Main photo “Breathtaking scenery on way to Amarnath Cave’, Credit: Hardik Buddhabhatti
Each year, the Amarnath Yatra commences around late June and is open for 40 days. Despite the high altitude, extremely treacherous terrain and the increased incidences and threats of terrorist attacks in recent years, the yatra (meaning journey) remains one of the most significant and popular for Shiva devotees.
But what is the yatra all about and why is it considered so important? Here’s a brief explanation.
En route
Amarnath cave
Ice Shivalinga (view 1)
Sheshnag
Pahalgam
Ice Shivalinga (view 2)
The Route from Jammu to Amarnath
JAMMU: City in Jammu and Kashmir state of India, accessibly by air, rail and road
PAHALGAM: 315km from Jammu in a valley through which the Lidder and Aru rivers flow
CHANDANWARI: 16km from Pahalgam, along the Lidder river
PISSU TOP: the mountain believed in legend to be formed by the dead bodies of the asuras killed by the devas in the battle to reach Shiva first
SHESHNAG: Surrounded by 7 peaks (believed to represent the heads of the mythical snake, Shesha), the Sheshnag mountain and lake are breathtakingly beautiful (image above)
PANCHTARNI: Reached after a steep ~5km climb. 5 rivers flow at the foot of Bhairav Mount which are believed to have flowed from Shiva’s locks
AMARNATH CAVE: The rivers Amravati and Panchtarni meet on the way to the cave believed to be the above of Shiva. In addition to the main ice Shivalinga, the cave contains two smaller ice lingas believed to represent Parvati and Ganesha.
The Ganga, rising in the Himalayas and emptying into the Bay of Bengal, flows through one of the most densely populated regions in the world. Draining nearly one-fourth of the Indian subcontinent, it cuts through the heartland of India where its earliest kingdoms were situated. On its banks, thousands of years ago, sages established ashrams and composed hymns and texts that form the core of the Vedic tradition. The wisdom of the Vedic rishis, in its various forms such as Yoga and Vedanta, continues to inspire people in India and the rest of the world and Vedic hymns are chanted today as they were millennia ago.
The river begins as the Bhagirathi at the edge of the Gangotri Glacier at the height of 13,200 feet. It becomes the Ganga after joining up with the Alakananda at Devaprayag. Other tributaries merge into it before it flows from the mountains at the ashram town of Rishikesh and then moves into the plains just a few miles south at the pilgrimage city of Haridwar.
Banks of the Ganga in Rishikesh
Pilgrimage town of Haridwar
In its course of 1500 miles, the Ganga passes through ancient cities such as Kannauj, Prayag, Varanasi, and Patna and via its distributaries in the modern cities of Kolkata and Dhaka; the modern capital of Delhi and the Mughal capital of Agra are on its tributary, the Yamuna. Its first major distributary is the Bhagirathi-Hooghly, which travels through West Bengal. Upon entering Bangladesh, it is known as the Padma and joins the Jamuna River, the name by which the Brahmaputra is known here. Farther downstream, the Padma joins the Meghna River, and takes on that name as it enters the Meghna Estuary, which empties into the Bay of Bengal. The Ganga delta is the world’s largest by breadth, which extends to 220 miles, and third largest by volume.
The famous River Hymn of the Rigveda lists ten rivers of which the Ganga appears to be the easternmost with Sarasvati to its west. Archaeological remains of the Sindhu-Sarasvati tradition (also called Indus civilization) that go back to about 8000 BCE have the Sarasvati River as the main focus with most sites scattered in its valleys. The Sarasvati arose in the Himalayas just to the west of the Ganga and it is lauded in another Vedic hymn as the greatest river of its time, going from the mountains to the sea.
Map showing the now-dry Sarasvati river
Scholars believe that changes in climate and earthquakes caused the Sarasvati to dry up in the Western Desert about 2000 BCE. Some have speculated that the main cause of the diminution of the Sarasvati was that the course of its tributary, Yamuna, changed towards the Ganga after a major earthquake. By the time of the Ramayana, the Mahabharata and the encyclopaedic Puranas, the Ganga was the preeminent river of Indian culture. But, Sarasvati was not forgotten. Since it didn’t reach all the way down to the sea, it was imagined to join up with the Ganga — and the tributary Yamuna — through a subterranean passage at Prayag (Allahabad). If the Ganga was the river carrying Indian culture in its broadest sense, Sarasvati remained the goddess of wisdom and learning.
