A Conversation with My Divine Family

It's been a journey this far, one into deep spiritualism... deeper than you have been possibly, and also one of the most enriching. There is fatigue and intoxication in the mind. Fatigue because I am determined to see my divine family, in this world and in the next and my search is not quite taking me anywhere. Intoxication because they are making doubly sure this search continues and I don't give it up for any  reason. I thought this was a subtle tease until I was posed with a very deep question... One that has started me on a new journey, a different journey. 

The circumstances of having gone to Jagannath, of having visited the temple and experienced the depth of Neela Madhava Bhava to some degree has left me saturated with such emotion. This divine intoxication led me to take a daring trip to the remote shakthi peetha of Tara Ma and despite warning of lack of safety in the rural region of West Bengal, I dared to surrender to MA Tara and tell her to protect me.

With Lord Jagannath residing in my heart and the beckoning call of Tara Ma, I headed out of a way side hotel in Tarapith to meet her at 3:00am. They say that the form of Ma Tara actually hides a deeper potency within herself, the sacred form of her feeding Lord Shiva; but what I had thought was all there is to it 2 years ago, led me to believe there was more. This form actually hid yet another vigraham within it and it had eaten into the reserves of my unending curiosity to know what that firm really was. Yes, I had kept this hunger going for 2 years, I had made it my purpose to know what was within that which the panda so carefully had hidden away...or maybe Tara MA herself for she did want me to come back again to bathe every form of hers that I subsequently discovered.

I had been excited about performing the abhishekam of what I thought was the inner form when I realized it was but a teaser to a form deeper within it. The discovery of Tara Ma has taken me 3 visits spanning few years. And sitting in a wayside shop waiting it out for a panda left me reflecting on what a friend of mine had said the previous night.

"It's a long queue at 2:30am, that continues till 3:30 with or without a panda and we get a glimpse of the inner form for a few seconds. 

But the instructions of the panda were otherwise. "Come at 3:00am and we will take you inside." Here were conflicting pieces of information, packed with added stress when the panda's wife replied to our frantic calls saying he was unwell and couldn't make it, led me to wonder what was in store. I was not going to curl up and sleep, I was going to brave it through the dark streets of the night. I was here for it and I was not going back without it.

Yet this intoxicated heart could barely wait to see her, as her intense mysticism overpowered my soul and no, no human was going to mess around with this sacred rendezvous.

With the panda's son's arrival to lead us into the temple at 4:00am, I had no clue what was lined up but the size of the offerings in the basket indicated there was a lot to be done. We waited our turn in a rather empty temple while few others were inside offering their prayers. We were called in, and I set eyes on her mysterious self, her core, the inner most idol, her potent earthly form that stood there awaiting me to bathe her. 

I am particular about what thoughts cross my mind at these moments for they govern my perspective of life back in my mundane world. And in this blank mind every thought that trickles through is a potent message from my spiritual family, and I wait for the next order or pearl of wisdom.

And in the silence of the chamber, in he silent waters of my mind I heard the swirling question come towards me. 

"I have given you my heart in a Saligrama, I have given you my life energy that it breathes with. I have shown you what there is to see in my earthly splendour be it at Kanchipuram, be it a Puri, be it at Lingaraja, be it at Tarapith. I have granted your wish to visit and discover everything there is to my earthly form. And now I ask, have you found me? Is this all there is to know about me? Or do you perhaps need to start looking within to go on this search?"

The question stung me hard. Go within, that's all I thought, but how and where?

I have crossed the threshold, some kind of threshold, I don't know. I have lost my anger to compassion. I have shrunk my materialism to triviality in relation to deeper faith. I have lost my expectations to forgiveness and tolerance. I have lost my earthly attachment to divine love. And now the path has opened up to go within.

The search continues but will I ever visit temples again... I don't know. They are within me and I am them. The temple out there... Maybe they will call me again if I fumble.

What a splendid lesson to learn on Shivaratri.

At Home With Kamakshi Amman - Atithi Devo Bhava

I walked up to her home deep within the temple walls through the crowds of people gathering there. I was oblivious to the noise, of the chattering people, of the fuming priests who believed they owned her home more than she did. I was oblivious to the swelling savagery of uncouth human behavior as people were herded in and out of the temple. And ironically I was looking for my peace here, within this din somewhere. 

I wondered as I saw the mass of people sticking close like ants in a line, falling over each other trying to get a glimpse of her divine form. They converged at the door of the shrine like ants attack a half dead prey, trying to get their share of the divine rays of grace that emitted from the chamber within. And the Brahmin priest cracked his caustic verbal whip as he shooed the crowds away. 

