Brahma Vidhya - Kali, the First of the Dasa Mahavidyas.

I have been asked whether I have achieved mental peace with all my study and understanding of the faith. I probably have crossed that bridge and though I have not attained any greater spiritual height I have a very strong belief there is more to this path than just mental peace. In fact, the outside world doesn't really bother me as such... they are fine, ignorant and hopeless and cribbing about it is really no great help. Lets look at more interesting concepts. 

Lets assume we started out on the faith on the grounds of getting petty wishes fulfilled. Well, I have been there like everyone else but along the way I realized how inadequate my mind was to take on such a responsibility of wishing. I even got what I didn't want, things that I dreaded but thought of them unexpectantly not realizing it may just be granted. The Goddess fulfills every wish :) and therefore the bond with Her grows, not to receive boons which I have been careless about, but to understand Her build, Her make...respect Her, for She is the giver. 

Constant prayer [not like a parrot, or a mechanical habit but serious prayer] begins to make the mind think. Leaving aside all desires, all problems and all that potentially upsets my peace, I sat to wonder about who I really am and who She really is and what is this relationship really about. I came to realize that I had already defined my existance, within a limit of time, from when I started to get conscious about my surroundings to realizing the abstraction of the limitation of my life and the endless to do list I had created for myself. Now scrapping all that aside, I came to realize that fundamentally I am born, I will die and there is no changing that, it is inevitable. It made me wonder whether I had a greater purpose beyond this life, where this life was just a chapter and these people around me were just illusions tuning me towards a greater good by being themselves and providing related experiences. 

One truth is evident, "I" am the same mind with the same thought over so many years, but the body keeps changing and therefore I age creating an illusion of time. I, the abstract thinker is maturing with thought but that is not in sync with the abused body within which I live. And hence with the evolution of contemplation, with the discarding of unnecessary thoughts I come to realize that giving up this body and this existance in this apparent period in time will help me move to a higher realm of consciousness with greater realization towards my core purpose. I begin to agree with and accept death, I begin to realize what a fool I was sitting there and asking for petty things in my life, that just fed an illusionistic ego. I turned to prefer death for it just looked more challenging, more fun and more unknown. 

Death is not a denial of life, its a need to leave this one and proceed to the next. And as law of life would have it, experiences get enriched when I am reborn in another form, and not the same self that I am in currently. This weird cycle of discarding the body and constantly reappearing gives an illusion of endlessness of time, of the repeated devouring of the flesh which makes it appear terrible, painful and fearful. And this fear, that seems to follow us like a shadow makes us reduce to mere mortals. At some point we need to realize that death and fear should not go hand in hand in our realization, for thats what makes us mortal. When we accept death, fear dies, we have actually discarded the cycle of death itself.  

In Tantra, this earth with all its life and all its death, is the Maha Shamshan, the Great Cremation ground, where every living thing has to go through death. Hence, to realize the workings of this phenomenon is to embrace the form of Kali, the Goddess of change and time. With every death and every birth, Ma Kali dances, reverberating the time and change concept, drilling it into our ignorant heads. She is the one, who takes away that life ruthlessly [it appears] and presents us another one. She chops our lives, She grants us boons, She gives what ever we want, but She takes just our life... and we don't seem to realize that asking for boons is no big deal, but getting out of this noise of life and death, this tireless journey is what the soul purpose of our existance is. Every life of ours echoes that question back to us, "Did I achieve getting out of the cycle in this life or not"? The answer, inevitably is No, for I never asked for the boon to get out of this cycle in the first place. I feared even asking that boon for every boon has a repercussion and I was never sure what this one would be.  

She is not just called Ma Kali, She is also called Dakshina Kalika, for she is so skillful in not just devouring this life of mine, she grants me the next based on her judgment of what works for me keeping my current state of evolution and realization in mind. She transforms me into another being, full and ready to evolve again, better and more beautiful this time. She is that which stays with me always, the pranic force, the breath which is always granted to me every time I am born and leaves every time I die only to come back after I am transformed, promising a better quality of existance, every time.   

