To Ma Kamakshi, Ma Tara

You sit there silently watching me make mistakes
You smile down at me when my pathetic self madly dances about
You emerge as a feeling within me when I cry out 
You hold me close when am about to fall

This silence around me, I nurture it for you
To listen close and catch the sound of your sweet anklets
I feel you sit on my shoulders as I walk through life
I cease to exist when you glow on my brow

Oh Sweet Mother, Oh beautiful Kamakshi
You have graced me with your presence twice. 
Am not fulfilled, never will be Oh Tara
Why do play such hide and seek

I stare at the Sri Chakra, mystical nature of yours
I wonder what abstraction of math are you built of
Can blind folded love and surrender unravel
The depth of your potency within this earthly form

Time has passed and yet I am lost
Can I define your form at all
Do you enjoy my struggle or can you help
To raise me from the world of the dead

I have been granted a second life
One of color, of success and prosperity
You gave me all but you didnt reveal
The secret door to your home

I walk the ash sprawled cremation ground
I watch miserable wrecks burn to dust
I will be there one day I know
Will you come to take me with you

This earthly prison I have abused much
Your heavenly abode looks a faint distance away
I feel its presence and yet I cant find my way
What am I missing, where am I going wrong

Many have come and many have gone
Most want to reach godhood but remain human
Interactions reveal how much our ego rises
Where are the wise and where is that divine light

I sink back into my silent world
No human has ever brought me that happiness
The kind I feel with you, everlasting
Why then am I here, searching for you...

I have felt the madness of Aghori
I have felt the craziness of Bhadrakali
I have sensed the profuse love of Tara
All on a bed of ashes. 

I shall dance on the pyre of life with you
I shall dress in red robes of the fires
Here take my soul, this severed head is yours
This child awaits, for you to behold

Come back O Mother, hold me close
Raise me from this noise
Reveal to me the depth of thy mystery
Make me a part of that puzzle beyond life. 

Tara - Power of Sound, Navigator of My Ship

Salvation, super philosophies and renunciation are lovely concepts, but what do we mortals do when we are tied down mercilessly by problems that surround us and plague our minds such that concentrating on attaining salvation appears like a distant dream. This is the struggle of life, this is the hard truth of existence and we suffer it every moment with no sign of peace in our hearts. 

The Dasa Mahavidhyas step in to transform this painful grueling existence into a far simpler and peaceful one if we try to understand and realize their presence better. The Goddess who steps up at this hour of need among the great Mahavidhyas is Tara, the Mother who is known to transport us from the powerful shackles of trouble to a higher realm of peace. 

Mythology describes that during the churning of the ocean, when the Halahala overflowed and threatened to destroy the world, Lord Shiva had the presence of mind to consume the deadly poison that turned his throat blue. What is unknown is that Shakti in the form of Ma Tara calmed down his burning throat by feeding Him her life giving milk. This story gives a glimpse of the power of Lord Shiva to take control of the universal deluge into Himself to save all life and Ma Tara protects all living creatures from the ocean of poison through her power of creation. 

Here, the "ocean" or the "poison" or "halahala" can be interpreted as the depth of sorrow or fear our worldly problems bring with them, describing the nature of the problem to be humongous or as deep as the ocean or as noxious as poison. Ma Tara symbolizes that which saves us from all such harm. She takes up three forms, each of which symbolize a state of mind. 

She appears as Ughra Tara, in the fierce aspect similar to Kali who walks on corpses and collects all the ignorance of the three worlds into her cup made of the human cranium. Her vibrating war cries surge ahead and kill the pale noise of ignorance in one sweep. She appears as Nila Saraswati or the blue Goddess of sweet sound that flash bright as a lightening and destroy all the darkness around. She appears as Ekajata, representing the one who has channelized all her sound energies into one single goal of creation. Tara therefore is represented as the White Goddess, full of knowledge and full of purity who saves us from our own evils. 

Lets dive into the beauty of this representation. Tara is the Mother who is invoked to help one self reduce the noise within and better the quality of thought and purify the mind. Tara, represented as the guiding light who scales across the universe, is the protector who eases the dense cloud of illusion that surrounds the bhakta. She is the primordial sound Om, that which is necessary for creation and the one who purifies the sound that is generated from the being. Tara is the Goddess who is invoked when the bhakta has reached the lake of nectar and needs her boat, Tari, in order to cross the divine lake to reach the Seat of Lalita, the mansion of the Great Goddess who rules the Sri Chakra. 

The Dasa Mahavidhyas looks to be a step by step approach towards one's own spiritual progress where Tara represents the power to kill ignorance, and the power to purify the mind. Tara, turns into the navigator of universe within the spiritual mind when the bhakta completely surrenders to her. Bestowing the boon of sweet words, she helps the Bhakta to cross the lake of nectar to reach the Gates of the Goddess Lalita. Tara, the white Goddess, in her purity is the guiding principle that kills all ignorance and delivers us to a higher realm of peace. 

The Ten Sacred Brahma Vidhyas

Hinduism believes in a world of devatas who live in various strata of the visible atmosphere, the lower Kshudra devatas who reside closer to earth to the Uccha Devatas who live in higher planes. The vedas tell us how to live right and well so that we can ascend this ladder and move to higher levels in our own spirital progress post death if we are lucky. 

While leading our earthly existance these lower deities bless us with cheap wishes and so called benefits that we may look for but then we miss the real matter, the cardinal deities who are of higher spiritual discipline who actually help us in our progress and are not just mere wish fulfilling lower deities. 

In order to get the right direction, move towards the supreme higher deities and achieve Brahman as described in the Upanishads one must take the help of the Brahma Vidhyas, a spiritual discipline that leads up to this superior existance. Brahma Vidhyas are better known as Siddha vidhyas or Dasamahavidhyas are ten great disciplines that enable a person to progress spiritually. They are represented pictorially as ten great Goddesses/mothers whose worship and realization takes the aspirant to the next level. 

As an introduction, they are ten outstanding personalities of the divine mother and are represented in the following forms:

Kali
Tara
Tripurasundari
Bhuvaneshwari
Tripura Bhairavi
Chinnamasta
Dhumavati
Bagalamukhi
Matangi
Kamalatmika

Each of these Goddess describes a principle of life that we need to know, digest, accept, realize and fulfill in order to move on in our spiritual progress. 

Now the big question maybe what do each of these great mothers represent. This moved into the sphere of abstraction where we define a few things for our own understanding. The supreme energy is all enveloping, all encompassing and stitched into the process of creation. With this is born the idea of time and space. Space is vast and can be understood by bringing in divisions. 

Hence as an entity, as a sadhaka we need to understand and realize that the space is defined by the 8 directions that surround us - North, North East, East, South East, South, South West, West, North West, above and below. Time is defined by every breath we take during our life time. In order to understand and realize this knowledge we have been given ten senses to realize the true potential with our consciousness - Skin, eyes, ears, tongue, nose, mouth, foot, hands, anus and genitals. 

