Goddess Dimuka did not rise from her throne immediately. Instead, she waited and continued to regard the young asura. He looked very much like the agni asura she had loved and served long ago, and yet, he was only a shadow of Yaman. His midnight black eyes did not have the same fire, neither did his dark skin have the same aura of spiritual essence. When he spoke, it did not make her ears burn, and when he looked at her, he did not peer into her soul. This was an imposter, a pawn sent by the devious little wretch who dared to call himself the king of heaven. Tears of anguish threatened to moisten her eyes, but Dimuka expertly held them back after years of practice.
At last, Goddess Dimuka rose from her high stone chair. There was no need to keep the pretense. Her dark, imposing asura form gradually softened and undulated to turn into that of a supple, glowing goddess, like a moth transforming into a colorful butterfly, a butterfly without a wing. Dimuka hobbled down the stairs, one at a time, dragging her left leg. If the demon or his fat companion thought any less of her because of her condition, they hid it well.
Once she reached their level, she shuffled towards a bowl of fruit sitting on a stone table and picked up a red apple. The large influx of disciples after the event of the flood meant an altar overflowing with offerings, piles of velvets and silk fabrics bordered with gold threads, pots full of milk and jaggery, mountains of grains and fruits, and even some jewelry of gold and silver. The sacrificial goats and chicken went to Shesha, as neither her nor her servant, Nandi, ate meat.
"Where is your offering?" Dimuka asked pointedly, skipping the pleasantries.
"We have none, Goddess Dimuka, in exchange for what we have come here to ask of you," Puru spoke frankly. At least, he had the sincerity of his ancestor. "It would be foolish to hide from you the true purpose of our visit. We have come here as messengers of Lord Arya. The ruinous game that you played in Maiyang did not deceive our lord's eyes."
Dimuka chuckled without a care. "How long did you rehearse those words for?"
"Long enough for you to raise a town full of devotees." The young demon spoke boldly, did not mince his words. Was it diplomacy?
At last, Dimuka turned and looked straight at the brave little puppet. He was wearing what every other lord in heaven wore; a dull gold stole embellished with precious stones and a fine printed dhoti. Gold shone at his arms, wrists, neck, and ears, all to make him a heavenly object. Even the sword that hung from his waist was a weapon of the gods, a token of his servitude to Arya. Where was the red? The black? The mace that always accompanied an agni asura?
"Your master could send you with a mouthful of accusatory words but could not allow an offering?" Dimuka gave the demon god a wry smile.
"We do not have a material offering, but our lord is willing to extend a friendly hand. The terms of reconciliation are you must close down this temple at once and follow us to heaven, where you must fall to your knees in front of Lord Arya and ask for forgiveness. You must also deliver us your serpent that will be banished to netherland to never appear on the earth again."
Puru's words sounded so preposterous that the goddess broke into a cackling laughter like a mad woman. She limped over to where Puru was standing and stopped right before him. "What terms?! Did you drink a pot full of Soma before you came down here? Save your dismal terms. I, too, have a term to offer. Tell your master not to send little children to do his bidding. Tell him to come down from his throne in the heaven if he has any honor, to this land of true faith and face me in a battle."
Puru looked at her as if he was studying her. It unsettled Dimuka, and she averted her eyes.
An expectant silence began to fill the air when a nasal voice drifted in. "Goddess Dimuka, we cannot go back to our lord with empty hands and a threat." It was the other lord, Gajanan, who was quietly observing the entire exchange with his beady little eyes, speaking up as soon as he saw an opportunity. He said he was little Uma's son; yet, he had none of her naivety and all of the shrewdness of the one she spawned him with. "But to settle the matter, we can soften our terms if you allow us."
"I will allow no such thing." The goddess blazed.
Gajanan continued, disregarding her words. "Let us stay here for a fortnight. Let us see the splendor of Agni Asura of the East with our own eyes. If the faith of the people here is true, if your intentions are honest and all you mean to do is restore the fame and glory of late Lord Yaman, then we will leave quietly, and we will advise Lord Arya for peace and acceptance of the new faith."
To hear the word late stirred a deep sorrow inside Dimuka. Two hundred years it had been, and she still felt like the besotted young maiden she once was. Dimuka turned her gaze to Puru, and all she could think of was revenge, revenge for the murder of her lover at the hands of the one who swore to protect and nurture him, Arya.
"I despise you and your master, I despise the heaven that closed the doors on us, I despise the faith that tyrannized a new faith of the people, but I will let you stay." Dimuka's voice was cold and distant, but she granted their request. "You will stay in the temple for a fortnight, and you will experience the kindness and glory of Lord Yaman's faith, the beautiful and just world that he imagined for us to live in."
Goddess Dimuka, then, turned with the red fruit still in her hand and slowly walked towards a door at the other end of the inner sanctum. She knocked twice and called out, "Nandi."
The door quickly opened. "We have two guests staying with us for a fortnight. See that they are settled in comfortable quarters. They are from heaven; they may not be used to harsh realities of the earth." Dimuka sneered as she gave her set of instructions. "But first, give this apple to Shesha. Let him chew on something until the meat is prepared."
The door then closed. And soon as Goddess Dimuka turned to her guests, the ground and walls of the sanctum began to shudder.
"Do not worry," Dimuka reassured her guests with cool courtesy as she held on to the quaking ground. "It is only Shesha. He will be thrilled to meet you. He has not seen another agni asura in two hundred years."
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