Eccomi qui, davanti al fuoco come tante altre notti. Quanta bellezza, quanta
pace. Si impregna. La servitù si palesa ogni qual volta affondo le dita nella
tastiera. Mi sale da dentro. È una spinta imprescindibile e non so mai dove mi
porterà. Questa sera per la verità sono alle prese con un compito. Uno dei tanti
compiti che lungo il sentiero mi sono stati affidati. Molto spesso non so
nemmeno il perché mi si dica di fare certe cose. Sorrido. Il significato lo
scopro solo dopo. Ma mai, nemmeno una volta, libero me stessa completamente
poiché esiste comunque una parte razionale che fa da filtro, da decodifica. È
naturale che sia così. In caso contrario quello che andrei a scrivere sarebbe
incomprensibile se non per le persone che hanno lo stesso livello di struttura.
Ma a loro non serve. Non serve alcunché in effetti ma a volte ho la sensazione
che semplicemente lasciare dei semi qua e là possa essere di qualche buon
auspicio per qualcuno che ha bisogno esattamente di quella nota per rivelare
parte di sé. Sappiamo bene che ciascuno fa il proprio cammino in solitudine,
come sappiamo che nessuno ti potrà mai dare nulla che non sia già parte di te.
Ma una nota, una vibrazione, un suono, innescano il richiamo. Il richiamo che dà
lo sposo alla sua amata. E qui sorrido. Quante e quante volte ho steso tappeti
di rose per poter completare me stessa. Quante e quante volte ho lasciato che la
mente minasse il calvario col suo richiamo. Quante volte. La verità è che non
c’è bisogno di nulla. Nessun richiamo, nessun calvario, nessuna pietra
sacrificale. Tutte idee. a volte estremamente sofisticate, certo, ma pur sempre
idee che prima o poi devono essere demolite sull’altare della liberazione; anche
l’altare è un’idea, anche la liberazione lo è. La mente ha sempre bisogno di
nuovi spazi entro i quali muoversi, il cuore no. Ma si sa che prima di poter
lasciare fluire il cuore libero dai taboo, dalle paure, dagli orpelli, dai
bisogni, anche quando questi bisogni si identificano nel desiderio di
liberazione, occorre generare un meccanismo a catena per cui l’innesco nel nuovo
ti fa lasciare andare il vecchio in un susseguirsi di immagini, di emozioni, di
forme. Illusioni. Mere illusioni che di volta in volta ti fanno avvolgere; ora
in questo, ora in quello. Ecco che allora la mente si dà una giustificazione
degna di tutto rispetto per questo continuo arrancare. Si lasciano le illusioni
più grossolane per volgere sempre più lo sguardo verso quelle di ordine più
sottile. Sì, verissimo, è un lungo e lento percorso di affrancamento da se
stessi, dalle proprie paure. Ma le paure sono i fantasmi della mente. Quindi?
Anche tutte queste considerazioni sono pie illusioni. Servono a qualcuno?
Ennesima illusione nell’illusione. E il gioco si perpetua. E allora non resta
che lasciare fluire Vita. E tornare alle cose semplici. Vivere delle cose
semplici. E allora riporto l’attenzione sul fuoco. E sorrido. Il mio fuoco;
appositamente dico “mio”. La mia immagine riflessa nelle fiamme, nella cenere.
