Sacred Collection
Kali काली — Divine Destroyer of Evil
काली
Kali
तंजावुर शैली में अंधेरी माँ का सिंहासन
This is how the elders of Thanjavur painted her, the storyteller says — every leaf of gold laid by hand, every ruby chosen for its fire, every line drawn with the breath held still. Her skin is dark against the gold because she is the night that holds all the stars. The crown on her head is the crown of the universe; the jewels are not jewels but planets. The South painted her this way for a thousand years before us, and we paint her this way still, and we will.
we are one — same blood
तंजावुर शैली में अंधेरी माँ का सिंहासन
Rs. 300.00
काली
Kali
माँ और स्वामी की मोज़ेक
This is the great story told in mosaic, the storyteller says — Kali standing on Shiva, the wife stepping on the husband. The old gold tiles say what words cannot: that he laid down for her, that she found him, that the dance ended in recognition. The little severed head in her hand is the head of pride. The garland is made of skulls because she has held us all and remembered every one. The mosaic is the slow patience of a love that even time cannot shake.
we are one — same blood
माँ और स्वामी की मोज़ेक
Rs. 300.00
काली
Kali
हड्डियों के बीच नाचती माँ
Look at all the bones beneath her feet, the storyteller says. Every one of them was a face that smiled at someone once. Every one of them is her own child, returned home. She dances among them not in cruelty but in welcome — the way a mother dances when her children come back from a long journey. The Ganesh-bowl in her hand holds the drink that is the same drink she gave them at birth. Time eats us all, the elders say, but she is the one who carries us through.
we are one — same blood
हड्डियों के बीच नाचती माँ
Rs. 300.00
काली
Kali
आग में उग्र माँ
When the asuras would not stop, the storyteller says, Durga's brow grew dark — and out of that darkness came Kali. She came running, with a sword in one hand and a severed head already in the other. The flames around her are not destruction; they are the heat of a mother whose children are in danger. The red of her sari is the same red as a mother's love when it is roused. Do not be afraid of her, the elder says. She is only fierce on your side.
we are one — same blood
आग में उग्र माँ
Rs. 300.00
काली
Kali
श्री यंत्र वेदी की साक्षी
Midnight in the small temple, the storyteller says. The Sri Yantra glows red against the lotus, like a heart still beating. On the cloth lies her khadga, the curved sword of wisdom. The kapala holds the red drink that is both blood and amrita, both death and immortality — the cup that the elders raise on her night. The mala has one hundred and eight beads, one for each name she answers to. Her old jackal-dog keeps watch beside the dried hibiscus. The candle flame leans toward her, the way our hearts do when we are most quiet.
we are one — same blood
श्री यंत्र वेदी की साक्षी
Rs. 300.00
काली
Kali
अंधेरी माँ के धागे
Every culture that ever lived, the storyteller says, has tried to make her with their hands. They have used stone, paint, gold, wax, beads, yarn, paper, thread. This one is made from threads — and still she is more than the threads. On the right is her dark face, eye like a coal. On the left is Shiva, her quiet other half, made from white fibres. The two are never apart. The threads remind us we are all woven from the same dark mother, all colours, all bright.
we are one — same blood
अंधेरी माँ के धागे
Rs. 300.00
काली
Kali
बाहर नहीं
Her eyes are closed in this one, the storyteller says, because the world she sees is the world inside her. The faces hidden in her hair are all of us — every soul she has ever loved, every soul she has had to let go. Her tongue is out as it always is, in that quiet shame that became a tenderness. The light bursts behind her like a sunrise inside the chest. Sometimes the fiercest mother does not look at you. She looks inward, and finds you already there.
we are one — same blood
बाहर नहीं
Rs. 300.00
काली
Kali
कंधे के पीछे श्री यंत्र
See the wheel of triangles behind her shoulder, the storyteller says — that is the Sri Yantra, a window into the heart of everything. She sits before it like a queen on a throne made of skulls, and beneath her feet Shiva sleeps the sleep of the worlds. The severed head in her hand is not a person; it is the ego, the little self that thought it was everything. She has cut it down kindly, the way a gardener prunes a tree so it can grow better next spring.
we are one — same blood
कंधे के पीछे श्री यंत्र
Rs. 300.00
काली
Kali
शिव पर चरण रखकर नृत्य समाप्त
After the asuras were defeated, the storyteller says, she went on dancing. The earth shook. The stars trembled. Nothing could stop her — not the gods, not the mountains, not the rivers. So Shiva her husband lay down at her feet, played dead in the dust of her own dancing. When she stepped on him and felt his quiet body, she remembered. She bit her tongue in shame. The dance ended. The mountains breathed again. That is why she still wears that tongue — to remind us that even the fiercest mother knows her own.
we are one — same blood
शिव पर चरण रखकर नृत्य समाप्त
Rs. 300.00
काली
Kali
फैसले की तरह गिरती तलवार
Her sword is called jnana-khadga, the sword of wisdom, the storyteller says — and it never cuts what should live. Every fall of it removes only the illusions, the lies we tell ourselves, the masks we have grown afraid to take off. See how it rises against the heavens, against the swirling stars themselves. And beneath her, Shiva rests, his crescent moon glowing soft white, knowing the work she does is also his work. The work of love that looks fierce because it must, the work that lets the morning come.
we are one — same blood
फैसले की तरह गिरती तलवार
Rs. 300.00
काली
Kali
Mother Fierce in the Fire
When the asuras would not stop, the storyteller says, Durga's brow grew dark — and out of that darkness came Kali. She came running, with a sword in one hand and a severed head already in the other. The flames around her are not destruction; they are the heat of a mother whose children are in danger. The red of her sari is the same red as a mother's love when it is roused. Do not be afraid of her, the elder says. She is only fierce on your side.
