A flash of lightning revealed the silhouette of an eight-foot giant, standing like a mountain, unaffected by the thundering storm that lashed his unusual and coarse, dark-grey skin. He moved with unfathomable stealth, speed, and agility against the backdrop of flashing dark and silver streaks created by the light and shadow of the raging tempest. For a moment, he looked like a frothing bison and in the next like a roaring lion. In an instant, he seemed to change to his human frame only to morph back into that of a wild elephant. Like a shape-shifting daemon, he appeared to alter his form between man and animal. Was it the thunder and lightning that made him seem so, or was he actually from the netherworld?
Forty years ago, on a very similar night, an unusually large child was born to a monstrous father. The infant inherited the dark grey buffalo-like skin of his ugly mother. Many guns blazed towards the starless sky that night as the city’s underworld celebrated the birth of the son of their don.
At the fag end of the nineteenth century in the uninhabited wilderness of the foggy wetlands at the eastern fringe of the city, a young and enterprising Bhabhanath Sen, a local contractor for the municipal corporation, found the ideal location to get rid of the budding metropolis’s rising waste. Thus was born ‘Dhapa,’ the garbage bowl of Calcutta, a city under British colonial reign.
The jagged piece of corroded metal the giant pulled out from the scraps was now a deadly sword in his monstrous hands. The lifeless bodies of his men, his notorious army of freaks, lay scattered all around him. On his left lay his general Chakra, hacked to a hundred pieces, and on his right, the ruthless Chamara, dead as stone with three deep slashes across his torso revealing a carnage of blood and gore. As the enraged behemoth tightened his grip around the rusty metal, a steady trickle of blood cascaded from his hands and pooled around his ankles, submerged in the slush and filth of garbage.
Back in 1925, the work of disposing of the city’s solid waste at Dhapa was taken over by a lesser-known social reformer, Yadunandan Singh, who helped marginalised immigrants from the neighbouring state of Bihar come and settle in the region. He created agriculture and other job opportunities for these uprooted communities within the boundaries of this land of garbage. Yadunandan founded the Jan Kalyan school, served as the president of the Boichtolla Union Board, became a Panchayat Pradhan, and laid the foundations of Bengal Potteries and Tye Corporation of India. During its initial days, Dhapa was not only a revolutionary environmental project but also a shining example of social development. The place not only took care of the city’s growing waste, but also helped provide a home and livelihood options for rudderless immigrants.
Another soul-piercing roar and a bolt of thunder now revealed who stood against the giant. In the recurring flashes from the heavens above, it appeared to have ten hands or was it just the shadows of junk creating an illusion? It had also picked up a long metal pole, which had split into a razor-sharp trident. As both built up pace and charged towards each other, the flashing light revealed a tall and slender, not very muscular yet stony figure of a woman. Yes, of course, it had to be a woman, for it was said that the giant was given a boon by a fire sage, that no man could take his life away.
By the 80’s and 90’s, in just over half a century since its inception, Dhapa had transformed itself from a refuge for a few immigrant Bihari families doing garbage disposal and agricultural work to a den of criminals engaged in anti-social activities with illegal drugs, liquor, and other contraband objects being sold openly. Notorious criminals like Shiv Narayan, Ganesh, Jhantu and Tarak ruled the city’s underworld operating from this maze-land of garbage.
Among the cadavers of the giant’s army also lay the bodies of the men and women who had come to put an end to the evil reign of terror that had erupted from the region. Nine nights had passed since this terrifying battle between the criminal underworld and the enforcers of law had begun. The carnage had consumed both the armies, all but two now stood against each other – a woman against a giant, a goddess against a daemon, good against evil.
