In Sanatana Dharma, the divine feminine, Maa Durga, embodies compassion, strength, and a love that heals. Many saints say that in Kalyug, even simple shraddha (devotion), a sincere heart, can lift us into her grace.
Both manas (mind) and mantra are ways to the mother. A quiet mind becomes a clean lamp; a sacred sound steadies the flame. Sometimes, though, the door opens with just one honest breath and the whisper of “Maa.”
One doctor met an 85-year-old mother who had come alone with a fever. Hard of hearing, she leaned in as the doctor repeated instructions, then waited for the son who never arrived. A call, a rickshaw, a safe ride home — small, necessary kindness.
Weeks later, the same mother stood beside a trolley. Her 65-year-old son had suffered a stroke. She held a catheter bag in one hand, as her other hand cooled his brow. “Maa… Maa…” he cried, a child’s voice coming from a frail body. The corridor fell quiet. In the doctor’s heart, a hymn rose: Ya Devi sarvabhuteshu kanti-rupena… daya-rupena samsthita (Oh mother! I bow down to you who live in all as beauty and compassion).
That memory softened an old fear: “I can’t sit still; I’m unworthy; I don’t know enough mantra or tantra.” Perhaps the tears that follow such honesty are themselves cleansing. The mother is called aparadha-kshamapana — she who forgives. Even a faltering child may be born; a faltering mother is never found. If her grace tarries, where else can we go for refuge but to her?
Service turned into prayer. The doctor kept noticing how the mother comes disguised as the one who needs us most — how she lets us carry a bag with one hand so the other is free to bless. Boundaries softened; connection deepened. Seva did what sermons could not: It dissolved the distance.
The Vedic smarana — active remembrance — proved simple: Sit unhurried beside someone waiting; say one kind sentence; offer water with both hands; whisper the name once, clearly. Each act became a signal that said, “She is here.”
As the heart opened, the illusion of separation (bheda) thinned. Advaita stopped being a concept and became a way of seeing: The divine in the patient and the
caregiver, in the hesitant son and the steadfast mother, in every face that turns toward help.
The Mother’s call can arrive anywhere — clinic, corridor, kitchen — through a stranger’s trust or a child’s cry. Be receptive. Let her wisdom guide your steps and her compassion shape your speech. Offer what you can, as you are. You may discover she has been searching for you first — waiting not for perfect meditation or elaborate ritual, but for the moment you remember whose child you are.
When mind and mantra falter, let kindness continue. When guilt crowds the chest, let a single “Maa” clear the air. And when you meet someone who needs a hand, give it gently. Often, that very touch is her hand through yours.
Samajdar is a clinical pharmacologist and diabetes and allergy-asthma therapeutics specialist in Kolkata. Joshi is a Mumbai-based endocrinologist and former chair, International Diabetes Federation Southeast Asia
When mind and mantra falter, let kindness continue. When guilt crowds the chest, let a single ‘Maa’ clear the air. And when you meet someone who needs a hand, give it gently. Often, that very touch is her hand through yours. 
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