a conversation with kali by salona bhandari

As I stand before you, I first see your garland of skulls and your blood smeared tongue, yet I can’t help but focus on your eyes instead. Like mine, they are almond-shaped and slanted. The curls in your mongoloid hair lay the same way mine do and like my mother, you wear your tika with pride. The Devi Mahatmya tells us your skin is “dark as ink” yet as we begin to converse, I notice it is not much darker than mine.

Although your anger is deserved, how are you so unapologetic for your rage? I have always been told I am too passionate, too angry for a woman. I am sure you have experienced similar things.

I am curious how you define beauty as you have dark skin in a culture that denounces melanin. The Vamana Purana teaches us that your skin is a symbol of your divine soul. However, when I was called Kali growing up, I did not feel divine, I felt hideous.

My religion tells me you are beautiful, but my grandmother tells me you are unsightly.

I promise to give back beauty to your name. We have the same eyes, same hair, and same anger. If the world thinks you are hideous, what do they think of me?