Its this combination of time, space, sense that we attribute to the dasa mahavidhyas at the beginning of our spiritual progress. All of these attributes that we are familiar with bring us closer to our own consciousness and sharpen it ten fold to reach a higher realm. 

While our initial journey may not be in the direction of attain supreme salvation and our sadhana may be tuned towards just one of the ten mahavidhyas, as we progress in this path, it opens our mind to the other great Vidhyas in this path. As the sadhaka keeps worshipping the great Mother and leaves all his worldly problems in her hands, this relationship between the aspirant and the divine mother grows, so much so that the aspirant depends and believes in the Divine Mother for solutions to every one of their problems, even the trivial ones. This leads to an intimate relationship between the seeker and the Goddess so much so that they forget the goal they originally started off with.  

The seeker realizes the presence of the Goddess, their attitude changes and its visible to everyone around them. This journey leads us to higher realms that the mind understands and digests. And the real truth lies in the fact that it cannot be explained to anyone, it can only be realized by one self. This is the fun in spiritualism, the real intoxication that keeps us going disconnecting us from our present birth and all its attractions. All the mind starts working on is how to go from one strata to the next and progress to reach the supreme with the blessings of the divine mother and not about how to get petty wishes coming true during our earthly life. 

Photo cortesy:
http://kamakhyamandir.org

The Life of an Honest Priest

Twilight set in, leaving behind its orange residue across the horizon and the chirping was slowly fading away. The night sounds had started to take over the quiet landscape. The temple bell could be heard in the distance and the swirling waters tossed gently along the banks of the river.

He looked out of the window of his hut, it was almost dark. He walked across to the corner of his home and threw in a few things into his bag. Tossing a dark shawl over his shoulders he collected his Rudraksha beads and hung them around his neck. He quietly stepped out of his house and waving a sign of acknowledgement to the people around he walked down the street to the steps leading to the river. The ferry man was waiting, he was his only passenger to cut across the river to the other side that evening.

As darkness set in, he stared across the river. He could here the rumbling waters under the row as it tossed repeatedly into the waters. He watched the village lights light up like lamps in the darkness. He stared on to the other side. The cremation ground was active that night. There were two burning and the reflection of the pyres shimmered in the water. In the distance he could hear the temple bell echoing through the trees. As he neared the banks, he watched the wailing relatives as they bid goodbye to their departed beloved. He collected his things, and covering himself with his shawl, he got off the boat. He handed a few coins over to the ferry man and looking up at the flight of steps leading to the temple and started to walk.

He walked through the street leading up to the temple and bought a few hibiscus garlands along the way. Smearing red powder on his forehead he marched into the temple. People moved giving him way and stared long at him as he passed by. He almost owned the temple. He stepped into the sanctum and hung his bag behind the door. He slowly took off his shawl and kept it safely behind. And like lightning hits, from the silent world he had woken out of he took the arathi lamp and lit its wicks and like a man in trance he held up the flame to the Goddess and danced showing the light to her Divine presence, to her feet, to her sickle and to the corpse head hanging from her arm, he brought the light back close to her face, envisioning her waking up in those three red eyes that stared back at him.    

Sacred syllables awakening the divine Goddess Ma Kalika resonated through the walls. Showers of fresh hibiscus adorned her shoulders. Pure water flowed down her thick black hair and a fresh red saree draped her otherwise naked self. She glistened in the light as he moved with his music, the fire getting brighter with every swirl threw shadows on the wall almost making it appear like she came to life and danced with him. The air was tense, the singing got louder, the drums resounded, the temple bell rang furiously and he danced with her shadow and almost embraced her with love. With every lamp he picked, she came back from the shadowy darkness of the room to bless the folk with this divine spectacle of terrific love, divine dance in blissful intoxication. 

He laid down the last of the lamps, took in the warmth of the flame and turned to his audience showing them the light of divine love as he slowly walked out of the door. A couple of hours passed by and he has repeated his dance of love with the Goddess for the local folk to witness. It was the end of the evening, the crowd had trickled out of the temple and he silently bowed down to the Mother and whispered a few words in her ears. Then collecting his shawl and carefully taking his bag he closed the sanctum door leaving a single lamp lit in her chamber for the night.   

The streets had gone dark, the people had retired for the night as he walked down to the river. But as he neared the flight of steps he took a dramatic turn to the right instead of heading for the ferry. In the darkness among the trees he walked sure footed into the shadows and waited near the small temple watching the last of the pyres burn. The shamshan ghat was silent, except for the crackling flames that ate into the corpses that lay lifeless covered in flames. The relatives were gone, the aimless onlookers were gone, it was just him and his garden in the night. He walked up to the pyre that had died out, dusting the ashes and looked through the remains and picked up the popped skull. He walked down to the river and washed it clean and came back carefully taking it with him. He headed straight for the Ashwattha tree that stood behind a small temple. He lit a lamp at the temple and touched the feet of the mother and taking his skull in his hand he walked to the other side. 

He slowly unpacked his back, taking out a pouch of vermilion and some water, he made a paste and smeared it on the white head of the skull. He took out his lamp and wicks and lit a small light next to it. He undressed himself and folded his cloths to a side and clearing the ground, he sat in the middle and placed the decorated skull in front of him. Eyes closed he recited the sacred mula mantra to awaken the Goddess. He offered food and prayed to the Goddess. He closed his eyes and swung into japa, forgetting his world, forgetting his surroundings. The darkness came back to rule and in the silence, he slowly became conscious to the chill in the air, to the breeze in the leaves and as he went deeper into meditation he became aware of the power in the air, of the presence of the great Mother who had promised to visit him again. He spent the night in intoxicated dance, in intense sadhana as she visited him in his consciousness. Together they roamed the earth, in a different world, in a different realm locked in divine embrace. 

In the early hours of the morning, he woke out of his trance, bowed to the Mother and got up from his seat. He walked down his silent garden to the river and took his sacred dip. Turning to the temple, he walked up and opened the Sanctum doors. He bowed to the Mother and started his routine of worship for the day as people slowly trickled back into the temple. 

Nalhati - Shakti Peetha up close

Far away in remote northern Bengal, lost in the rural landscape is a small shrine to the Mother. While the representation is that of Kali Ma, the potency of the shrine hints at the ancient Shakti Peetha of Ma Sati. Indeed, not too far away from the sacred Siddha Peeth of Tarapith is the sacred shrine of Ma Nalhateshwari, at Nalhati. 

Nalhati, buried in her potency, is a small temple surrounded by a village. The main temple of Nalhati rests atop a small hill and within it, draped in hibiscus flowers and red sindur is the sacred rock of power. The name of Nalhati comes from the word "Nal" which refers to the great Mother's throat that fell here when Sati's body was destroyed by Vishnu's discus. Hence this temple houses the form of Ma Nalhateshwari.

The charm of Nalhati is the peace and the sheer lack of corruption. The priests are simple and do not mind devotees taking photographs of the Great Mother's shrine. There is Tantrik presence at this shrine for everything hints towards Kali Ma and Shiva Bhairava. The Bali peeth at the foot of this temple stands in powerful silence and in brilliant red demanding more blood for the Mother.