Gli umori, le condizioni animiche, le servitù, le verità, le illusioni, tutte
risiedono in quello scoppiettare di legna, in quelle fiamme che rivelano ciò che
è. Ma si avvicina il tempo in cui lo dovrò lasciare andare. Ultimo baluardo di
rappresentazioni di una me stessa che si sta divorando, fagocitando immagini e
forme. Il segnale è stato molto chiaro. Sorrido. Un paio di notti fa sorridevo
molto meno per la verità. La Madre mi ha dato una bella lezione. E quando mai
non ne dà. È così bella, così amorevole, così spietata. Così. Che il cuore non
può fare altro che sciogliersi; ammasso brodoso, caldo, liquido che si spande in
ogni dove, fino a che ogni più piccola cellula ne viene compenetrata, fino a che
non ci sono più confini, nessun limite. Nessun centro e nessuna periferia. Tutto
si mischia. Nessun sopra o sotto, nessun dentro o fuori, niente alto o basso,
niente più spazio, tempo, dimensioni, nulla: Uno. E tutto si scioglie…
inesorabilmente. A questo proposito mi viene alla mente un’immagine che vidi
tempo fa. Sorrido. Erano i resti di un uomo che si contorceva, arso dalle fiamme
interiori; era un’unica brace ardente e la pelle si liquefaceva lasciando oramai
vedere lo scheletro. Il pensiero che mi attraversò la mente fu: “Poveretto”. Con
una nota di compassione. Allora una voce fuori campo mi disse: “Sei tu”. La mia
reazione fu: “Ah, bene, tutto ok allora”. E qui invece del sorriso mi schiocco
una bella risata. Riporto l’attenzione sul fuoco che intanto continua il suo
lavoro. Lo dovrò lasciare andare… E qui torna l’accento che avevo posto sul
senso di possesso. Già, già… l’ho visto proprio tutto l’attaccamento che ho nei
suoi confronti. Attaccamento alla liberazione. Oramai ho lasciato andare tutto,
figure divine, immagini, simboli, consapevole che sono prodotti della mente ed
altrettanto cosciente che costituiscono un ottimo veicolo fino a che non si è
pronti ad arrendersi ma non mi ero resa conto di avere spostato l’attenzione su
questo, erigendo l’ennesimo altare, ancorandomi all’ennesima “idea”. Ed ecco che
allora arriva Navaratri. Ci tengo particolarmente a fare una buona meditazione;
è importante in un momento così delicato, sempre riferendomi all’attaccamento di
cui sopra. Sorrido. Quella sera preparo tutto con cura decidendo di portarmi
appresso il libretto coi mantra. Ce n’è uno lungo come la quaresima che non
ricordo e che voglio recitare. Prendo le mie cose e scendo dimenticandomi il
libretto. Nessuna reazione fino a qui; mi dico semplicemente che significa che
devo recitare, all’accensione, il mio solito mantra e basta e che in fondo è una
sera come le altre. Un attimo prima di accendere il fuoco, alzando lo sguardo
vedo il gazebo che copre il dhuni completamente ritorto su se stesso e mi arriva
una morsa di dolore. Qualche ora prima avevo sentito una gran botta mentre una
donna che viene qui a fare yoga se ne stava andando; al punto che ero andata
alla finestra per vedere cosa era successo. La mia amica se ne stava andando
tranquillamente perciò avevo pensato che non fosse nulla di serio. Tornando allo
spettacolo che mi ritrovo davanti, l’impatto psichico è assai forte. La mente
ingrana la quinta e comincio a farmi mille pensieri del tipo “sto sbagliando
tutto”, “non è questo che devo fare della mia vita”, “mollo tutto”, “ma dove
voglio andare”, “ma dove sbaglio”…. E nonostante cerco di concentrarmi sul
mantra i pensieri si affollano. Accendo il fuoco e questo crolla su se stesso.
Ecco. Altri pensieri. “Non sono degna”, “ma chi mi credo di essere”… Ed i più
importanti di tutti: “Il fuoco mi rifiuta”, “La Madre non mi accoglie”. Ora
sorrido perché so che non è così ma in quei momenti vedevo i sorci verdi.
Ahahahah… Per completare il quadro della serata, il fuoco si spegne quasi
subito; non è il suo solito crepitare in silenzio, vivo; lo do proprio per
spacciato, nonostante il mio cercare di ravvivare la fiamma. Alla fine mi ritiro
con le classiche “pive nel sacco”. Ed inizia la grande “pressione”. A questo
proposito mi viene in mente l’immagine della strega dei cartoons, non ricordo il
nome, che mesta e rimesta il pentolone nel quale sobbolle il suo intruglio.
