"How long have you served the goddess?" Puru asked casually as he matched Nandi's pace, Goddess Dimuka's servant. Nandi skimmed down the gravel path with an ease that betrayed his twisted, hunched back.
"As long as time." The servant answered with words that were deeper than his thin, timid voice.
Puru stooped a little as he walked beside the already stooping man to reach his ear level. Elephant god, Gajanan, did not accompany them that morning to the gathering of agni asura Yaman's disciples in a neighboring village. Instead, he hung back in the temple with an excuse of stomach ache. As Puru hustled beside Nandi, he could already see a cluster of mud huts up ahead, and it would not be long before hordes of villagers and devotees from nearby towns and villages surround them.
"Then you must know agni asura Yaman?" Puru tried to craft his way around Nandi's impenetrable loyalty to Goddess Dimuka. "I am his blood, his descendant."
Nandi threw the demon god a glance. "Then, my lord has lion's blood in him."
"Was he as brave and fearless as the tales say?" Puru never heard the tales himself, but guessed that must be what the eastern folks sang of their savior.
"You must ask those who tell those tales, Lord Puru. My place is to serve my goddess." Nandi responded pointedly and rushed forward, but Puru did not fall behind either.
"Did you serve the goddess in heaven, too?"
"Do you think, my lord, that a twisted wretch like me will be welcome in heaven?"
Puru noted the hiss in Nandi's voice. "Lord Arya welcomes beings of all kinds in heaven. He fostered and trained me, just as he did with Lord Yaman."
The servant suddenly halted and turned. "And then he sent you after my goddess just as he sent her after Lord Puru."
The words shocked Puru. But he was more bemused by Nandi's sudden outburst. Quiet as Nandi was, that was the loudest he had ever heard him speak. The servant whirled and strode off, and Puru did not venture to catch up with him this time.
When Puru arrived at the scene of the gathering, the disciples of Lord Yaman were already seated under the old banyan tree at the village center. Offerings in bowls and platters were placed neatly on the ground in front of the holy tree, and in the midst of it all, Nandi sat and politely accepted more offerings from the newly arrived devotees. The stone platform at the tree base had an open mat of colorful woven fiber, Lord Yaman's seat.
Puru found a place furthest from the tree, in the last row of the assembly. He swept a glance at the gathered crowd. There were devotees of all gender and age, men, women, young, old, rich, poor, all congregated there for Lord Yaman's darshan and teaching. This village narrowly escaped the flood last month, and they were indebted to Lord Yaman for saving them. Puru's human disguise kept him from being recognized, but he doubted his rescue efforts were enough to earn a name for himself.
Soon the glowing red figure of Lord Yaman arrived, and the devotees kowtowed numerous times and loudly cheered in the lord's name. What the fire demon wore reminded Puru of the palm leaf miniature painting that he had bought some time ago, a dull red robe and not one item of ornament. Yaman stared back at Puru for a moment with a cold distance. Then, he turned to his disciples, his eyes full of warmth now. The sham lord took his seat on the mat, his legs properly crossed, his back straight, and his hands lightly placed on his lap on top of each other. His devotees imitated his posture, and a somber silence settled on the gathering.
"If you are here expecting a miracle, leave." Yaman's rich and gentle voice floated through the air like an enchanting fragrance. "If you are here expecting salvation, leave. If you are here expecting god, leave. If you are here hoping to be awakened, stay." Yaman said those words with an ease that comes with practice. He took a brief pause in his sermon as his devotees brought their joined hands to their foreheads.
"Can you tell me what the different kinds of awakening are?" Lord Yaman asked the multitude of his devotees.
Someone in the crowd named three, physical, intellectual, and emotional. Puru knew one more.
"There are two more." Lord Yaman spoke to the crowd. "Religious awakening, where we feel the need to worship a higher, divine power. The God. And the spiritual awakening, the highest form of awakening. When our spirit is awakened, we devote our entire being to elevate our soul, the mysterious power that resides within all of us. That is when we attain true enlightenment."
The gusts of the warm summer wind grew stronger, enough to sway the branches of the banyan tree. Behind the transparent curtains of Lord Yaman's eyes, Goddess Dimuka peered at her disciples sitting in rows after rows. Every twitch of her face, every shift in her body, resembled a fire demon, that much Puru could see. She even hid her limp when she transformed herself into Lord Yaman. To be able to hide physical traits and afflictions, the spell of Yantra must be extremely powerful. Puru wondered if it was Lord Arya who taught Yaman the incantation.
"Many sages spend lifetimes in tapasya, long and fierce meditation, looking for the meaning of true enlightenment and where it resides. True enlightenment is not in that temple where you worship me," continued Lord Yaman, "Wise men asked the sages, 'How can you search for what you do not know or understand?' The sages answered, 'You know enlightenment only when you find it. And when you do, that is when you are truly awakened. It is not at the end of your journey; it is not in an idol that you worship; it is not a holy offering. It lies within you when you are on that journey; it walks the path with you. To find it, you must search for it within yourself, deep in your soul. That, my children, is true enlightenment."
Lord Yaman's eyes burned like hellfire as he uttered the last sentence, and the disciples raised their joined hands and shouted praises of the lord's name. The cheers had not died down yet when distant screams cut through the idle afternoon. Puru slowly rose to his feet, along with others. Worried expressions filled the faces of the disciples as they looked around them perplexed. Lord Yaman descended from the stone platform and walked towards the last row, a faint wrinkle forming on his brow. Puru looked behind him, and his eyes squinted only a little at what he saw. A man ran towards them, shrieking and yelling, holding another body in his arms.