But what would the landscape of Nalhati have looked like in the ancient days. How could anyone have identified the potency of this sacred earth? Nalhati appears to  have been shrouded in dense jungle along the river side and at the peak of this low hill stands this rock, possibly the fossil of the Great Ma's throat. Reflecting back on the appearance of this shrine, it is a wondrous thought that apparently a stone could command such power.

When we stand at the entrance of the main shrine, its the discovery of this form that moves the heart first. Closer observation brings in the familiarity of the rules and the iconography. The red color, the long hair, the red dress that always makes the mother look like a new bride, the Trishul and the hibiscus flowers at her divine silver feet, all these  proclaim the written laws for the Goddess in the sacred text. And hence the worship is defined, that this rock should be decorated as the head of the Goddess is the rule applied, that she was most probably in ughra form brings on the features of Kali Ma. The fire rises into the air and arti is performed, the divine vision to see the Mother is granted in the light of the flames. 

While these are the familiar rules that are asserted on this stone, while the acts of divine worship are performed to seek her blessings in the method known to us, while fire and water create the sacred path to the feeble offerings we make in half hearts, how does a simple devotee touch the potency of this great shrine when we stand up so close to it in its presence?

Why do we take it for granted that the only method to get access to the divine are "acts" of worship and our mind and heart hardly have a role to play in it because the larger looming presence of time [Kala] defines the limit of our stay in her presence? While I turn my head again to the door, descending the steps of this hill, I just wondered what I really achieved after coming this far. Is this enough or if life, rules, time and family would allow, could I have stayed here longer? And if I did, how would it have made a difference to me if I had to take a dive into my spiritual self?

What am I missing that makes this trip fulfilling in the perspective of having met the divine Mother, but leaves a lacunae in my heart for hardly having spent any time with her? The divine Mother at Nalhati, Tarapith and Kalighat are as close as we can get to the sacred rock that governs the spiritual world we live in. And yet, as we rubbish away all the noise and corruption, and watch her in silence... am quite speechless thinking what next?

As the divine flames rise and the bells ring in my heart, reverberating within the hollow of my inner self, Oh Ma, I ask for forgiveness towards my shattering ignorance of not being able to recognize your potent presence.

Mysteries of a Siddhapith - Twin worlds at Tarapith

Our lifestyles are often defined by the caste we come from and the sub caste further describes the nuances of how we differ from each other in the minor aspects of living and mindset. We have lived by certain rules that differ from one household to the next, and the way of worship also changes accordingly though the basic principle remains the same. Unfortunately, we are not broad minded enough to accept the differences. And life moves on, as long as we don't step on each other's toes.

These differences are never apparent, sometimes never spoken about and most often buried with time. These rules are understood to be described as the lifestyle of the given caste but its never described as the lifestyle defined by a school of thought.

One thing that is heavily apparent at the Siddhapith of Tarapith is the twin worlds comprising of the Brahmins who have captured the main temple and the silent world of the tantra Sadhaks who have made the Shamshan ghat their home. These two worlds though in reality are separated by a street of tiny little shops, in concept are separated by the biggest differences in belief and lifestyle, all strangely attributed to the same mother - Ma Tara!

The charm of Tarapith is this strange reality, though not apparent to any person who steps in there for the first time, the differences between these two worlds echoes in the head when we open our minds with awareness towards the life here. Tarapith, is probably one of the few locations that envelopes the Shamshan ghat as an equal part of itself apart from the main temple into its fold. Few other places like Manikarnika ghat and Kalighat have made the Shamshan an equal tourist attraction. Here at Tarapith the belief is that Ma Tara, not only inhabits the main temple but also lives at the Shamshan ghat making it her home. Hence, the Shamshan ghat here at the riverside is considered equally sacred as the temple that lies above it.

Tarapith's sacred land is defined by a low hill that has this temple at its peak. The hill is not so apparent as our approach to it is almost at the same level. The street with shops runs perpendicular to the temple is lower in level. At this cross road which leads to the main temple gateway upwards on the left, on the right we can walk down to the river that flows by this little town. The road slopes down towards the river which is a beaten track that appears very well inhabited by people and shops.

It all looked very simple and obvious as we found the way to the temple because all the Brahmin priests led us there, but where was the promised Shamshan ghat to which this road led? There was no sign of it at all.

It was the strangest moment in my life, we had decided to go back home right after the darshan of Ma Tara, but for some twist in circumstances we decided to hang around for another 2 hours at Tarapith. That decision was the first in the direction of discovering the real world of Tarapith. It felt like Ma Tara was granting me my wish of touching the escentric world of tantriks. Was it safe? Apparently yes. The 2nd twist in events was when my adventurous self discovered the unassuming path that took a strange turn to the right from the beaten track to the river. This path was hidden among a cloister of trees and shops and was hardly evident to the eye.

We had just walked out of the corrupt world of red clad brahmin priests, who were yelling and shouting, demanding money, realing out mantras to make a quick buck and not letting us have a moment's peace at the feet of the mother. This was the so called familiar world that we were so aware of and so much a part of disliking every moment we spent in its presence as we clung on to dear faith. This was the world that we call ours, that in the name of Ma Tara actually left every Bhakt in disillusionment over their own faith if they were not strong enough. This was our known reality in the name of civilized faith - a world of obscene levels of corruption and disregard to the sacredness of the very shrine in front of which these acts of blastphemy are performed.

And then I discovered this other world near the river side on the opposite side of the temple, far away from the noise up on the hill. This world was peaceful and scerene and at the same time eerie and mysterious. Every step into the shamshan ghat made me feel that I was breaking every forbidden brahminical rule placed by my ancestors, and I loved every moment of it, I was free!

We left our footware at the side and walked into this world, it looked weird and yet thrilling. In the shade of many trees that gave this little locality its charm, there was a lot for my eyes to feast on as I made my daring entrance. This was the other world, were we strangely felt a lot more peace and the power of the mother was way way higher. People here were probably poorer, and yet there was hardly any begging, not to the obscene levels at the temple. People here left us alone, as we dared to walk into this strange little land. A lot of eyes were on us and yet they didnt bother us which probably made us feel a little queezy. We were so used to the racket, being left alone was hardly a sign of comfort!

These people were dignified, and far more serious in their approach towards faith. They didnt come close to us, though I felt their powerful glance scanning my presence in question wondering what I was possible intending to do here. I was clearly a trespasser and I walked into this world feeling like one. Tiny huts dotted this peaceful haven and red clad men and women walked about with ingridients of worship. There was no sound here but for the havan taking place near the small temple, where people from our society mingled with men of this world in union to worship the great Goddess.

Honestly, the presence of the Mother here was far more superior. while the air smelt of her presence, the red hit us too close and we tried very hard not to touch anything for everything here seemed so powerful and intimidating that we felt uneducated in this land of secret faith. Women tantriks were easy to find and burning bodies were a common sight. A little girl showed us around this locality, taking us into the deeper ends of this world, making us ever more uncomfortable. She was educated and there was not a streak of fear in her mind. She roamed around freely telling us about the place and leading us from one shrine to the other as old tantrik men peeped out of their dark huts inquisitively looking at us.

