All posts filed under: Mysticism

One Scary Night at the India Pakistan Border – Visiting Tanot Mata Temple Longewala

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Amongst the six major wars since Independence in 1947, India fought its deadliest battle with East Pakistan which resulted in the Birth of a country called ‘Bangladesh”, in 1971. But, even though, the Indian Army was confronting the rogue Pakistani soldiers in erstwhile East Pakistan, Pakistan decided to engage Indian Army and opened the western front in the Thar Desert of Rajasthan where only 120 Indian soldiers were manning their territory against 2000-3000 Pak soldiers with 40 Tanks. It was a night attack in a vulnerable open desert landscape which back fired for Pakistani Army six hours later but by then they had bombed most installations with heavy causalities. It is known that amongst all of this the only structure that was left as it was, was a mother Temple called Tanot Mata Temple, with 120 men winning an unusually long fight. My work was done by the noontime. After a whole morning of chasing a Manganiyar tribe, I finished my interview with the old tribal singer and requested Veeru’s great grandfather to sit under …

The Untold Tantric Powers of the Yoginis of the Kamakhya Shaktipeeth

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Unlike other temples, Kamakhya Temple doesn’t house traditional murtis of Yoginis. Instead, Yogini Pithas (sacred spots) are scattered around the temple, symbolizing their invisible yet omnipresent power. The temple is linked to Vama Marg Tantra, a left-hand path that involves secretive rituals, like Taamsik offerings symbolizing transcendence beyond duality.

Five Heads of Brahma and a Boon Gone Wrong

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In India, the term Trimurti is used in reference to the three faces of god. They are Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, and collectively called the Trinity. Lord Brahma is the creator of the universe and everything both living and non-living. He is said to have risen from a Lotus that emerged from Vishnu’s belly button. Just as an Artisan moulds statues, Brahma is the eternal sculptor responsible for the intricacies of all life forms. We are all his children. Also Read : The Choice Of Death- The Legend of Madhu Kaitabha Ages ago, the god of love, Kamadeva and his wife, Rati, prayed fervently to Brahma for a boon. They wanted a special bow and arrow. So they fasted and meditated for days and days, and finally Brahma appeared. Kamadeva said, ‘Dear Lord, give me a bow and arrow that will make anyone I shoot it with fall instantly in Love with the nearest person.’ Brahma considered the request. ‘This boon is perfect!’ he thought. ‘It will encourage more humans to fall in love and …

Turiya and Ramakrishna: The Science of Breathing

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The first act of Life as soon as we come out of mother’s womb is, we inhale. Maharaj Ji asked me to sit straight and take one deep breath, in a voice that demanded attention. I held it for 10 seconds, as he continued, and the last act of life is, we exhale; that is it. Leave the breath through your mouth. We inhale and we start crying. When we exhale, we make others cry. Between these two, a whole life is lived and one must take a deeper and a closer look at our lives. Because however our life is, the most important thing we unfortunately learn to ignore is, our breath. Also Read: Food and the World on a New Yogi’s Mind Maharaj Ji was making a Yantra with red vermillion, on an old bhojpatra paper as he casually started telling me a tale of essence about being. This was way back in 2014, around when we were travelling right towards the centre of India, to Ujjain. But had to take a detour …

Lore of the Light: A Brief History of Nine Planets in India- ४

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It was a short journey and my first to Ujjain in Central India. The city of time itself. I was almost strolling when on the ghats of Shipra river I met a sage sitting alone but not alone. He looked strangely wild and attractive, focused. He was arranging his stones, picking them carefully as if they were beings and putting them in an unusual order, only after looking for many a seconds towards the sky. Curious, i had many questions to ask. And i did. This conversation was recorded thus and is presented like every story must. Also read: Turiya and Ramakrishna: Who are you? Q. What is your name?A. Narayan. Waah, Narayan! okay Narayan, Listen carefully. I will start from the start. Vedas, India’s four ancient sacred book-length accumulations of living wisdom. The oldest literature in the history of mankind. Since the last standardisation of the vedas, dozens of centuries ago, these hymns have been flawlessly preserved, syllable for syllable and word for word, by their priestly keepers. The hymns of the vedas were …

Truth, Evil and the Sun

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When we reached Gopeshwar that night, Gana seemed speechless. But Neel looked at him with satisfaction giving an expression like then he has seen. We sat around fire, while waiting for the food to arrive. Open your ears said Neel and he began speaking like reciting an over practised hymn. The men in the east, he said, are trees; those in the south are flocks of animals; those in the west are wild plants. And those in the north like ourselves, who cried out while they ate other men, were the waters. When the collective sound started filling the air, he started explaining about eating. The act of eating is a violence that causes what is living, in its many forms, to disappear. Whether grass, plants, trees, animals or human beings, the process is the same. There is always a fire that devours and a substance that is devoured. This violence bringing misery and torment will one day be carried out by those who inflict it. Pouring milk into the fire- every morning, every evening- …