I felt sad for these people, they were desperate for love, they were frustrated with their lives and that’s probably what brought them to her doorstep. But how would they seek her grace when they didn’t realize that all she asked in return was undivided love and faith from them through the passage of silence which was too much to give. Was just a glimpse of the divine mother enough before they went back to their hell holes?

I was certain I didn’t want to be part of this. I was certain I wanted to keep my mind on her form; I was excited deep down waiting for my glimpse as I had wade past the priests to get my turn. This ambiance was a cauldron of swelling emotions, of herded people asking for more, of priests who treated them with utmost disrespect. But I wondered...didn’t they really ask for it? How else were they supposed to control a seething crowd that just wouldn’t listen, just wouldn't move and wanted that extra moment with the Goddess? 

I waited my time till I was called, silent and calm for the one thing I didn’t want was a priest or a security guard yelling at me. I was here to meet her, not them, and I had to seek their permission to enter her home but when I approached the Mother with love, the whole ambiance transformed. 

She called me in, picked me from the noisy crowd and gave me a seat in front of her as the priest gestured me about. We sat face to face, our eyes met, she smiled at me and I melted in my love unable to hold my emotions for long. My heart yelled out, “Take me mother, when will you come to take me...how much longer do I wait?” The priest broke the conversation asking me to give my offerings, and I held out all that I had. I was jostling between two worlds, that of the din around me and this beautiful conversation we were having in silence.

The flames flickered wild as they lit up her dim room, wet in water as she prepared for her bath. She was bare, her pure self-unveiled for me to get a glimpse as she smiled back at me. I was treated like a guest; she was gentle and kind oozing love and beauty as I felt the energies envelop me. I let my emotions flow as my hands shook, closing my eyes for a few seconds as I felt my body energized with her presence. I said nothing, I thought nothing, I felt everything I could and I let my pent up emotions flow. It was a river of love, between her and me. I gave whatever I could, I gave my being, I gave my heart, I gave my thoughts, I gave my love... I gave everything that was humanly possible to give. And she took it all with grace. No priest came between us then, no Maya knocked back at me. I was in her silent world for a short while. 

It was time to leave, I had a desire to see them bathe her and she granted me that wish and more. What was supposed to have otherwise ended as a darshan, continued as she gave me a pomegranate tossed into my hand by the priest. She gave me a seat far away from the maddening crowd to sit and worship her. High on a platform, far from the herd, in isolation and silence... I watched her being bathed. I witnessed her many forms as the priest took the divine light around her.

Four forms remained etched in my mind, the first was her in her pure bare state being readied for her bath, the second was when she was ash clad and the whiteness pronounced her features, the third was when milk and curd rolled down her being pronouncing her curved body and the fourth was when she was dressed like a bride. Each form depicted a different facet of herself - stark consciousness, freedom from attachment, vibrant purity, divine love.

She filled my eyes with her form, she filled my heart with her love, she filled my mind with silence, she filled my consciousness with her beeja mantra and I filled her with my pent up emotions. We merged in silence, in divine embrace...maybe that is what I call grace. 

I was called back into the chamber, she asked for me again and I was only too glad to see her up close. She is life size, real and enigmatic. I presented her my gift for her to touch with her grace and I quietly wore it round my neck, her grace enveloping my heart like an armour of love. She blessed me with abundant kumkum that reddened my hands, and I realized one truth then. 

Tara Ma and Kamakshi Amman were one and the same form. They both treated me to abhishekam, she allowed me to bathe her ughra form, while I witnessed her soumya roopam getting bathed. She colored my hands in alta red when I touched her ughra form and in kumkum when I felt her soumya presence. She hugged me close in her ughra form and spoke to me in silence in her soumya form. She energized me as I shook emotionally almost breaking into tears in both forms. She gave me two hours in Tarapith, she gave me two hours in Kanchipuram. She made the priests call me in; she made them treat me with respect. She made both the priests at Tarapith and at Kanchipuram give me their visiting cards and an open invitation to come back any time, she opened the gates to unlimited access into her divine home. 

She sent me back into samsara fulfilled with love, she sent me back to the world, blessed. It was a fantastic year with the Goddess. 

I truly felt Atithi Devo Bhava. 

  

Through The Grace of Kamakshi Amman

Yesterday I was blessed with another year of life, another year of living within this human prison, and I felt there may just be more purpose to my existence. The yearning was back, the calling grew stronger and for some reason I had the strong urge to go to Kanchipuram to seek the divine Mother. 

