Stories where Kali manifests as the final defender clearly establish the supremacy of the Devi, especially Kali, over other gods, including Vishnu and Shiva. Narratives of such kind became more frequent from the third to the thirteenth century when devotion to a personal god became the dominant form of religious expression. Worshippers of different deities tried to project their god as greater than other forms. Worshippers of Vishnu made Vishnu and his incarnations the most powerful manifestation of the divine, while worshippers of Shiva preferred Shiva or his son, Skanda, in the role of the supreme defender of the cosmos. In the scriptures of the goddess-worshippers, Durga, in her many manifestations, including Kali, emerges as the final deliverer in the battlefield.
Traditionally, the responsibility of maintaining order resides with Vishnu who descends on earth as Rama or Krishna to re-establish social stability. In the following story, told in one of the lesser-known Upa-Puranas of Bengal, Krishna is said to be none other than Kali, while Shiva lying at the feet of Kali becomes Radha. The narrative links the dark-complexioned god (Kali) of one narrative with the dark-complexioned god (Krishna) of another and reverses the sexual relationship with their fair-complexioned counterparts (Shiva/Radha). This narrative clearly aims at harmonizing the relationship between Tantrik rituals performed for Kali and the rites observed for Krishna in the Vaishnav tradition, which vied for social domination in seventeenth-century Bengal.
The gods begged Kali to rid the world of demonic kings. She agreed to become incarnate as Krishna. Shiva prayed to Kali and was given permission to incarnate on earth as Radha. Shiva had always been at the foot of Kali, but when he became Radha, he sat on top of Krishna/Kali while making love. So it came to pass that he who was at the bottom came to enjoy intercourse by being on top, but only after acquiring the body of a woman. While she who was on top came to enjoy intercourse by being at the bottom, but only after acquiring the body of a man.
The bloodthirsty goddess
In the Bhagavata Purana, the earth takes the form of a cow and complains to Vishnu, her celestial guardian, that kings who were supposed to take care of her plunder her resources. Vishnu promises to destroy all those who trouble the earth-cow. He appears in various forms, including Parashurama, Rama and Krishna, and kills the unrighteous kings. As they fall, their blood nourishes the starving earth. The earth-goddess, as the drinker of blood, takes the form of a lion—the vehicle of Kali. The story of Rakta-bija in the Devi Bhagavatam, retold earlier, also links Kali with a taste for blood.
Most classical narratives suggest the idea that the earth gives life only when the Devi is nourished by death, hence blood. In folk narratives the idea is expressed more explicitly, as in the mythology of north Tamil Nadu, where Draupadi of the Mahabharata is worshipped as the goddess Vira-Panchali, a form of Maha-Kali. The local lore informs us that Draupadi’s rage at being publicly disrobed by the Kauravas while her five husbands, the Pandavas, watched helplessly transforms her into the terrifying goddess, Vira-Panchali. With the help of Krishna, the benefactor of the Pandavas, she not only ensures the defeat of the Kauravas, but also washes her hair with their blood. The following story is part of the folk Mahabharata retold in festivals of Vira-Panchali in parts of Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh.
