“With her gentle smile that shines like the cool rays of the moon, the Mother immerses the mind of her beloved consort, Lord Kameshwara(Mandasmita prabhāpūra majjatkāmēśa mānasā).”
Let us try to imagine why the Divine Mother smiles so, and what thoughts in Kameshwara’s mind might be the cause of her sweet laughter.
Perhaps the Lord, the Moon-crested one, was anxious: “She may be upset that I wear upon my head the Moon who was cursed by her father Daksha Prajapati.” To reassure him, the Mother might have smiled and said: “Swami! Even before you, I had adorned the crescent moon of the eighth night (ashtami) upon my forehead, shining beautifully(Aṣṭamī candra vibhrājadaḷikasthala śōbhitā). Not only that—I wear both the Sun and the Moon as earrings!(Tāṭaṅka yugaḷībhūta tapanōḍupa maṇḍalā)” And with that smile, his mind found peace.
Maybe the Ganga-bearing Lord worried: “She may resent me for bringing Ganga into my matted locks as a co-wife.” Then the Mother, smiling, might have said: “When half of your cosmic body itself is me, why would I ever be jealous of a tiny stream flowing in a corner of your hair?” And the Lord’s heart was soothed.
Perhaps the Three-eyed Lord trembled: “She may be angry that I burned her nephew Manmatha, who was trying to unite us.” The Mother might have laughed softly: “That poor boy was foolish! He tried to unite us with desire when in truth, through tapas (penance), we were always one. You were already mine, for I am Svadhīna Vallabhā, the mistress of my own beloved. But don’t worry—I revived him with my power as Sanjīvanī, the medicine of life.(Hara nētrāgni sandagdha kāma san̄jīvanauṣādhiḥ)”
The Father of Ganesha might have been filled with sorrow: “In anger I cut off the head of the beautiful son she created and gave him an elephant’s head.” The Mother, smiling compassionately, may have said: “No matter what the head is, every mother sees her son as the most beautiful in the world!(Agajānana padmārkaṁ)”
Perhaps the Lord, the beloved of Vishnu’s sister, worried: “She may mock me that I once was enchanted by the woman’s form taken by Vishnu, though I already have such a beautiful wife at home.” The Mother may have smiled sweetly: “The beauty of even father of the god of love himself comes only from my glance.(Anaṅga janakāpāṅga vilōkana) How then you could escape being charmed by Vishnu?”
The Lord of the Cremation Grounds may have wondered: “She might be displeased that I roam all day in burial grounds, covering myself in ashes, while she awaits me at dusk adorned with ornaments.” The Mother may have laughed gently: “What are these delivery halls or cremation grounds to me? With every blink of my eye, worlds are created, sustained, and dissolved.(Unmēṣa nimiṣōtpanna vipanna bhuvanāvaḷi)”
The Blue-throated Lord may have thought: “She might scold me for suddenly vanishing, drinking deadly poison, and returning with a blackened throat.” The Mother may have smiled with courage: “Swami, whatever you drink, I have no fear, for I am Sarva-mangalā, the source of all auspiciousness. Moreover, I am the medicine that can cure even Rudra himself!(Śivā rudrasya bhēṣajī)”
The innocent Bholenath may have worried: “She may reproach me for granting the destructive boon to Bhasmasura that almost consumed me.” The Mother might have smiled comfortingly: “When you have a brother-in-law who is the very sustainer of life (Vishnu), why fear? Did not my brother come to your rescue?”
Perhaps the Lord thought: “Poor Nandi has served me always, but now she has a new lion as her vehicle—he might feel threatened.” The Mother may have laughed: “In creation, though beings are different, even natural enemies, within a family they learn to live in harmony. That is the lesson of our household for the world.”
The Lord, clothed in tiger-skin, might have thought: “She may question me, for she rides the very tiger whose hide I wear.” The Mother may have smiled: “All the skins, all the bodies, all the forms of this creation are but my play. I am the Kṣetra svarūpa(field), Kṣetreśī (the goddess of the field), and Kṣetrajña-pālinī (the protector of the knower of the field).”
The Lord of Dissolution may have feared: “My fierce Pralaya Tāṇḍava may destroy the cosmos too soon.” The Mother may have laughed: “Do not worry. I shall balance your dance of destruction with my Lasya dance of joy, turning dissolution into delight”, forgetting that she herself is a Layakari.
The fair Lord might have mused: “How strange that though I shine pure and white like crystal, I am wedded to this dark wife.” The Mother may have smiled knowingly: “Why only black? I am all colors. I am Kāli, I am Śyāmala, I am Gauri. From me, the threefold nature of prakṛti flows, and from my essence even your whiteness arises.”
The Serpent-adorned Lord may have fretted: “She may fear these hissing serpents I wear.” The Mother may have smiled lightly: “What are serpents to me? Even my brother Vishnu rests forever upon a serpent couch!”
At Kālivana Ashram, the Lord Ramalingeshwara may have joked: “See, half the day the devotees spend not in the Shivalaya but in the Ramalaya, still calling it Devi Navarātri.” The Mother may have laughed: “Every woman delights when her life’s festivals are celebrated in her parental home! And Swami, do not forget—every Friday in Śrāvaṇa, your sister Varalakṣmī Devi is worshipped in your very temples. This year, there was even an extra Friday!” And the Lord himself laughed in return: “Ah! So that is why Navarātri is longer by an extra day this year!”
Thus, in the tender conversations of Parvati and Parameshwara, as they exchange gentle smiles that shine like moonlight, what more could anyone desire than to let life pass beneath their radiance?
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