The Book of Kali

by Seema Mohanty

  The hussy has thrown the bloke flat on his back,

  With her foot on his chest.

  Wordless she stands, glaring in anger.

  Research by Sanjukta Gupta has revealed that even in medieval India, women saints such as Akka-Mahadevi of Karnataka, Karaikal Ammaiyar of the Tamils, and Lalla-Ded of Kashmir expressed their social and spiritual autonomy by abandoning their clothes, ornaments and cosmetics, and by leaving their hair dishevelled and unbound, perhaps emulating Kali, the undomesticated form of the Devi.

  Reclaiming the goddess

  A study of Hindu scriptures suggests that the form today described as Kali was viewed as a demoness in the Vedic era and that with the passage of time, with the increasing vocalization of folk traditions within the classical Brahminical framework and the rising respectability of Tantrik ideology, she became progressively identified with divinity, ultimately becoming one of the most-favoured manifestations of the Devi.

  However, many scholars, especially feminist writers from the West, reject this view. They believe that the first form of the divine visualized by humans, even before the first scriptures were written, was female. This visualization took place when human civilization was in its infancy, in the hunter–gatherer stage, before there were cities or settled communities. The female form of the divine symbolized humankind’s awe at Nature’s ability to give and take life. With the passage of time, it was clear that to harness Nature’s resources, domestication of Nature was essential. The goddess had to be tamed. And to justify her domestication and suppression, she had to be demonized. The deities who tamed wild nature became the new gods—they were all male. With this, human society became patriarchal. And it was in the patriarchal phase of human civilization that the first books such as the Rig Samhita came into being, where female deities were either sidelined or demonized.

  This feminist insight into the evolution of religions is based on the fact that in most major religions today the form taken by God (whether Yahweh or Bhagavan), prophet (whether Moses or Muhammad), or saviour (whether Jesus or the Boddhisattva) is male, although Stone- and Bronze-Age archaeological sites tend to reveal more images of female deities.

  Scholars such as Barbara G. Walker believe that the Devi-based religion practised in prehistoric times was quite homogeneous. She claims that Indo-European linguistic roots account for many similar names and figures spread over large geographical areas. In her estimation, Finland’s Kalma and Ireland’s Cailleach derive from the same Sanskrit root as Kali.

  In the book Dancing in the Flames, Marion Woodman and Elinor Dickson look at Kali through the lens of Jungian psychology and see her primarily as a transformer. They conclude that true transformation lies in the death of the ego and in releasing all the false values that the ego clings to out of fear.

  The feminist hypothesis has led to an urgent need in parts of the world to reclaim Devi-worship within current theological systems and to revive Devi-worship, long forgotten. In a setting that respects all religions and draws on the practices of several, Kali remains overwhelmingly authentic, with certain facets of her personality merely emphasized or de-emphasized to suit the radically different circumstances of her new followers and surroundings. She is both the maternal goddess praised by Ramprasad Sen and the fierce devourer of the Devi Mahatmya. Her unconditional love promises her devotees dignity and acceptance, regardless of sexual orientation, race, and economic or social standing.

  The Wisdom

  There are three approaches to understanding the mystery that is Kali. One is the path of the vira or the hero adopted by the Tantrik initiate. Then there is the path of the bhakta or the devotee adopted by the householder. Finally, there is the path of the gyani or the sage adopted by metaphysicians and intellectuals.

  Path of the hero

  According to Tantra, a hero is one who is willing to boldly face the darkest aspects of reality, embodied in the goddess Kali. The hero’s mystical journey or sadhana begins after he proves his worthiness by fulfilling all the conditions laid down by the guru. He is then initiated into the Tantrik fold. Following the initiation ceremony known as diksha, the guru systematically challenges the student to face his fears and question his views on morality and purity. He is asked to eat what he has never dared to eat, look at things he has never dared to see, hear things he has never dared to hear, and do things he has never dared to do. If he is a vegetarian, he is made to eat meat. If he is a non-vegetarian, he is asked to eat beef. If he has eaten beef, he is asked to eat human flesh. If he has eaten human flesh, he is asked to eat rotting meat. The hero is asked to drink alcohol and consume hallucinogenic drugs that force him to reveal his innermost secrets and face his secret desires. He is asked to have illicit sex. All the while his guide is his guru and his deity is Kali.

  The guru helps the student cultivate an aggressive, fearless stance before Kali. The hero challenges Kali to unveil her most forbidding secrets. The hero seeks to appropriate the truths embodied in Kali by confronting her boldly. These truths, that life feeds on death, that death is inevitable, that time wears things, that sex is the most primal and creative instinct of all living creatures, are fearsome if denied or repressed. Those in denial of life’s primal truths are afraid of Kali. The hero who accepts these truths confronts Kali without fear.