The Pandavas gambled away their kingdom to their cousins, the Kauravas, in a game of dice. In a bid to recover the kingdom the Pandavas staked themselves, but lost. Finally, desperate to recover their kingdom and their freedom, the Pandavas staked their common wife, Draupadi. They lost her too. The Kauravas dragged Draupadi by her hair into the court and began disrobing her in public to proclaim their absolute power over the Pandavas. Draupadi’s cries for help fell on deaf ears. Helpless, she cried out to Krishna, who protected her honour by replacing every robe removed by the Kauravas with a fresh one. Realizing God was on Draupadi’s side, the Kauravas decided to return the Pandavas their kingdom but only after a period of thirteen years during which they and their common wife were expected to live as exiles in the forest. The Pandavas accepted this offer. However, before they set out for the forest, Draupadi took an oath: she would leave her hair unbound until she had the blood of the Kauravas to wash her hair, the bones of the Kauravas to comb her hair, and the entrails of the Kauravas to tie her hair. During the years of exile, the Pandavas wondered why neither of them could satisfy Draupadi sexually. Krishna informed them that she was no ordinary woman; she was the Devi herself, the embodiment of Nature. By disrobing her, the Kauravas had caused her to shed her domesticated maternal form and reclaim her wild, bloodthirsty form. To convince them, Krishna suggested they observe Draupadi at night. Sure enough, at midnight, the hour when everyone was supposed to be asleep, Draupadi silently crept out into the forest where she transformed herself into a dark, naked, fierce-looking goddess with fangs and bloodshot eyes. She ran naked, hunting wild buffaloes and elephants, flaying them alive and drinking their blood. When she sensed that her husbands had discovered her secret, she was angry. She ran after them, determined to eat them. She would have succeeded, but as she grabbed them, her sharp nails cut their skin and caused them to bleed. When the blood of the five Pandavas touched the ground, they transformed into five children. The cries of the children diverted Draupadi’s attention. She forgot her bloodlust and indulged her maternal instincts. Thirteen years later, when the Kauravas refused to return the Pandava kingdom as promised, a great war broke out in the plains of Kurukshetra where they were defeated and killed. The Pandavas were able to provide Draupadi with all the blood, bones and entrails she needed to bind her hair and become the loving queen once more.
The folk Mahabharata of the Tamils has another story where by offering blood to Kali the Pandavas ensure their victory in battle.
Krishna told the Pandavas that only the perfect human sacrifice would please Kali enough to assure them victory in battle. There were three men in the Pandava camp who were suitable victims: Krishna, Arjuna and Arjuna’s son Aravan. The Pandavas were unwilling to sacrifice Krishna, their mentor, or Arjuna, their chief archer. Aravan agreed to be sacrificed but only if he had experienced conjugal bliss for at least a night. No woman was ready to marry a man doomed to die within a day. So Krishna took the form of a woman, the enchantress Mohini, who married Aravan, spent one night with him and mourned for him like a widow at dawn when he was sacrificed to Kali.
As Kali increasingly became assimilated into mainstream religion, she turned more ‘righteous’. She did not accept the sacrifice of innocents as the following story from the Bhagavata Purana informs us.
The leader of a band of thieves was told that he would get a son if he sacrificed a Brahmin youth who had no blemish on his body to Kali. The thieves scoured the countryside and found such a youth. His name was Bharata, a devotee of Vishnu-Narayana, who was so absorbed in devotion that he never spoke and did his duties quietly. The thieves found him as he watched over his father’s fields. They kidnapped him, gave him a bath and a good meal. Then smearing him with turmeric and vermillion, they took him before the image of Kali. As the priest prepared to sacrifice Bharata, something amazing happened. Bharata’s body began to glow with his spiritual radiance. This radiance was too much for Kali to bear. She emerged from her idol and began devouring the thieves who sought to offer this lad to her. After quenching her thirst with the blood of the thieves she blessed Bharata and disappeared.
The preferred sacrifice was offering one's own self. In many images carved in temples of Kali, one sees devotees offering their own heads to the goddess as a sign of ultimate devotion. According to folklore, the poet Kalidasa, whose name means ‘servant of Kali’, acquired his talent after offering his head to the goddess Kali.
Kalidasa was a simpleton whose wife could not tolerate him. Determined to win her affection he invoked Kali by offering her his own head (or tongue) as sacrifice. The goddess was so pleased that she restored Kalidasa to life. She then swallowed him whole and vomited him out. By entering the body of the goddess, Kalidasa was cleansed of all stupidity.
He emerged as a talented poet. No sooner was he reborn from the mouth of Kali than he began composing a hymn in praise of the goddess. But instead of describing the goddess, who was now his mother, from the feet up, he began describing her from the face down. This act of disrespect infuriated Kali who declared that Kalidasa would die at the hands of a woman.