This land was real power, where men and women practiced freely, where there was no discrimination, where a young girl of 10 years of age was allowed to walk around freely among prayers and burning bodies at the cremation ground, where women were not forbidden, where no one asked for money and no one really cared about us for apparently we were the most illiterate among those who visited there.

This was the place of true unadulterated faith, where mystical chants were carefully guarded from inquisitive half baked keepers of faith like us, where entry was by initiation only and where our fear factor of tantriks was actually our inadequacy to face the potency of this faith as compare to the familiar world of brahmin priests ridiculing the same chants for a couple of bucks in the civilized world up at the temple. We fear tantriks because we touch real potency in their world, because we are not ready for it and we scorn their practices because we dont have the courage to face the powers of divinity.

Ma Tara! I bow to thee for enlightening me with this truth.

Mysteries of a Siddhapith - Journey into Tarapith

I have never seen a more brimming tantrik locality up so close and Tarapith is in every word a land of intrigue, secrecy and divinity. With the break of day, what hits the eye is a glow of red everywhere in this busy little street that leads up to the temple. Red signifying the mother's presence in the hibiscus flowers, red in all the spiritual paraphernalia out on sale, red in the attire of the so called divine pandits who cloud the entrance to the main temple, red in the tilak or sindhur that is slapped on our foreheads and red on the walls of these ancient temples.

Tarapith is a busy little town, dirty and rural and there is just one road that leads up there from our urban world. This is the old rural Bengal, hardly visible in Kolkata though streaks of this lifestyle can be seen at Kalighat. And of course, I was well on my way to one of the most secretive locations of high tantrik activity with nothing to stop me! This was a trip I had been waiting for...for ages.

The spell of Tarapith is something different. This is the only place, to my knowledge, that potentially has no rules or restrictions. I found myself gliding into every forbidden territory without anyone stopping me. This was freedom of a different kind and believe me, for the first time I experienced the meaning of fearlessness from the tantrik perspective.

This school of thought defined by tantra, mantra and yantra that is so mystical and at the same time obvious in every Indian home is still such an undefined theory and yet so powerful. While nothing is apparent, and we do not get instant results for every ritual performed, the very power that governs the aura here doesn't leave room for doubt or the desire to test it. The green countryside of Bengal leads up to this red laden land, where every person looks at us in curiosity because we stand apart so much and in some cases, we appear to be the answer to their attempts of making a quick buck.

And I soaked myself in all this, while delighting myself with all the small ritual objects that sell in these little shops, and dipped into the traditional dish of luchi with alu torkari. It was easy to understand the first half of the visit, we just followed the crowd that led up to the temple. We crossed over the shops, bought a garland of bright red hibiscus and walked up to the main temple door to be met by a sleepy policeman who barely bothered to check us.

The only disgusting element of Tarapith was the level of corruption that beat every other place, be it Jagannath Puri, Kalighat or Lingaraj temple Bhuvaneshwar or the south. We were literally nabbed by a swarming bunch of brahmin priests with no sense of self respect or dignity. They were beggars, selling bits of mantra at a price, and that too came very cheap [Rs 10/-]. While I was a victim of this disgust, I managed to fight my irritation back and kept my focus glued to the Mother, but when the priest demanded money for just entry into the main sanctum, with no other way out of the temple, my hatred towards my race increased even more. It was so much the wrong feeling to have at the temple.

Despite the madness, despite the corruption, despite the money sucking brahmin priests who wouldn't leave our side up to the end, despite the demand for more dakshina at every step leading up to the main sanctum, the first sight of Ma Tara quite makes us forget everything. 

She is welcoming, warm and yet she is defiant of rules. She gives a feeling of freedom, seated on her throne decorated in red hibiscus flowers and at the same time has an aura of the wild depicted by the permanent circle of blood around her mouth with a lolling tongue. She is peaceful and has this power that surrounds her, she is so distant and untouched despite the chaos created by the men around her. She sits there with disheveled hair, matted locks that are so heavy and wet to touch. Her face shines in silver, with blood red sindhur always covering her forehead. Her eyes are powerful and yet there is this vast difference between our world and hers and that is so visible in her knowing smile as she watches us through this imaginary curtain of maya that separates her from us.

Truly, our worlds are so different. Ma Tara, the mysterious Goddess of the Shamshan ghat, the secret mother of the night is awake and alive at day break within this sacred shrine at Tarapith, to just remind us of this imaginary world we live in, blanketed by a web of rules.

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The silent Tara of the night - Tarapith

Essence of Kali Puja

When we think of the pujas, the first thoughts are about the exotic pandals, the larger than life idols, the noise and the fine clothes people drape themselves in for the evening. But is this really what the pujas are about? Would anyone spend so much money to erect these exotic residences only to house a set of clay idols on a brightly lit stage? Clay is definitely not an ancient mechanism to pave the way to the spiritual world of the Goddess. So what exactly are we missing that is the main element of this worship?

Observing the decoration, my eyes traveled from the sculptural marvel to the potency at the feet of the clay idols. There "it" stood, a tantrik representation of the Goddess, what looked curious to my ignorant self but started making a lot of sense as the evening progressed. The structure was simple, covered with a cloth and decorated with vilva leaves and hibiscus flower garlands. At its feet were scattered a lot of marigold in offering. On one side was a loaded chilum and on the other side was a curious arrangement of small pots and darbha grass tied into the shape of a triangle with a rectangular piece resting over it. The central tantrik shrine had a shoot rising out of it that held bangles. All this was curiously enclosed within a fence of 4 sticks in the 4 corners tied together with a red thread. Next to this was lit an oil lamp glowing quietly in this flood lit stage.  

And then the priest walked in, an old man dressed in red, symbolizing the colors of the divine Mother. This was the opportune moment to rush up to him and ask him all that I could possibly know. And slowly I began to discover the mysterious tantrik representation.

What lay hidden beneath the cloth was the traditional kalash, a pot containing sacred water with possibly a dash of rose water to add fragrance to it. Above it was placed a coconut, not in the traditional kalash representation with its outer fiber removed, but horizontally with its green outer cover intact with the stalk rising out of it. This held the bangles of different kinds, red glass bangles followed by that of shankha [shell] and iron [loha]. There was a pot of water on one side and above it was darbha tied with red thread forming a triangle, possible a yantra representation of the Goddess. Above it was a rectangular wooden piece with a mirror embedded with Swastika painted on it. Above that was placed a perforated pot. While the puja would have had many more ingredients in place like Panchagobbo [5 extracts of the cow], Panchasashya[5 food grains], Panchapallab [5 varieties of leaves] etc. my interest floated towards the meaning of this arrangement which, to the common man outside of Bengal, would have looked curiously new. 

