If correction is a pattern rather than an event, it should be visible in the record. It is — and the record is instructive about how it actually works.
Consider what the abolition of slavery, the end of legal segregation, the extension of suffrage and the dismantling of colonial empires have in common as processes. In each case a practice that was economically embedded, legally protected and defended as natural became, within a historically short window, indefensible. Not first illegal — indefensible. The law followed the collapse of the justification.
And in each case the collapse was preceded by decades of unrewarded work by people who were, at the time, considered unreasonable. The pattern is consistent: a small number refuse; the refusal is costly and appears futile; the terms of the argument slowly shift beneath the defenders; then the change arrives quickly and is retrospectively described as inevitable.
This is what I mean by reading Kalki as a pattern. The tradition places the correction in a single figure. History distributes it across many, most of them anonymous. But the structure is recognisably the same — an age of normalised falsehood, an unbearable point, and a restoration.