I get crazy spiritual ideas, that may not make sense to anyone but they are paramount to me and I follow them more than any other rule ever written. I had the deep urge to wear rudraksha constantly, and sure enough quality thoughts flowed in during puja. It’s a time when I get instruction, it’s when I read every thought as divine grace, and it’s when I am conscious of which thoughts to kill and which ones to keep. During puja, I wait without expectation, without much wishing and seek the next steps as they pour in from the divine world into my little mind. And I just take what’s given, no arguments for the ego is dead at that moment. 

The calling was loud, the thought persisted and the steps unfolded in my mind. I was not very far from the day I was born years ago, and I had to do things really fast. I was advised to take the rudraksha that I had worshiped with the Lord for the past several years and string them into a strong chain. There was a need for haste and I rushed over to the jewelers shop with my little precious rudrakshas to get them strung. I was thankful they arrived well ahead of time. They were consecrated at the feet of Tara Ma and stayed there for three days being worshiped.

Finally the night arrived, and though I planned to get sleep early, I could barely catch a wink, it was the first time, and I had spent the week mustering up my courage and fears to hit the road to Kanchipuram on the highway alone, and now the time had come. Up fresh at 3:00am and ready to go, I hit the road at 4:00am. The night sky was gloomy, the winds were strong and the rain had wet the roads. I had to be careful with my speed and through the highway with occasional vehicles around me, it was a crazy drive into the darkness. It was amazing for not a thought of fear ever struck me on the road. I felt free, free of bondage, free of humankind, free of karma, free of everything... I was driving into oblivion and enjoying every moment of it. 

As I neared kanchipuram, I realized I might just make it in time for the Abhishkam of the great Mother. How lucky would I be! Armed with a gorgeous Saree, a garland of lotus flowers and some Archana offerings, I confidently walked in towards the sanctum. The crowds were huge and on this auspicious day of Chitra Pournami, I was just glad I was born on this day. I reached behind the main sanctum and placed my request to the security guard. While he couldn't promise me anything, he allowed me through to have an up-close darshan of the Mother. Seated in front of her, absorbing her divine presence, every anxiety to want to see her just flew off the mind. She was there, in front of me, in my heart and for now... my mind went blank. I shook in my seat, observing every bit of her form, her graceful body as she sat on her seat, getting ready for her bath. The shastris took the garland and the saree, while I held on to the silver chain that held my precious rudrakshas with me. I handed it over to the main priest, who was in silence right through the entire operation. He worked with gestures and the security guard deftly unfolded their meaning. (Reminded me of Karz for a brief moment, except that he didn't tap on a glass)

The rudrakshas lay on the Mother's lap absorbing all her divine grace while my heart worked hard to fill itself with love for the Mother, and my eyes worked even harder etching her form into my mind and I sat still for as long as I could, not disturbing any of the functions underway. In a short while, the head priest came back, returning the rudrakshas to me and having learned the strict aachaaram being followed I raised my hands but carefully didn't meet the eyes of the priest. He threw a pomegranate at me in typical Brahmin style, and I scrambled over the floor trying to catch it. (clearly I don’t play cricket yet with my kid) 

I rose up, thinking this was the end for I wasn't permitted to continue sitting there to watch the abhishekam. He gestured me to see the other forms of the Goddess on the other side of the inner sanctum wall. This was a blissful moment intellectually for I learned of Varahi, Annapurni, Lakshmi, Mahishasuramardhini, Bhairava and a lot of other Goddesses who sat within the niches of this great shrine. Clearly during the Chola time, this temple was not as large as it is today, it was way smaller. The Vijayanagar Kings had added the other prakaras to this temple over a period of centuries and now they had merged so well into each other... the difference could hardly be seen. But this is a tantrik strong hold, and I love every bit of this shrine. Adi Shankara had got it so perfectly right. 

I was ushered out of the chamber, and sent back to the guard. I was happy though I looked at him with a stray hope to get a glimpse of the abhishekam. He pointed me to another guard who took me to a seat directly in front of the mother, on a higher platform outside the sanctum. I was excited, I didn't ask for this, from here it was a bonus. I sat through the entire abhishekam, reciting Mrityunjaya swaying with the flow of the Mother being bathed inside the shrine. Every version of her looked gorgeous and Adi Shankarcharya was not exaggerating when he wrote the lines describing her form. They described her so well, I am tempted to go back again and read the Soundarya Lahari and map it to the etching in my mind.