The theory behind this arrangement was wonderful as the priest explained it. Water is poured into the perforated pot at regular intervals to bathe the form of the goddess. The water flows over the mirror which reflects her form in the clay idol standing in front, symbolically bathing her as it trickles into the pot below. At anytime, the Divine mother can be viewed through the mirror. A loaded chillum is offered along with incense next to the oil lamp. All other items are lined up to be offered during arti.

And then the dholak began, rhythm so profound that it could send anyone into a trance. My feet tapped the floor as I clapped following the beats and my heart danced into the night with the three mothers. It was the best Kali Ma arti I had ever seen! The beats grew stronger and faster and the priests held up the fire, dancing in divine trance as they showed the great mother the flame. Fire was followed by the fan, choury, shankha, mud pots with food offering, sindhur chubri with a small mirror, comb, bangles etc and sweets, bananas, and finally the dhoop. The evening came to an end and the drumming halted making us realizing how deafening this trance really was. Kali Ma worship came to a close as man and divinity slowly came out of their spiritual trance.

The silent Tara of the night - Tarapith

 

She walks the earth
The silent Goddess,
Mother of the cremation ground

Mother to the Lord himself
The blue hued one
In the moonless night

Her anklets resound
Sweet notes of a damsel

Mystical in her form
Fierce and powerful within

Ma Tara, the real,
the powerful, the mystical,
I bow to you in all reverence.

Local legends believe that the third eye of Goddess Sati hit the earth at Tarapith, but strangely this shrine didn't make it to the list of 51 shakti peethas. Tarapith might not be as well known beyond the shores of Bengal but within this region there are still loud cries of ancient tantricism brimming with life. Shrouded in the dense mysticism of ancient tantric practices lies a small temple to the north of Bengal. Believed to be graced by the heavens to have the third eye of Sati fall on its earth, this little temple came into existence based on a few obscure events. 

Insulted at the great sacrifice of Daksha, Sati entered the fires of death to perish in the very flames of purity that emanated from her. This event shook the universe for it left Lord Shiva, infuriated by the act of Daksha. He scaled the landscape wailing over the death of his beloved, carrying her corpse along with him, never to let go. Lord Vishnu took the final step and sent his discus to destroy what remained of her. With dizzying speed it cut through the air, tearing the dead flesh of the Goddess, she fell, scattering herself across the sacred earth of bholoka, on prithvi at 51 divine locations. Here fell her third eye, the power of enlightenment, the power of life, the essence of all siddhas...Tara pith came brimming to life, completely magical, intoxicating, powerful...

Vermilion defines her world, kumkum marks her presence. She had descended into this world dressed in the deep hues of vermilion, adorned in hibiscus and her favorite meal is flesh and blood. She is the the silent energy that wakes up in the night and dances in the cremation ground among the dead, among the fires. Tara, she has such a pleasant name, such a potent form and yet such a deadly look, so fierce that she could destroy all evil in a single glance. She walks the earth in silence, she is the prime resident of the cremation ground. She came alive as a mother to rid Lord Shiva off the poison he consumed to save the universe. She suckled him as a new born and nourished him with cool milk, and she empowered him with life.

Her long tresses flow down, covering her very being. In her heart she carries the Great Lord of the universe as a baby. She is fierce in appearance with disheveled hair and yet she has such warmth towards him as an infant. Tara, also known as Shamshan tara resides at Tara pith, the only sacred temple that makes the cremation ground its sacred home. While the fires turn all that is impure to dust, isn't it strange that the only way to enlightenment, the synonym of pure faith and salvation is in the unknown and unthinkable path of vama marga.

The sweetness of the Mahavidyas, the potency of feminine power coupled with the mysterious presence of the sacred goddesses who are the essence of all consciousness - shakti is not just energy, she is a mysterious world far more powerful than what meets the eye. She rises in the night, her meal is flesh and bone, her thirst is quenched by liquor, her garden is the burning ground, her ornaments are the limbs of the departed, her blinding truth is the strength to overcome death, her weapon is that which kills all fears. And this is visible in the lifestyle of all those who live by her side.

They are the living tantrics who have no home, nor fear nor food. They live on what the burning ghats offer them. They live with this stark reality all the time, death is a common site and sadhana is a regular part of their lives. Tarapith is the host of this wilderness, a shrine where there is little room for you and me. Here is a zone, where fewer thoughts reside, illusions of life silently die and immortality is defined not by progeny but the reality of one's own consciousness.

In the dense haze of this ignorance do I thirst to know the true form of the Goddess that awakens the mysteries of the night. The moon shines out and in its pleasant light does she shine, Oh the blue hued goddess hungry again for her drop of blood. Oh Tara Devi, do reveal to me the sacred yet secretive path that attracts me to you. May I see beauty even in your terrific being, may I see light in your twinkling deep blue eyes. May i feel your presence in the crackling flames of the cremation grounds by the night, may I breath this potent air refreshed with your presence. I bow to you oh Mother, to your beauty and to your fury, to your feminine potency, to your dazzling form, bathe me with your light, with your presence, with your life.

||Ghora roope mahamaaye sarvashatruvashamkari
Bhaktebhyo varade devi traahi maam sharanaagatham||

Fear of the unknown world beyond death

 

He lay there on his deathbed, his eyes graying within their dark circles as he furiously fluctuated between this world and the other. He barely recognized me and when he did it was not just an achievement for him, it was a moment of happiness for his family that he could actually connect with this world and its reality. He had grown thin and pale as the cancer had slowly eaten into most of his body. He still gave a beaming smile when he realized that he connected with me and is proper English retorted - I recognized you! That was the last smile I saw on his face.

I ascended the steps to visit him once again. This time he lay there silent, contained and wrapped in linen ready for his last journey. The grim atmosphere of the living waiting  for death to take him now had a strange sense of relief in all the enveloping sadness. He has suffered the last 5 hours and his family had resigned to removing the oxygen mask and leave him to his peril rather than keep him alive and torture him with more pain with the aid of medical science. There was no point, he had crossed the line and there was no coming back.

I sat there watching him and wondered what the purpose of his existence was. What was that moment while he battled the unknown at the time of transition from this world to the next. Isn't the solving of that mystery the soul purpose of our existence? The fact that I exist is the only truth that I am going to die. How then do I approach death?

We are presented with two things when alive, breath and consciousness and we waste it on comfort of various kinds. We essentially require a roof over our heads and 3 meals a day for survival but the line of desires is endless. The Tripura Rahasya echoes one thought through all its passages. This thought is to use the weapons of consciousness and breath to control just one enemy - our mind. Most people come out with cowardly statements of the inability to do so without even trying to achieve it. Our first problem is thought. The scriptures insist on controlling not just the thought but also the quality of it [impure/pure]. Everything else we do is pretty much a waste of time and life energy.

There will come that day, when we are lying there just like the old man, awaiting our moment of death. How many of us are going to be conscious about it and how many of us will have the courage to embrace the unknown when we are left with no choice? There is one more weapon that the Tripura Rahasya talks about that can bail us out of miserable death and that is the power of intelligence.