Ahahah… Che bella, Vita. La mattina dopo, lentamente, torna la quiete ed inizio
a vedere. Vedo quella rimbambita là fuori, io, che si affanna presa dalle sue
paure quando non c’è proprio nulla per cui affannarsi. Tutto già è. Quindi?
Chiudi gli occhi e rilassati, lascia scorrere; eccolo qui il segreto. E torna la
pace, la quiete, la gioia. In tarda mattinata esco e vado al dhuni. La legna si
è trasformata in una bellissima cenere bianca. Mi sciolgo. La Madre c’era, come
sempre, e mi ha dato una sonora lezione. In tutta la sua bellezza mi ha mostrato
la mia paura e non posso fare altro che ringraziare. La sera prima ero andata al
festival delle seghe mentali, con annessi e connessi. È spettacolare guardare in
faccia le proprie paure e poterle sciogliere. Ed è l’unico modo che io conosca
per rivelare forma. Eh, ancora troppo spesso ho la superbia di sentirmi diversa
da Te.
Aghoris, the word causes shivers in spine. There are stories
about aghoris in each & every hamlet of India & Nepal. It is said that they
possess unlimited powers over nature, can conquer death, materialize objects,
eat human flesh, faeces & live in extreme impurity, sometimes totally naked.
Spiritual practioners associate aghoris with the five Ms sadhna that involves
getting to a non-dual state of mind through impurity like meat, wine, fish,
women. Robert E. Svoboda's trilogy on Aghori Vimalananda in Aghora, popularized
the sect in the West. Indic spiritual tradition bifurcates into two main
arteries-Vedas & Agamas. While Vedas are the path of purity towards the Absolute,
Agamas involve the path of Tantra. In Vedas, mind & fire are the way to reach
God. Therfore, sacrifices, oblations and idea of Atman burning like a a lamp
predominates. Knowledge descends through Samadhi and thence one can self-realize.
Agamas make 'body' as the path to self-realization. In tantras, 'body' is not
inferior to mind rather ladder to achieve Higher Consciousness. Extreme
obsession with body caused the development of multiple bodily techniques, energy
point & energy flow system within body.Hathyoga and concept of coiled energy in
the form of a subtle serpent underlies tantric path. Buddhism & Hinduism as well
as Taoist quest for immortality and God-like state within human life led to
refinement in development of chakra theories, qi-kong, tai-chi, reiki & many
more practices. All three philosophies had strongly supported, exchanged &
influenced each other in developing the science of subtle energies. While
Nagarjuna is credited with making Nalanda the centre of excellence in teaching
tantra, other Mahasiddhas like Macchendranath, Gorakhnath strongly influenced
the growth of Kashmir Saiva tantras, Bengal's Shakta tantras ,Oriya tantra as
well as Tibetan Vajrayana that now hold sway over the Himalayas & across it.
Within tantras, there is another level of differentiation-dakshinmarg
& Vammarga. While Dakshinmargi uses mantra & mudras for worshipping various form
of Shakti, the extreme left-handed path of Vammarga uses dreaded five Ms like
meat, wine & sexual act in their path of achieving non-duality. Aghoris are on
the extreme left of this spectrum and they even indulge in macabre practises
like cannibalism , drinking urine, copulation with corpse(necrophilia), in their
urge to obliterate any duality even between pure & impure & to achieve non-dual
state of mind. This sect is an offshoot of the famous Kapaliks of Kashmir
Saivism who carried human skull as a symbol of sect . Baba Kinaram of Varanasi
reformed & revived the sect during 17th century. For Dakshinmargis, Purnananda's
Sata-Cakra-Nirupam, a 16th century text of Bengal can be termed classic. For
Vammargis including Aghor sect, Abhinavagupta's Tantraloka, a 10th century text
of Kashmir can be considered classic. But, there is so much of misinterpretation
& abuse by Vammargis that most of them fall prey to delirium and psychosis by
obsessive indulgence in ugly, impure & social taboos in their self-discovery.
