To that divine Mother, who nourishes and cares for us all, we bow down. Vandē Jagadambikām!

Once upon a time, long, long ago, The Mahādēva had lost his beloved wife, Sati. Sati's death devastated the Lord, utterly. He renounced everything at once, withdrew, swearing never to return to the material world. The entire Prapancha was under sheer darkness. Nothing was right. Every entity was lost in anxiety and sorrow. The Dēvās had their states reversed. The Planets had retrograded.

There was chaos all around. No peace, no solace, no joy. 

And why wasn't there joy? 

Can a garden be joyful when its only plant dries up? Is it even a garden at that point? Truly, let me ask you. What is the Prapancha without Prakṛti?  "Purusha!", you might say. 

 No. 

Without Prakṛti, there is no Prapancha. Void, null, nothingness (arguably) is what is left-- The Brahman, the Purusha. It is of great bliss, surely, but for whom? Sages who spend centuries finding it have oft failed. Intellectuals who have tried to define it have oft failed. Even those who had realised their Self, oft failed to truly experience this eternal bliss, until they'd shed their material coils. So what are we, the mere samsārīs, to do? 

Please, let alone all this. Without Prakṛti, there is no material expression of the Purusha at all. Then, how might one attain bliss? Without bliss, is the material world not null? It is null, further, of joy, of peace, and of life. Prakṛti had to take up a form, and it did. With her birth, the entire Prapancha brightened. There was bliss again. There was joy again. She breathed life into this realm, by breathing herself.

She is Pāṛvati.

Pāṛvati, our dearest darling. She is of the Mountains. She is sweetest, most charming, extraordinarily bold and gently wise. She was the form that joy took. She was the form that Prakṛti took.  Pāṛvati is the truest essence of Prakṛti. She flows mightily as the rivers, kisses gently as the butterflies. She runs and jumps as the deer, burns and destroys as the volcanoes. She pours and pours as knowledge, gives life its meaning through art. She nourishes and cares for us as our Mother, punishes and destroys our Adharma. She soared the skies as the birds, crawled the earth as insects. She growled in terror as the tigers, cooed in sweetness as the koels. She is this Prapancha. She is existence. She is us. We are Her.

In this interpretation of what we think is the truest form of Parvati, as the physical manifestation of the Mahādēvi Lalithā, she is portrayed as in her times before her marriage to the Mahādēva. She is the girl of the mountains, the himālayās, around whom every aspect of nature gets fertile and nourished. Astrologically speaking, this pre-marital form of Pāṛvati is a perfect idolisation of unafflicted, beneficial Martian traits. After her marriage and childbirth, it can be observed that her Martian qualities have majorly been passed down to her son, Skanda, whilst she became increasingly Jupiterian.