The God of Anyone

"Break me down," I prayed. "Please, break me down."

The gods complied.

Kneeling before their alter, my head was jutted back, shoved by some invisible force with unbelievable strength. For the briefest second, I felt the horrible crackling of breaking bones. In my mind's eye, I could see it; the delicate spinal discs in the upper part of my vertebrae shattering from the blow, little flecks of bone flying into the surrounding muscles and veins.

I fell backwards, my head striking the hard stone of the temple floor. So this was what it was like to have your neck broken, I thought. How strange. I'd never realized the pain of dying would be so brief.

My last breath pushed itself from my lungs like a baby from a birth canal, and I was over. Done. The gods had granted my wish and my body was broken, left for the devotees and acolytes to clean up before their morning ablutions.

My husband could not hurt me anymore. My brother-in-law could not touch me. I was free.

Leaving that heavy, inelegant mass of flesh on the temple floor, I floated above the burning candles, through the pillars and painted ceilings, and away from any attachments.

The wind blew, recognizing me as her sister. I had been gone from her for so long, an entire lifetime, in fact, that she barely remembered me at first.

"I missed you," breathed the wind, sending friendly puffs of air through my spiritual being like tiny, touchless kisses. "Never leave me again."

"Never," I promised, running my fingers through the sky, combing the breezes like a child's knotted hair. "You're my sister. We will always be together, no matter how far I travel."

"Where do you journey now?"

"To find my savior," I answered. "To find the one who set me free."

"This way," blew the wind. I flowed with her movement, surrendering myself to every gusty turn she made. Just giving up, letting go of the pressures of decision-making and the costs of moving forward, was absolute bliss.

I stretched out on the wind, spreading my arms wide to brush my sister's moving currents. The air was like silk and water, composed of soft, encompassing security. The discomfort of living, of gravity and pain, was gone. On my sister's shoulders, I flowed with careless abandon, my eyes closed to the movements of the world below me.

"This is as far as I can take you," whispered the wind. "You must ask my brother for help now. He is stronger than I am. He can take you to the one you seek."

"Thank you, sister," I said. The wind wrapped me in a drafty embrace, and then she was away.

I floated, alone again and on my own recognizance to find who I was seeking.

"Hello, brother sun," I called, basking in the delicious heat of his hot, afternoon rays.

"Greetings, sister," the sun replied. "It has been a long time. How can I help you?"

"I am searching for the one who set me free," I told him. "Do you know where I can find him?"

The sun laughed, blasting me with a solar flare of explosive mirth. "That is an easy request, sister. Your savior lies through me. Enter."

The gateway of the sun opened and, unafraid, I entered. Flames burst into life all around, the fires so hot that they glowed a perfect, unblemished white. Since I had left my body far behind, I embraced the rising waves of the firestorm. The gods had created this inferno as a gift to the earth. I was a daughter of the earth. The fires could not hurt me.

As I passed through the sun, my brother closed his gateway behind me and I continued into the kingdom of the gods.

To my human eyes, the kingdom appeared to me as an endlessly long hallway in an opulent palace. Huge pillars held up decorated walls, lined with silver filigree and trailed with swirls of gold. Vast chandeliers of carved diamonds dangled from the arched ceiling, and flowery vines climbed up the walls, scenting the chambers with their perfume.

The hallway went on as far as the eye could see, never ending and eternal. Standing on either side, in an infinite line that stretched as far as the hallway, were all the gods in the heavens. Judging from their faces and forms, I managed to recognize those who I'd worshipped in my family's shrine.

Closest to me was Vishnu, his skin the color of dark clouds. In one of his hands, he held a lotus blossom. Even from where I stood, so very small at his feet, I could smell the sweetness of the flower. I longed to float up to where the petals glowed iridescent, and bury my face into its center, breathing in the delicious scent of peace, but no. Vishnu was a great and powerful god, but he was not the one who saved me.

He embraced Lakshmi, goddess of wealth and love. Her sari dripped to the floor in beautiful folds of cloth, each so delicately embroidered that tears came to my eyes at the sight of it. She was lovely, her smooth hands ever moving as she stroked her husband's face to ease his burden of preserving the universe.

I traveled the kingdom and I saw all of them. Kali danced on black feet, severed arms dangling from her belt as she rejoiced in the art of destruction. Her attendants swooned at her steps and drank the blood of her enemies. I longed to join them, to delight in the excitement of violence and the release of death, but I had things to do. I could not stop my search.

I came upon Lord Ganesha, the elephant-headed god of success, sitting by his father's feet with a tiny rat on his knee. He was feeding it bits of gulab jamun. The sacred rat's whiskers quivered as it nibbled on the sweet. I focused my attention on the small brown dessert that I'd fixed many times before for my family. The knowledge flowed into my head like water, and I understood that the gulab jamun had been left on Ganesha's alter by a starving street urchin in Calcutta. His family was from the lowest class, the Untouchables. If Ganesha did nothing, the boy would die within a year from dysentery.

