The mother of Veera’s, Maa Kali.
As the war came to an end,
Ground soaked in blood, air filled with foul smell.
I stood there still
Wounded, bleeding, burning
Yet Still,
As the sun of my life kept coming down
Darkness engulfing the scene
I saw a dark lady standing far away from me,
Pulling me closer towards her.
I approached her with nothing to offer
Yet she stood there, in complete stillness.
“Who are you?”, I asked
Breath slowly slipping away from my nostrils.
She didn’t answer,
“Who are you?”, I asked again
My wounds clotting themselves up.
She didn’t answer,
“Who are you?”, I asked again
My vision becoming blurred.
By now, I was fuming with rage.
With my last breath slowly slipping,
I roared!
“Who are you, Woman”?
I collapsed, in the darkness of my death.
But wait!
Now, I am hanging around her neck.
In that haunting stillness, which she truly was,
I looked at my left, then up, then down and then again up.
Now I was speechless.
The head on my left, looked at me
In recognition.
The head hanging above me smiled at me,
In recognition.
The head below me, looked above and stared at me,
In recognition,
And then came the final blow,
The woman who wore our heads looked at me,
With love, with peace, with terrifying stillness,
And, In recognition.
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Tears rolled down my eyes,
Of Joy, of madness, of union.
“Now do you know who I am?” spoke the mother.
“Yes, Maa!” all the heads roared with me.
With recognition, united with their mother.
“You are the mother who bathed me when I was a toddler”,
cried the head hanging on my left.
“You are the sister who fed me whenever I asked for food”,
spoke the head hanging below me.
“You are the teacher who taught me how to read and write”,
Said the one hanging above me.
One by one, all spoke of their relation with her.
Be it of a lover, a mother, a friend or a guide,
All of us recognized her.
But there was something mysterious about those heads,
They all looked same, All of them looked like me.
All of them came from the same body,
Lying dead under her feet.
Those heads are of none other than me,
In different moments,
In different stages of my life,
In different lives,
In different timelines,
In different roles.
But, all of them are me,
Resting in her lap.
And the woman?
Her name is Kali, the mother of the Veeras!
What comes from her, goes back to her.
Just the way I am hanging in her skull garland now,
Watching another warrior approaching her,
Just like me.
We all smiled at the falling soldier,
Knowing very well, what was about to come,
As the warrior knelt before the mother,
As the darkness engulfed the battlefield of my life,
Drenched in my own blood, sweat and foul smell,
As time stood still,
The warrior looked at my Maa and asked,
“Who are you?”…
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