Since the giant’s father had handed over the reign of his criminal enterprise to his son about ten years ago, the city witnessed the rise of a different level of evil. The giant was very different from his predecessors. He killed mercilessly and out of sheer pleasure. Blessed with the boon from the fire sage – “No man shall be able to kill you,” he unleashed a reign of bone-chilling terror throughout the city. His primary targets were the enforcers of law. In this battle between good and evil, the giant and his army seemed invincible. Emerging from the wetlands, the giant and his men would attack and kill enforcers most brutally comprehensible and disappear into the unapproachable and confusing maze-like bowels of the land of garbage.
But evil always invites reckoning. The wind had whispered her name long before she was known. An officer of uncommon resolve, trained in silence, in shadow, in strength. Her file bore a unique name: Mardini. It meant ‘destroyer’, and that was the truth of her existence. No one else was made as formidable as her.
Years ago, as the city gasped under the weight of the behemoth’s terror, a conclave had been held in a dimly lit chamber of the Lalbazar Police headquarters. The Chief Minister, the Creator of policy and protector of governance. The Chief Justice, the silent Preserver of law. And the Commissioner of Police, the Destroyer of crime. In an act of desperate genesis, the three created a force – one woman, born not of blood but of purpose. She was trained in combat by special forces, in jurisprudence by retired judges, in empathy by the wounded mothers and widows of slain officers. Every strike she learned came with a reason. Every move was balanced by meditation. Mardini was not raised to kill. She was raised to end.
She had fought her way through the maze, waiting for the right moment. Waited for nine nights, knowing the final hour would come. Her silence was her weapon, her eyes like twin crescents reflected in the puddles of oil and blood.
The giant swung his makeshift sword, roaring from his belly. The sound curdled the air, made the rats flee into tunnels of trash. Mardini dodged, sidestepped, and weaved with a grace that made even the shadows pause. Her weapon, the metal pole with a split end like a trident, met the giant’s blade with a metallic cry that echoed across the city’s bones.
Each move was a memory. A parry for her mentor in the academy who had bled in a trap. A strike for the constable who was burned alive. A slash for the woman cop raped and dumped in a landfill. With every clash, Mardini grew calmer, colder.
The battle raged through the junkyard like a monsoon tide. A hundred abandoned idols of Hindu Gods and Goddesses watched from their dusty mounds, broken, forgotten, silent. But somewhere deep in that decay, something sacred stirred.
The giant laughed. “You are just a woman!”
“No,” Mardini said, her voice firm as Earth, “I am the reckoning.”
She leapt, spinning, trident aimed for his throat. The giant caught her mid-air, smashing her against a rusting refrigerator. Bones cracked. Blood burst from her mouth. But she rose.
The wind howled. The trident, now glowing from a lightning strike that had seared through an overhead pole, pulsed with an eerie light. It was as if the elements themselves had chosen a side.
She rushed again, dodged a fatal blow by an inch, and rose above the giant’s swing. With one clean, downward motion, she buried the trident deep into his chest.
A scream not of this world tore through the night. The giant writhed. In the flash of another lightning, his form seemed to twist, from man to beast, to ash. His eyes locked with hers for a final moment, as if questioning his fate, before the storm swallowed him, and all that remained was silence.
Her body trembled. Her hand dropped the weapon. She fell to her knees amidst the gore and garbage. The wetland, the cursed land, Dhapa, had seen too many wars. Tonight, it had witnessed a deliverance.
Sirens now pierced the quiet. A convoy of white Gypsys and ambulances finally found its way through the eastern trail. The Commissioner stepped out first, followed by the Chief Minister and the Chief Justice, their faces ashen yet resolute.
“Is it over?” the Chief Minister asked.
Mardini didn’t answer. She just looked toward the heavens above.
It had stopped raining. A pandal somewhere far was still alive with devotion. A voice over a scratchy microphone floated through the air – soft, haunting, holy:
“Jaya Jaya hey Mahishasura Mardini ramyakapardini sailasuthe…”
Victory to you, destroyer of the demon. Victory to you, daughter of the mountain.