The Descent of the Ganga
The Milky Way, called the Akaash Ganga in India
The Ganga embodies all sacred waters in Hindu mythos and it is invoked in ritual just as Sarasvati was in an earlier age. There are three Gangas: in the heavens as the Milky Way; the familiar terrestrial river of north India; and a subterranean river. The mythology of the river can be understood within the context of Vedic cosmology according to which reality is recursive and the skies are mirrored on the earth and within one’s being and everything is interconnected.
The samudra manthana (churning of the ocean) is one of the central themes of the Vedas, and it not only takes place only at the cosmic level but also in the heart of each individual by the dictum yat brahmaande tad pinde (as in the cosmos, so in the body). The recursion carries into the very neural pathways of the body and I have seen an Ayurveda text showing channels in the brain that mirror the Sarasvati and the Ganga.
The Vedic sages, meditating on the banks of the Ganga and the Sarasvati, arrived at a subtle understanding of reality. They claimed that although consciousness is the one single basis of reality, limitations of the mind and of form engender duality of experience that becomes the source of ignorance and suffering. They came up with many means to overcome bondage and to find divinity within. These means can be viewed as the joining of the celestial and material currents in mind and body.
Ritual is one way to liberation. It is sacred theatre that helps one dissociate from reflexive behaviour to find the centre of one’s being. But it can also become reflexive, the sages warn and, therefore, creativity is essential even in ritual. Other methods to salvation include direct pursuit of knowledge, devotion, service and even a life of action that includes contemplation.
The variety of prescriptions may appear to be an excessively eclectic approach to living life. But it makes perfect sense and as the art historian Heinrich Zimmer stated: “The whole edifice of Indian civilization is imbued with spiritual meaning. The close interdependence and perfect harmonization of the two serve to counteract the natural tendency of Indian philosophy to become recondite and esoteric, removed from life and the task of the education of society. In the Hindu world, the folklore and popular mythology carry the truths and teachings of the philosophers to the masses.”
Ganga descending to earth through Shiva’s locks as a boon to King Bhagiratha
The point of the story of the descent (avatarana in Sanskrit) of the heavenly Ganga to Earth is to stress the connections between the spiritual and the material. The descent was a boon to King Bhagiratha who undertook austerities to restore ancestors who had met untimely deaths, and the river is, therefore, also called Bhagirathi. However, since her turbulent force would shatter the earth, Bhagiratha entreats the Great God Shiva to receive Ganga in the coils of his hair to break her fall. From Shiva’s dreadlocks the waters are released to many waterways in the Himalayas and to a subterranean channel. For this act, Shiva is depicted in Hindu iconography as Gangaadhara (Bearer of the Ganga), with the river shown as a spout of water, rising from his hair.
Ganga’s descent from heaven
The Ganga is seen replicated beyond the plains of north India. The Godavari in Central India and the Kaveri in South India are each the Ganga of its region. Hindus in far lands choose a local river for the rituals.
Because Ganga descended to Earth, she is also the vehicle of ascent to the heavens. This ascent is accomplished by an actual or symbolic crossing of the river. For laypersons the crossing is done at the fords (teertha in Sanskrit) but for the learned it is through a training of the mind by one of the many forms of yoga. A person is deemed blessed if given a sip of Ganga-water on their deathbed.
The waters of the Ganga are considered purifying. People are aware that large portions of the river are now badly polluted but its effects are ultimately spiritual. The Ganga is all accepting and forgiving and it connects the worshiper to the larger currents of life.
Hindu temples all over India had statues and reliefs of the goddess carved at their entrances. The Ganga’s mount is the makara which has the lower jaw of a crocodile, the snout or trunk of an elephant, the tusks and ears of a wild boar, the darting eyes of a monkey, the scales and the flexible body of a fish, and the hind feathers of a peacock. She is shown carrying a full vase (kumbha or kalasha) which represents auspiciousness, fertility and generative power. She is also shown with a parasol.
Varanasi, the City of Light
Varanasi, known for its fine silk and cotton fabrics, perfumes, ivory works, and sculpture, is one of the most famous pilgrimage centres on the Ganga and also one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities anywhere. Known also as Banaras, it is situated on the western bank at a place where it takes a broad crescent sweep toward the north. Seen from the river at dawn, the high-banked face of the city looks luminous, explaining its old name, Kashi (Kashi, City of Light).
Panoramic view of Kashi from the GangaKashi Vishwanath Temple
Most of all, Varanasi is the city of Shiva and the home of the great Kashi Vishvanath temple. This temple which is called the Vishveshvara has Shiva’s jyotirlinga, the icon of sheer light, from which Kashi gets its name. The three hills in the city are seen as the tips of Shiva’s trident. During the eleventh to the seventeenth centuries, Muslim invaders destroyed the Kashi Vishvanath at least four times and it was last rebuilt by the Maratha queen Ahilyabai Holkar in 1780.
