When the Gods Couldn't Win

Every god tried to defeat Mahishasura. None of them could. So they created Durga.

A buffalo demon named Mahishasura got a boon that no man and no god could kill him. So he chased every god out of heaven. The gods could not beat him. So they did something they had never done before. They put all their light together and out of it came a goddess no one had ever seen, riding a lion. Her name was Durga. She did what no god could.

A Buffalo on the Throne

In the kingdom of Swarga, the home of the gods, there is a beautiful golden throne. It belongs to Indra, the king of the gods. From this throne, Indra rules the rains, the lightning, and the storms. He carries the vajra, the strongest weapon in the universe, in one hand.

One day, that throne had somebody else sitting on it.

A huge half-buffalo, half-man creature was slumped on Indra's golden chair. His feet were on the cushions. His tail was flicking back and forth. He was eating grapes that the apsaras of Swarga had been told to bring him. He looked very, very bored.

His name was Mahishasura. Mahisha means buffalo. Asura means demon. And he had just done something nobody else in the universe had managed to do.

He had thrown the gods out of heaven.

The Boon He Asked For

To understand how a buffalo demon ended up on Indra's throne, you have to know about the boon.

Mahishasura was very strong, even before all of this. But he wanted to be unstoppable. So he sat down in a forest and did the longest, hardest tapas anyone could remember. He stood on one foot. He ate nothing. He prayed to Brahma for years.

Finally, Brahma came down and said, "You have earned a boon. What do you want?"

Mahishasura had thought about this for a long time. He gave Brahma a long list.

"I shall not be killed by any man." "I shall not be killed by any god." "I shall not be killed by any animal of the forest." "No weapon shall be able to break my body."

Brahma listened. He said yes.

What Mahishasura forgot to ask about, in his big long list, was a woman.

He thought a woman could not possibly hurt him. He did not even mention it. So Brahma's boon left it out too. The smallest gap in his list. He never even noticed.

The Day the Gods Lost

Mahishasura stomped down to earth, made a giant army, and charged up to Swarga.

Indra met him with his vajra raised. The whole devasena, the army of the gods, came out to fight. Vayu blew his strongest wind. Agni threw fire. Yama raised his danda. Surya shot arrows of pure sunlight.

Nothing worked.

Mahishasura broke through everything. The vajra bounced off his shoulder. The wind tickled him. The fire was just warm. Yama's danda slid off his hide.

When the dust cleared, the gods were running. Across the sky. Down to the earth. Some hid behind clouds. Others slipped into mountains. The most powerful beings in the universe were tiptoeing around their own home, trying not to be noticed.

Mahishasura sat down on Indra's golden throne and laughed and laughed.

The Gods Run for Help

The gods gathered in a worried huddle. They did not know what to do. So they went to the three biggest gods of all: Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva.

They told the whole story. The boon, the battle, the buffalo on the throne.

When Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva heard it, their faces went still. They were not just upset. They were angry. The kind of quiet anger that does not shout, that just glows.

This is the part of the story that is the most amazing.

A bright golden light started shining out of Brahma's face. A blue light started shining out of Vishnu's face. A silver light started shining out of Shiva's third eye. Bit by bit, the other gods felt their own light start to glow too. Indra's electric light. Yama's deep blue. Vayu's pale wind-light. Agni's red fire-light. Surya's pure sunlight.

All the lights flowed together in the middle of the air. They twisted. They swirled. They became thicker and brighter, until nobody could look directly at them.

And then, slowly, out of that combined light, a shape stepped forward.

Durga Rises

A tall, beautiful woman. Her skin was the colour of fresh gold. She had ten arms. She wore a red sari. Her smile was very calm, but her eyes were very fierce.

This was something none of the gods had ever seen before. None of them had created her by themselves. All of them had created her, together.

Her name was Durga.

The gods stepped forward, one by one, and gave her a piece of themselves.

• Shiva gave her his trishul, the three-pointed spear.
• Vishnu gave her his spinning chakra, the wheel that always finds its target.
• Indra gave her his vajra, the thunderbolt.
• Yama gave her his danda, the staff of right and wrong.
• Vayu gave her his bow.
• Surya gave her a quiver full of golden arrows.
• Varuna, the god of water, gave her a conch shell.
• The mountain god, Himavat, gave her something better than a weapon. He gave her a great big golden lion to ride.

Durga smiled at all of them. She climbed onto her lion. She rode out of Swarga, alone, with her ten arms full of weapons.

No god went with her. They had already done their part. This one was hers.

Nine Days, Nine Nights

Down in the world, Mahishasura looked up.

A woman was riding a lion straight at him.

He burst out laughing. "A woman? They sent a woman?"

He stopped laughing about thirty seconds later, when her trishul blew his army out of the way like dry leaves.

The battle lasted nine days and nine nights.

Mahishasura was clever. He knew how to change his shape. As Durga charged, he turned into a giant lion. She fought him as a lion. He turned into a huge elephant. She fought him as an elephant. He turned into a man. She fought him as a man. Every form he took, she met him in.

Day after day, the sky thundered. The earth shook. The lion roared. Devas and rishis watched from far away, holding their breath.

On the tenth morning, Mahishasura turned back into his strongest form. The huge buffalo. He charged at Durga one last time, head down, horns first.

She did not move.

As he came at her, she stepped forward, planted one foot on his back, and raised her trishul high. The trishul came down.

Mahishasura was finished.

The sky was very, very quiet.

Then, slowly, a soft golden light began to spread across Swarga. The gods came out of their hiding places. The clouds moved aside. The sun shone again.

Indra walked back to his throne, and this time it was empty. He sat down on it gently, like a person coming home.

The gods sang. They threw down flowers from the sky. The ten days of fighting became, forever after, a festival on earth.

We still celebrate it. Every year, for nine nights, then a tenth day. We call it Navaratri. Then Vijayadashami. The day Durga won.

In Your Life

This is a story about a kind of strength that is easy to miss.

Mahishasura's mistake was not in his fighting. He fought brilliantly. His mistake was in the kind of strength he had asked to be safe from. He asked to be safe from the loud kinds. The vajra. The fire. The arrows. He forgot that there is a different kind of strength too.

The gods understood this only when they had lost. They could not beat him with their old strengths, the strengths they had always used. They had to put all of themselves together and create something none of them was, alone. A new kind of power. The kind they had to invent because the old kinds were not enough.

In your own life, sometimes the problem in front of you will not be solved by the strength you usually use. The kind that is loud, fast, and direct. Sometimes you need patience. Sometimes you need to listen first. Sometimes you need to ask for help. Sometimes you need to be quiet, slow, and steady, like Durga choosing her moment for nine days before she struck.

The smartest, bravest people you will ever meet are not the strongest in just one way. They are the ones who know which kind of strength a moment needs.

Durga rode home that day. The gods sang her name. And every year, in homes across India, kids your age light a small lamp and say her name on the tenth night, just like the gods did.

Speaking of goddesses, the next lesson is about a very different one. She does not carry a sword. She carries a book and a veena. Her name is Saraswati. And her power is the kind you cannot see at all.