we are one — same blood
Mother Fierce in the Fire
from Rs. 7,200.00
Mother Fierce in the Fire
from Rs. 4,600.00
काली
Kali
The Sri Yantra Behind Her Shoulder
See the wheel of triangles behind her shoulder, the storyteller says — that is the Sri Yantra, a window into the heart of everything. She sits before it like a queen on a throne made of skulls, and beneath her feet Shiva sleeps the sleep of the worlds. The severed head in her hand is not a person; it is the ego, the little self that thought it was everything. She has cut it down kindly, the way a gardener prunes a tree so it can grow better next spring.
we are one — same blood
The Sri Yantra Behind Her Shoulder
from Rs. 7,200.00
The Sri Yantra Behind Her Shoulder
from Rs. 4,600.00
काली
Kali
Witness of the Sri Yantra Altar
Midnight in the small temple, the storyteller says. The Sri Yantra glows red against the lotus, like a heart still beating. On the cloth lies her khadga, the curved sword of wisdom. The kapala holds the red drink that is both blood and amrita, both death and immortality — the cup that the elders raise on her night. The mala has one hundred and eight beads, one for each name she answers to. Her old jackal-dog keeps watch beside the dried hibiscus. The candle flame leans toward her, the way our hearts do when we are most quiet.
we are one — same blood
Witness of the Sri Yantra Altar
from Rs. 4,600.00
Witness of the Sri Yantra Altar
from Rs. 7,200.00
काली
Kali
She is Looking In Not Out
Her eyes are closed in this one, the storyteller says, because the world she sees is the world inside her. The faces hidden in her hair are all of us — every soul she has ever loved, every soul she has had to let go. Her tongue is out as it always is, in that quiet shame that became a tenderness. The light bursts behind her like a sunrise inside the chest. Sometimes the fiercest mother does not look at you. She looks inward, and finds you already there.
we are one — same blood
She is Looking In Not Out
from Rs. 7,200.00
She is Looking In Not Out
from Rs. 4,600.00
काली
Kali
She Steps on Shiva and the Dance Ends
After the asuras were defeated, the storyteller says, she went on dancing. The earth shook. The stars trembled. Nothing could stop her — not the gods, not the mountains, not the rivers. So Shiva her husband lay down at her feet, played dead in the dust of her own dancing. When she stepped on him and felt his quiet body, she remembered. She bit her tongue in shame. The dance ended. The mountains breathed again. That is why she still wears that tongue — to remind us that even the fiercest mother knows her own.
we are one — same blood
She Steps on Shiva and the Dance Ends
from Rs. 7,200.00
She Steps on Shiva and the Dance Ends
from Rs. 4,600.00
काली
Kali
The Mosaic of Mother and Lord
This is the great story told in mosaic, the storyteller says — Kali standing on Shiva, the wife stepping on the husband. The old gold tiles say what words cannot: that he laid down for her, that she found him, that the dance ended in recognition. The little severed head in her hand is the head of pride. The garland is made of skulls because she has held us all and remembered every one. The mosaic is the slow patience of a love that even time cannot shake.
we are one — same blood
The Mosaic of Mother and Lord
from Rs. 7,200.00
The Mosaic of Mother and Lord
from Rs. 4,600.00
काली
Kali
Her Sword Falls Like a Verdict
Her sword is called jnana-khadga, the sword of wisdom, the storyteller says — and it never cuts what should live. Every fall of it removes only the illusions, the lies we tell ourselves, the masks we have grown afraid to take off. See how it rises against the heavens, against the swirling stars themselves. And beneath her, Shiva rests, his crescent moon glowing soft white, knowing the work she does is also his work. The work of love that looks fierce because it must, the work that lets the morning come.
we are one — same blood
Her Sword Falls Like a Verdict
from Rs. 4,600.00
Her Sword Falls Like a Verdict
from Rs. 7,200.00
काली
Kali
The Tanjore Throne of the Dark Mother
This is how the elders of Thanjavur painted her, the storyteller says — every leaf of gold laid by hand, every ruby chosen for its fire, every line drawn with the breath held still. Her skin is dark against the gold because she is the night that holds all the stars. The crown on her head is the crown of the universe; the jewels are not jewels but planets. The South painted her this way for a thousand years before us, and we paint her this way still, and we will.
we are one — same blood
The Tanjore Throne of the Dark Mother
from Rs. 4,600.00
The Tanjore Throne of the Dark Mother
from Rs. 7,200.00
काली
Kali
Threads of the Dark Mother
Every culture that ever lived, the storyteller says, has tried to make her with their hands. They have used stone, paint, gold, wax, beads, yarn, paper, thread. This one is made from threads — and still she is more than the threads. On the right is her dark face, eye like a coal. On the left is Shiva, her quiet other half, made from white fibres. The two are never apart. The threads remind us we are all woven from the same dark mother, all colours, all bright.
we are one — same blood
Threads of the Dark Mother
from Rs. 4,600.00
Threads of the Dark Mother
from Rs. 7,200.00
काली
Kali
Mother Among the Bones Still Dancing
Look at all the bones beneath her feet, the storyteller says. Every one of them was a face that smiled at someone once. Every one of them is her own child, returned home. She dances among them not in cruelty but in welcome — the way a mother dances when her children come back from a long journey. The Ganesh-bowl in her hand holds the drink that is the same drink she gave them at birth. Time eats us all, the elders say, but she is the one who carries us through.
we are one — same blood
Mother Among the Bones Still Dancing
from Rs. 4,600.00
Mother Among the Bones Still Dancing
from Rs. 7,200.00