In the sixth century BCE, the Buddha visited Varanasi and in nearby Sarnath he delivered his first sermon. Varanasi is also home to two of India’s great devotional poets, Kabir and Tulsidas. The Chinese traveller Xuanzang (earlier spelling Hiuen Tsang) who visited Varanasi in the seventh century, attested that the city was a centre of religious and artistic activities, and that it extended for over three miles. He further described a mass bathing ritual held during the reign of Emperor Harsha at the confluence of Ganga and Yamuna in Prayag.
Evening Ganga puja at the Dashaswamedh Ghat
The eighty-four ghats – a series of steps leading to the river — along the arc-shaped Ganga symbolize the integration of the twelve signs of the zodiac with the seven divisions of space and time. Every morning approximately twenty thousand people arrive at the ghats for puja, the ritual bath, or just to gather. The number of bathers approaches a million on special occasions such as the full moon in October–November (Karttika Purnima) and on solar and lunar eclipses.
One of most important pilgrimages in the approximately fifty-mile Panchakroshi circuit around Varanasi includes visits to many temples and pedestrians take a few days to complete it. For the faithful, Varanasi is the holiest of places as celebrated below in a poem in the Kashi section of the ancient Skanda Purana.
Are there not many holy places on this earth?
Yet which of them would equal in the balance one speck of Kashi’s dust?
Are there not many rivers running to the sea?
Yet which of them is like the River of Heaven in Kashi?
Are there not many fields of liberation on earth?
Yet not one equals the smallest part of the city never forsaken by Shiva.
The Ganga, Shiva, and Kashi: where this Trinity is watchful, no wonder
here is found the grace that leads one on to perfect bliss.
(Kashi Khanda 35. 7-10, from Banaras: City of Light by Diana L. Eck)
Count Herman Keyserling in his highly regarded Indian Travel Diary (1914) wrote thus of Varanasi: “Benares is holy. Europe, grown superficial, hardly understands such truths anymore…. I feel nearer here than I have ever done to the heart of the world; here I feel every day as if soon, perhaps even to-day, I would receive the grace of supreme revelation. . . The atmosphere of devotion which hangs above the river is improbable in its strength: stronger than in any church that I have ever visited. Every would-be Christian priest would do well to sacrifice a year of his theological studies in order to spend this time on the Ganga: here he would discover what piety means. For in Europe all that exists is its remote reflection.”
The Kumbha Mela
The origin of the Kumbha as a congregational ritual is in the churning of the ocean by the devas (gods) and the asuras (demons). The purpose of this churning is the amrita (nectar of immortality) that both the devas and the asuras covet. At last, as the churning proceeds, a kumbha appears and in the struggle between the two parties to get hold of it, amrita spills at four places: Haridwar, Prayag, Nashik, and Ujjain on the banks of Ganga, the confluence of Ganga and Yamuna, Godavari, and Kshipra, respectively.
Throngs at the Kumbha Mela
Devotees take the auspscious dip in the Ganga
Kumbha Mela at Haridwar
The seeker wishes to connect to the cosmic by journeying to the Mela at the four places where the amrita fell. In this he is guided by Brihaspati (Jupiter), the teacher of the devas and the pilgrimage is completed with a bath in the river. Since the orbit of Jupiter is twelve years, the Kumbha comes around at this frequency. The specific month is determined by the conjunction of Jupiter with a different nakshatra associated with the place. Every 144 years, the Mela is called a Mahakumbha.
Mark Twain visited the Kumbha Mela of Prayag in 1895. Told that two million pilgrims come to the Mela, he spoke of his experience thus: “It is wonderful, the power of a faith like that, that can make multitudes upon multitudes of the old and weak and the young and frail enter without hesitation or complaint upon such incredible journeys and endure the resultant miseries without repining.”
The Kumbha Melas were traditionally managed by the akharas (organizations of sadhus), but now the government makes the general arrangements. The Melas are the greatest peaceful congregations of people and there are reports that the Prayag Kumbha of 2013 attracted nearly 120 million people
Pushkaram (or just Pushkar) is another festival dedicated to the worshiping of twelve sacred rivers that range from the Ganga to the Kaveri. This celebration takes place at specific temples along the banks in a manner quite like the Kumbha. Each river is associated with a zodiac sign, and the river for each year’s festival is based on the conjunction of the river sign with Jupiter.
The sequence of great ritual associated with the Ganga and other rivers in India is to help the seeker find connection with the cosmos. Indian social theorists, in the dharmashastras, foresaw the problem of emptiness arising from materialism, and to counter this resulting emptiness, they exalted the idea of renunciation and self-denial. To them the pursuit of happiness was a subtle dance between enjoyment and sacrifice.