Encountering Aghoris
While I was mere 6-7 years old, I first heard about an Aghori from father's
mouth. We were living in a government bungalow in interiors of Hindi hertland in
Bhagalpur district. Appearance of aghoris dressed in all-black cause awe &
multiplying rumours among village folk. My father had gone for a morning walk
and he was face to face with an aghori. The aghori narrated something about our
family & father was sharing that secret thing with mother. I overheard &
shivered with joy. An incessant thinking process started- Who are they? What do
they do? How do they know everything? Should I learn to conquer fear like they
do? And, I started fiddling with dangers to overcome fear. Sometimes getting
hold of snakes, or hanging & moving using the dilapidated wooden beam placed on
a huge well almost filled with monsoon water to reach the other end of well,
jumping into river, playing with fire & visiting ruins of old buildings in
evening hoping to confront ghost. Sometimes I landed in serious troubles due to
this audacity. Once I decided to cross a field where hundreds od dangerous
buffalos wer grazing. No one dared. I chanted newly learnt Gayatri mantra &
entered this battle ground. Some stared. I controlled my throbs, perspiration
all across body & suddenly a buffalo rushed , picked me on horns & put me down.
That was such a scary thing. Buffalo was going to pierce me. I ran, buffalo
after me. I survived. there was not much injury to spinal cord, but I mustered
no further courage to confront buffalos again. But, the strong urge & my
chutzpah nature to discover aghori's power grew stronger. I heard the sound of a
sarangi one day. A wandering Natha sadhu was playing the music. It touched some
chord in my heart. That sound still reverberates when I go silent. I went after
the Yogi and took a firm decision to leave family to learn & wander playing
sarangi. I took away clothes, fully naked & told mother that I was leaving home
to become a sadhu. I was not even seven years. My good luck that father was not
there & I escaped his anger. This fascination in early phase of childhood with
aghoris & nathas impelled me on a path in my adolescence which now seems so
funny, childish & mere an addiction of adolescece. Certain strong bodily
processes unfolded while I just finished my 10th standard. I have narrated the
story in one of my notes" Twenty Years of Inner Pilgrimage-From Resonance to
Spanda-karika". By 1991, I was certain that I will be a monk and shared my
dreams with my girlfriend whom I intensely loved. That was the paradox. All the
boundaries between mundane & transcendental realm was collapsing. But, I was
never a lonely man. Full of friends, well-wisher, guides. I am gregarious in
nature. Same year, I happened to go to Varanasi. My father suggested that if I
could get an opportunity, I must go & have darshan of Aghoreshwar Ram, 12th in
lineage of Baba Kina Ram. His ashram, Sri Sarveshwari Samooh is situated on the
other bank of the Ganga. There were various stories in media those days as one
of his visitor, Chandrashekhar had become the Prime Minister of India. When I
reached Varanasi, I thought of first rushing to his ashram at the earliest &
then getting fresh over there itself to have his darshan at the earliest. When I
reached the ashram, I was searching lavatories & bathroom to fresh myself. Must
I admit, I was more unclean than many of those aghoris. Rightly or wrongly, I
reached the darshan-point. Aghoreshwar's wooden khadaon, slippers were placed on
a pedestal & many were paying obeisance to the pair of slippers. I couldn't
tolerate. Anger was bursting forth. I was accusing the egoist mindset of the
aghori. And in anger wandered into garden side. Someone called me. I was so
angry that I ignored that. An attendant told Bhagwan Ram, Aghoreshwar's popular
name, is calling me. I couldn't chew my anger even. What a surprise! A saint in
white clothes with a white banyan unlike black-dressed aghoris, was standing
before me. I touched his feet. He asked me to follow. He sat on a chabutara.
Thence, asked about me & my background. He asked me to seek any boon. I thought
& sought "god". He was amused. I prostrated on ground, looked towards Him & what
a splendid vision I had. There was huge burst of awareness & I felt the
expansion of consciousness.Aghoreshwar was a great saint & reached the pinnacle
of self-realization through Aghora marg. He embedded himself with social causes.