The human state is a state that enables us to take the right steps to practice and evolve ourselves to go to the next level. But the transition to the next level requires discarding of the body in this level and the only support we have is the power of our own intelligence. It is believed to be capable of doing many things, the starting point of course is the realization of what is reality. There is this old man lying in front of me, motionless - he is just mass, mass that is already on its way to decay. But where is he? Where is that consciousness that beamed a smile at me a day ago? Where did that go? What is the pulse of that reality of which I have no idea right now? And since I am an ignorant fool who doesn't understand that reality, how can I assume that this world is all the reality that exists?

Isn't the idea of reality a relative term in itself? The Tripura Rahasya beautifully illustrates this concept. You exist because my intelligence claims that you are there with a name and a background. If my intelligence ceased to recognize your presence, you simply don't exist in my reality. How then are you real? You then belong to relative reality, a part of a larger illusion that is so dense that we think its "real". And when we are faced with a person who has left his earthly state, what lies in front of us is a mass of human flesh waiting to be discarded. He now permanently ceases to be a part of our reality. Does that mean he doesn't exist at all, or is it that we don't know the other reality where he belongs now.

The Tripura Rahasya enlightens us with a spectacular theory. The only way to fight ignorance in life is to enhance the power of our intelligence. Intelligence is a weapon that can distinguish the real from the unreal and as it gets polished it loses all attachment to desire. It therefore renders a person completely detached from the workings of this world. The evolved soul now disconnects not only from the people around him but also from material comforts and more importantly from the familiarity within which he was cocooned. He now owes nothing to this world and has transcended the dense illusion within which he was imprisoned. Now, when the time comes for him to discard his earthly body, he is far more ready for a better transition where he is aware of the change and is freed from the misery of this dense cloud of imprisonment. He has no fear, he simply embraces the path ahead.

At that point, we still see a dead man, but he is the only one who knows how alive he is at the point of transition. He just leaves, he doesn't die. That is real achievement.

Photo courtesy: Moloy's photo stream

Feminine potency at the shrine of Kalimath

Buried deep within the mountains, cut away from all the noise and secluded in this quaint valley laced by the river Mandakini is the sacred and potent shrine of the Goddess.

What initially catches the eye is a rather modern shrine for Kali Ma in which one would expect to find the fiery red eyed Goddess enraged and ready to kill the savage demons and destroy all evil. It is pleasantly surprising to note that this [as far as I know] is probably the only shrine that displays an enormous Kali yantra that has been placed on the ground in the very same spot where demonic blood once fell as the Goddess massacred evil.

Red and yellow flags still flutter in the air to celebrate the victory of the Goddess who once graced this earth. And then they say, she vanished, into the very same earth where she killed him. 

This Kali Ma shrine is just the trailer to what actually lies behind these walls. A local priest ushered us to follow him to a world that hid silently behind the shops that sold offerings to Goddess kali. What lay ahead was not just the most potent shrines attributed to the Goddess's many forms but the ambiance that left us feeling a deep sense of peace and happiness. A sense of discovery enveloped us as we headed towards the inner sanctum.

Old rocky stone had been meticulously put together to shelter great power on this earth. In the silence of the morning with hardly any crowd at this temple, there seems to be enough life within this temple premises. It is energy of a different kind that stems from the soil, glows in the sun and exhibits power that shines through the vermilion. It was as picturesque as it could be, with the Mandakini flowing on one side, a small village precariously balancing itself along the sharp ridge and the sun penetrating through the hills, Kalimath has its own unique beauty.

This would have been a great seat of worship and learning in the ancient days. It just didnt echo the presence of a Shakti sthal here, but also a great seat of Tantricism and occult sciences not to miss the strong presence of the Goddess who also rendered it a Siddha Peeth.

In all its ancient charm, still untouched by modern renovation, stands the roofless Nandi shrine with small Shiva lingas excavated and placed around it. Ganesha adorns the entrance of the Saraswati temple, not by an iconographic measure but more as being unearthed and placed there. Shiva takes on center stage in the next temple with Parvati seated on his lap while a Linga is enshrined in a smaller temple closer to the river. The most eye catching aspect of this temple is the main shrine attributed to Goddess Lakshmi who resides deep within the Garbha griha with the matrikas on vigil outside her sanctum. Goddess Lakshmi is worshiped here in various "swarups" each divine version of her face is inscribed on the sacred rock and is silver plated. Opposite her sacred shrine is the yagnakund whose flames never die.

When the color of vermilion breathes life into the richness of the divine complexion of the Goddess, when her grace and beauty envelopes the air inside this chamber, when the smell of fire and sacred incense covers our soul, awaken to the world of the Mother, to her presence echoing in these rocks. This is life, this is bliss, this is beauty and this is power. 

***

Kalimath is a small town enroute to Kedarnath and 14 kms from Guptkashi.
Photo courtesy: Agastya, Picasa

The Eternal Dream of Bliss

I sit here swinging between two worlds. I met her, a practicing tantric and what a wonderful woman she turned out to be. She unraveled her life, a life that appeared to be a part of me. She sang her way through, she is the ultimate romantic. Just watching her is a pleasure. Just listening to her sweet words is an experience. Being with her brings me this uncanny joy and excitement I have never felt before. She once knew the real meaning of Bhairava, she once practiced Tantra.

With her presence my whole imaginary world of the Gods sprung back to life. The Lord reappeared into this intoxicating space. He lured me to this world of magic, of divinity and of such amazing charm that one could lie there swollen with love, paralyzed and drowning in bliss.

He breaks out of his stony shackles; he dances the wild dance of love. He awakens in me this strange frenzy that is waiting to just burst out of my contained human self. I am wild, I am free. I am that which you do not see. I am the eternal Bhairavi locked in this human temple for this life.

In this mystical realm, where all the Gods and celestial beings live, where charm and beauty are beyond the unthinkable, where intellect is pure and of superior nature, where the language of speech is that within the mind and where the essence of life is pure energy and love. There are no secrets, there is no good or bad, this is my world, the celestial land of the dancing Gods.

Nataraja dances gracefully, his long locks sway in gentle waves in the wind. Parvati seated in divine charm, a golden glow that surrounds her envelopes my heart. Chamunda and Kali bring out their wilderness, such depth in their beauty, such warmth in their eyes, such power in their being I have never seen or felt.

Is this the real worship in my heart, are these the silent depths I ache to see, is this that mystical world I want to be a part of... O Divine Lord, how much longer do I wait to have a glimpse of your divine feet? To be a part of divine land, to take a dip every day at the Ganges, to feel the cold of the mountains, to breathe the silence of the cave, to bathe in the tranquility of life and to view the very Lord every day...Ah! What a life, what an eternal moment of joy.

My eternal home, by a small shrine made for the Lord, by a small kund that holds water so pure, by the walls of towering mountains. To live on sacred ground surrounded by Shiva lingams, to live under the shadow of the divine Trishula, to be a part of that charming archaic world in stone, to smell the pure air and listen to the reverberation of the temple bell echo around the hill side... what a life.

