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CHAPTER FIVE

Naked Sadhus and Terrifying Aghories

From her years of living in India Sati tried to convince me that we couldn’t get sick from eating anything as long as it was prasad. I, on the other hand, was extolling the cardinal rule of traveling in foreign lands—never ever eat or drink anything that is made with local water that hasn’t been cooked. Having just passed someone pulling buckets of water out of the river two feet from where a pig had relieved itself, I had second thoughts on the validity of her ramblings. Suddenly, our laughter and gaiety was interrupted by what could only have been an Aghori Yogi. I had heard about these mystical practitioners of the left-handed path of tantric yoga, yet nothing could have prepared me for the physical and emotional effect he had on me.

Tantric yoga is usually divided into two general categories. The right-handed path focusing on purity in spiritual and meditational disciplines is the one more commonly practiced by and suited for a larger percentage of spiritual seekers. Seeing the interrelation between everything, they worship with great devotion and reverence the feminine principle of creation known as Shakti, Ma, Kali, Durga, or a host of other personified names. Their practices and guidelines work diligently to avoid the forbidden things in life that lead to the dulling of the mind, such as meat and alcohol.

The other side of the spectrum is Aghora yoga, the left-handed path that sees nothing as too impure or tainted to be off-limits. Aghori yogis embrace the darkness and work to transform it beyond duality by offering everything to the same feminine Divinity. Taking shape in beautiful and terrifying, chaste and putrid forms, Aghories dance the fine line between what some would call white and black practices. Seeing everything as Divine, they are not restricted by conventional rules or social norms.

Blood is equally as holy an offering as flowers for their beloved Kali Ma. Her form, both beautiful and ferocious, conquers any fear they may have if they wish to approach her or drives them to ruin if they stray the slightest from this razor’s edge of a path. She offers them a direct route to liberation or a quick ride to destruction. Her motherly love teaches her followers the true veil behind Maya, the illusion of creation, or she slices them to bits and drinks the lifeblood of their ego as if it were sweet nectar. Visions of death are said to be a hundredfold in her arms, and her beloved children find enlightenment amongst her flames and carnage. Sadhana performed in cremation grounds or in the depths of caves, the faint of heart have no place at her feet.

Om: Victorious, auspicious Kali, beneficent Kali, who carries the skull, the deliverer, forgiveness, peace, the supporter of all, the Divine offering, the ancestral offering, reverence to You! … As the dark night of time, reverence to You!

Mahatmya, Argala Stotra 1-2 Markendeya Purana
Tantric Yoga & the Wisdom Goddesses

Though the majority of Kali Ma’s children are not Aghories, this man in front of us definitely was. His appearance was just as frightening as his beloved. This strange, short yogi had wild tiger eyes and an air of other worldliness about him. The intense energy encircling him was reflected in his fiery, almost death-like appearance—with dreadlocks snaking about his head, ash-smeared body, and some sort of animal bone adorning his top knot. He walked quickly from behind, jumped in front of Sati, and demanded our prasad. As if in a hypnotic state, we handed over the sweet sesame balls.

I remember thinking later what an automatic response our movements had been during that moment. It was as if our minds shut off completely and time had solidified to a pinpoint focus. As soon as the sweets touched his hand they were popped into his mouth with lightning speed; then he turned on his heels and was gone. I had never seen anyone walk so quickly. By the time we came out of our stupor to look at each other and then back to the yogi, he was nowhere to be seen. There was no crowd for him to blend into, nor were there any paths around us for him to turn into. He was simply there one minute and gone the next.

I have often thought back to that moment and the spiritual connotations of that meeting. And, as I would soon found out in the coming days, from that point forward everything seemed to turn upside down.

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