Mahishasura Sonnet 169 When young, one year, I saw the Demon dying, As the Trident of the goddess Durga Into his stoney body deeply piercing: An art the 'medha' play'd on Dussehra Though, my tiny heart was cheery with Loads of relief the Devil's at last dead And gone were threats on life! But came the myth Next year, to find; as raised the Brute his head To fight the Goddess and to die again -- The repeat that happens every year, Just for few days to falsely entertain The people's soul engulfed in inbred fear, For the Brute ain't dead behind the art, In our brutish mind and brutish heart. ©️ N P Samal