Ganesha touched the rat's head and it ran off. I was not sure where it went. Perhaps it traveled to save the boy, but I did not follow it to find out. There was someone I needed to see.

To visualize the kingdom of the gods, it is best if you picture yourself standing between two gigantic mirrors that face one another. When you step in between them and look at the glass, you'll see your image in an endless line, the trail going on forever inside of the mirrors.

Just as that trail is unending, so too is the line of gods. India is an ancient and sprawling nation, and with its history came an infinite succession of divinities. Each of the major gods had a thousand different incarnations, a thousand different avatars. I could see every single one of them, each a singular entity, each waiting for my devotion.

I could walk the kingdom for all eternity and never meet every single deity that rested behind the sun. There were so many, and my mind boggled at the concept of finding the single one that I was looking for.

I paused momentarily at Brahma's feet, overwhelmed by the infinite line of gods, but I forced myself to move onwards.

There. Down the hall. I drifted over and saw him, hidden in a far corner. He was overshadowed by the magnificent powers of his fellow gods, so much so that at first I almost went past him. I couldn't help it. I was drawn to the stronger gods, with their pounding dances, bright saris and gleaming weapons. The scent of their lotus blossoms summoned me. Almost every part of my spirit longed to throw myself before them and worship, endlessly worship, as was their due.

I forced myself to stay where I was, in the darkest, most ignored part of the kingdom. I looked at my god, my savior from the hell of my life on earth, and tried to understand who he was.

Unlike Krishna, my god's eyes were dark and did not dance with merry mischief. While Parvati's clothing was beaded and sewn with the rays of the moon, this god wore a plain, undecorated dhoti kurta, like they did in the north. He stood humbly still, doing no great dances. He carried no blossoms and brandished no weapons; his hands were empty.

My god had no defining features. I searched his hands, his stance, his eyes and his face, but I did not recognize him.

"What is your name?" I whispered, kneeling at his feet.

"I have no name," he said.

I was confused. "Then how do your worshippers call you?"

"I have no devotees. The last one died before the Mahabhrata was written. There is no record of my worship. My temples have all fallen into the ground. My sacred texts have all crumbled into dust."

"But you saved me!"

"In my own way, yes I did. I used the last of my power to deliver you from your life. It was what I felt was right."

I bent my head to the floor and kissed the tops of his feet in respect. He brushed one of his hands down and gestured for me to stand up. I did so, but tremulously, afraid to look at him.

"You have saved me, Lord," I whispered.

"Yes."

"What I can I do for you in return? How can I honor you?"

"There is one thing."

"What?" I demanded, eager to do anything to repay him for the kindness he had showed me.

The god paused for a second, as though he were shy, but went onward. "I would like a name."

"A name, Lord?"

He smiled at me gently and a fresh wave of comfort rose over me. I closed my eyes, feeling the absolute calmness, the surety of safety, with the knowledge that everything would turn out okay in the end.

"Just a single name, my child. Soon you will be reborn into a new body, this one of a young boy in the Brahman caste. You will rise up to prominence and great respect."

He touched my head, blessing me. "You suffered much in your previous life, but kept holy. Such actions are rewarded by the gods.

"All I ask in return is for you to give me a name, and remember me in your next life with worship and offering. Will you do this for me?"

"I will, my Lord."

I felt a tug from the center of my being. Somewhere in New Delhi, a baby was being born that would house my spirit. I could feel it now; the confusion and pain of labor, the screaming from my mother's throat as she struggled with the difficult birth. Soon I would lose the encompassing peace of death, and be thrust into a new life before I was ready.

The tug came again. I did not have much time. I knelt again before my god and, hardly believing my daring, gazed directly into his eyes. It was not humble of me, but at the time, I felt it was the most natural thing to do.

"My lord, you charged me with giving you a new name, and so I shall. Because of your mercy to me, because you answered the prayers of a poor woman with no friends and an abusive family of in-laws, you deserve great things. And so I name you "Anyone," for that is who you help; anyone who asks you for your mercy."

The god nodded, accepting the name as his own. Before my eyes, a spinning charka appeared in his hands. A lotus blossom bloomed at his feet and his dhoti gained a pattern of color.

With his new name, my god had gained back his lost power. Anyone was free. Anyone was my savior.

Giving up the fight against the pull of being born, I allowed myself to be tugged backwards. I flew through the kingdom of the gods, passing brother sun, and soared through the breezes of sister wind. I went down through the temple where my old body had long since been removed. I whipped past my old family of in-laws, already with a new bride to torment with their abuses.

I flew past all of these things until I reached a modern hospital in the center of New Delhi. My mother was in there, screaming her pain as tears fell down her face. My body was in there and I submitted to the pull, allowing myself to enter and become.

In the hospital, a little boy named Mahadev Parikh was born.

Somewhere above the world, Anyone smiled, waiting for his time to be worshiped and loved.