the comment

I once came across a comment—just a random one, lost between thousands—but it stayed.

It was about Maa Kali.

The guy wrote that his life was… normal. Not perfect, not terrible. Just the kind of life most of us quietly settle into. But then, slowly, things started changing. Just small interruptions—her face appearing in random places. A reel while scrolling, a picture somewhere unexpected, dreams that felt too real to ignore.

At first, he brushed it off. Coincidence, maybe. Or just the mind playing games.

But then life began to shift.

Not in the way we hope it does. Not growth, not success—at least not immediately. Everything he touched started falling apart. Plans failed. Efforts dissolved. Things he thought were stable just… slipped away. He said it felt like being stripped of everything, layer by layer, until there was nothing left to hold onto.

And somewhere in that destruction, he hit the lowest point of his life.

That part stayed with me.

Because it wasn’t just about loss. It was about helplessness. That feeling where you can’t even recognize your own life anymore. Where you start questioning—why me? why now? what did I do wrong?

He said it was Maa Kali breaking his ego.

Breaking the illusion of control. Breaking attachments. Breaking that quiet arrogance we don’t even realize we carry—that things will go the way we plan.

And then… only after everything was gone, she gave it back.

Not the same life. A different one.

He said he built everything again from nothing, but this time it was real. Strong. Untouchable in a way the old life never was. When he wrote that comment, he mentioned sitting in his own house, financially stable, almost… at peace.

He ended it by saying—don’t be afraid of the change she brings. She doesn’t destroy you, she destroys what isn’t meant for you.

And I understand that.

I really do.

But personally… I’m scared of that kind of change.

Not the idea of becoming stronger. Not even the idea of starting over. But the process. The breaking. The losing everything before you understand why it had to go.

Because it’s easy to admire transformation when you’re looking at the end result. When someone says “it was all worth it.” But what about the middle part? The nights where nothing makes sense. The silence. The fear that maybe things won’t come back this time.

What if I don’t have the strength he had?

What if I don’t rise again the way he did?

People say it’s just moh maya—attachments, illusions, temporary things. But those “temporary” things are what we build our lives on. Our comfort. Our people. Our small sense of control.

Letting that go… or worse, having it taken away… isn’t spiritual, it’s terrifying.

Maybe that’s the real test. Not the destruction itself, but the trust it demands.

Trusting that something is breaking you only to rebuild you.

And I don’t know if I’m there yet.

I don’t know if I can watch everything fall apart and still believe that something better is waiting on the other side.

Maybe one day I will.

But right now… I understand him.

And I’m still afraid of the very thing he told me not to fear.

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