HYPNIC PICNIC : 5 elements Wind and Water published in Rare Journal

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The journalist had been following my journey here on the Road to Nara and later found herself ecstatic on seeing some images that i had made few years ago following the sea along the expansive South-Western coast of India. I was then documenting it for a long term project on the journey of five elements and various shapes and forms they take. HYPNIC PICNIC was this month’s theme, magic as she asked me for images that carried in them a life in between and the journey. Along with me came a few other artists, as many as the fingers are in both hands, two from India and few from far away countries. Working, carrying their experience of the world in their fields of expression; illustration, sketches, graphics, Paintings and images. In them i found few very interesting people doing the things they have been doing in their lives like Stilleke, he is a curator and was invited here to talk about the future of festivals and even more so in the years leading to this …

Life is only breath. Every other thing a distraction.

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The night before was dedicated to red Hibiscus flowers. They ended inside the fire place while praying for the solar chord, our right nostril, symbolising river Ganga; and in yogic texts known as pingala. It was also mauni amavasya, i.e the quiet moonless night, as advised for centuries, this day must be observed in silence. Women who could not restrain themselves from speaking, fasted in exchange for words. And the ones who spoke nothing from mouths were seen talking cautiously from eyes. There was nothing satvic about the day even though I tried to make it. And above all It ended without a moral, not that it had to. But without a story as if either it wasn’t needed or we weren’t important. In the evening the walk became unending. It didn’t feel long but the sun had set. We went around the circular home to find more wood but instead found two calves loving like statues. Somehow they got excited and started running like jumping deers. The once desired magic when attained, when passed over, …

In Life’s darkness. Mother is light.

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In these ongoing paralysing times of helplessness, while doing nothing; close your eyes. Think of water, a river. And if possible become it. Shiva was eyes wide open in all directions. Yet the destructive eye had to open, and took him inwards. Ujjain arrived in the morning. We went to pataloka to touch the equator in dim light and later ate potato spice. Darkness is the birth place of all creations. A child becomes in the dark. The lights glows the most in the dark. It is not that the darkness is wrong. It’s a part of life, a backdrop for the stars at night, the space between what you know. Darkness has a way of reminding you of the light. ExistING side by side. Sometimes overlapping, one explaining the other. And Mangla, the beautiful brown cow here in the village is pregnant. One big similarity, between a cow and a human mother is that both take nine months for their child to come out playing in the wild. Also one of many reasons, the oldest living civilisation …

A Journal of Animal Stories In The Last Ancient Fair Of Nepal

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“There is no other no other culture on earth that worships a woman as a goddess. And has gone to lengths, to make her happy, satisfy her with whatever means a man could imagine. Honouring her, doing little things, like this fair to keep her happy, may be to create another excuse to celebrate, however irrational it may be. Because you see, someone told me on this journey, that if in a family, a woman is happy everything will be favourable. Our goddess needs to happy, at any cost possible” GADHIMAI FAIR : A Journey through the culture of Nepal A sparrow woke us up. After travelling for three days overland, from Delhi to Kathmandu; changing buses including sharing a seat for seven hours with a goat. Through the night, travelling in a time travel bus I was transported from a civil society to a town living thirty years back. A town darkened by the moonless night, wearing a layer of fog only dissected by the headlight of a second world war Mercedes truck. Few …

Are you Blinking ?

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It happens only while blinking. Sages and meditators who have closed there eyes for the longest time in there lifetimes, know when to blink. How much later to blink, because blinking comes with a count. And whosoever blinks is certain, to die. And that is how gods were differentiated from humans. because gods do not blink. In our lives, we live through a series of decisions that we make daily, weekly, monthly: but those decisions that subconsciously occur, the quiet ones which get shared with no one. The ones which come with horse power velocity leading us to our destinies are the which cry in silence. Because the only way you will ever awaken is through silence, not through analyzation of facts, not by sorting out good and bad, but through simple silence. By focusing towards the light in the dark, and to particularly stand in that invisible line trying to reveal ones true potential by letting every thought be, by surrendering to all the possibilities, Possibilities. By just showing up day after day after …

LAST FLIGHT OF AN OWL

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She kept looking towards the sky while floating in the water kept for cows. Her death seemed such that at one time I felt she chose it.   But do birds more so when one is a predator choose their own death?   When Maharaj ji arrived, he first closed his eyes. May be she needed someone to close her eyes before it could be plucked out by hungry ones. May be he earned this burial. To only put a stop to this cycle. May his body rests and the spirit awakens. Aum Shanti In Photos 1  