To find the balance in one’s own life there is nothing as instructive as getting lost and rendered anonymous in the vast multitudes of the Kumbha. This is one of the reasons the Westerner is so fascinated by the congregations. These Melas, the Pushkarams and other pilgrimages are a wonderful system of spiritual journeying that is distributed across the entire land of India. They offer participation in a deeply personal yet universal act that has the potential to heal and let each person connect with the larger current of humanity.
“The first and lowest use of Art is the purely aesthetic, the second is the intellectual or educative, the third and highest the spiritual. By speaking of the aesthetic use as the lowest, we do not wish to imply that it is not of immense value to humanity, but simply to assign to it its comparative value in relation to the higher uses. The aesthetic is of immense importance and until it has done its work, mankind is not really fitted to make full use of Art on the higher planes of human development”
– Complete Works of Sri Aurobindo (CWSA), Vol. 1, p. 439
A dance-drama titled, Beyond Names triggered the following reflections. Produced by a Secundarabad-based organization, Our Sacred Space, the performance “celebrates the paths by which we seek the Essence. Whatever way we choose to acknowledge it. It is but One Energy – to which we assign the name of our choice.” (programme brochure).
The title Beyond Names sounded highly appealing – a movement through the various forms to the essential one, the formless; going via and beyond the varied names to the one eternal nameless. The performance featured Odissi dance by Nayantara Nanda Kumar, storytelling and poetry recitation.
The performance began with the traditional invocation to the gods, the universe and the audience, with the dancer performing Panchadevata Mangalacharan (salutations to five deities – Ganesha, Jagannatha/Vishnu, Rudra, Surya, and Shakti). This was followed by Sthai Nato, a pure nritta piece.(1)
For the abhinaya (2) component, a Hindi poem about a barbaric act of violence committed during inter-religious communal riots was evocatively recited by the dancer’s mother, a librarian and storyteller, while the dancer portrayed the emotions of the story. The combination of dance and storytelling was meant to evoke a certain kind of educative experience. But somehow it failed to do so, at least for me. Only on a couple of brief occasions I felt momentary emotional pull, perhaps because of the story’s emotional content. Overall, this particular performance failed to move me.
For the arts to be an education for the soul, two things are necessary: the artist’s ability to evoke a certain kind of experience through the chosen art form; and the learner or spectator’s readiness and receptivity. Maybe I wasn’t receptive enough that particular evening, maybe I couldn’t open myself enough to take ‘in’ the experience. Or just maybe I couldn’t ‘feel’ a movement beyond the outer phenomenon to the Essence, beyond the names and forms to the Nameless and Formless, beyond the seen to the Unseen, beyond the violence to the Peace.
All the pieces following the abhinaya (Prayer for Peace – Moving Meditation, Transforming Anger, Jung ya Aman) relied exclusively on words, gentle movement, poetry recitation, and a video clip of an interview with a spiritual teacher, and had no dance component. According to the brochure the performance hoped to address the following:
“We are witnessing a revival of fundamentalism of various hues. We are encouraged to believe that the religion we profess is the “best”, unlike the “other” that is rabid/discriminatory/primitive, little realizing that it is the notion of “best” that contains the seed of violence.
“War is but the orchestrated version of the violence that we allow in thought, word and deed. War brutalizes both victor and vanquished and makes violence acceptable, leaving a trail of broken homes, broken families, broken lives…
“Beyond Names asks: Can we not evolve ways that are non-judgemental, inclusive, loving? For, in truth, there is no “other”. To hate another is to hate ourselves….to embrace another is to embrace ourselves. Is that not the Essence that all of us seek…to be able to live in peace with ourselves?”
I was hoping that the performance would somehow gradually and gently ease the audience into a quieter place of awareness – even if only for a few moments – of the Essence beyond all names and forms, into a place where such questions of violence, war and fundamentalism would be silenced, just for those moments.
Sadly, that never happened. The experience didn’t take me to that place. Even the concluding dance piece titled Moksha and Shanti Mantra failed to do so, perhaps because it ended rather quickly before I could really ‘immerse’ into it or ‘flow’ with the vibration of Peace that it was meant to evoke.
The experience just kept me mentally engaged with questions such as: a) why an exclusive focus on only one particular “name” of religious fundamentalism – Hindu; b) why use a sensationalist-headline type of story to illustrate the deep-rooted violence hidden in the imperfect human nature; c) why not use dance and movement to express the idea of mindfulness instead of a spiritual teacher’s words; d) why use a video featuring more words instead of dance; and a few more.