Taming the goddess
When Kali consumes blood, she is driven mad with bloodlust. She becomes wild and kills randomly. When this happens, the gods call upon Shiva and beg him to tame her. For, only in her tamed form can she be mother. According to a Tamil temple lore, this is how Shiva responds:
After defeating the demons and drinking their blood, Kali could not contain her rage. She continued killing and destroying everything in her path. The stability of the three worlds was at stake. So the gods along with Brahma and Vishnu begged Shiva to stop her. Shiva blocked Kali’s march and challenged her to a dance competition. ‘If you can outdo me in dance then you can behead me too,’ he said. Kali took up the challenge and redirected her rage and passion from war into dance. The gods watched as Shiva and Kali danced. The earth trembled as they stamped their feet. The sun and the moon hid behind the hills as the divine couple moved their hands. The dance continued for eons. Both dancers were equally matched. Kali could do whatever Shiva did. Shiva could do whatever Kali did. Neither could dominate the other. Then, suddenly, Shiva raised his left leg so that his left knee was behind his left ear and his left foot was over his head. Kali was about to raise her leg when she restrained herself out of feminine modesty. How could she take such a stance without exposing her privates to the whole world? She smiled shyly and accepted defeat. The gods saluted Shiva as Nataraja, the lord of dance. The position he took became renowned as Urdhva-Nataraja, the posture with upraised leg, that domesticated the wild Parvati.
This tale clearly attempts to resolve the conflict between the traditional role of women as being subservient to man and the symbolic role of women as the manifestation of the divine. As Kali increasingly became accepted as a deity of the mainstream religion, her independence began to threaten social stability that relied heavily on male domination. Narratives came to be woven which established that no matter how powerful the Devi was, she still remained subservient to the male form of the divine. In the following tale, for example, Kali is shamed into submission. The narrative, which has no scriptural foundation, explains Kali’s most popular image where she sticks out her tongue.
After killing the demon Daruka, Kali drank his blood. The blood drove her mad with bloodlust. She went around the world killing at random. The gods begged Shiva to stop her. So he took the form of a handsome man and lay in Kali’s path. As soon as Kali stepped on him, she bit her tongue in embarrassment. She was ashamed to learn that her bloodlust had prevented her from seeing and recognizing her own husband.
In Tantrik narratives on the other hand, Kali neither sticks out her tongue in shame or embarrassment nor steps on Shiva accidentally. She sticks out her tongue to drink blood. And she sits on him to satisfy her erotic desires aroused by his beautiful form. Kali, in these narratives, is neither defensive nor apologetic about her hunger or her sexual cravings.
After killing the demon Daruka, Kali drank his blood. The blood drove her mad with bloodlust. She went around the world killing at random. The gods begged Shiva to stop her. So he took the form of a handsome man and lay in Kali’s path. As soon as Kali stepped on him, she was overcome with desire. She sat on Shiva and began making love to him. Her violent energy was transformed into erotic energy. Her heat, which was destructive, became creative. She was no longer a killer; she was a lover.
The idea of Kali copulating in the open, sitting on top of her husband, did not appeal to popular imagination, which was dominated by patriarchal values. A more acceptable form of the narrative is retold in the Linga Purana.
After killing the demon Daruka, Kali drank his blood. The blood drove her mad with bloodlust. She went around the world killing at random. The gods begged Shiva to stop her. So he took the form of a little baby and began to cry. As soon as Kali heard the cry, she was filled with motherly affection. Her breasts became full with milk and she was filled with an overwhelming desire to nurse the child. She picked up the baby and took care of it. Thus Shiva transformed her violent energy into productive energy. Her heat, which was destructive, became creative. She was no longer a killer; she was a mother.
Arousing God
Just as God tames the Devi, so does the Devi arouse God. While he may bridle her passion, she stirs his desire. Thus the two forms of the divine complement each other. In the following narrative from the Shiva Purana, the Devi forces the hermit Shiva to become a householder and father a child.
