His room was filled with statues and pictures that payed obeisance to Shakti. He liked his Gods female. They were perfection itself. Perfectly rounded breasts. Concave stomachs. Fleshy thighs. Slender arms and calves. They had attitude too. Tribhanga was pure sass. He could live without the men. Long elephant noses, matted hair, pot bellies, half simian, cherub cheeked boy warlords. Eh. They didn’t appeal to him. The good looking one just made him feel ugly. Even as a boy, he had preferred visiting the Amman kovil down the street and navaratri and nombu were his favourite festivals. It was at a very early age that he decided he would devote his life to his women. He would remain a bachelor for them.
He would go from temple to temple and sing songs in their honour. He would be recorded in the annals of history. After he was gone there would be statues erected in his honour. A postage stamp with his face in profile. A movie about him. Yes. That would be his life.
He was sent home from school early one day in disgrace. He had shouted at the teacher. She had been asking each student what they wanted to be when they grew up. ‘Engineer Miss’ ‘Doctor Miss’ ‘IT Miss’ ‘Singer Miss’.
When it was his turn he had stood up and said ‘Male Avvaiyar’.
She had laughed and called him stupid. ‘Say now, what you want to be’
He had called her ugly and graceless. Jealous of his Goddesses. She had sent him to the Principals’ room. He had yelled at her too.
The problem though, was that his parents hadn’t believed him either. How could he make them see how serious he was?
“Boy tries to burn down Ramar Kovil”
That was his first headline. Over the years many followed.
“Teen found desecrating Krishnan Temple Walls”
“Youth arrested for spitting in Hanuman Mandir”
“Deranged man storms Bhairavar Sannadhi”
And so it was that the male Avvaiyar became famous.