More questions came later, particularly about the educative role of art (the second purpose of art, as per Sri Aurobindo). What kind of educational experience should art evoke, and in what ways? Are there possible ways through which art can take the audience to a deeper place within or a higher place beyond mind, even if for a split second, where the questioning mind is silenced and a subtler learning begins?
Many artists and art forms take on an ‘educative’ role as their raison d’être these days. But are they really able to do so? Art definitely has an educational purpose, but not through dry intellect or through a sensationalist-vitalistic provocation or activism. Art educates by a subtle training of the intellectual faculty as it helps make the mind quick to grasp at a glance, subtle enough to distinguish shades and deep enough to reject shallow self sufficiency. Art raises images in the mind which it has to understand not by analysis, but by self-identification with other minds, thus helping the mind become mobile, subtle, delicate, swift, and intuitive (Sri Aurobindo, CWSA, Vol. 1, p. 449).
Art is suggestive and can arouse a sense of sympathetic insight. The intellect habituated to the appreciation of art becomes quick to catch suggestions, mastering not only that which is positive and on the surface, but also that which leads to ever fresh widening and subtilising of knowledge. (ibid.)
But to truly fulfil even its educative role, Art must first discover its essential purpose.
“…the highest Art is that which by an inspired use of significant and interpretative form unseals the doors of the spirit. But in order that it may come to do this greatest thing largely and sincerely, it must first endeavour to see and depict man and Nature and life for their own sake, in their own characteristic truth and beauty; for behind these first characters lies always the beauty of the Divine in life and man and Nature and it is through their just transformation that what was at first veiled by them has to be revealed. The dogma that Art must be religious or not be at all, is a false dogma, just as is the claim that it must be subservient to ethics or utility or scientific truth or philosophic ideas. Art may make use of these things as elements, but it has its own svadharma, essential law, and it will rise to the widest spirituality by following out its own natural lines with no other yoke than the intimate law of its own being.”
– Sri Aurobindo, CWSA, Vol. 25, pp. 229-230
Art may be inspired by or make use of any aspect from Life and Nature, from current events to timeless tales, from social issues to eternal truths, but in order for it to rise up to its aim in opening the door to the Spirit, it must express what it sees in their essential truth and beauty, beyond and beneath what is on the surface. The essential law, the svadharma of Art is to express through a specific form the formless essence, the very ‘is-ness’ of the thing it chooses to depict.
Even in its educative role Art must not steer away from its svadharma and reduce itself to being merely provocative, reactive, sensationalist or sentimental. When Art becomes Activism and stays only at that level, it may cease to be Art.
“The highest and most perfect Art, while satisfying the physical requirements of the aesthetic sense, the laws of formal beauty, the emotional demand of humanity, the portrayal of life and outward reality….reaches beyond them and expresses inner spiritual truth, the deeper not obvious reality of things, the joy of God in the world and its beauty and desirableness and the manifestation of divine force and energy in phenomenal creation.”
– Sri Aurobindo, CWSA, Vol. 1, p. 450
(1) Nritta: abstract dance, where the body makes patterns in space with no particular meaning attached to any gesture or movement. While various mudras are used in nritta, they are not meant to convey any story.
(2) Abhinaya: a tradition of story-telling in Indian classical dances, Abhinaya is a word which literally means ‘leading towards’, that is, leading the audience towards an experience of a particular rasa. These stories may be puranic, mythological, legends or even contemporary.
The capacity to think and remember brings with it an acute feeling of separation and impending loss. We suffer both because we want more and are fearful that we will be deprived of what we have. A quiet scream rises inside when we remember that we have seen beauty but don’t know how to hold on to it.
But is suffering the human condition? Is it the basic nature of life, programmed, if you will, into the game of life? And must we, as many experts expound, simply change our attitude towards negative happenings and get on with it? “Think positive”, “Suffering is optional” are catchy phrases but is there a more existential explanation of what suffering is in the human context and is there a way of transforming this poison of life into nectar?
Samudra Manthan
The sea with its ebb and flow, high and low tides, the emptying of all rivers into the one ocean appears to describe our experience of life. The allegory of the Samudra Manthan (1) (churning of the ocean) holds many exquisite truths. It’s almost as if the more the waters of this legend are churned, the more they reveal the mystic secrets (just like the gifts emerging from the ocean in the legend itself). In an earlier article we looked at how the Samudra Manthan helps us understand the spiritual dimension of Ayurveda.
