Shiva, God of Destruction, was married to the beautiful mother goddess Parvati. He loved his wife deeply and passionately but he cared nothing for the schedules or dress codes or manners of a household. Clad in a tiger skin, with serpents coiled around his waist and shoulders, and a crescent moon tucked in his long, matted hair, he roamed the wilderness for weeks at a time, with nothing but animals for company.

Parvati loved Shiva anyway, just the way he was. When he appeared unexpectedly at all hours of the day or night, she would welcome him patiently. She tried not to complain about his long absences, his abrupt departures, his unruly ways. The only time she protested was when he interrupted her in her bath. "Shiva," she would cry in exasperation, "have you no respect for privacy? Please, leave me in peace!"

One afternoon after a long day of household duties, Parvati lay soaking in warm tub. Shiva had been gone for weeks. When would she see him next? Would he burst through the door right then and there? The thought of him barging in so rudely made her cranky.

“I know!" she thought. “I'll make myself a little figure of a boy to guard the door." She hopped out of the tub and found a bail of modeling clay With deft fingers she fashioned a head, a cute button nose, big eyes. Working quickly, she gave the child sturdy legs and arms. Really, it looked quite lifelike!

She took a breath, and blew gently all over it. Something stirred in her hand. Suddenly a little boy sprang forth, as strong and handsome as could be. He jumped lightly to the floor and turned to face her. "Dear Mother," the boy said to her, "now that I am here, what can I do to help?"

"Dear son! Please, just stand at the door while I finish my bath, and do not let anyone in." She gave him a little wand to hold. "Here," she said with a smile. "Just wave this at anyone who tries to enter."

The little boy was proud and pleased. He had no idea that Parvati was a goddess or that the stick in his hand was magic. He was happy just to march back and forth, wand in his hand like a baton, prepared to stop anyone who tried to disturb his newfound mother. And so, when Shiva, true to form, strode up to the door, he found a sturdy youngster with a strong voice and determined eyes barring his way.

"Entry denied, sir!" said the boy.

Shiva was puzzled. Who was this child? And why was he, Lord Shiva, God of Destruction, experiencing such difficulty getting past him? He found he couldn't even step forward toward the door! There was some strange, powerful force keeping him hack. As usual, however, he was in a hurry to return to the forest, so he asked his pet bull, Nandi, to investigate for him. The bull, backed up by Shiva's helpers, a band of ruffians called the Shivaganas, lowered his long horns to attack. But the brave little boy waved his wand, once, twice, thrice--and before they knew it, Nandi and his cohorts were in full retreat. They were mortified. This was the very first time anyone had dared to stand up to them. And worse yet, they had been defeated by a pudgy little boy!

They found Shiva wandering in the forest. "I'm sorry, Lord Shiva." Nandi said, hanging his great head in shame. "The boy just waved his wand! We could not advance. It must have been very powerful magic!"