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Feb 13, 2017

Kali The Mother: Swami Vivekananda

Literarism's YouTube link for the third video on Wordsworth and Coleridge's "Lyrical Ballads" (1798)

Kali The Mother: Swami Vivekananda
By: Bijay Kant Dubey

Kali The Mother is one of the poems of Swami Vivekananda which he composed during his tour and visit of Kashmir and more specially the Kshir Bhavani Temple after having retuned back from America famous for his speeches delivered in the Parliament of World’s Religions at Chicago. The poem commemorates his passing of the night in a houseboat on Dal Lake together with his disciples and Sister Nivedita and the spur of the moments in which he visualized the Divine.`The terrible form of the Divine he invokes and adores here in this poem. The ordaining deity is Bhawani, Kali the Supernatural, Nocturnal Divine, the terrible form of shakti.

With the stars blotted out, clouds covering clouds, in the darkness vibrant, sonant, the saint poet invokes Her, the Dark Goddess, Kali the Creatrix. With the winds roaring and whirling which reminding him of the spirits of the lunatics loosened from the prison house he thinks of his approach of the Divine which none but a sadhaka can imagine it. Kali bhaktas too hold in such a view. The trees seem to be wrenched by the roots, sweeping all from the path. The sea too seems to have joined the fray and swirls up the mountain-waves to reach the pitchy skies. The flash of the lurid light reveals on every side a thousand, thousand shades of death begrimed and black scattering plagues and sorrows, dancing mad with joy. Against the backdrop of all that, the saint poet invokes the Mother Divine, Bhavani Goddess of the Kheer Bhavani temple of Kashmir. 

Terror is Her Name, death in Her Breath and every shaking step destroys a world for to be created afresh. The sadhakas who too want to feel the Ways of the Divine cannot feel it unless they invoke Her in their full sincerity. To invoke Her is not so easy, but to assimilate the poise and grandeur. She is the Terrible Form of the Feminine Power, the Motherly Consciousness. When vices and sins aggravate they on earth with the satans having their laughs, She comes, comes to balance it all. She is the Dark Side of Creation; the Awe bizarre and grotesque. The path of sadhna is not so easy; a very difficult path to tread on indeed.

The night of sadhna and the Night of Creation, what to say about? The Night Nocturnal and Supernatural? What about Shiva Tandava not, prachand Kali rupa? 

Kali the Mother as a poem is one of those poems which take to their narration the visit to the Kshir Bhavani temple of Kashmir intermixing pilgrimage with myth-making.The rupa, Divine Rupa of Kali, the Ways of the Nocturnal Divine, the Dark Goddess, how to envisage it, how to hold in with confidence the mythical things of racial and archetypal consciousness? The Goddess of death and destruction is the picture of Creation. Sometimes the sadhakas too err in keeping themselves in strict restraint and self-control. Sometimes drunken with power and aboriginal prowess, we too err in and injustice and tyranny add to our woes. At that time Kali incarnates to annihilate and destroy to create it again.

The setting of the poem is one of the dark night full of nocturnal experience and experimentation. The beauty and mystery of the nocturnal night, none but a sadhaka can say it. Kali, the Night of Kali is really matter of reckoning. Kali who is Kaal-rupa is not only dreadful, but blissful too. There are different images and forms of Kali and it is very difficult to say, what is Kali? Kali is perhaps motherly force and consciousness; the creational force.

The stars are blotted out,
The clouds are covering clouds,
It is darkness vibrant, sonant.
In the roaring, whirling wind
Are the souls of a million lunatics
Just loose from the prison-house,
Wrenching trees by the roots,
Sweeping all from the path.
The sea has joined the fray,
And swirls up mountain-waves,
To reach the pitchy sky.
The flash of lurid light
Reveals on every side
A thousand, thousand shades
Of Death begrimed and black —
Scattering plagues and sorrows,
Dancing mad with joy,
Come, Mother, come!
For Terror is Thy name,
Death is in Thy breath,
And every shaking step
Destroys a world for e'er.
Thou "Time", the All-Destroyer!
Come, O Mother, come!
Who dares misery love,
And hug the form of Death,
Dance in Destruction's dance,
To him the Mother comes.

Literarism's YouTube link for the third video on Wordsworth and Coleridge's "Lyrical Ballads" (1798)


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