Reference: The Ten Great Cosmic Powers - Shankaranarayanan

The Life of an Honest Priest

Twilight set in, leaving behind its orange residue across the horizon and the chirping was slowly fading away. The night sounds had started to take over the quiet landscape. The temple bell could be heard in the distance and the swirling waters tossed gently along the banks of the river.

He looked out of the window of his hut, it was almost dark. He walked across to the corner of his home and threw in a few things into his bag. Tossing a dark shawl over his shoulders he collected his Rudraksha beads and hung them around his neck. He quietly stepped out of his house and waving a sign of acknowledgement to the people around he walked down the street to the steps leading to the river. The ferry man was waiting, he was his only passenger to cut across the river to the other side that evening.

As darkness set in, he stared across the river. He could here the rumbling waters under the row as it tossed repeatedly into the waters. He watched the village lights light up like lamps in the darkness. He stared on to the other side. The cremation ground was active that night. There were two burning and the reflection of the pyres shimmered in the water. In the distance he could hear the temple bell echoing through the trees. As he neared the banks, he watched the wailing relatives as they bid goodbye to their departed beloved. He collected his things, and covering himself with his shawl, he got off the boat. He handed a few coins over to the ferry man and looking up at the flight of steps leading to the temple and started to walk.

He walked through the street leading up to the temple and bought a few hibiscus garlands along the way. Smearing red powder on his forehead he marched into the temple. People moved giving him way and stared long at him as he passed by. He almost owned the temple. He stepped into the sanctum and hung his bag behind the door. He slowly took off his shawl and kept it safely behind. And like lightning hits, from the silent world he had woken out of he took the arathi lamp and lit its wicks and like a man in trance he held up the flame to the Goddess and danced showing the light to her Divine presence, to her feet, to her sickle and to the corpse head hanging from her arm, he brought the light back close to her face, envisioning her waking up in those three red eyes that stared back at him.    

Sacred syllables awakening the divine Goddess Ma Kalika resonated through the walls. Showers of fresh hibiscus adorned her shoulders. Pure water flowed down her thick black hair and a fresh red saree draped her otherwise naked self. She glistened in the light as he moved with his music, the fire getting brighter with every swirl threw shadows on the wall almost making it appear like she came to life and danced with him. The air was tense, the singing got louder, the drums resounded, the temple bell rang furiously and he danced with her shadow and almost embraced her with love. With every lamp he picked, she came back from the shadowy darkness of the room to bless the folk with this divine spectacle of terrific love, divine dance in blissful intoxication. 

He laid down the last of the lamps, took in the warmth of the flame and turned to his audience showing them the light of divine love as he slowly walked out of the door. A couple of hours passed by and he has repeated his dance of love with the Goddess for the local folk to witness. It was the end of the evening, the crowd had trickled out of the temple and he silently bowed down to the Mother and whispered a few words in her ears. Then collecting his shawl and carefully taking his bag he closed the sanctum door leaving a single lamp lit in her chamber for the night.   

The streets had gone dark, the people had retired for the night as he walked down to the river. But as he neared the flight of steps he took a dramatic turn to the right instead of heading for the ferry. In the darkness among the trees he walked sure footed into the shadows and waited near the small temple watching the last of the pyres burn. The shamshan ghat was silent, except for the crackling flames that ate into the corpses that lay lifeless covered in flames. The relatives were gone, the aimless onlookers were gone, it was just him and his garden in the night. He walked up to the pyre that had died out, dusting the ashes and looked through the remains and picked up the popped skull. He walked down to the river and washed it clean and came back carefully taking it with him. He headed straight for the Ashwattha tree that stood behind a small temple. He lit a lamp at the temple and touched the feet of the mother and taking his skull in his hand he walked to the other side. 