Samudra manthan, churning of the ocean with the devas on the right and asuras on the left. Vishnu’s Kurma (turtle) avatar supports Mount Mandhara at the base
The story illustrates how life is a dynamic interplay between the positive and negative, between light and dark, between good and bad. In the legend, the asuras (demons) and devas (lower gods) together churn the ocean of milk for the many gifts the ocean contains, the most coveted of which is the nectar of immortality. The churning of the ocean symbolises human life out of which emerge experiences that are either positive (gifts going to the devas) or negative (gifts going to the asuras).
The Samudra Manthan is symbolic of the truth that in the experience of life, duality is a given which means that illness, misery, failure and so on are as programmed into the game of life as are health, joy and success. Our suffering is due to these oppositions within us, which we are unable to bridge in any permanent way. At best, one can hope to dance between these oppositions and hope that one doesn’t trip in the process.
The poison of nothingness
The Samudra Manthan story describes not only the dualities of materiality and the spirit but also a deeper existential threat that arises in the form of an existential poison (halaahal). The poison threatens both the devas and the asuras and indeed all creation until Shiva (who is a witness to the churning and represents cosmic awareness) drinks it.
The poison is held by Shiva in his throat, turning it blue, hence his name ‘Nilakantha’ or blue-throated, and it generates tremendous heat in his body. The temple ritual of pouring water and milk over the shiva-linga is symbolic of cooling this heat. The ritual is sacred theatre to connect the worshiper to a deeper experience of the Self.
The poison is the existential dread of nothingness that afflicts existence. If it were to seep into one’s cells, that is the end of life. By holding it within his being, Shiva transforms the fear of nothingness into auspicious salvation. In this paradox lies the exchange of fear for Grace.
In the world but above it
The seven chakras in the human body
A yogic interpretation of the symbolism may be that the poison is held in the throat at the vishuddha chakra, the chakra associated with filtering and discrimination, which lies at the intersection of the higher and lower centres of consciousness.
The poison emerging out of the play of life is thus willingly held by the experiencing Self (Shiva) in a way that both allows the lower energy centres to carry on the play of life and the higher consciousness centres to remain unaffected. In other words, the Self allows the play of duality, participating willingly for the sake of experience while at all times remaining untouched. Looked at another way, the only reason we can endure the churning of the ocean, the unceasing change that is life, is because we are the Self (Shiva), a dimension beyond, the unchanging one.
This is the central idea in Indian spiritual traditions that one can realise one’s higher Self while being a willing player in the game of life. The idea is often expressed through the metaphor of a lotus that blooms in a pond of mud while remaining spotlessly clean. It is the call to rise above maya or illusion by recognising the world as a divine play (leela) and being the witness (sakshi) of the play.
This is not the same as adopting a certain attitude or chanting positive affirmations, which though guiding us towards the light still keep us trapped in duality. This is about the realisation of the nature of our existence. It is neither about doing, nor undoing, but just simply being.
(1) For more and related information, see article here.
The intricately carved pillars lead you into the chamber of Beauty and Divinity. Beauty in Divinity; Divinity in Beauty.
Your eyes want to linger on the details of the pillars, take in every piece of carving and beauty. At the same time the inner quietude pulls you in.
Your footsteps slowly take you in, quietly, with a sense of awe and quiet anticipation. No rush, no hurrying through, you just walk through the space slowly, purposefully or with no purpose at all but just to experience the majesty and glory that is all around you.
Or you don’t walk at all. You just stand still. Quietly, in silence, you just stay there. For as long as you must. For as long as you hear the poetry of those stones, the music in that silent space.
The experience is not merely an aesthetic one, for that would last only as long as you are in the physical presence of the art. This is also not only your mind’s or heart’s journey back into the glorious past of India of thousands of years ago when thousands of Sun-worshippers would have gathered in this temple dedicated to Lord Surya, the Sun God.
This is more than that.
This is a journey within. A journey into the chambers of the inner you where you want the Light of the Sun God to shine, into all those corners from where you want those pesky little darknesses to be gone. A journey that gradually leads you to a bright and vast openness, that makes you, the inner you, more receptive to the new Light that must fill those spaces within.
It is in this aspiration and appeal to the Infinite that all details find their rightful place and purpose. You begin to know intuitively why and how the detailed abundance of the majestically carved pillars and the intricately elaborate gateway are steps to experiencing the sublime beauty of the divinity within, and also the divinity of beauty within.
A certain type of critical mind, which often fails to see the inner significance of what the outer eye meets, looks at the profusion of artistic detail on the ancient Indian temple walls, gateways and pillars, on the hallways of old palaces and other buildings and asks – why is everything so crowded, why is every little space filled up, where is the blank space, how can one take it all in?
