when they are out in open to kill each other, the ladies retained patriarchy : the story of hindu iconography

Gathered around Anand, who always found himself in his storytelling element after a few drinks, we eagerly awaited another captivating tale from him. He began, "Have you heard the intriguing story of Shiva's family?"

Anand paused momentarily, lifting his nearly empty glass, before continuing, "Shiva, the father, bears a snake on his head, which also happens to be the devourer of his second son's loyal companion, Ganesha's rat. Shiva's wife, Parvathi, chooses a lion as her means of transport, a lion that consumes her husband's bull. Their eldest son, Karthikeya, the embodiment of ethics and morality, rides a peacock, a majestic creature that devours both his father's snake and his brother's rat. It's a captivating game of iconographic chess, where each family member keeps a pet that can consume another's, limiting their freedom of movement. However, there's an exception in this tale of Indian iconography - Mother Parvathi's lion remains untouched, a fearless creature that no one dares to challenge. It holds a special place in her heart."

As the chilly winter breeze seeped through the numerous cracks in the window, the room fell into silence, embracing the slumber of the outside world. Only the steady ticking of a grandfather clock persisted.

Gazing into my solemn eyes, Anand couldn't resist but continued, "You know what? In this intricate game of a Hindu family's iconography, where each member vies for the freedom of movement of the others..."

Pausing again to take another sip from his glass, he relished the moment, savouring the anticipation he had built, before resuming, "Here is where the story truly becomes captivating. While Mother Parvathi, as the keeper of the lion that restricts her husband's movement, attains great power, her husband, Shiva, is the Virat, the lord of destruction! He alone can unleash death and carry it upon his very form..."

Suddenly, the sky outside turned a fiery red, casting an eerie glow upon the room. The walls trembled and crumbled, revealing a scene of chaos. The once silent breeze transformed into a raging hurricane as if the elements were responding to the story's intensity.

In this cyclical game of time, the patriarchal world surrounding Anand repeated its birth. In this narrative, where the Vaishnavite cow was absent, Anand became the myth-maker, weaving tales in one of the oldest civilisations, where women had become the custodians of patriarchy.