The demon Taraka terrorized the three worlds. Only a six-day-old child could kill him. The gods wondered where they could find a child who could go to battle on the seventh day of his life. Brahma informed them that only the ascetic Shiva was potent enough to father such a child. But for eons Shiva had shut his eyes and plunged himself in meditation. To rouse the lone ascetic, the gods sent Kandarpa, the love-god. When the love-god shot five arrows to rouse the five senses of Shiva, Shiva opened his third eye, let loose a fiery missile and reduced Kandarpa to ashes. Terrified of Shiva’s power, the gods turned to the Devi. If anyone could make Shiva father a child, she could. The Devi took the form of Parvati, the mountain-princess, and served Shiva dutifully in the hope that he would eventually fall in love with her. It did not work. So she began performing austerities matching those of Shiva in intensity. So intense was her meditation that the earth shook from its very foundation. Shiva had no choice but to open his eyes and agree to marry her. Thus domesticated, Shiva made love to his consort Parvati. He eventually shed his semen that was so potent that it started fire, brought rivers to boil and set forests ablaze. Finally the seed transformed into the six-headed boy-god Skanda, who on the seventh day of his life took command of the celestial armies, launched an attack against Taraka, and killed him in battle.
In the Purana, the Devi ‘marries’ Shiva and ensures he becomes worldly. But in the Tantra, this idea is expressed more explicitly. Shiva is visualized as so absorbed in meditation that he senses nothing of the outside world; he is like a corpse. None approaches him fearing his wrath, lest he be disturbed. Kali not only walks up to Shiva, she sits on him and forces him to copulate with her. She thus stirs Shiva’s mind and forces him to acknowledge the external material world. This has led to the following statement in the Todala Tantra: ‘Sadashiva is without energy (lifeless) unless Maha-Kali is manifest. He also is like a corpse (shava) without union with Shakti. Clearly, without Shakti, the primordial god is lifeless and cannot act.’
In Hindu metaphysics, God is the spiritual principle and the Devi is the material principle. He is the spirit, she is the substance. He is the cause, she is the manifestation. He is the divine within, she is the divine without. He gives her form, she gives him meaning. One cannot exist without the other. If Shiva is kala or time, then Kali is the force that rotates it by generating the future and devouring the past. This idea inspired Swami Vivekananda’s poem, ‘Kali, the Mother’, which evokes the Night of Kali as a time of pitchy darkness that blots out the stars, while on every side ‘a thousand, thousand shades of Death begrimed and black’ scatter plagues and sorrows in a mad, joyful dance. In the poet’s awesome vision, terror is the goddess’s name, death is in her breath, and destruction follows every footfall, for she is the relentless power behind the all-consuming Time.
Ambivalent source of power
Since Kali exists outside society in the wilderness, she does not embrace any societal norms such as caste hierarchy. In the following folk narrative from coastal Andhra Pradesh, Kali bestows a boon on a man who proves his worthiness not by his caste but by his courage.
The low-caste hero Kattavarayan was in love with the high-caste Ariyamalai. He sought permission from his mother, the Devi herself, to abduct her. To test his determination the Devi to
ok the form of Kali in a dark, dense forest. Kattavarayan visited this forest without fear in his heart. He killed all the wild birds and beasts that tried to scare him out. He even killed the demons who guarded the sacred precinct of Kali. Kali hurled numerous weapons at the determined hero, but he managed to dodge each one of them. She finally swallowed him but was forced to spit him out as she could not bear his kicks inside her belly. Convinced of his love for Ariyamalai and his determination to marry her, Kali gave him permission to do as he pleased. To help him in his quest, she gave him a magic drum, a magic sword, various powerful spells and chants, and the knowledge to change his shape at will. But she also warned him, ‘Remember, the price of breaking the rules of caste hierarchy is impalement.’
The Book of Kali Page 4