The Goddess Amloda
I looked up at the hill and was shocked by what I saw. How can I describe it without risking that you will think me perverted? But I do feel obligated to tell you, for what I saw was so vivid, that, despite rubbing my eyes twice, and cleaning my glasses, it remains in my mind’s eye to this day. From the bare rocky hill emerged the open thighs of a giant woman, her pubic hair the only greenery on the mountain. I tried unsuccessfully to banish the thought that arose in my mind: I have come to meet a celibate hermit who lives in the private parts of a great rock woman. Amloda Devi, the Goddess of Mangos.
I climbed the hill on a path of large stones and as I got closer I saw that the lady’s pubic hair was mango trees. When I arrived at the threshold, an oasis appeared before me: it was a “meeting of worlds.” The gateway was made from bamboo decorated with sugar-cane stalks, fruit-laden branches hewn from a banana tree, green coconuts, marigolds, sparkly colored foils, and fire-engine red cloth. I watched two turbaned villagers march though it. As I entered I saluted the emaciated sadhu who sat there on an old blanket.