Where shadows meet the flame of devotion, the fierce eyes of Kali watch over her devotees, her presence as ancient as the land itself. Every Kartik Amavasya, Keshabpur pulses with an age-old ritual, where faith is tested, fears are stilled, and the divine meets the earthly in a dance of shadows.
Mystic Journey | Hoogly | December 26, 1997
Sadhguru: In the heart of rural Bengal, where myth and reverence intertwine, lies the tale of Keshabpur's awakened Kali—a deity so potent and mysterious that her presence has shaped the lives, beliefs, and fears of generations. Here, devotion is not merely a ritual but a bridge to the supernatural, where ancient practices, from goat sacrifices to silent candlelit vigils, forge a sacred bond with the fierce goddess. Each year on the dark night of Kartik Amavasya, this village erupts in a unique, awe-striking celebration as thousands gather, hoping to catch a glimpse of Kali’s divine fury and blessing. It’s a story rich with centuries-old traditions, miraculous happenings, and mystical restraints—where even modern electricity dares not intrude upon her sanctum. This is not just a festival but a timeless dance between the mortal and the divine, a saga of faith, fear, and unwavering devotion that illuminates the very soul of Bengal.
Across many regions, worship of the Divine Mother is deeply entwined with the ancient ritual of goat sacrifice. In the Shakta tradition, such sacrifices are an essential part of the ceremonies. But if the Mother's worship follows the Vaishnavite path, a pumpkin is often substituted, symbolically offered in place of the goat. Wherever these sacrifices are carried out, the puja becomes a powerful, arduous process, demanding both physical endurance and emotional resolve. There are even families who, over the years, have grown uneasy about the practice. They worry that if the sacrifice isn’t successful in a single strike, the ritual must be repeated, creating a heightened fear of the Mother’s possible wrath. Yet, bound by ancestral duty and longstanding tradition, they feel unable to relinquish this ritual that has endured through generations.
In some temples, it is said that the Mother transforms into a fierce, wrathful form during the sacrifice, her divine fury palpable in the air. To temper her energy and prevent her from striking terror into her devotees, priests bind her idol with iron chains—a mystical containment that reflects the villagers' reverence and awe. Today, I am sharing with you the fascinating story of Keshabpur’s revered and awakened Kali in Dhanekhali.
Nestled in the village of Bhandarhati in Dhanekhali, the Keshabpur Kali is an immensely venerated deity, her legend as ancient and profound as the land itself. Over four centuries old, her puja draws countless devotees every Kartik Amavasya, the dark new moon of Kartik, when villagers from all directions converge to bear witness to this sanctified tradition. The story of her divine arrival is both astonishing and mystical. It is said that long ago, on the dawn before the Kali Puja, the villagers found a three-armed idol of Kali resting near the Badardaha canal, which once flowed beside the village. The appearance of this idol just before the auspicious festival sent ripples of wonder and awe throughout the region. Whispers echoed across the land: how could this idol have come here, at such a precise and sacred time? Though the cause remains unknown, the villagers recognized this extraordinary event as a sign of the Mother’s benevolent blessing upon their village. She had chosen to reveal herself to them, cementing their belief that Keshabpur held a special place in her heart.
From that moment, the villagers dedicated themselves to worshipping her. Today, her annual puja is the village’s most cherished event. Homes transform into sites of celebration, buzzing with visiting relatives and festooned in colours, each one bursting with offerings and homage to the Mother. Some families set up grand pandals, transforming their courtyards into spaces of devotion. As the Mother is said to enjoy the reverberations of band music and drumming, arrangements are made to honour her preference, filling the village with vibrant sounds that merge with the energies of the puja.
Every Kartik Amavasya, Keshabpur pulses with an age-old ritual, where faith is tested, fears are stilled, and the divine meets the earthly in a dance of shadows.
But this grandeur wasn’t always so. In the earliest days, when her puja first began, she was worshipped humbly under a thatched canopy of palm leaves. Over time, however, as word of her miraculous powers spread and her influence grew, so did the number of devotees. Her shrine was eventually transformed into a brick temple, and a Shiva temple was later constructed to the south of her shrine. When she first appeared around four centuries ago, the ruler of the area was Raja Udaychand of Burdwan, who, upon hearing of her miraculous arrival, commanded the villagers to conduct a formal worship. To this day, some villagers still refer to this ceremony as the "Raja of Burdwan’s Puja." Until recently, goats for the sacrificial ritual were even provided by the royal family of Burdwan, a testament to their long-standing devotion.
Kali is worshipped here twice a year: once on the Kartik Amavasya, and again on the last Saturday of Baisakh. The Baisakh puja is a quieter, kalasha-based ritual, where offerings are made through a holy vessel. But in Kartik, the air grows heavy with the intensity of numerous goat sacrifices. Many devotees, both individuals and families, offer sacrifices to seek the Mother’s blessing, pledging their devotion with unwavering faith that she will fulfil their heart's desires.
A local faith is the Devi protects the villagers in extraordinary ways. In one instance, a man from the village was sentenced to death for a crime, and his family, in desperation, turned to the Mother, praying fervently for his life. Astonishingly, the man was granted freedom, a seemingly impossible outcome that the villagers attribute to the Mother's grace. Stories like these only deepen the villagers’ faith, binding them closer to her with a reverence that borders on the mystical.
One chilling detail remains: during the sacrificial ritual, the Mother’s wrathful form is so intense that her idol is bound in chains to keep her contained, lest her fury spread fear among the villagers. Her temple, too, possesses an uncanny characteristic—it has never seen electric light within its walls. Even now, her worship takes place only by the glow of candles and oil lamps, a practice upheld by the temple authorities out of respect for the Mother’s wish. This choice is rooted in a strange incident from years past. When electricity first reached the village, the temple committee arranged to light the inner sanctum with a rented generator. But upon attempting to illuminate the temple, the lights and generator mysteriously caught fire, leaving the villagers certain that this was a sign of the Mother's divine will. Since that day, no further attempts have been made to bring electric light inside, a decision now held in reverence.
The day following the Kali Puja, at sunset, the Mother’s idol is taken for immersion. At this moment, a smaller idol, affectionately known as "Chhoto Ma," arrives from a nearby village for a short visit. Both idols are placed face to face outside the temple, and then, each is led to separate ghats for immersion, marking a sacred ritual that bids the Mother farewell. And so, the village begins its year-long wait for her return, a cycle of devotion that has spanned centuries, as they eagerly await the next Kartik, when the Mother's presence will once again bless their land.
