High in the Sahyadris, where the winds carry ancient whispers and each peak holds a pulse of myth, the Devi waits—not behind a veil, but in full, unwavering gaze. She is Saptashrungi Mata, the guardian of seven sacred summits near Vani in Maharashtra. Revered as one of Maharashtra’s 3.5 Shakti Peethas, she is the Ardha Peetha—not a lesser form, but a liminal one. A flame on the threshold. A mountain in half-light.
Shri Saptashrungi Jai Saptashrungi
A Goddess Carved in Stone, Crowned by Peaks
Saptashrungi translates as “She of the Seven Peaks”—sapta meaning seven and shrunga meaning summits. These seven hills rise like a natural diadem around her temple, and the climb to her abode—once a rigorous ascent of over 500 steps, now eased by a ropeway—is not just physical but spiritual. The landscape itself is an initiation: from forest to rock to sky, from outer terrain to inner silence.
Her idol is not simply installed—it is emergent, carved into the mountain’s cliff-face. This swayambhu murti, eight feet tall, blazes with sindoor, her eighteen arms radiating purpose and power. She holds weapons in most, but not all—her form is not merely martial but maternal. And her eyes—crafted from gleaming porcelain—are said to see through time.
The Mystery of the Half Peetha
In the sacred geography of Shakti Peethas, Saptashrungi holds a curious designation: the ardha, or half, Peetha. Here, myth meets enigma. Unlike most Peethas that claim a body part of Sati—head, heart, breasts—Saptashrungi is where her right arm is said to have fallen. The arm: the instrument of karma, of doing, of dharma in motion. What fell here was not a passive part—it was action itself, divine agency cast into stone.
To call it a “half” Peetha is not to diminish it, but to honor its liminal nature. It is a fragment that carries the weight of the whole. Half Peetha, yes—but fully potent.
The All-Seeing Flame
More than a shrine, Saptashrungi is a vigilant presence. Her gaze stretches across the valleys, forests, and villages below. She is not a distant deity—she is the eye in the mountain, the subtle awareness woven into the Sahyadris. This is why local legends often call her Jagat Janani—the Mother of the World—and credit her with protection that is both fierce and gentle.
Local lore tells of tigers silently guarding her sanctum, of Hanuman passing through these peaks in his search for Sanjeevani, and of sages who stayed here to chant the Vedas aloud—believing she listens not with ears, but with spirit.
Rituals Rooted in Simplicity
Worship at Saptashrungi is striking in its sincerity. There are no elaborate, secretive rites here—just simple offerings: coconut, vermilion, silk, and flowers. Her name chant—Shri Saptashrungi Mata Jai Saptashrungi Mata—is the essence of the prayer. No need for mantras brimming with syllables. Her connection to devotees is direct and wordless, often forged in silence or tears.
The daily rituals include abhishekam with milk and panchamrit, her garments changed with devotion, her idol adorned not in opulence but reverence. Yet during Navratri and Chaitra Purnima, the temple transforms into a whirlwind of devotion—lit by the footsteps of thousands, echoed by drums, and drenched in divine fervor.
Between Sky and Earth: The Liminal Flame
To approach Saptashrungi is to encounter paradox. She is both form and formless. Mountain and mother. Half and whole. Her temple does not rest in finality—it hovers at the edge of becoming. She is the pause before the turning point, the breath before the plunge. Devotees often describe an inexplicable shift after visiting her—a sense of clarity, an inner alignment, or simply the courage to act.
This is why she is not just worshipped. She is invoked—in battles of the mind, in storms of fate, in nights of doubt. She is the sentinel flame, watching not just over the Sahyadris, but over every seeker who dares to rise.
Living Presence, Not Mythical Past
What makes Saptashrungi exceptional is that she is not merely remembered—she is felt. Pilgrims don’t visit her; they return to her. Even those who don’t believe in divine forms speak of a force here that changes them. The forest below hums with medicinal herbs. The wind shifts when you chant her name. The mountain itself seems to breathe.
To stand before her is to be seen in full—not judged, not forgiven, but known. And in that knowing, many find healing.
A Final Whisper
She is the right arm of the goddess, the peak that points not just upward but inward. She is the guardian who asks for no offerings except awareness. In a world that constantly pulls us outward, she remains rooted in stone, inviting us to come home—not to her, but to ourselves.
She is not a fragment.
She is focus.
She is not incomplete.
She is intensity.
She is the Seven-Peaked Sentinel.
She is Saptashrungi.
Shri Saptashrungi Jai Saptashrungi