The great god Shiva left home one morning to go out on a big job. He had to travel to a faraway corner of the universe to incinerate several galaxies, so as to clear the way for a new subdivision. Parvati, his wife, was home alone and bored.
She decided to take a long, sleepy bath, with bubbles and perfumes and all the works, and didn’t want to be bothered or interrupted by servants or neighbors or one of Krishna’s broken-hearted cowgirls coming in to cry on her shoulder. So after answering nature’s call she made a fleshy, strong-looking young boy from her own dirt, and set him to guard the bathroom door.
“Don’t let anybody in,” she told him. “I want to be completely alone and quiet for about three hours.”
“Don’t worry, Lady,” said the young Hercules. “Anybody who wants to go in there and pester you will have to do so over my dead body.”
Parvati got into her tub and started soaking. After awhile a servant came to the door and told the young boy-guard it was his job to ask the mistress if she wanted tea, but he was told to go away. Then a too-eager male neighbor showed up saying he had lost one of his cows, and wanting to ask the mistress if it might have wandered into her side of heaven. But he was put off with, “She’s not seeing anyone right now; come back later.”
Then Shiva showed up. He was tired and in a bad mood. “Let me in there,” he said brusquely to the young and handsome doorkeeper whom he had never seen before. “I want to see my wife.”
“How do I know you’re really her husband?” the youth shot back, “Besides, she told me not to let anybody in.”
“You insolent little shit,” Shiva yelled, not knowing how literally accurate he was, “don’t you know who I am?”
“I don’t care if you’re one of the holy trinity,” the doorman calmly replied, “You’re not going in there.”
“I am one of the trinity,” the god bellowed, as he drew his sword and in one motion struck off the doorkeeper’s head.
Parvati couldn’t stop crying. In less than one day this newly-minted servant had shown himself more faithful than any other servant, friend, lover, or pet she had ever known. She was deeply touched by his unyielding devotion, and his willingness to lay down his new life for her.
After a couple days of this Shiva couldn’t take any more. He sent his crew to look for an animal – any animal – and bring back its head. “The first creature you find facing north,” he instructed them, “an ox, a snake, a tiger – it doesn’t matter.”
They soon found a northward-facing elephant, returned with its massive head, and watched as the god attached it to the dead youth’s body. Thus Ganesha, the corpulent, gentle, elephant-headed deity was born.
Ganesha is the remover of obstacles, and should always be consulted prior to a new undertaking. He is the emblem of immutability and faithfulness, and of that friendship and devotion that can’t be moved, shaken, or destroyed. He’s very humble for a god, and while the rest of the pantheon ride in grand chariots or on majestic beasts such as the tiger, Ganesha is transported about by a lowly rat. He shares the elephant’s benevolent nature and mild disposition.
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