How can that black woman be so beautiful? Fate has made her the color of a new cloud. She laughs horribly lightning darting from Her teeth, yet what a lot of nectar drips from her moon-face! The sun shines in Her sindura dot, that lotus face beguiling even the God of Love. Sun, fire, and moon sattva, rajas, and tamas have risen reddish in Her three eyes. Her navel is a lotus swaying inside a lake, where water lilies bloom into breasts. Her thick hair streams down Her body, a garland of heads hanging around Her neck. Ornament after ornament adorns her beautiful feet, Her toenails shaming the moon by their mirrorlike gleam. Seeing such a sweet form Kamalakanta goes to Shyama's very spotless feet for refuge. Kamalakanta Bhattacharya (ca. 1769-1821) Shyama meaning black in Sanskrit is an apt epithet for Mother Kali. Of her blackness the same poet says: Is my black Mother Shyama really black? People say Kali is black, but my heart doesn't agree. If She's black, how can she light up the world? Sometimes my mother is white, sometimes yellow, blue, and red. I cannot fathom Her. My whole life has passed trying. She is Matter, then Spirit, then complete Void. It's easy to see how Kamalakanta thinking these things went crazy. Kamalakanta Bhattacharya (ca. 1769-1821)
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