But to an Indian heart and mind,
And long after you come back, the beauty of that experience still lingers within, quietly and often without your awareness. It is not really a memory, maybe something more, something subtler. It is a vibration, perhaps. And you know what you need to do to re-experience that vibration.
You just need to go back, no not to the physical space, but that space within where you first felt that touch of delight. You sit quietly and go to that space and recall it.
And the words begin to resonate –
As the Infinite fills every inch of space…
…with the stirring of life and energy…
…because it is the Infinite…
These words reverberate inside, quietly. You let them. You stay in gratitude for that experience, for that vibration.
Images are of the Sun Temple at Modhera, Gujarat, India. All photographs by Suhas Mehra. Please do not reproduce or copy without permission. The article first appeared on Beloo Mehra’s blog.
“Understanding the anatomy of language through grammar enables us to reach a higher plane of creativity in art, as well as in science…The immense heritage of scientific works in Sanskrit bear proof to this creative capacity. Unfortunately, modern methods of academic instruction in mathematics and science have been disconnected from this heritage. Instead of a delightful marriage between scientific investigation and artistic beauty, we have the divergent worlds of sciences and humanities, where people fight to establish their egos in their theories. This disconnect has produced so much pollution in this world that people have forgotten that all of human endeavour is a shared enterprise, and that its objective is to elevate the consciousness to a higher Rasa.”
Diversity in Indian civilisation
For about ten thousand years, the Indian subcontinent was not only the most populous area but also the most technologically and economically advanced civilization in the world. But despite this, the region preserved its biological diversity. The forests of India housed vast numbers of tigers and other wild animals, whose numbers started to decline only during the colonial era. The same is true of linguistic and cultural diversity in human societies.
One can contrast how Irish and other Celtic languages were exterminated from the British isles with how Dravidian and South-East Asian languages thrived despite the dominance of Sanskrit. India is the only civilization in the world where tribal languages and customs are preserved, despite being in close contact with literate societies. Apart from protecting economic and lifestyle niches, religious beliefs and practices were also protected. Many external religions such as Zoroastrianism, Judaism, Syriac Christianity, Bahai’ism have sought and found refuge in India. This case of India is all the more surprising when we note that the aggressive European civilizations were but cousins to India, sharing a common linguistic and mythological ancestry. So what did its cousins lack that made India so tolerant?
Sanskrit – tool for elevating consciousness
The answer may be in the computational nature of the Sanskrit language and the sciences nourished by it. Taken together, they are a means of amplifying the consciousness of a person, making him aware of every single aspect of life and his conduct to it. This reinforcement of consciousness is the key to avoiding environmental catastrophe in any age. Often, humans destroy living ecosystems through sheer ignorance and lack of attention. Greed is a big factor, but stupidity results in greater violence in the long term.
The languages and belief systems that we think in are Prakrits – applicable to a specific place and context. A certain type of fish might survive in certain type of waters, but other fish may die. Such is the case with Prakrits – they cannot claim to be universal. Further, if they become polluted (become Apabhramsas), they cause suffering to the very creatures that thrived on them.
The greatest cause of suffering is the ego nurtured by the polluted mind. For example, after they conquered Bengal, the British systematically scorched the region with famine to break the morale of the people. The early Americans exterminated the bison so that they could starve the native Indian tribes that depended on it. It is hard to fathom the depravities of such egotism, which continues to cause ecological destruction today. There is an important lesson to be learned from human civilizations that survived for a long time without ecological collapse like in India (at least until today’s age). The lesson is the open computational grammar of Sanskrit, which makes it modifiable to be suited to specific local contexts in space and time, such that the human mind pays attention to the changing constraints of nature.
Sanskrit is unique, because unlike any other human language, there is no dictionary needed for Sanskrit. Instead, it possesses a generative grammar of computational rules. The number of Sanskrit words is potentially infinite. Even if we restrict to words less than 5 syllables in length, there are more than hundreds of thousands of words. Each word in Sanskrit is akin to a self-explanatory computer program that can be parsed into individual syllables (phonemes) by which its meaning can be derived. Thus, an infinite number of new words can be generated whose meaning will be unambiguous to a Sanskrit speaker. The magic of Sanskrit grammar is that you can have multiple ways of breaking a word and putting it together again, that leads to multiple angles of meaning, all of which converge on the denoted object.
Map reconstructing the now-dry ancient Saraswati river mentioned in Vedic texts. The river flowed through North-West India (Source: Wikipedia)
From the Indian perspective, the physical analogy for an algorithm is not a mechanical clock, but a constantly flowing river that nourishes people. This river is Saraswati on the banks of which the Indian civilization flourished, and who was later glorified as the goddess of speech. In the Indian tradition, this river is supposed to flow through all the other rivers, blending at sacred spots of confluence. When Indians make pilgrimages, they carry small pots of water from the rivers of their places of origin to the sacred Ganges and mix them in. This is a way of acknowledging the commonality of all the rivers.
