Thursday, November 11, 2010

The orbit of licit sex is full of violence and boredom
It is the illicit sex that inspires the gentleness of poetry...

© 2014 Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury
The fascination for philosophy, religion and world spiritualism as I call it pervades and carries me though many an interesting read. Tantrik worship & the mysteries surrounding it have always fascinated. Having heard much about it in the Kamakhya temple I set about exploring our very own Kali ma, the goddess with the all black exterior but supposedly the warmest of life givers. Reading about how Kali the destroyer suddenly melts into Kali the mother as she suckles on an infant in the battle field terrible is interesting to say the least. Call it religion call it mythology, what is it about it that transcends all borders and merges with the infinite..I wonder. While I dealt previously on the similarities between Milton's Lucifer and our very own Ravana In the Ramayana & the ensuing similarities, my search today for kali and her intricacies made me dwell on the black Madonna too. It is said that the black Madonna was a figurine depicting the mother's affection for those in poverty & rags.. why I wonder does the not so affluent always have to be depicted in Black. Thoughts apart, primeval Celtic history shows the influence of Hindu mythology and our very own Kali on it. Supporting this evidence of Kali's probable influence on the Celts is to be found in the old name of Scotland, which was "Caledonia” that might also be rendered as "land of Kali". Again the omnipresent Kali features in spiritual heats within the gypsies of France. A statue of a black woman in the crypt of the church in St-Maries-de-la-Mer, is called 'Sara la Kali', rendered by some as as 'Queen Kali'. If one were to keep in mind the origin of the gypsies from India, the similarity would make more sense. Well the search for this & that continues & religion, mythology & the grand dames continue to inspire.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Dreamers still..

When Mr love once knocked on these doors
I opened them with creaking hesitancy
To eyes full of wrinkles and skin in shackles
You’ve come a generation late I said
In bespectacled smile of my toothless sing song
Tidy up your hair he said...

© 2010 Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury