Kali, the Black Mother of Death

Roisin Murphy from Sinking Feeling (written by Roisin Murphy and Matthew Herbert)
Happy people don't give into that sinking feeling

The Indian pantheon is separated into two -- the monstrous devils, the Asuras and the divine, but often inhuman Devas. They were in constant battle ever since the Devas had out-witted them from taking of the magical Amrita that gave the Devas immortality. While the Devas were more powerful than the Asuras, they were still bound by certain laws which some clever Asuras had been able to use to their advantage.

One of these Asuras, the demon Raktavira studied the scriptures to appease Brahma, the creator. He prayed and fasted and was more devout than any holy man in India. This level of piety, Brahma cannot reward, even if he was a Devas. He held back his desire to reward this sacrifice the Asura was making but even Brahma must follow the rules and he gave in and asked Raktavira what he desired. Raktavira's response was a simple one: every drop of Raktavira's blood that spilled on the ground would be transformed into a thousand demons. Horrified, but unable to do anything, Brahma acquiesced.

With his new gift, Raktavira began attacking the mortal denizens of India. Town after town, city after city, Raktavira attacked without mercy or fear. Everytime someone tried to fight back, Raktavira's blood would spill into the ground and thousands and thousands of demons would come to his defense, and later, fought by his side.

The Devas could do nothing for fear of giving Raktavira an army that could not be opposed. The goddess Parvati, a beautiful and peaceful goddess, wife of Siva or Shiva, the destroyer, could not sleep as she could hear the cries of her worshippers slain one by one by Raktavira and his horde. She begged Brahma to take back his gift but Brahma shamefully shook his head. Even Brahma cannot take back his gifts once given. He is the creator, not the destroyer. But even Siva himself was afraid to use his powerful spear, the Pashupata, against Raktavira, fearing a much larger horde to follow.

Night after night, Parvati grew anxious as she could hear more and more of her worshippers calling for her aid and mercy. A feeling crept within her, one she had never felt before, anger and rage and it grew in her breast until she could no longer bare it. She gripped her breast and threw away her form to reveal another underneath. This was Kali, the Black Mother of Death, black-skinned, four armed and a long slithering tongue. On her forehead, like her husband the destroyer, she had a third eye. Preparing for battle, she wore a garland of skulls around her neck, and a skirt made of human arms. She wore no armor for she would dance into battle naked. She brought with her a sword and a dagger. That was all that she would need.

She quickly descended from her home at Mount Kailasa and faced Raktavira. She called out his name and told him he would pay for his transgressions. The Asura laughed, undaunted by this new, vile form before him. He was unafraid. He warned her of Brahma's gift but she neither flinched nor moved. The two began to battle. Quickly, Kali had begun to cut Raktavira again and again with her sword and dagger. Raktavira began to laugh as the blood began to drip from his wounds. Kali then leapt and landed on his chest, forcing the Asura to the ground. And then her long, slithering tongue escaped from her lips and began to lick the blood before it spilt to the ground. Raktavira was horrified. No demons would come from these wounds. He tried to stand up, to get away but Kali was stronger. On top of him, she began to thrust with her blades while her tongue drank every drop of blood before it fell to the ground. In his last breath, Raktavira commanded his army to kill her.

Kali looked with her three menacing eyes at the multitude of demons before her and smiled. She began to dance and threw herself into battle. The demons were no match for her random movements, her quickly moving blades. It did not take long before the battlefield was empty except for the dancing figure of Kali, the Black Mother of Death. Her tongue began to slither to drink the blood of the demons, even if they were not magickal and no new army of demons would have sprung forth.

Siva, happy that the terror of the Asura was finished, approached Kali, the living duality of her wife and asked her to return to Parvati but Kali was insatiable. She jerked his hand away and continued her dance and drink. Siva watched as she danced and danced and drank her fill. He saw himself mirrored in Kali's dark demeanor but knew that the task of death and destruction was his to bear and wanted Parvati back, the opposite of his own nature. He then lay down amongst the bodies and closed his eyes.

Soon, Kali, dancing atop the slain, landed on Siva's body and saw him there, almost dead-like and she regained her senses. She took off her garland of heads and arms, put down her weapons and in one move, took off the form of Kali and returned as Parvati. Siva stood up and the married couple kissed and returned to Mount Kailasa.

I think we all have dual sides. We are always known as we always are but I believe that we can be who we are not, if pushed to it. Louis Stevenson (I think it was him) wrote Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and the version I read was that when Dr. Jekyll first transformed to his opposite, Mr. Hyde was a tiny, tiny man because Dr. Jekyll was a good man; his evil side was still small and insignificant. But the more and more Dr. Jekyll allowed Mr. Hyde to explore his maliciousness, Mr. Hyde grew and grew becoming taller, stronger and Dr. Jekyll got weaker and thin and frail.

Last night, some of my friends witnessed another side of me they had never seen before. It was the exact opposite of my nature. I always try to be funny; I'm always making fun of things and not being serious. I allow people to make fun of me and I try to make light of things, even things that shouldn't be made light of. I am open, always willing to share any intimate detail of myself to people and you can tell me anything and it wouldn't change anything at all.

When things are not going my way, to a really bad degree, when I feel my whole world falling apart, I withdraw into myself. I don't let anyone reach me. I hate myself that way. I retreat into a world into myself and no one can reach me. No one can get there. I am unresponsive and closed; the exact opposite of who I am.

I've become so used to being funny and happy and giving people the opportunity to have fun at my expense. It's nothing to me. I can take it. But when I'm not in that mood and I'm in a very bad, I don't want anybody to see me that way. I refuse. And then I become this thing that nobody knows, this thing that no one recognizes.

If I suddenly disappear. If I suddenly become unreachable; that's probably the reason. The dark side of myself that is capable of so many things -- so many scary things.

I don't want to think about it too much. It's scary. I almost did something that might have gotten me very hurt last night. It is very frightening, that place and I don't want to go back there. Because once you say something or do something, most of the time, you can never take it back.