And thus, in the heart of Calcutta’s underbelly, under skies that had witnessed gods and monsters in mortal disguise, the old tale played itself once again – this time through blood, law, and sacrifice. No shlokas announced her birth, no divine lions bore her across galaxies, yet she rose just the same.
She was not a goddess; tonight, she was the reckoning the city needed.
Copyright © 2025 TRISHIKH DASGUPTA
This work of fiction, written by Trishikh Dasgupta is the author’s sole intellectual property. Some characters, incidents, places, and facts may be real while some fictitious. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send an email to the author at trishikh@gmail.com or get in touch with Trishikh on the CONTACT page of this website.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Trishikh Dasgupta
Adventurer, philosopher, writer, painter, photographer, craftsman, innovator, or just a momentary speck in the universe flickering to leave behind a footprint on the sands of time... READ MORE
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 
glaube nicht!! Oo wie nett!! Bist du wieder da, heute Abend werde lesen, schon frohe mich drüber. Mit freundlichen Grüßen-
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So glad to be able to write again. I am sure that you would love this story too.
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Interesting read.
Thanks for sharing.
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Thank you, glad that you liked it.
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So long my friend, welcome back . Good read and loved it. Keep writing and come back soon with big story. Cheers.
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Yes, it me a long time to get back to writing, nearly a year. But, I am back now, there will be more stories in the coming weeks. So glad that you liked this one.
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Welcome back. I will be always glad to read your best stories. I like them all and good luck , looking forward the next.
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Thank you, I always treasure your best wishes. Am ever grateful to you for liking my stories.
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Nice one
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Thank you.
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🙏 Always. Thank you for the reading material! I am always on the look out for a good story.
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So glad to be able to share these stories and give you some food for thought.
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A banquet for thought is more like it. Love this.
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Glad that you could gather these fragrances of thoughts from my little story.
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🙏
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Good one.
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Thank you Michael. It gives me great joy to receive appreciation.
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Thank you Ned for reposting my story.
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Nice write up
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Thank you. Glad that you liked it.
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You are most welcome. Thanks for subscribing to my website. I really appreciate
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It is my pleasure.
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Thanks a million
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You write beautifully.
Neil S.
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I treasure your appreciation for my story Neil. So happy that you like it.
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Good to hear Trishikh
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So great to see a post from you in my inbox. And another engaging story!
Although I’ve signed up over and over to receive your posts they rarely show up in my inbox but when they do, they are such a treat. Thank you!
katelon
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Dear Katelon, I have not been able to write much in the past year so you did not receive any notifications from me. However with this story I have planned a comeback with a promise to write regularly once again. There will be more stories in the coming days. Thank you for being ever supportive of my short stories.
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I loved the imagery, an unusual story of good versus evil in its many forms.
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Thank you. It actually is a modern day representation of the story of goddess Durga slaying the demon Mahishasur.
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I don’t post much either. But this WP randomness was happening in 2024, too and I missed your posts then too.
Hopeyou are doing well.
katelon
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Yes I am doing good otherwise, back in my hometown.
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Great post. Thanks for sharing it. 🤣😎🙃
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Thank you so much for appreciating. Glad that you like the story.
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I’m a fantasy nut. And yours is good. 🤣😎🙃
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So glad to hear this.
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I’ve missed your stories.. was very pleased to see this one today, as usual, another wonderous tale.. thank you.. Fiona ❤️
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Always appreciate your appreciation. So happy that you liked this story of mine too. Yes, I did not write for a long time. Thankfully I am back.
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I’ve missed reading your wonderful stories! I’m happy you’re back.
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Oh, I too have missed writing them. Am overjoyed to be back. More stories in the coming days. Thanks for always liking my stories.
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Glad to see the master storyteller to be back, with an overture of blood and gore. Fitting for trying times, when, our hearts ache for the restoration of freedom and justice, and no one is willing to take up the lance of righteousness.