He was running an excellent hospital for lepers. IF IMPURITY IS ALSO
THE PATHWAY TOWARDS GOD, WHAT BETTER THAN SERVING THE LEPERS! I
really curse myself for not visiting him frequently. He left this earthly abode
in 1992. I was a born rebel against every institution. Digging own path & own
roots, I often succeeded in failures! Next year, I took initiation fron a Great
Yogi of Ramakrishna Order. Something profound was now happening. Attachment with
body had minimized after conducting dissections of human corpses/cadaver in
Anatomy classes while studying Medicine.Classroom became the cremation ground
for developing sense of non-discrimination! Suddenly in 1994, I was hit by
another bout of resolving the riddle of death & overcoming the existential dread
of death. I began to frequent Varanasi. Bhagwan Ram was not there to guide. Some
sadhaks suggested me to meet Aghori Gambhira Beer at Manikarnika cremation
ground in Varanasi. Whenever I went there, he was engrossed in samadhi for 4-5
hours at stretch. Then, he would get up, won't interact. I would use time
visiting Saranath & meditating under the Peepul Tree. I thought perhps it was
not in my destiny to meet him. One sadhak suggested me to discuss my problems
with Lal Baba who ate human flesh fron burning pyre even during daytime. I found
him to be more a psychotic & quite ignorant of higher dimensions of Reality. He
was a mere cannibal. On the other hand, Gambhira exuded energy. Even watching
him in Samadhi, one can experience the strong detachment from the world &
strange feelings would engulf. I went many times & could finally talk to him in
December 1994 after one year sojourn. Gambhira asked me to share lunch. He ate
khichdi. I miss sharing the simple food. My sense of prejudice was still there.
How could have I eaten meal served on floor( no plates, papers or evn
leave-plates) in a cremation ground? He told about his own journey & suggested
that since I was seeking God, I shall achieve my goal by practising at home
alone. He said even he was striving to achieve same goal but promised that
whenever I need to run some spiritual business, he would be happy to impart
siddhis to me. He knew I didn't want that. It was in later years that
journalists used to throng around him. Once a news channel aired the footage of
Gambhira eaing corpse. Still, I have high regards for him. He never leaves his
Dhuni at Manikarnika, practises extreme austerities. He is a full Vedantist
during daytime & aghormargi during night. Balancing two extreme paths at same
time is difficult and that too when you are always in the public gaze as no
cave, no hut, no ashram at Manikarnika Dhuni where Gambhira lives. I am lucky to
get opportunity to stay with them during night & could decipher the acausal
logic these sadhaks engage with while communicating with different worlds.There
are some instances to share. A sadhak, normally dressed in shirt & pant , always
kept a snake which he claimed to be poisonous. Snake used to wrap around his
wrists. That way, he could identify himself with Siva. While tantrik practises
involves raising & controlling the serpent energy within, this sadhak actually
tamed a physical snake and by homology intended to transfer the effect within.
Similarly, another sadhak used to apply ash of owl bones so that he could see
into extreme darkness & minimize the need to carry a torch at night. For him,
reason was clear. Owls can look into darkness. By applying the ash, this power
can be transferrd to him. Similarly, Gambhira talked about" bhag me ling, ling
me para; jo rakhe so guru hamara"!He was pointing to mastery of vajroli,
non-ejaculative orgasm while copulating with female partner as the real
characteristic of a Guru! But, equating semen with mercury is again based on
same acusal structural homologous logic. Now, it was clear to me that why in
these sects sadhaks consumed small dose of mercury to attain immortality.
Immortality is identified with preserving the semen, source of life. Mercury
appears like semen..silvery, sticky, viscous glue. By consuming mercury, the
life-enhancement can be effected. I would term this kind of
non-causal thinking as a sort of morphological resonance of ideas through which
action can be transferred. Therefore, trying to understand these marga from
causal perspective mostly leads to erroneous views. I was quite
fascinated but at the same time disenchanted. Very few aim to achieve
God-realization.