She is straight backed, voluptuous, and slim. She follows the tenets of the making of a beautiful woman, she was the personification of that form. The curtains were drawn and the crowds went silent. I will never get enough of her, I knew that for sure. They drew the curtains again and this time she was ready, all her alankaram in place, she just looked every bit a bride, every bit a lover, every bit a damsel, every bit the great Mother, every bit ... 

We were asked to get up to leave, the security guard sent me back to the earlier one and I was ready to pay what every he wanted. I was just so thrilled. I stood at the back of the sanctum, as I watched the head priest gesture in his silence, frantically asking for me to come in. I quietly walked in, not knowing what to expect. I was quickly palmed off to another priest who I figured was his brother. He asked me about myself, my where about and placed a vcard into my hand. I was confused but took it anyway. He told me to mail him and render any help that I could towards their website. 

I was sent back into the sanctum, this time made to sit in front of the Mother again, and the whole thing played out once more, I saw her up close, this beautiful bride, this celestial being from heaven, this great Mother of Love. I quickly handed over the rudrakshas back to the priest and requested him to place it over the Sri Chakra. It was the only pending item in my divine list of activities. I was sent back to varahi and after bowing to all the Goddess around me, I returned back to the Great Mother. The chain was handed over, and the priest spoke with a lot of respect, considering he had been shouting at all the other folk, I was very lucky. As I turned to leave, the head priest broke his silence... all he said was "Call me when you get home". 

I nodded and walked out without paying anyone anything. The purity of Brahmin culture was visible for a few seconds thanks to the divine grace of the Mother, as I paid the security guard handsomely for his effort. I was fulfilled with the experience, fulfilled with the calling, fulfilled with the strong belief that the Divine Mother indeed communicates with me in her strange way. I walked out on to the streets of Kanchi, free from bondage, free from attachment, free into the world of divine love as the warm sun blessed me with its light. I felt I was finally home, and more than anything else, I felt deep down that Tara Ma had reappeared in the form of Kamakshi Amman. Divine grace had touched me again and I couldn't have asked for a better gift on my birthday.

Adventures of a Spiritual Vagabond

It was a regular day, seated at my seat with my wavering mind trying hard to come back to ground zero where my great Guru smiled through the walls of His photograph. Fate had not been to kind and my jumping mind needed some really serious answers to solve its problems and it was not going to rest till the solution percolated through the pores of my thoughts. It had been quite a few sessions of aggressive worship yielding no tangible results. 

"Go to Tarapith"

The thought struck me like a bolt from heaven. It was strong enough to vanquish all the other thoughts that played havoc within my poor mind. "Really?" I thought, "Now that’s a good idea but will it work?" My mind raged on as the worship for the day came to a close. Would it ever be possible? It wasn’t too long that I realized fate aligning with the divine words and I found myself heading down the highway to the small town of Tarapith, a week later against all odds. It was just unbelievable, this was for Real and something was bound to happen. But what... let’s keep an open mind. Anything can happen, and I have been instructed to go so nothing negative can really happen. With deep excitement and a tinge of doubt, the events unfolded almost orchestrated by the Lord Himself. 

"Come to me, Bathe Me"

I found myself within the sacred chamber early in the morning staring straight at the inner shrine. We took our places in front of the Goddess and looked at the priest waiting for him to perform his part. But little did I know that there was a change of plan. The priest ushered me closer to the Goddess and handed over the oils and rose water to me beckoning me to go ahead and perform the sacred rite of bathing her. I took to it like a fish to water, feeling the moment of being the temple priest [a job I would have loved to have], as I caringly washed her and anointed her. I almost heard Her call out telling me to bathe Her earthly form. What a divine role that was and how I completely enjoyed being the priest for those few minutes. My hands trembled as I touched Her form, my mind went blank and my words failed as I stammered through my sacred verses. He gave me all the time I wanted, as I gently wiped her clean and covered Her in a saree we had brought for Her and stared Her straight in the eye, thanking Her for this phenomenal experience. 

"Come to me, hug me"

The priests soon took over and continued the rituals while the crowd look on occasionally shouting her name "Joy Tara Ma" and I joined them with enthusiasm proclaiming her glories to the world. I was overwhelmed and I shook just staring at her form. After the rituals were through, the priests ushered out everybody from the tiny garbha griha within which she rested. We were told to stay back and when the crowd was cleared he told me to get closer to her again. This time I was not clear on what was coming next. He emptied a box of sindhur into my bright red hands and directed me to smear it over her third eye. It was the culmination of a divine experience as I placed my humble palm over her divine forehead and touched it. I shook in my knees as he pushed me to her, telling me to hug her tight. And what a lovely hug that was as I held her close to me with the only sound that came out of my mouth "Tara Ma" as I sank myself into her lap. 

