The calm force at the center of the storm—graceful, grounded, and always five steps ahead.
With a steady hand and clear eyes, Nang Montha Thevi rides a donkey through the celestial skies, carrying a sharp iron blade in one hand and a walking cane in the other. Her gemstone is the cat’s eye, a symbol of insight and intuition, and it glows faintly on her forehead like a third eye always watching. As Wednesday’s guardian, Montha brings quiet strength to the sacred procession, often choosing wisdom over brute force, and silence over spectacle.
Among her sisters, she’s the strategist—the one who notices what others miss and speaks only when it matters most. There’s an air of stillness to her, but it’s never passive. It’s the stillness of deep rivers, of heavy clouds before rain. When it’s her year to carry her father’s head, she does so not out of obligation, but because she understands the fragile balance between life and ruin. She walks with a timeless rhythm—measured, intentional, and impossible to shake.