Enchantress of the world,
Slender as a lotus stem,
Bright as a lightning-flash,
Lies sleeping, breathing softly out and in,
Murmuring poems in sweetest meters,
Humming like a drunken bee in the petals of the muladhara lotus,
How brightly her light shines!
—Satcakra-nirupana Tantra

Stoically, Ishvari hefted her mother’s stiffening body on to her back and carried it to higher ground. Then she slipped into the jungle to collect dry branches, returning to pick up driftwood from the river’s undulating banks. She built a pyre around Sumangali’s corpse, setting the wood on fire and throwing herbs into the crackling flames to sweeten the smell of burning flesh.  

Exhausted, she watched as orange, blue and gold flames co...

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