Rape of Punjikasthala

Sing, O Pure Punjikasthala, Sing of the Sin,

by He of Ten Heads, defiled you had been.

Your tongue, let the Goddess of Speech, touch

and speak of the pain, you suffered so much.

I, Punjikasthala, pious they call me,

"Pure thou art, peach milky the arms of thee.

Eyes like lotus petals, oh so big and deep!

Lips red as bryony, vermilion did you sip?"

My bosoms are deep, my curves voluptuous.

I possess every treasure, men desire in us.

But honor if men value, all the eyes avert me,

for the only Lord I know of, the Creator is He.

Holy woods is my abode, and to hermits, alike.

A huge banyan in middle, its branches like spike.

On its trunk is etched, holy symbol of Creator.

Assigned I been, since child, as His worshiper.

With Rambha, Vishakha and Shweta for my sistren,

Compared to nymphs, we are, by all known men.

Everyday, we come and worship the Creator's tree.

And sport in our forest, whenever we are free.

But, outside the woods, to the furthest in the south,

none ever ventures or speak of it from their mouth.

For there begins the home of unholy and evil!

Enter Punisher's Forest and be devoured you will.

Neither beasts nor monsters in it, who we fear.

What more demonic than evil men from there?

These evils have a dark kingdom, with a demon king.

To good kings of the north, a hellish war they bring.

Demons fight for glory, for power and for lust.

Conquering and dominating the whole world is a must.

A city of gold, rich from plunder of conquest,

And equal their king's harem, with maidens finest.

I shake, as I hear the horrors of these dark demons.

They abduct the daughters and kill all the sons.

I hate such ghastly tales, while sitting by our fire.

I pray, protect us all, O My Heavenly Grandsire!

Then came that Thursday of autumn full moon,

for oblations to the Creator and seeking His boon.

My companions refused, so frightful they were.

To warn me, with wary eyes, they pulled me near.

"Unsafe is the way through the woods", Vishakha uttered,

"So close to our home, those demons have conquered.

Oh terrible, is the battle ensuing just outside our woods,

On one side those evils and on the other, the goods."

I laughed at her words, "Oh Vishakha, Dear!

We pray to the Creator, so have nothing to fear.

Elders say, the deity protects our forest,

So is our duty, always serve Him the best."

With triumph of the good, this darkness of war,

I will pray to my Lord, let it soon be over.

Forget not, I can, my worshiper's duty.

Cleansed myself in the holy lake, my beauty.

Incense, and fruits, and white flowers on a plate,

Adorned with lotus garland, embraced my holy date.

Milky white clean robes, donned on scented body,

To the holy tree, my walk, I was happily ready.

Holy hour before sunrise, sweet essence in my wake

I walked through the woods, when no one was awake.

Like a angry horned bull, he blocked my path.

A mountain his body and eyes full of wrath!