"Visit my son in the cremation ground"

I walked out of the temple with my family, reeling out of the experience. Something had happened in there, something for real and something for good. I had transformed and Ma Tara had called me over to bless me and hug me tight to reassure me that all was really well. My mind was amazingly silent, no thought dared to even make its presence felt. I blankly asked my folks if they would like to come along to the cremation ground and I met very reluctant faces. It didn’t matter, I walked back alone to the temple and down to the cremation ground as I asked for directions. Bare feet over dusty earth, I probably was walking over some poor soul's bones that lay buried in the earth of the shamshan. The fresh air of the morning made it look green while the sacred pyres lay silent. 

"Am in your heart, always"

Bama Khepa rested in his Samadhi, and I walked up close to it. A couple of people charged at me asking for dakshina, but went silent in just as much as the same speed. I sat with him for a good while, reciting the sacred Mrityunjaya and then I circumambulated his shrine, bowing at all the four directions before I came to stand in front of him. Tears rolled down my eyes and I thanked him and the divine Mother for granting me this opportunity. Tara Ma had taken her seat in my heart, and it felt warm in there. My earthy problems looked small, like stray thoughts in the mind, like unwanted noise and it was so easy to throw them away. I was home, and my mother hugged me close. I had nothing else to fear. I looked at the cremation ground and it felt as much at home as any place else. I loved it there and I felt at peace. Ma Tara was with me and her warmth continues to keep the flame in my heart burning. 

I came back home, to the south of India, calm, complete, quiet. What an adventure that was! 

Tara Ma, Her beauty - unbeatable, Her grace - unmissable, Her presence - rejuvenating, Her brilliance - all embracing, Her home - Tarapith

Joy Ma Tara!!

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 dance of ecstasy in divine embrace

The average panditji performs puja as a part of their job, with offerings and mechanical movements that displays their years of practice into the ritualistic worship of the divine. Corruption has been seen far and wide and nothing gets done without a few notes into their plate of offerings. The lack of divine love is very visible at temples where priests do not allow devotees a closer view of the shrine until money does the talking. And hence faith tends to die its natural death because the keepers of the faith have now begun to sell the treasure they have preserved for so long.

All this changes when we visit the pandals of Kali puja. The thick air of corruption is pierced with the divine arrow of trance. This trance takes us back into the wild intriguing world of Ma Kali. The clay idols model her presence in her divine feminine form and the kalash with the coconut define her iconic presence. The curiosities that are offered along with it give a hint into a world beyond our imagination.

The crowd slowly gathered for the evening arti to the Goddess kali. There within the pandal she stood in her three forms, Kali Ma of kalighat, Kali Ma of Dakhineshwar and Kali Ma of Tarapith. I drifted into this beautiful world and took a seat at the feet of the Goddess, realizing suddenly that I had no plans to leave in a hurry.

The sun dipped behind the clouds to wake up the night sky and the stage where this celebration would soon commence. The priest lit up the divine light to the Goddess and started with the offerings. In the divine world, the smoke of chillum rose into the air and the sacred syllables of divine chant were slowly heard echo through the heavens. The Goddess is alive, her feet adorned with anklets gracefully descended to the floor as she stepped into this wild world to perform her dance. In rhythmic movement she moved herself, her disheveled hair dancing to her tunes as she raised the dust around herself. In the cremation ground she rules and the lights of the fires dot the floor where she dances and blesses the dead in their last journey home. Bhaktas give up their lives in divine love, sacred blood turns the bali peetha into red and fire forms the path to the world of eternal divinity. Ma Kali brings life to the night with her rhythm, her trance, her intoxicating presence.

Back in our world, the drum beats echoed through the floor as the priests alight their positions on the stage. The Dholak thundered through the pandaal and the drunken fervor raised the intensity of divine intoxication. The rhythm soared and with it the priests went into a trance. Ma Kali's arti began that evening with the joy of celebrating her presence and her victory over all evil. The rhythm thundered on and everyone present there danced to the beat, a wild dance of love and devotion as the priests proceeded with the arti. My feet tapped the floor as I clapped following the beats and my heart danced into the night with the three mothers.

It is the best Kali Ma arti ever! 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 and divine beauty articles in a soop, sweets, bananas, and finally dhoop. The priest moved with the beat, in complete devotion making each offering with love. His steps followed that of the divine mother, his body turned into an expression of divine love and he could no longer contain himself. In divine trance he danced on with the mother culminating the arti into an art of love and divine intoxication.

The evening came to an end and the drumming subsided 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||