Who Is Mahamaya - My Musings on the Divine Supreme
In my typical Tamil household, I remember being introduced to this word when I was very young. My mother used to call out, “Hey Mahamayi! Hey Rajarajeshwari!” whenever she was in distress, much like how other people call out to Deva or Bhagwan.
When we use this word, we are actually referring to the Goddess—not a particular form of Her, but the Divine itself, the source of creation.
I never really understood the depth of this word until I started reading Introduction to Tantra by Arthur Avalon—Sir John Woodroffe.
What does Mahamaya really mean?
"When they saw the Ishwari of the universe, it was then they saw the latter also resting at her feet.”
What this means to me is that when people began to seek the truth of the Brahmanda they found Mahamaya Herself.
She was the source from which the universe arose.
And then, having seen Her, they also saw the Brahmanda resting at Her feet.
Mahamaya is the One force who is the Adi Parashakti, who is creation Herself, who is this universe, and who is also beyond this universe.
“There is no place in the world where the essence of Mahamaya does not exist.”
We are but manifestations of Her.
Her true essence cannot be described in words, nor can it be fully comprehended by the limited capacity of the human mind.
Mahamaya is the One—the Divine Feminine, or that aspect of the Divine Feminine—who puts a veil around us. She helps us to forget.
Forget the past. Forget the true meaning of ourselves—the source from which we have come.
And perhaps She puts this veil around us to protect us from pain. Because, in a way, ignorance is bliss.
So until we are ready to accept that, until we are ready to face what lies ahead, until we are ready to accept the truth of all that has been done and all that we have come from, we remain in a pool of our own ignorance.
There is an interesting parallel that came to my mind while watching Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey. In Nolan’s interpretation, the lotus becomes something that dulls his memories, keeping him from remembering his past, his crew, his home, and the journey that still awaits him.
Calypso becomes, in my interpretation, the one who keeps Odysseus under a veil of ignorance. She gives him a kind of artificial peace—a temporary escape from the pain of remembering what happened, from the consequences of his actions, from the people he lost, and even from the knowledge of where he is supposed to go.
And that, to me, is very much like Mahamaya.
And perhaps the veil remains until we are ready to lift it.
As we keep doing sadhana, as we keep focusing on this great force that is Mahamaya, that veil begins to pierce—bit by bit, bit by bit, bit by bit—revealing to us the truth.
The piercing of the veil is also Her doing.
Because if Mahamaya is the power that creates the delusion, She is also the power that gives us the knowledge to see through it.
She is both the Avidya that binds us and the Vidya that liberates us.
This is where the Chandipath becomes so profound to me—the idea of Mahamaya as Yoganidra, the cosmic sleep of Vishnu.
She puts us to sleep. And when the time comes, She is the One who wakes us up.
To me, Mahamaya is the one who sits on Nilanchal.
She is the One who lets me sit on Her lap when I am tired.
She is the One who lets me hide behind Her when I see troubles heading towards me.
She is also the Karunamayi.
She is the One who likes to play with me, to tease me, to create those little moments that make me smile, and perhaps to enjoy those little bits of leela with me.
She is my Mother.
Who is Mahamaya to you?