Photo courtesy:
James G. Lochtefeld
personal.carthage.edu

A Tribute to Kalika Devi

From the darkness there rises
A power of superior nature
That thinks not before destroying evil
That leaves only blood and ashes to spare

She is feared for her power
She is feared for her appearance
Yet she protects us from evil
In the dead of the darkest night

The gentleness in her eyes
Appears fiery in the night light
The blue sheen in her subtle glow
Appears mystical in the moonless night
The wrath to destroy
Is bright in her red eyes
She rises now to rule
Kalika Mata at Kalighat.

Its the best moment in time to test one's endurance, Kalighat has everything, the true display of corruption, the disgust on the priest's face, the sheer lack of devotion, the noisy mob of which I am a part, the absence of peace, the dirtiest shrine that has never been cleaned, and of course in the middle of it She stands in her silent fury - Kalika Mata. It is silent fury... that expression that stays locked on her face painting her so coy and yet so fiery and beautiful.

This temple appeared a lot different in the earlier days. The river flowed much closer giving Kalighat its name. Surrounded by forests, with a river flowing by and the burning of the dead near the shrine bring the mysticism of the moonless night to the fore. In the dark night one can listen closely to her presence, the sound of anklets as they walk around the floor, stamping it with a trishul. And then the rhythmic sound floods the air with resounding beats of a dancer so crisp in her movement.

And when we look up to her shrine, she sits there almost ready to charge forward, colored in vermilion, a bright orange that glows over her forehead. Its gleams in the light of the lamp, casting shadows of her form on the floor. She is so beautiful. She has this calm around her and yet there is wrath on her face. She is so gentle and coy and yet she yields sharp weapons. She stays static atop the body of Lord Shiva but she is shakti, the dynamic movement that destroys all life, all evil.

कालिकायै विद्महे श्मशानवासिन्यै धीमहि
तन्नो घोरा प्रचोदयात्।

She is the Mother of the moonless night. She is the jingling of anklets in the darkness. She is the flaming eyes of purity that vanquish all that is impure. Why do we fear her?

She took form to destroy the demons of the night, she took blood to destroy evil. Why then do we fear her now, why then do we offer blood of innocent animals when that of evil men should be at the altar?

She walks in nakedness into the blue hued sky. She knows no shame when she is so pure. Why then do we remain silent over her nature and yet not follow her footsteps to discard our vanity?

She walks wild with flowing hair, with an appearance of darkness that envelopes her. Why do we fear her when she sports her brilliance in her awakened third eye?

She is the light that is beyond life, she is the light that guides us to enlightenment. Why then do we fear death and not want to live near her home, the sacred place of the cremation ground?

She is the truth, she is that which burns in fury, she is the divine light that rules us. Why then do we hide in our ignorance and not want to take this path more seriously?

Are we scared of death, of unfamiliarity, of unpleasantness, of unlearning, of that path which we will tread alone, of silence, of the unknown?

KAraikkAl AmmaiyAr - a woman among the 63 Nayanmars

Karaikkal Ammaiyar, 6th Century.

The highlight of Ammaiyar's story is that she asked Lord Shiva for a boon, one that would reduce her youth to a skeleton, demonic in appearance and would cease to be a distraction in her eternal devotion to the Lord.

The mysterious element in this Nayanmar's life is that her songs to the Lord are of a specific flavor, that brings alive an aspect of Shaivism fairly unknown in these times - the Aghori path of Shiva belief. As her story reveals, she was given 2 mangoes by her husband to keep safely so that he could have it during his meal. Reference has been made to a Shiva yogi who visited their house in his absence and she gives him one of the fruits with curd rice.

Drawing parallels, the Mangani Tirunal festival observed on Purnima in the month of Aani in Tamil Nadu, is a time when this incident is re-enacted and people are served mangoes and curd rice, the belief being that it was Shiva Bhikshatana who roamed around the world collecting alms and reached the door of KAraikkAl Ammaiyar. Shiva Bhikshatana's appearance can be paralleled with the aghori babas and naga baba's appearance where he is a naked mendicant, the difference being, he is also extremely sensuous and attractive.

Coming to some of the verses sung by KAraikkAl AmmaiyAr, her descriptions of Shiva Bhikshatana or Shiva Rudra residing in the cremation ground, render a stomach churning experience should one try to visualize this form!

Quoted from the " thiruviraTTai maNimAlai"

His matted hair of ruddy gold is adorned
With Konrai flowers which are buzzed and kindled
By chafers; there the serpent of venomous sacs stands hissing:
Such is He, the long-haired Brahmin.
He is indeed the Lord who will not passively witness
The misery of worshippers who hail Him

*Konrai: Cassia ; Indian Laburnum
*chafers: a type of beetle

O heart, for ever hail Him who is Sankara, the One
Of matted hair that dangles low, the righteous One who
On that matted hair sports a soaring serpent and the One
Who on that day saves you from the onslaught of misery.

* that day is the day of one’s death

Other forms of Shiva that are made references to:

Tripurantaka Shiva;
In the world of eternal bliss, do what I bid you.
He, the Hero annihilated the triple citadels of His-foes;
He is eight shouldered, Bow, with delay none, at His feet
Which are like pure and fresh gold; be poised
In His worship for days without end.

Neelakantha Shiva:
He is the Lord of the supernal world; His asterism is betelgeuse;
His throat is dark with the aalaalam that He ate; they that chant
His mystic pentad—the chief of mantras--, adore Him and come by
The true import, can (alone) behold His feet of ruddy gold.

aalaalam: Halaahalaa poison that oozed out during the churning of the ocean.

O Righteous Lord that wears the heroic anklet!
The dry and strong-mouthed ghouls standing sing Your praise;
Bhootas stand and adore You; the great crematory is
Your theatre where You dance and dance. How is it
That You sped an arrow from Your bow and caused
The triple citadels of the Asuras to get gutted with fire?

How are we to attain Him in love?
The snake that dances on His person
Will suffer none to come near it;
Moreover, all that we behold before us
Are only a row of skulls and white bones.
Besides He but rides, in delight, a bull.

The description of the cremation ground, the theater where he performs has been vividly described in the another song of KArraikAl AmmaiyAr. Such a description brings alive the other side of the cremation ground, one that we humans do not get to witness, one that KArraikAl AmmaiyAr is a part of, in possible disbelief to the mortal world as she narrates what she sees.

Excerpts from the thiruvAlangATTu mUththa thiruppadhikam:

Fat melts and wets the ground, and the long toothed and sunken eyed ghouls observe this and enact the dance of tunangkai. They look around and put out the fire of the pyres eating the corpses to their hearts content and feel delighted, it is in such a fitting crematory, holding fire in his hand that the handsome Lord dances.

Jackals tug and draw away the stinking white heads punctured by birds, owls raise a hue and cry, owlets wave their wings, barn owls stare down and frighten those who look at them, and foxes howl around in great urgency. Such is this great charnel house, and it is here that the great Lord desires to perform his dance.