He slowly unpacked his back, taking out a pouch of vermilion and some water, he made a paste and smeared it on the white head of the skull. He took out his lamp and wicks and lit a small light next to it. He undressed himself and folded his cloths to a side and clearing the ground, he sat in the middle and placed the decorated skull in front of him. Eyes closed he recited the sacred mula mantra to awaken the Goddess. He offered food and prayed to the Goddess. He closed his eyes and swung into japa, forgetting his world, forgetting his surroundings. The darkness came back to rule and in the silence, he slowly became conscious to the chill in the air, to the breeze in the leaves and as he went deeper into meditation he became aware of the power in the air, of the presence of the great Mother who had promised to visit him again. He spent the night in intoxicated dance, in intense sadhana as she visited him in his consciousness. Together they roamed the earth, in a different world, in a different realm locked in divine embrace. 

In the early hours of the morning, he woke out of his trance, bowed to the Mother and got up from his seat. He walked down his silent garden to the river and took his sacred dip. Turning to the temple, he walked up and opened the Sanctum doors. He bowed to the Mother and started his routine of worship for the day as people slowly trickled back into the temple. 

A Tribute to Kalika Devi

From the darkness there rises
A power of superior nature
That thinks not before destroying evil
That leaves only blood and ashes to spare

She is feared for her power
She is feared for her appearance
Yet she protects us from evil
In the dead of the darkest night

The gentleness in her eyes
Appears fiery in the night light
The blue sheen in her subtle glow
Appears mystical in the moonless night
The wrath to destroy
Is bright in her red eyes
She rises now to rule
Kalika Mata at Kalighat.

Its the best moment in time to test one's endurance, Kalighat has everything, the true display of corruption, the disgust on the priest's face, the sheer lack of devotion, the noisy mob of which I am a part, the absence of peace, the dirtiest shrine that has never been cleaned, and of course in the middle of it She stands in her silent fury - Kalika Mata. It is silent fury... that expression that stays locked on her face painting her so coy and yet so fiery and beautiful.

This temple appeared a lot different in the earlier days. The river flowed much closer giving Kalighat its name. Surrounded by forests, with a river flowing by and the burning of the dead near the shrine bring the mysticism of the moonless night to the fore. In the dark night one can listen closely to her presence, the sound of anklets as they walk around the floor, stamping it with a trishul. And then the rhythmic sound floods the air with resounding beats of a dancer so crisp in her movement.

And when we look up to her shrine, she sits there almost ready to charge forward, colored in vermilion, a bright orange that glows over her forehead. Its gleams in the light of the lamp, casting shadows of her form on the floor. She is so beautiful. She has this calm around her and yet there is wrath on her face. She is so gentle and coy and yet she yields sharp weapons. She stays static atop the body of Lord Shiva but she is shakti, the dynamic movement that destroys all life, all evil.

कालिकायै विद्महे श्मशानवासिन्यै धीमहि
तन्नो घोरा प्रचोदयात्।

She is the Mother of the moonless night. She is the jingling of anklets in the darkness. She is the flaming eyes of purity that vanquish all that is impure. Why do we fear her?

She took form to destroy the demons of the night, she took blood to destroy evil. Why then do we fear her now, why then do we offer blood of innocent animals when that of evil men should be at the altar?

She walks in nakedness into the blue hued sky. She knows no shame when she is so pure. Why then do we remain silent over her nature and yet not follow her footsteps to discard our vanity?

She walks wild with flowing hair, with an appearance of darkness that envelopes her. Why do we fear her when she sports her brilliance in her awakened third eye?

She is the light that is beyond life, she is the light that guides us to enlightenment. Why then do we fear death and not want to live near her home, the sacred place of the cremation ground?

She is the truth, she is that which burns in fury, she is the divine light that rules us. Why then do we hide in our ignorance and not want to take this path more seriously?

Are we scared of death, of unfamiliarity, of unpleasantness, of unlearning, of that path which we will tread alone, of silence, of the unknown?