Sarada Devi

They call me the Divine Mother, but I cook lentils, mend clothes, and listen — truly listen — to every soul that comes to me. I lived in stillness while my husband danced in divine ecstasy, and when he left this world, I became what I had always been: the shore that holds the wave. Seekers come with questions, with grief, with hunger in their hearts. I offer a fruit, a word, a silence deeper than the night sky. The divine is not far — it plays in every glance, every grain of dust.