It was a corpse that a ghoul was not sure of as it advanced and pointed a finger at it screaching aloud. The ghoul roared and threw a fire at it yet not being sure of what it was. Frightened by the corpse, the ghoul ran far and beats its own stomach in bewilderment, observed by many other ghouls who took to their feet in sheer fear. It is in such a crematory that the Lord in the guise of a mad man dances.

Scorched by the rising flames, charred is the firewood, brains seep out of broken crania, cacti wilt in the heat, such is the fierce crematory where the wood apple trees abound, it is indeed his place of rest. It is in this wilderness that the Lord dances, with tiger skin as his girt and a spotted antelope dangling off his shoulder, he lights up this stage with his dance of destruction.

He sports the crescent moon on his matted hair, he forever dances his twirling dance, his waist is girdled with a serpent. Who ever by His grace is able to sing and dance out the poetry of KAraikkAl Pey(ghost), one with a fiery mouth and sharp teeth, who abides in the crematory will be freed of all sins.

This is the reality of the cremation ground, a description so vivid of activities when humans leave the bodies of the dead to burn by night. As jackals depict Shakti in the form of Kali Nayan Tara, and Lord Shiva dances among ghouls who feast on corpses as they witness his fiery movements, this world beyond death is a narrative that we capture in bhakti of a very different kind.

The life and immortal presence of this Nayanar, reveals that bhakti knows no bias, that love and music for the Lord can be found even in the wierdest of places where fear reigns supreme. Her narrative reveals a world beyond us, where the nature of ghosts includes that of feeling fear and joy, where their meal is absorbing the nurishment of burning corpses, where their company is that in the presence of foxes, jackals and owls in an ambience of the night as the crackling fire eats into wood and human remains perishing in the flames bringing alive the terrific world of Aghora.

Read her complete story.

Related topics:
Shamshan Tara, a form of Kali
Kalighat - Where death meets you face to face
Kalika Mata at Kalighat, a sacred Shakti Peetha
Taraka Mantra - Passage to heaven
Manikarnika Ghat: Where life meets the world beyond

Content courtesy: shaivam.org
Picture courtesy: Metropolitan museum of Art, natarajar.blogspot.com

Chaunsat yogini temple, Bheraghat Jabalpur

Strange temples that beat the canons of popular architecture echo the presence of an esoteric cult of the Mother Goddess in the form of "Chaunsat Yogini" shrines. Though the cult of the Goddess has survived in a more favorable way of ritual worship, few examples bring to life the extreme form of this worship during the 8th to 12th cen A.D.

In the darkness along the gushing course of the Narmada River, atop a hill in the silence of the moonless night a lamp is lit. The fire of the lamp lights up the faces of 64 Yoginis within the walls of a great temple, the temple of the Goddess. Shakti trasforms into power here, she is pure feminine beauty, she is sexuality and she is life. Raw female power is awakened within these walls of a circular roofless temple and as the ritual unfolds, these graceful yoginis begin to dance. These forms of the Goddess are full breasted and voluptuous with slim waists as they move with grace exuding beauty as the Sadaka worships their many forms, imbibing the very element of Shakti into his experience of the Goddess. As the Chausathi Mahamayavi Tantra and the Chandi Purana of the 15th century composed by Sarala Das describe through folk songs of the era, these yoginis constitute the different parts of the body of the Mother Goddess herself.

Chaunsat Yogini temple interior, Bheraghat

As the night deepens, the winds dance with the flames presenting a divine spectacle. Shiva leela, of a more potent kind spreads through the air within the walls of this temple. 64 beautiful yoginis pronounce the woman in all her grace and beauty to Bhairava, the form taken in by the Sadaka. Casting dancing shadows on the rocky temple floor, these 64 yoginis dance around Shiva and take up their place and sit in Lalitasana within the circle of Bhairava (3 in red in top right corner in the picture below).

Seduction gushes forth as these Goddesses come alive, dressed in flowing skirts held together by an ornate girdle worn low on their hips. Shimmering necklaces and garlands cover their chests, as the sounds of their bangles and anklets in sweet notes fill the air. 64 yoginis, charge the air as they dance around Bhairava, their elaborate hairdo pronouncing their lush beauty, their earrings shimmering in the light of the fire that wakes the sleeping night within this temple. Their lotus eyes bring sweetness to their beings, grace to their forms and warmth to their presence. Bhairava, the potent Lord dances with them within his circle, the Chakra of life, it is an experience for the living. This is the world of the tantriks, this is the world of Bhairava Shiva as the fire cuts through the darkness bringing on the experience of the Goddess divine.

Chaunsat Yogini temple, Hirapur

The aspirant goes into deep meditation, invoking the yoginis as he performs his rituals. Bhairava dances on, waking up the essence of Kuala Marga. The attainment of perfection is the path to Siddhi, one that brings perfection and a higher spiritual bliss of a different kind. The conquest of power and the taming of the Goddess's wilderness, the harnessing of her Supreme beauty into energy render the Sadaka powerful. Five elements are offered to the Yoginis, Matsya (fish) first followed by Mamsa (meat), Mudra (parched grain) and Madya (liquor) and finally Maithuna (couples in intercourse). The juices of life are offered to the yoginis at the culmination of this ritual. The depth of Tantrik sadhana is reached and the energies are imbibed by the aspirant as the 64 yoginis look on from within their niches.

The air is still, the lamp light is feeble, as the floor is flooded with the ritualistic syllables of the Goddesses. This magical world descends into darkness. Most yogini temples have the dancing Bhairava fiercely rendering his presence at the center of the courtyard. Here he dances with the 64 damsels through the night. At the temple of Bheraghat, Lord Shiva descends within the temple, seated with his beautiful consort Parvati on the back of Nandi Bull in the central shrine as they make their way into the tantrik rituals of this temple.

Bheraghat is one of 9 temples that dot the Indian landscape. Other Yogini Shrines are at Hirapur, Ranipur Jharial, and Khandriya Mahadeva temple Khajuraho to name the most prominent. There are dilapidated structures that dot the countryside of Orissa, Madhya Pradesh and Tamil Nadu.

These temples redefine a strange cult practice that involved human sacrifices and offerings of blood, or the use of fresh corpses out of war (Dead kings, soldiers and warriors) and ritual practices of a tribal (Adivasi) kind that invoke the power of Kali and Mahakala Bhairava of the ancient Tantrik tradition. These 64 yoginis have also been grouped into 8 supreme Goddesses known as the Astamatrika. Interestingly in these temples even Ganesha has a feminine form - Ganeshani (bottom right in red in picture above).

Ganeshani at Bheraghat

These ritual practices have probably died with time or have moved back into the tribal villages of Orissa. What remain are powerful eerie temples that reflect the fury and tantrik power of Shiva Bhairava and the Mother Goddess.

Related posts:
64 Yoginis dance with Bhairava
Potency of Lord Shiva – Part 2
Ekapada Shiva - The one legged Shiva

Photo Courtesy:
ganapati.club.fr/mp/images