That year itself(1994), I got an opportunity to visit Ujjain & Omkareshwar in
Central India. Both are the centre of major Jyotirlingas that signify Siva. I
was accompanying my father. We reached Omkareshwar on the bank of NARMADA, late
in the evening. The famous Jyotirlinga temple is located in Om-shaped island.
Here, great saints like Samkaracarya received knowledge. When we crossed the
footbridge above Narmada, I asked a passer-by the way to the main temple. He
showed the way & suggested to even visit the ashram of Baba Krishna Das. We
rushed to the temple and attended the full evening aarti. When, the door was
shut, we thought of just roaming the other floors of the temple. We had not
taken any decision to visit Baba's ashram.When we were on 2nd floor, it was
almost dark. Near a pillar, both of us had a sudden physical shock. It was as if
I had touched a 220 Volt naked electric wire. We were thrown few feet behind. I
shuddered. Whole air was electrically charged. My heart beat was so fast & feet
still. There was a kind of stambhan. An old sadhu was lying. He sits back & lit
a match-stick to smoke bidi. My father immediately fell on his feet. I couldn't.
I was into another dimension of consciousness. We immediately left the place and
in bazaar made an arrangement for night stay. I meditated, tried to know, who he
could be. I was swooning. I had a horrific dream as well as a shabby discharge.
I got up, felt so guilty but couldnt make out anything. I had seen my father in
dream meeting serious accident & lying injured in the bushes. Thence, I saw him
in a hospital's 2nd floor. It was vivid, very powerful & I knew it was going to
be true. I went into silence. I prayed Siva to save him from untoward incidence.
We again went to the temple. We tried to find out the old sadhu. He was nowhere.
Within a year, my father met with a serious train accident. That time, I had
pemonition of his road accident . He had come to meet us. I along with younger
brother were living in the city. I forced him to go back to ancestral home 30 km
away so that he could be safe. And the train journey ended with this accident.
He was lying in bushes. An old widow & her sons rescued him & took to nearby
Hospital. Hereceived injury exactly at same point which I had dreamt. He was
saved. When he was shifted to 2nd floor of hospital & he was walking while
recuperating from wounds, both of us could relate the manifeastation of dream &
grateful for saving from certain death due to the grace of electrifying unknown
saint. I was always eager to know who that unknown saint was and told people
many a times that the unknown saint was emblem of genuinity. He preferred
anonymity & worked in the world unlike our own hundreds of corporate
spiritualists. My fascination with cremation ground & practises grew stronger. I
left studies of medicine and bacame an ardent follower of Marxism during daytime
& practioner of secret energy during nights, This was another paradox settling
its own course inside.I started visiting cremation grounds without any guide in
the field at late nights and used to practise sadhna near burning pyre. Peace &
emptiness of mind was overwhelming. Many a times, other tantriks abused me,
threatened me. But, often when I sat, black dogs would rush & sit around me.
They were merely responding in Pavlovial way. Other practioners must be feeding
meat & fishes to them, so dogs expected same from me. Now, tantriksstopped
threatening. For them, dogs are the carrier of Kala Bhairav, the form of Siva
that rules smashan, the cremation ground.One of my friends, a well known tantrik
suggested me tio use some wine during sadhna. He narrated how he was supposed to
perform puja and upon instruction of his Guru based in Datiya, Madhya Pradesh,
he was completing chanting of 125 thousand times mantra. He finished arduous
sadhna. Nothing happened. He kept on doing. Three lakh, four lakh..ten lakh.
Ultimately, he decided to offer branded whiskey to Kala Bhairav. He narrated
happily that this bore fruit. Divine Mother appeared in his dreams & blessed him.
Such are the anecdotes from night-life oif dreaded cremation ground. I found
that in Ujjain, where popular siddhi temple of Kal Bhairav is situated & statue
of Bhairav drinks wine when same is offered, people offer best wine to appease
God. Human nature & frailty is sometimes so funny to watch. I have fond memories
of association with another aghori during this time. He could create atmosphere
of cremation ground wheresoever he willed. Burning smell of human flesh would
irritate the senses. He roamed many years in Tibet & Himalayas & came back to
social life to get his daughter married & fulfill his family obligation. I got
married in 2000. My fascination with this esoteric cult ebbed
A message!
