The priest's wife was a dark petite woman. Her eyes possessed, as if, many unfathomable mysteries. But she was, in the end, a very real, vulnerable, hapless woman. Nobody cared for her, really. She must have been the eldest of many children, to have been married off that young. Her complexion being dark (since dusky would be an understatement), the sooner she set off, the better.
She entered the priest's home and slaved to serve one and all. The priest's mother who had only a few years then, was a difficult woman to please. But the new bride molly-coddled her well enough. The neighbors sang praises of the bowls of food she sent across the street, one of her many good gestures. She accompanied the priest as an obedient assistant whenever he travelled to distant towns for conducting religious functions. He had, after all, established a stern reputation - everybody knew that this one was capable of ridding people's houses of that odd homey ghost or making nascent fortunes stay. His wife, who by then people had started addressing as the priestess, also became party to that reputation.
After a few years, the priestess gave birth and became confined to home to care for the child. The priest began taking longer journeys and being away from home for extended periods of time. That his mother died so suddenly may have triggered the longing for distance and isolation. Years passed and the priestess brought up their daughter alone, almost entirely by herself. But her relatives and neighbors pitied her for being by herself all the time. They gave her several suggestions.
One of them was to bring a younger sister from her father's home. The young girl could help with chores and take care of the child while the priestess could free up her time, perhaps try to be with the priest, a bit more. This move, in the beginning brought in happy results. But soon the priestess found out the reason. The sister had seduced the priest to incapacity. And he wouldn't want to be away from her for a single night. Soon, he stopped going out during the days as well.
The priestess was aghast. She was too ashamed to even confide in anyone. She and her daughter had been abandoned to sleep in the courtyard, under the stars since her sister dislodged her from the bedroom. She meandered out of home at nights when her husband's groans of pleasure became unbearable to withstand. Her heart shattered with the guilt of having failed as a wife, she ventured into an old temple of Kali at the other end of the village, next to the cremation grounds.
Kali, is worshipped in two forms. The calmer form, with a smiling countenance and her right foot on Shiva is Dakshina Kali. The priestess had the good fate of revering Vama Kali - the goddess with her left foot on a startled Shiva. The rightful goddess of destruction and death. The one who waits to embrace the souls of those just freed from the labyrinthine sufferings of human life.
The priestess would leave home at midnight, bathe in the temple pond and swim across to its other bank to pluck bunches of blood red hibiscus. She would swirl in the waters under the pitch black sky, like there was nothing to fear, because there was nothing to lose. That she was indeed free and truly unchained. She shed her misery in the water and stepped out, a new woman, drenched, water pouring out of her sari.
She wiped the goddess clean with her sari and adorned her with flowers. She swept the room, lit a lamp and sat all-night long, chanting her hymns softly. Tears streaming down her cheeks, begging for enlightenment, begging for Kali's embrace.
Sleep would find her only just before dawn broke. She would lay like a log in the temple veranda while many a cattle herders would notice her as they went off to graze in the forest. Not many ventured into that part of the village, fearing the dead, their ghosts and ghouls. But soon, news made it to the villagers and the priest himself, that the priestess had gone insane.
Then started the rumors. That the priestess walked naked and upside down, on her hands, on no-moon nights. That she feasted on blood of stray goats. That she performed tantric acts to please spirits and could hurt and diminish anyone she wanted, if she got hold of a strand of their hair or a speck of their nail. Everyone wanted her banished. The priest threw her out of the house. Some neighbors fed her for a few days surreptitiously, before falling into line.
The priestess begged for survival in the neighboring villages where nobody knew who she was and came back to the temple to sleep at night. And each night, she washed away her sorrow and pain in the pond and emerged anew to worship Kali. After hundreds and thousands of such nights, on one night, finally Kali appeared.