### Amanita 20
Ally: Zap it, baby. Alpha Romeus. When do legs get wobbly like snakes?
This goddess born from frothy seas,
Whose beauty brings men to their knees,
Now finds herself in weakened state,
As Sappho’s words reverberate.
My legs of serpents, long and sleek,
Grew wobbly, quivered, trembled weak,
For in her voice, a passion stirred,
Each tender note, my heart concurred.
*
Okay, okay. We sapphonise the whole story. Is there no end to this wonderful brew?
Let us go on and see if we can catch Little Red Riding Hood emerging from Jesus’ tomb.
But first let’s see where we should have started: with the real Vedic ancients.
I was a bit shy about beginning there, because I didn’t want this book to look like another Soma Scout Guide.
In the Bhagavata Purana, Canto 10, Chapter 76, there is mention of a war
between the evil King Salva and the inhabitants of Dvaraka.
Although alien beings are not named in the chapter, it does mention
a flying saucer with extraordinary technology and weapons unfamiliar to humans.
In the Valmiki Ramayana, Sundara Kanda, Chapter 8, Verse 6,
an alien race called the Bhutaganas is described
as operating Ravana’s flying machine. The verse reads:
“These wonderful vimana planes flew through the sky at extremely high speed,
controlled by thousands of evil creatures with big round eyes and helmets on their heads.”
Why is this relevant? In another section of the Rig Veda, we read:
This is Soma, never restrained, active, all-conquering, bursting forth, Ṛṣi and wise through wisdom,
She covers the naked, she heals the sick;
The blind see, the crippled walk.
You, Soma, give wide defence against the hatred of alien men,
hatred that wastes and weakens us.
*
The implication is obvious: Soma, the sacred drink,
Served not just joy, but acted as a link
To guard against the alien hate
That made the Earth degenerate.
This isn’t early feminist flair.
Perhaps the Earth was different there—
A place where minds, still vast and green,
Drew nourishment from things unseen.
Mushrooms taught and plants would guide,
And thresholds thinned from every side.
The Rig Veda thus suggests a shield
By Soma’s hand, the dark repealed.
Friends of science may cry “no proof!”
Feel free to shout it from the roof.
There’s no hard evidence, it’s true—
Just ancient words and sacred clues.
But turn then to another page
Within the Bible’s open stage:
Where Jesus touched a blind man’s eyes,
And spoke, “Get up,”—and he did rise.
It echoes clear, from Vedic lines,
Through time’s long veins, these truths entwine.
What is this hatred from beyond,
Whose presence binds instead of bonds?
Now to the Padma Purana we arrive,
One of eighteen texts that still survive,
Spanning cosmology, time, and creed—
Myth, theology, fate, and deed.
Composed between the BCE fourth and eight,
Its lotus name unfolds the gate.
Among its tales unfolds a zone
Where alien life of strange form’s known:
Krimayas, subtle beings small—
Bacteria, viruses, and all.
On distant worlds, their kind evolves,
Builds cities, crafts that darkness solves.
From Atharvaveda’s starlit track,
Some krimayas to Earth fall back.
They fear the warmth, so dark they seek—
Kept by a humid planet’s cheek.
Sarabhas—creatures kin to bugs,
Grow vast through air in oxygen hugs.
Insects, spiders, vast and sly,
Their numbers swelling toward the sky.
The Bhagavata warms with dread:
Of rurus feared more than the dead—
Snakes would shy from what they be,
For Earth was spared their legacy.
And Sthavaras, the kingdom green,
To them the lunar fields are seen
As homes where roots find fertile grace,
And moonlight bathes their leaf-laced face.
They heal, they feed, they grow divine,
Their flesh of chlorophyll and shine.
Rudranas reign among the cold:
Reptilian asura legends told.
Nagas, uragas slither deep,
Their grudges vast, their hunger steep.
Ulupi craved Arjuna’s line—
A naga prince in serpent’s spine.
The Siva texts reveal the cost,
Of coastal humans seized and lost,
Till with his might, Lord Siva came
And earned the Nagesvara name.
Pasunas walk on mammals’ tread:
Beasts half-lion, half-cow head.
While Paksinas take to the air,
With feathers, minds, and eagle stare.
They dwell where Kinnaraloka spins—
Among the stars and solar winds.
They feed on light and sky-kissed breath,
And shrink in absence toward death.
Manusah—the humanoid tier,
Four hundred thousand forms appear.
Devas, demons, singers bright,
Kinnaras blend of beast and light.
Apsaras, winged ones, beings fine—
With inner speech and outer shine.
From siddha sages, godly-souled,
To ape-like kin in jungles bold.
Bhutas drift through realms unseen:
The half-formed children of the Between.
Ghosts and greys and demon veils,
Pisacas with child-hunting tales.
Entities of shadowed birth—
Half-space, half-wrath, none from Earth.