Goddess for Hire Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Sonia Singh
political science section and had to walk to the opposite end of the floor to find religion. The bookstore was clearly adhering to the separation of church and state.
I started on one end of the aisle and began working my way down. There were three full shelves on Christianity, one shelf on Judaism, and a third of a shelf for Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam.
Hmm, talk about your Holy War.
I plucked three titles on Hinduism off the shelf, then had to circle the floor several times before nabbing a corner table vacated by two students wearing UCI sweatshirts.
I took a revitalizing sip of my drink and cracked open the first book. Scanning the table of contents I found the page number, flipped to the chapter on Kali, and began reading.
Kali, the black goddess, is naked with long matted hair. She wears severed arms as a girdle, a necklace of freshly cut heads, childrenâs corpses as earrings and cobras as bracelets.
Ummâ¦
I didnât know if it was the mint chutney, but an uncomfortable stirring had begun in my stomach.
Okay maybe it was just the authorâs bias that made Kali sound like Lakshmiâs ugly stepsister. I took another fortifying sip of my coffee, and turned to a different page.
Kali has long sharp fangs and claw-like hands. Her hang outs include the battlefield, where, as the fiercest of all warriors, she gets drunk on the blood of her victims or,in a cremation ground, where she is surrounded by jack-als and goblins.
Yuck!
The stirring in my stomach had become a churning.
There were a few things Ram had neglected to tell me about Kali, namely, her freakish fashion sense. If I were Kaliâs personal shopper Iâd dress her in Dolce & Gabbana, and advise leaving the necklace of freshly cut heads at home.
I needed to see a picture. Quick.
I picked up another book and turned a few pages until I came upon one. I studied it for a few moments, then cocked my head and considered it from another angle.
Personally, I didnât see what was so scary about the goddess Kali. So her red protruding tongue contrasted with her ink black skin, and yeah, she was juggling a trio of human heads, and had teeth that would put Dracula to shame butâ¦
I slammed the book shut.
Pushing back my chair, I grabbed my purse and ran to the bathroom. Thankfully it was empty. I stood in front of the mirror. My reflection stared back at me. Flawless oval face, smooth black brows that arched perfectly to frame my almond-shaped brown eyes, full lips, long black hairâ¦
I held up my slender handsâdefinitely not claw-shaped. And I would never drink blood, not even if it were guaranteed to make me lose weight. Plus therewerenât any cremation grounds in Orange County that I knew of, but if there were, you wouldnât find me partying it up there on a Saturday night.
The blenderlike movements in my stomach subsided a bit.
I returned to the table, which was, of course, occupied, and grabbed a different book. I leaned against a shelf of Stephen King novels, appropriate for the subject matter and flipped pages until I came to another picture. This time Kali was shown straddling a pale, white, male form. The caption read:
The Dark Mother, squatting over her dead consort Shiva and devouring his entrails, while her yoni sexually devours his lingam (penis).
Gross!
And, technically, itâd been more than a year since my yoni had sexually devoured any lingam.
I tossed the book onto an empty cart and stepped over a little boy sprawled in the aisle, busy drooling over pictures in the Joy of Sex . He looked up and stared at me defiantly.
I wasnât about to steer him toward the Newbery Award winners, and left the little pervert stewing in his hormones. There were bigger things to think about. Namely, Kali was a horrifying creature who looked more like the Incredible Hulk than Wonder Woman. I couldnât be her, could I?
Considering the state my stomach was in, I tossed my coffee into the trash can.
I started on one end of the aisle and began working my way down. There were three full shelves on Christianity, one shelf on Judaism, and a third of a shelf for Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam.
Hmm, talk about your Holy War.
I plucked three titles on Hinduism off the shelf, then had to circle the floor several times before nabbing a corner table vacated by two students wearing UCI sweatshirts.
I took a revitalizing sip of my drink and cracked open the first book. Scanning the table of contents I found the page number, flipped to the chapter on Kali, and began reading.
Kali, the black goddess, is naked with long matted hair. She wears severed arms as a girdle, a necklace of freshly cut heads, childrenâs corpses as earrings and cobras as bracelets.
Ummâ¦
I didnât know if it was the mint chutney, but an uncomfortable stirring had begun in my stomach.
Okay maybe it was just the authorâs bias that made Kali sound like Lakshmiâs ugly stepsister. I took another fortifying sip of my coffee, and turned to a different page.
Kali has long sharp fangs and claw-like hands. Her hang outs include the battlefield, where, as the fiercest of all warriors, she gets drunk on the blood of her victims or,in a cremation ground, where she is surrounded by jack-als and goblins.
Yuck!
The stirring in my stomach had become a churning.
There were a few things Ram had neglected to tell me about Kali, namely, her freakish fashion sense. If I were Kaliâs personal shopper Iâd dress her in Dolce & Gabbana, and advise leaving the necklace of freshly cut heads at home.
I needed to see a picture. Quick.
I picked up another book and turned a few pages until I came upon one. I studied it for a few moments, then cocked my head and considered it from another angle.
Personally, I didnât see what was so scary about the goddess Kali. So her red protruding tongue contrasted with her ink black skin, and yeah, she was juggling a trio of human heads, and had teeth that would put Dracula to shame butâ¦
I slammed the book shut.
Pushing back my chair, I grabbed my purse and ran to the bathroom. Thankfully it was empty. I stood in front of the mirror. My reflection stared back at me. Flawless oval face, smooth black brows that arched perfectly to frame my almond-shaped brown eyes, full lips, long black hairâ¦
I held up my slender handsâdefinitely not claw-shaped. And I would never drink blood, not even if it were guaranteed to make me lose weight. Plus therewerenât any cremation grounds in Orange County that I knew of, but if there were, you wouldnât find me partying it up there on a Saturday night.
The blenderlike movements in my stomach subsided a bit.
I returned to the table, which was, of course, occupied, and grabbed a different book. I leaned against a shelf of Stephen King novels, appropriate for the subject matter and flipped pages until I came to another picture. This time Kali was shown straddling a pale, white, male form. The caption read:
The Dark Mother, squatting over her dead consort Shiva and devouring his entrails, while her yoni sexually devours his lingam (penis).
Gross!
And, technically, itâd been more than a year since my yoni had sexually devoured any lingam.
I tossed the book onto an empty cart and stepped over a little boy sprawled in the aisle, busy drooling over pictures in the Joy of Sex . He looked up and stared at me defiantly.
I wasnât about to steer him toward the Newbery Award winners, and left the little pervert stewing in his hormones. There were bigger things to think about. Namely, Kali was a horrifying creature who looked more like the Incredible Hulk than Wonder Woman. I couldnât be her, could I?
Considering the state my stomach was in, I tossed my coffee into the trash can.