering of gratitude for all the blessings we have." She spoke with such tenderness that Kali could do nothing but nod. He knew how deeply his mother was devoted to her faith, and this sacrifice was a reflection of her unwavering love for him and their gods.

Kali felt a deep respect for her, for the strength she carried in her heart. The warmth of her devotion spread through him like a comforting blanket.

After breakfast, Kali sat silently for a while, his thoughts drifting back to the town. The memories were blurry, like fragments of a dream he couldn't hold onto. He looked up at his mother, who was busy cleaning up after breakfast. "Ma," he began, his voice uncertain, "can you show me the town? I… I don't remember much of it. How does it look now?"

His mother paused and turned to him, her expression softening. "Of course, Kali. Let me finish my prayers first. Then we can walk through the streets. I know it's hard for you to remember, but I'll help you."

Kali nodded, his heart heavy with a feeling he couldn't quite describe. He longed to reconnect with the town he once knew, to uncover the memories that felt just out of reach.

As his mother began her puja (prayer ritual), Kali sat beside her, watching with quiet reverence. The soft flicker of incense smoke filled the room, mingling with the scent of flowers she had offered to the gods. His mother's hands moved gracefully as she performed each step, her devotion evident in every gesture. She was the embodiment of peace, her face serene as she chanted the prayers.

Kali watched her, his heart swelling with love and admiration. The peace in the room was palpable, but there was a strange emptiness within him. He couldn't understand why the dream, that strange encounter with the headless woman, kept resurfacing in his mind. He felt like there was something waiting for him, a lesson to be learned, but he couldn't grasp it yet.

After a while, Kali spoke up, his voice breaking the serene silence. "Ma, can you tell me about the idols you are worshipping? I don't remember them clearly."

His mother smiled warmly at his question, her eyes lighting up as she turned to the small altar in the corner of the room, where the idols of various gods were placed. "Of course, Kali," she said softly. "These idols are symbols of the gods we worship and draw strength from."

She walked over to the altar and pointed to the first idol, Jagannath, an incarnation of Lord Krishna. "This is Lord Jagannath. He is another form of Krishna, the one who protects us, the one who guides us through life's difficulties. We pray to him for his blessings and protection."

Kali nodded as he looked at the idol, its serene expression calming his restless heart. But his mother wasn't finished yet.

"This is Shiva, the Lord of destruction and renewal," she continued, her fingers gently tracing the idol's outline. "Shiva destroys the evil in this world and renews it for the better. His power cleanses us from within and helps us grow."

Her voice was filled with a deep sense of reverence as she moved to the next idol, Durga. "And here is Maa Durga. She is the goddess of strength, courage, and protection. We call upon her when we need her strength to overcome the challenges life throws at us."

Kali's mind raced, taking in the names and meanings of the gods. There was a strange sense of familiarity in all of them, but the memories felt so distant.

His mother, noticing his distant gaze, smiled softly and said, "And on the other side of town, we have the Chhinnamasta Maa temple. She is another form of Durga, one who represents self-sacrifice and the power to protect the helpless. She teaches us that true strength comes from sacrifice and that we must always fight for those who cannot fight for themselves."

Kali's heart skipped a beat as he heard her speak of Chhinnamasta Maa. Something stirred within him, a sense of recognition, as though he had heard the name before. Was this the same goddess from his dream?

His mother's voice broke through his thoughts again. "These idols and their stories are not just for worship, Kali. They teach us lessons. Lessons about love, strength, sacrifice, and protection. Remember these, my son. When you're lost, when you don't know which way to turn, turn to them. They will guide you."

Kali stayed silent, but in his heart, something began to shift. The dream, the headless woman, and the lessons his mother shared—all of it was coming together. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, but there was still so much more for him to understand.