The story of Venus and the Running girls

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Today was shukra. Shukravar. A day of Venus. Shiva ate shukra, and so he became Shiva himself. That only meant that there is no shukra or Venus but the light of shiva through his shukranu/sperms/rays. From far I saw the same crane limping around Kali. Squirrels and other birds went about eating and devastating the plants with much more aggression then previous days. Japam has been similar but effect will only be seen days after. Gayatri is as pure as mangla’s milk but time is now to dig in and change the course to attain a smile. Get on. – Shukra/Friday and Shani/Satuday passed by. Last night winds are lashed anything that they crossed. Felling many a bucket full of leaves. As soon as the morning arrived a girl started running down from a mountain. She held onto the finger of Maharaj, who was coming closer and closer to her. But as she neared him, she started feeling dull, bereft of light. When she opened her eyes, she had no pupil in them. Maharaj’s eye …

Swaha / to the sun

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Slowly I have started smelling like fire. There is nothing more to feel one with the divine than this. Ash is all over my head, my clothes, my legs are bereft of a sole. Pouring Ice water every morning on head now seems a ritual. And the heat from the fire has become a family. Is it because of these squirrels that i have started listening to? Or that bird in the morning quietness who comes sits by my bed in the darkness of the dawn? Something will change. It seems to be initiating something and directing somewhere i cannot know just now. Hear hear they say. Hear till your eyes see the light.

Yantram

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Sleep felt like a burden. The sun was about to come when we began the fire today. Tarot was interesting in the morning but I don’t remember if any concretisation happened today as was predicted. We decorated the nine planets but birds, squirrels and their friends made it their personal food plates. We kept restoring it almost all day long. Running after them, making faces, sounds but they seem to be not taking us seriously. I drew the yantra with saffron on the ancient tree paper. Late noon we trekked to the Hinglaj devi temple to find cactuses all around our way. We sat there long looking at the setting sun. And found ourselves humming the sound of the universe till it started getting dark. I felt somehow that this could be my last visit to the cave on this journey. I found three white marbles and placed them such that they immediatly turned holy. In the sky a rocket left a line of shooting stars. It bisected the wires over a field which had …

The neem Tree

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Its time to sleep. And Logar starts beating the drum again tonight. May be he does it for mangla, the cow. But then there is no need for that. Or may be to warm himself up. It is cold. Or most probably and i feel this could be the reason, to keep Jacky, the panther away from the cows. Its windy. Neem tree under which we sleep showers its old leaves on us all night. In the morning we went towards the field and started digging. The mud that we got was put into a copper plate and then was under the same tree. On it we placed a copper snake and twelve different coloured stones in the direction of the water. Maharaj went to the temple on the mountain. I, and the guy whose dream is to mine a mountain started putting the clay in the direction of the planet’s movement. But they wobble. Even though the energy is needed to pour in them, the vital breath but we shall see tomorrow when maharaj …

Arrival of the ancient mountains

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In the night a train came. In it was an engine sleeping above Maharaj. So loud was his snore that I started going from bed to bed but to only kept get up enquiry after enquiry. In the morning as the sun rose, Aravalis were seen passing. Winters seemed gone, the moment I poured ground water on my head at four in the morning in February. A mountain starts from behind the ashram. And holds in him a panther they call Jacky. Jacky is popular and so much that he has come in the premises for if the cows go munching in the night. Me and Maharaj went to the Hinglaj temple and sang songs for two hours after we had food. I saw mangla while coming down and went near her to comb her stomach. During that time I learnt few new things about shukra and shiva, Shani and Vikramaditya. There is one Banayan, one neem, a library and enough blankets under the open sky. Rathore’s Kuladevi is Mata Nageahwari. Lights are out but …

Arrival of Maharaj

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Threads of cotton. Some new event had to happen. A long day in motion. Paris. Not patparganj but Indirapuram came. Maharaj wore mehroon clothes and did not open his eyes till the time food arrived. He said nothing. He asked nothing. He saw nothing. He just sat with his eyes closed. But the moment food arrived he started singing the songs of Krishna. It was an auspicious day. Mother was waiting. For moon. She will eat but then she will be looking at the stars first. Instead Rain came. And I left home for many days to come.

In the land of Snakes

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Twenty six days ago and three hundred fifty kilometers north I Moon I reached Aldona late in the night. It was Purnima, the full moon of Holi. Vishwan was away, gone to a border village, tsar. A place somewhere in the middle of the jungle at the border of Goa and Maharashtra. But I had no idea of that then, I was waiting. I sat downstairs at the bar. Grandmother was pouring feny to a local. She told me about Vishwan smoking too much. The room was lit with two cyan bulbs. He arrived. We kept my backpack at his place. He lit his cigarette. We sat. His hair had grown and white; beard thickened and black. Soon, we were off, feeling the dense wind of the leaving winter, scooting through the western ghats in the night going towards the moon. We entered the fair. Vishwan parked the vehicle somewhere outside and we started walking away from the lights towards the jungle. It was late. But it wasn’t dark. The night seemed to have dissolved with …