Up in the Kailasha in the arms of Mahadeva snowclad silent in meditation while down below in their settlement humans in the belief you've come down adorn you with flowers with their hands and with those same hands **** own blood rob own kin debauch mothers and sisters crowd your place of worship with no piety but for selfies with your image on the background for Devi unbeknownst to even you you're no more the Shakti the prowess against the Evil but a commerce, a commodity in the hands of men of 21st century who know to worship only money.