Without the Mother life is a harsh monotony of an endless journey. Even the richest Temple where the light of the Mother is absent is like the dead shell of a brilliant giant oyster.
When the Mother is present in the consciousness with Her smile, the most frightful hell melts away like a bad dream to reveal an unimaginable Wonder, a mystic ineffable Splendor.
Behind the shabby costumes and repulsive look of a stranger hides our Friend, the most marvelous inimitable supreme Actor.
As long as man remains a man, merely a thinker closed to light, there is little sign of his redemption in sight but for the Grace. In an impulse, he could exterminate his own kind in a flash.
The same blood flows in the veins of all men everywhere on earth, his organs are not stamped with any religion or creed. The devilish violence, lust, greed, hate and intolerance, the mad stampede for money and power, the ego-drive for pleasure are symptoms of his chronic illness, tragic cause of his fallen state.
Yet deep in the occult heart of man dwells a Divinity, a high god who is preparing through the ages, the miraculous hour of revelation.
The Supreme Mother is pressing down on the thick obstinate wall of petrified ignorance separating man from his all-knowing Soul. One by one, little by little, the desperate centers of resistance, the towering castles of violence are crumbling under Her pressure.

In some corner, somewhere, a new heart, a luminous divine bud
Fed with the Mother’s radiant love is blossoming into a flower.
The Mother is the heaven, the deathless abode of the supernal delight.
All the maladies vanish magically
when the mind is struck by Her lightings
And flooded with Her Power and sweetness.
The most desolate cruel desert becomes a blissful Paradise.

Om Douce Mère.
Om Sacchidananda swarupini, vijayini, janani.

Niranjan Guha Roy 1993