Dakshinakali holds a sword in one hand. Another is turned towards us, palm open. The gesture says, Do not be afraid. She offers reassurance with the sword still in her hand. What will she cut with it? The bonds we long to be rid of? Or some of what we have spent our lives keeping safe because we call it ours?
It is easy to call worldly life a prison. The bonds of attachment are harder to recognise because we love so many of the things that bind us. A boat is moored at the landing, yet the crossing remains out of reach. Desire follows us all the way to the water. And if the body itself is the boat, rocking in a wind that rises from the mind, is untying the rope enough to set out?
To call Kali Ma is to trust her enough to bring her a grievance. Why have you given me so much grief? In the next breath, the same person can ask her to take the oar. Letting go of it is one of the harder things freedom asks of us. We want to reach the other shore, and we want to get there on our own terms. Those wishes do not always take us in the same direction.
The boat is still rocking. There is no certainty of reaching the other shore. Yet somewhere in the act of calling out to the Mother, a person discovers that the crossing is still ahead and already they are less afraid.