May be it was lurking inside a silent corner waiting an opportune time to strile
my normalcy again. Facebook became the messanger. On the eve of Diwali, a
Facebook friend, Aghori Govind Das sent me a video of Baba Krishna Das of
Omkareshwar. Generally , I dont watch videos and more engrossed with phonetic
world. I was impelled to watch. This video I posted many a times. I was totally
blown away. I identified the Sadhu who gave me darshan at Omkareshwar in 1994. I
immediately contacted Brother Govind . He said, he was there in Omkareshwar in
1994 and eschewed that Baba never left his Dhuni, the sacred fire which is
considered manifestation of Siva Himself. Who was He then? Was He an astral
projection of Baba Krishna Das? Could Baba exist in multiple bodies
simultaneously? Did His blessings saved my father? Various personal encounters
in Assam & Jammu/Kashmir with practioners have made me to conclude that sadhaks
posing for dramatic visuals eating corpses, living naked in cremation ground,
practising macabre & bizarre are mere the scum of this pure marg. Pure Aghoris
are pure in mind without any discriminationor fear and do not indulga in
voyeurism. Logic based on structural resonance through which transference of
merit or consciousness is expected leads the ignorant sadhaks of Vammarg to
fulfill their desires of transgression & sexual fetishism under the garb of five
Ms; without properly understanding the marg.Five Ms are subtle in meaning.
Orgasm occurs when polarity within collapses into non-dual state. I vouchsafe
sexual orgasm is not the instat experience of this Pure Consciousness. Lot of
foolish teachings have been bombarded by corporate spiritualists who give false
hope of delivering superconsciousness through sex! Aghoris practise
pure, non-discriminatory path of using Body to conquer fear & prejudices and to
ahieve the state of non-duality. Pure Aghoris are innocent, lovely, ever kind ,
merciful & bless you whenever you seek them out. They are apparently bundle of
contradictions as for them non-duality is the only aspect of existence. Who can
be better example than ShambhuSiva? Om namah Sivaya!
Se si, hai probabilmente conosciuto anche Milk
Baba, il mio Guru, che nel 1994, vedendomi poco motivata, mi chiese di dipingere
sui muri del Ram Mandir.
Un murale tira l'altro.....
E' stata un'esperienza indimenticabile, ora
sospesa per motivi "tecnici", ma che spero di ricominciare per finire il lavoro
cui sto lavorando nella foto.
Dipingere gli dei a Pashupatinath non e' solo un
grande onore, e' un'esperienza che arricchisce e insegna, in quanto ho lavorato
sotto il controllo costante di altri Baba, bramini, turisti,
pellegrini.....tutti ne sanno più di me e tutti mi danno consigli o vogliono più
rispetto per l'iconografia tradizionale.
Milk Baba ha una conoscenza della letteratura
religiosa che lo rende un maestro inflessibile, ma anche e' molto aperto e mai
rigido nelle sue posizioni: se la mia interpretazione di un soggetto non ne
disturba il significato profondo la accetta volentieri.
Ha un senso estetico molto sensibile e i suoi
suggerimenti sono sempre formulati con la massima gentilezza , ma senza
possibilità di appello.
Quando ho dipinto il Kailash e il Manasarowar,
nel 1994, non avevo mai visto altro che foto della montagna, mai quelle del
lago.
Milk Baba ha costantemente descritto il posto
nei minimi particolari, correggendomi nei più piccoli dettagli.
Dopo almeno 10 anni un poster mi ha dato la
possibilità di confrontare la realtà col mio dipinto e ho visto che la
descrizione del Baba era stata esattissima.
Ho cominciato poi a dipingere gli dei (ma lavoro
costantemente anche altri soggetti) seguendo i miei stati d'animo, cercando di
metterli nel lavoro per analizzare me stessa e per aiutarmi a capire meglio
quello che ho dentro.