Kali

The wind swayed me. She was here. 

The forest I was standing in was silent, but the one I was seeing was aflame with fury. There was no going back from here. As I sat in wakefulness, maa’s hair flowed. Her gaze as sharp as her sight, she stood there naked. The wistfulness of her hair covered the sanctity of her womanhood, though she smirked as if her anatomy was nothing to be ashamed of. What a magnanimous image of a goddess. 

Kali saw the priestess. She intuitively knew what had brought her to this path - a wrong vow, few slaps and a hell lot of sexual oppression. Women prayed Kali only when they saw the smallness of the man abusing them. But she wasn't one to complain, though her observant eyes took in the grace of the priestess and teared up. 

Many men would object at this meeting. An ordinary woman standing before the mighty grace of sheer survival. 

That's how Kali felt. Ordinary. 

The priestess, Laila, hung her head in respect. She opened her eyes and sighed at her hallucinations. She must talk to her psychiatrist and get a stronger dose of her anti-psychotic pills. How little the world is, how expansive her delusions are. She sighed.

-Mridu Kapoor