On The Trail Of The Dark Goddess

How A Goddess And Her Worshippers Challenge Established Ideas Around Women, Patriarchy And Feminism

- ARUNDHUTI DASGUPTA

HER HAIR IS TOSSED WILD; she wears a garland of skulls around her neck and a skirt of severed arms around her waist. Her lolling tongue drips blood; her skin is the black of a moonless night. The goddess Kali stands unclothed, raised axe in hand, always ready for battle. No matter where she is found, in temples, in altars at home, in calendar art and in the countless digital impressions floating around cyberspace, Kali cuts a bodacious figure, unflinching in her gaze and unapologetic about her posture. Shame, shock or embarrassment, if any, lies entirely in the eyes of the beholder.

In a country where the visual depiction of goddesses is almost always bejewelled and benign, even when they are not particularly benevolent, Kali smashes the prototype— both in terms of her appearance, which is fearful, and in her habits that reinforce her association with the macabre. How does one unpack the story of such a goddess, whose emergence and subsequent veneration both take place within a male-dominant, patriarchal pantheon? And how does the goddess make her place in the world today?

Kali, according to the legends about her in the Devi Mahatmya (composed sometime around 5-6 CE), was born on the battlefield. She emerged from the brow of another goddess, Durga, who had been sent by the gods to rid the world of the Asura kings Shumbha and Nishumbha. Having vanquished them after a long and tiring battle, Durga found herself being harangued by two loudmouth Asura generals, Chanda and Munda. They began wearing her down, physically and also psychologically, by hurling a slew of sexual slurs and questioning her capabilities as a warrior. Durga lost her composure, and from her darkened brow or her fury sprang Kali.