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It’s so good to hear from you. Yes, this story is a modern day recreation of the Story in Hindu mythology of the Goddess Durga slaying the shape shifting Demon Mahishasur. I always treasure your comments. Thanks for being ever supportive of my writing.
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A captivating tale with vivid imagery drawn with sharp strokes.
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Thank you so much. Appreciation always makes my day. So glad that you liked my story.
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Long time Trishikh. I was wondering where were you. It was good to read and learn you are are here again!
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Thanks Narayan, yes I was unable to write for a very long time. One year to be exact. But am back now.
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Why, what happened? Due to work, environment or just out of rhythm.
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A bit of everything perhaps. Just was unable to balance and fit in a writing schedule.
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Happens. It has become more complexed these days. But you are here, thats all matters.
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You are absolutely right.
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I am so glad to see new stories on your page! I don’t seem to be informed by email anymore, when you post. But I searched for you in the Reader.
Mardini is a very strong story. I like how you intersperse historical information, giving us the context.
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It is so good to hear from you. As always I dearly treasure your appreciation. I have not written for quite a long time, but am glad to make a comeback. History is something very dear to me, so there would always be a part of it any of my stories.
Will start writing my next one today.
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That is also something I appreciate in your stories together with the great fiction and the beautiful language. 🙂
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Thank you once again.
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Wow! You have created another excellent story with our Dhapa garbage place. Wonderful Mardini to destroy the demon . Well shared 💐
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Thank you Priti. Always a pleasure to receive your appreciation. Yes, I always like to share a bit of history. So glad that you liked this story of mine too.
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I always like your beautiful creativity. What happened to you? You were missing from WordPress? I was looking for you because we both love Kolkata 😊. Thank you 😊 visit my YouTube channel 🙂
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Life just came in the way of my writing. Could not focus and find time to write. I am back however. Hopefully there would be more stories in the coming days. Share your youtube link with me, I will visit your channel.
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Oh ok no problem. Now keep going on.https://youtube.com/@pritilatanandi2010?si=IfqPIQc46M8Y7JbY. This is my channel link if possible then subscribe to it 🙂 it will be my pleasure ☺️
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Cool, I have subscribed to your Youtube channel.
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☺️💐
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Quite the story! Nice to see you back on WordPress!
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Thank you Vanya, always treasure your appreciation for my stories. So happy that you liked this one too.
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What a spectacular read. I really enjoyed this over my lunch break. Captivating and fantastical. 💚
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Thank you so much Andy. It really makes writing these stories worthwhile, when someone like you enjoys it many miles away.
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Thanks for the many likes that you have put on my posts; you are very kind.
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It’s my pleasure to do so. You are most welcome. Thank you too for visiting and appreciating my stories.
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Thank you very much
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You are most welcome.
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Thanks for your likes of my post, ” Jews’ Distress 2- 6;” you are very kind.
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My pleasure good old friend.
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Thank you
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Great story! Thank you for liking my chapters!
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Thank you for liking my story. I enjoyed your posts too.
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Mardini reads like a living myth carved into Kolkata’s heartbeat—where history, ritual, and the timeless struggle of good and evil converge. It’s a fierce yet graceful reminder that mythology is not past, but an ever-present mirror of humanity
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Dear Livora, your capacity to analyse a story is very deep. It’s a skill not many possess. You are truly blessed with the power of deep analysis. Am so happy that you enjoyed this little tale of mine too.
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Thank you so much, Trishikh! 🌸 Your words are deeply appreciated. It’s a joy to engage with your stories, each one offering layers to uncover and reflect upon. Your talent for weaving meaningful tales makes the experience truly enriching. I’m grateful for the opportunity to explore your world through your writing. ✨
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Dear Livora, I am very humbled and much honoured.
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Thank you! I’m truly honored as well.
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Excellent article! Your points are well-articulated and persuasive.
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Thank you, glad that you feel my short story is well-articulated and persuasive.
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