  This heroic approach is evident in a folk narrative of Andhra Pradesh:

  She stood as tall as the palm tree. She projected twelve spears from her head and impaled an elephant on each spear. On the elephants she stacked twelve corpses. She had twelve lamps on each corpse. She held weapons in all her twelve hands. With jingling bells on her feet and burning coals on her head she came taking huge strides. She yelled like thunder. Fire rose from the sky and sparks of fire fell on the earth. Biting her teeth fiercely she puffed her mouth and blew whirlwinds. Ghosts followed her and let out shrill cries. The hero, Katamaraju, stood his ground defiantly, unafraid, winning her admiration and affection.

  Path of the devotee

  The approach of the devotee to Kali is quite different in mood and temperament from the approach of the hero. The devotee approaches Kali as a helpless child goes to his mother. She may be terrible, even hostile, yet he has no choice but to turn to her for security, warmth and support. This devotional approach shaped itself in eighteenth-century Bengal where Ramprasad Sen, one of the leaders of this movement, declared, ‘Just as a child clings to his mother even when beaten by her, the devotees of Kali must surrender themselves to Kali despite her ferocious appearance.’

  Kali, as the object of devotion and adoration, continues to be the bloodthirsty, naked goddess who wanders in crematoriums. She is anything but motherly. Unlike goddesses such as Mangala-Gauri, Bimala and Lalita, she is neither beautiful nor fertile. She does not give life; she takes life. She does not nourish or nurture; she tortures and kills. She is neither docile nor gentle; her sexuality is unbridled, her violence untamed.

  When the devotee calls Kali ‘Mother’, he adopts the attitude of a child, whose essential nature towards its mother is that of acceptance, no matter how awful, how indifferent, how fearsome she is. The devotee, then, by making the apparently unlikely assertion that Kali is his mother, enables himself to approach and appropriate the forbidding truths that Kali reveals. In appropriating these truths, the devotee, like the hero, is liberated from the fear these truths impose on people who deny or ignore them.

  Through devotion, the devotee no longer fears death, decay or ugliness. He is not disappointed in terms of worldly desires and pleasures. He accepts things as they are. He is reconciled to the reality that is life. He realizes that judgements are based on standards and that standards are artificial. Free from all standards, liberated by wisdom, he embraces Kali and enjoys her game.

  Path of the sage

  While the devotee approaches Kali emotionally, the sage approaches her intellectually. He tries to understand why she appears the way she does. What is the meaning behind her horrific appearance? The initial revulsion is
questioned, the fear introspected. He finds that in her form and her worship there is a conscious effort to embrace all that conventional society distances itself from: unbridled sex and violence, lack of control, and celebration of ugliness and decay. Kali reverses all cultural standards—bad things become good in her worship, the inauspicious becomes auspicious. Death and blood, which are considered polluting, become Kali’s adornments. Meat and alcohol that ‘good’ people stay away from, are central to her worship. Decent women may cover their bodies, bind their hair, deny their sexuality and live lives of self-denial and self-discipline, but Kali dances naked with hair unbound, unaffected by the disapproving stares of those around. By behaving thus, Kali forces the individual to look at all things one fears, represses, denies and suppresses, things that exist outside man-made moral and ethical codes, things that fill life with uncertainty and restlessness.

  The sage realizes that culture is an artificial construct within Nature, built by man so that the law of the jungle is abandoned and even the weak have rights. Within culture, it is not about the survival of the fittest. Every act is regulated by duties and responsibilities. A structure is created based on standards which distinguish the good from the bad, the right from the wrong, the acceptable from the unacceptable, the appropriate from the inappropriate. Culture works hard to appropriate all that is good and acceptable, all that contributes to stability and order. Culture strives continuously to abandon all that is bad, wrong, unacceptable and inappropriate, all that threatens the sense of permanence and predictability. Over time, culture invalidates all that it rejects. Standards shove all that is undesirable outside the threshold, into the subconscious. Kali stands on the frontier of culture, reminding of all things in Nature that are repressed, suppressed, denied because of fear, standards and judgements.

  Kali is a reminder of the fragility of culture. She is the goddess of war—war represents the collapse of all that culture seeks to uphold. She is the goddess of death—death represents the failure of cultural boundaries to keep out things that pollute and decay. She is the goddess who is naked—nakedness represents the collapse of modesty that culture tries so hard to impose. Kali is the goddess who steps on her husband, challenging patriarchal values that form the foundation of most societies.

  For the sage, the idea of the Devi taking blood closes the loop that opens when the Devi gives milk. Thus, the idea of the bloodthirsty Kali complements the image of the milk-giving Gauri, the motherly form of the Devi. Together they make up the cycle of life.

  Nothing in Nature appears spontaneously. Everything is a transformation of something else. According to Tantra, the essence of mineral is transformed by plants into sap which is then consumed by animals and humans as food. In the body of animals and humans, sap transforms into plasma, flesh, bone, nerves, semen and blood. Thus all things in Nature are different forms of the same essence.

  A popular form of Kali is Dakshina-Kali, which means ‘Kali who comes from the south’. According to Vastu Shastra, south is the direction of death and change, hence the source of uncertainty, restlessness, insecurity and fear. Facing the south is Shiva in the form of Dakshina-murti—a teacher who sits under the banyan tree, facing the south. As teacher, Shiva is the source of wisdom; the banyan tree is the ancient symbol of permanence. Shiva’s wisdom or gyan calms the mind of the sage so that he can turn south and transform Kali from the source of fear to the cause of bliss.

