"Ayah!" A child cried in Hindustani, small face tear covered. "Ayah help me!"
The aged woman who was her nurse stood in pure shock. For what had come over the Misse Sahib was as the tales she told the child at night. "Ayah it flames!”
The girl had just entered her third year of life, today the celebration was to be held. A new sari had been made for the child, and the Ayah was helping her into it when this began. Her poor frail body had begun convulsing, and the Ayah feared for her life, for if the Misse Sahib were lost, her own was forfeit.
Soft strands of hair the colour of straw blazed with an unnatural light, purest Violet, colour of the Spirit itself, as if being fed from her sixth Chakra, her holy Eye atop her forehead.
The Ayah could not call out to anyone in the bungalow, her voice frozen in her throat as her charge clawed at the air, writhing on the ground.
Then there was a thunderclap. As the rains began pouring down, the girl who was known as Shreya (luck in Sanskrit) lay as if dead.
It was then the Ayah was able to scream. Soon the Misse Sahib was in a room filled with the dark faces of the servants, where she woke to a cool hand on her forehead. Before her, a priestess of Lakshmi stood chanting.
When her eyes opened, a gasp went up around the room. For though the Chakra on her forehead had faded, her hair was now the colour of the spirit itself, and the change had extended to her tiny eyes.
It was then Shreya was told she was Chosen of the Goddess, and whisked away to a temple, never to see the Mem Sahib or her beloved Ayah again. She was never told which goddess. No one wanted to name them.
The first day in the temple of Lakshmi, and already she was a joke.
"look, see, she has hair the colour of the Chakra"
"they say she’s only three years old"
"No one could have powers enough to merit entrance at that age"
"The say her mother donated lots of money to take her in"
The tones were harsh, the other novices were mostly charity cases. Shreya soon learned to avoid the older students, focus all her energy on herself.
Her mentors loved it. "Wonderful Shreya, soon you will master meditation"
"Thank you Devi"
Days passed, and soon the first year of her training was over. She was still far too young to join the novices. And her attention was that of a child still.
Instead of learning the ways of the Goddess, Shreya wanted to play in the gardens.
"Come back flowermoth!" The girl was clothed as any novice, in a sari of plain white cloth of mixed origins. Shreya of course had managed to escape her lessons, music was fun, but she wanted to dance like Shiva, not waste her breath on a flute she would never get a sound from.
There was a small tree in the courtyard garden, and Shreya had many a scraped knee from trying to climb up it. The butterflies were up near the blossoms, and their wings entranced the girl so much. Like the flames in the temple, the one that were treated with powders to turn colours.
She just wanted to touch them. If she could only reach just a bit farther she could- "SHREYA!"
Oh Drat, Priestess Devika had found her again. "Little Devi daughter, have care." head of the temple, Devika only attended to her because of the money that the Sahib Ila gave for her daughters care. And Shreya knew it.
"There are more than the flower moths there, listen, the honey bees seek the flowers as well, and if you get between them and the nectar, you shall feel their bite"
"I know Matr Devi" the pink haired girl scrambled down from the tree, scowling.
Somehow, on the way down she managed to not only tear her sari but also scrape both knees and then fall flat on her behind.
Most children her age would be bawling their eyes out. Not Shreya. She set her little face into a mask, and took of running to her tiny little corner of the temple, to talk to, well, herself, and her tiny Lakshmi icon.
"Steady yourself, find your centre, Good Anditya. Calm your mind Esha, you are too tense. Good, watch Shreya, see how the power flows around her and within her"
The lesson ended quickly, and Shreya, now seven and with the young gifted, rushed off to her cubby.
Not quickly enough to escape the elder boys from the group. "You little cow! You must be stealing to power from us."
"I, I don’t know what you mean"
"You will address me as Isa(lord), brat"
"Isa, I do not know what power you mean"
"Before SHE came we all could please the Priests, now its as if everything we goes wrong"
"yeah! She is nothing but a wretched paper child"
"Bleach white"
"She’s bad luck, you know that."
"She doesn’t need a name like Shreya, she’s like"
"a curse"
"no, curse is power, she’s a JINX!"
"Ha-ha! yes A Jinx. Jinx jinx"
ah, a horrid nickname. And so, this continued every day, a constant taunt after every lesson she excelled in. Until they pushed her too far.
"Stop... leave me... leave me ALONE"
Straight from meditation, her powers were called to the surface already. Unleashed, they exploded outward, parts of the walls, ceiling and floor flew everywhere, stunning a good half of the students within her range, the other backed away, cowering.
None were more terrified than the small girl. There were tears in her rose coloured eyes, and she clutched tight to her statue of Lakshmi.
It was not a good time. The power she had unleashed scared young Shreya more than anything before.
She grabbed her belongings (an ivory knife, and a few goddess statues wrapped in a bedroll.) and ran, to consult the priestess of Sarsvati.
On the way to the temple, she was waylaid by a member of the Thuggee, who had been watching all the temples for promising children.
She felt a hand covering her mouth and gasped in spite of herself. However, Shreya was small and exhausted, just trying to get to the shrine to beg the goddess for help. The man spoke roughly to her at first, but softened after she went weak and agreed to follow him.
"I have seen you. Have seen what those children do to you. They are not worthy of your talents, your beauty"
Shreya had never thought herself pretty, not at all like the girls she saw coming for weddings, or even the street girls, with their dark complexions and beautiful flowing hair like the waters of the Ganges at night. So this statement stunned her. Taking advantage of this the man went on.
"They call you Jinx, attempting to make you feel as if outcaste among them. Do not let it harm you, take the name with pride. I know of one who will teach you in ways the priestess of Lahksmi know not of. They will never laugh at you again"
This was so much for her, and she was so tired, the young girl did not fully comprehend it. But she knew, no one would ever laugh at her again, and that was all she could hope for. "Take me to her"
The thuggee complied whisking her to a shrine near the outskirts, where the fearsome and beautiful form of the Kali Durga was to be seen. Shreya took to her knees, bowing her head to the floor in respect, thanking the Goddess for her gifts and saying she would serve her "As ever you will me to, should I learn the control of my fearsome talents"
When the devotion was done the man cleared his throat and beckoned to her, urging her to step past the altar, where the ground was a bit lower. He lifted the cloth and gestured to her, and the young girl gasped at what she saw.
Stairs led downwards into a basement room. One normally did not have a basement room; negative energies could not be cleared.
Soon Shreya knew why.
The centre of the room was an enormous statue of the Durga, and draped across a pair of her fiery arms was the body of an outcaste, his throat slit, the blood dripping down into a carved floor, which brought the runoff to a drain. This was a sacrificial chamber. Shreya smiled so wide she thought her face would be bent out of shape when from behind the bleeding man an enchantingly dressed Priestess emerged.
"You are the Jinx child, yes?"
"Yes Master."
"Good, you are to be my successor then?"
"Yes master, if you will it."
This woman was Kali herself, or as close as a human can become. The priestess taught her more about her powers, and secrets that cannot be divulged here. Eventually, after three years, Jinx was brought to the alter herself; the sacrificial dagger was loosely placed in one of the many hands of the goddess. A gong was rung five times that shook the room. But the dagger did not fall, this was the sign that Jinx was no sacrifice, but rather a priestess of Kali Durga. To claim the position, she would have to face the ultimate test.
Jinx Murphy Community Member 
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