  Conclusion

  For most people, the divine is associated with beauty and love. Images of gods and goddesses are therefore expected to please the eye and the heart. Kali, however, defies these expectations. She is neither beautiful nor loving; she is dark, gaunt, and bloodthirsty. Her form takes one by surprise—frightening at first, then confounding. Kali forces a re-examination of all preconceived notions associated with divinity.

  Re-examination of the notion of divinity leads to re-considering one's understanding of the world. For, in the Hindu scheme of things, divinity cannot be distinguished from the world: world is divine and divinity is world.

  In the Puranas and the Tantras, male deities represent the spiritual world while female deities represent the material world. God is the spirit within, Goddess, the substance without; God observes, Goddess is the observation; God sees, Goddess is the scenery. Goddess is the world around, stimulating God into action, flooding God with emotions and ideas, until God realizes himself. Thus world-understanding leads to self-understanding which leads to God-realization.

  Devi, the Goddess, embodies nature. Nature is wild and free until culture comes along, disciplines and domesticates her with laws, ethics and values. The forest becomes a field as culture decides what must be in and what must be out. Culture judges, making some things beautiful, some ideas good, and some actions appropriate. The rest become ugly, bad or inappropriate. A time comes when judgements are perceived as natural. Society forgets that its opinions are based on artificial parameters. Society thus prejudices everyone's worldview. Even nature, hence the Devi, comes to be seen through culture's eye.

  This eye insists that nature is beautiful and bountiful: the serene wisdom-bestowing Saraswati playing her lute or the enchanting wealth-bestowing Lakshmi with her pot of gold and grain. The world-embodying Devi comes to be visualized as Mangala-Gauri, auspicious and motherly. She is worshipped as Durga, fiercely protective of her children. Then Kali comes along, searing the vision of seers: naked with hair unbound, copulating in the open, killing and drinking blood. She overturns the cart of divine imagery and becomes the grit in culture's eye.

  Culture struggles to explain Kali. Desperate attempts are made to rationalize her as the ‘killer of demons’, and the ‘protecting mother’. Images are created that edit out her wild sexuality. Paintings embellish her with jewellery meant for tame wives. The men she decapitates are depicted as outlaws and demons. Society does what it has always done—transforming or denying what it cannot, or does not, or will not, understand.

  But Kali gives this cultural manipulation a slip. She remains a dark and wild enigma challenging the seer, the devotee, and the sorcerer, mocking all preconceived notions. She demands acceptance of all that she represents. Her form and narratives about her throw up questions: Why is she dark and naked? Why is her hair unbound? Why does she copulate openly sitting on top of her lover? Why does she drink blood? Why does she favour sorcerers? The answers force us to confront the dark secrets we shove into our subconscious.

  Kali is life who feeds on life. Kali is the unbridled and impersonal sex and violence that makes the cycle of existence go round. Kali stirs the consciousness by copulating with Shiva. She is the raw primal power that existed before there were culture and society, before there were law, ethics and morality. She stands beyond the pall of prejudices, values, and judgements. She encompasses the totality of nature and of life, unfettered by social norms and cultural values.

  Kali reminds us that beneath our social indoctrination fester thoughts and desires that do not conform to what is culturally appropriate. The beast within us may be tamed but if we deny its existence or repress it beyond a point, it may slip out and strike, manifesting as rape or riot. Hidden in our hearts are ideas that may not be spoken, but need, at the very least, silent acknowledgement.

  Beneath the mask, beneath the self-denial and the self-discipline exists a Kali in all of us.

  Hymns

  Hymn 1

  Mother of all creation, Kali

  Hear me Maha Kali

  You are the dark cavern

  The source of light

  The forest carpet

  The cause of life

  Heaven’s wrath

  The torch and the knife

  Save us from traps

  Grant us truth

  Dance for us, with flute and drum,

  Make the land throb under your feet

  Come down, mother

  Make us complete

  Shatter our bodies, Kali

  Take us home.

  —New
Age Hymn (Twentieth Century)

  Hymn 2

  Awake, Mother!

  Rise

  Long have you been asleep

  Let the muladhara bloom

  Rise Mother,

  Let the thousand-petalled lotus bloom in the head

  Quick,

  Swiftly pierce the six lotuses

  And take away my grief, O Essence of

  Consciousness!

  —Ramakrishna (Nineteenth Century)

  Hymn 3

  Oh Tara, ferry of the soul,

  Get me across

  Don’t know how to swim

  My body—a worn-out boat,

  Laden with sin.

  What can I grasp, what can I do?

  How do I cross

  This ocean of existence

  On my own.

  Benares—that’s where I should be

  Live a pious life

  Wait to die.

  But here I am

  In the river of desire

  Far is either shore

  Drowning

  You are the ferryman in the middle

  My only hope.

  —Kalidas Bhattacharya (Nineteenth Century)

  Hymn 4

  Mother,