Saraswati, Goddess of Speech, Knowledge and the Arts
Interpreting this tradition with computers and algorithms, we should encourage interoperability of all computing systems, by periodically blending in the waters of computation with each other. Like the waters of a river, they can be enjoyed by all living beings. In a more general sense, we can say the same for open-source software if it achieves political and economic awareness amongst people. Thinking of algorithms and computer programs as rivers also requires us to maintain them free of pollution. Various types of pollution in terms of data-structures, security, network infrastructure etc. need to be addressed in a similar manner to how we address pollution in ecology.
Reviving the Sanskrit tradition
Throughout the cultural history of India, all great poets and writers in regional languages studied Sanskrit and were equally proficient in it. The power of Sanskrit in word formation and grammar has penetrated all Indian languages. In fact, the first writers of any regional language (Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam etc.) wrote a technical Paninian*-style grammar for their language before composing any literary work. This is because they understood the importance of grammar in imparting consciousness to the literary tradition. Understanding the anatomy of language through grammar enables us to reach a higher plane of creativity in art, as well as in science.
The immense heritage of scientific works in Sanskrit bear proof to this creative capacity. Unfortunately, modern methods of academic instruction in mathematics and science have been disconnected from this heritage. Instead of a delightful marriage between scientific investigation and artistic beauty, we have the divergent worlds of sciences and humanities, where people fight to establish their egos in their theories. This disconnect has produced so much pollution in this world that people have forgotten that all of human endeavour is a shared enterprise, and that its objective is to elevate the consciousness to a higher Rasa (essence). In Sanskrit tradition, the contrast could not be stronger. Great Indian mathematicians of the past like Bhaskara were also highly skilled poets. All the great Sanskrit poets and musicians used computational thinking that would pride a scientist. These bridges have to be rebuilt today, not only for the sake of lovers of Sanskrit, but for the whole world.
The mainstream narrative from western media is okay with letting Indians have their naked mystics, but not as open about acknowledging the full extent of scientific contributions. But anybody who tries to confine the applicability of Sanskrit to these narrow realms is an enemy, not of Sanskrit, but of science.
*Sankskrit grammarian in the ~6th -4th BCE, considered the father of Indian linguistics
Here’s LWP’s recommendations for chants, mantras and songs of Lord Shiva curated by us from YouTube. Each one is different in style and mesmerizingly wonderful in its own way.
This article by Shruti Bakshi and Subhash Kak uncovers a new perspective on Ayurveda’s spiritual basis. An heretofore unexplored link sheds light on Ayurveda’s profound connection with the process of life and provides a deeper understanding about the ‘science of life’.
Introduction
Ayurveda, the science of life that originated in India thousands of years ago, has emerged in recent decades as a very popular system of medicine globally. Too often, however, like yoga, it is practiced as a mere health and wellness regime – where yoga is identified with asanas and pranayama, Ayurveda is identified with herbs and massages. Relatively speaking though, whereas the spiritual understanding of yoga (of union between the individual self and the Divine) still remains fairly firmly established, the only spiritual context that Ayurveda clings onto is as a complement to and a facilitator of yoga (in its function of keeping the body and mind healthy and vibrant so that yoga can happen).
So is Ayurveda then nothing more than a system of eco-friendly treatments for the body and mind that help you along on your spiritual path? And if that’s the case, then why is it called the “science of life”? Why not the science of health, the science of healing, the science of the body or something more specifically biological? Our Vedic rishis who coined the name certainly don’t have the reputation of being prone to inexactness or overstatement.
If Ayurveda deals only with protecting and enhancing life in the body i.e. with materiality, then it would be a lesser cousin of yoga which is a spiritual process and yet we find the two sciences holding equal place in ancient Vedic teachings. Research into Ayurveda’s spiritual bearings reveals that there are references to Ayurveda in Vedic texts and that Vedic deities (namely Agni, Vayu and Soma) are associated with the three doshas (Pitta, Vata and Kapha, respectively). But this still does not explain why Ayurveda is called the science of life.
For that understanding, we must look to an heretofore unexplored link – to an ancient story inextricably linked with creation. The story is none other than that of the samudra manthan (“churning of the ocean”) and it shows that Ayurveda is not only profoundly linked to yoga, but to the process of life-making itself. It elucidates the spiritual underpinning of Ayurveda which in turn helps us better understand the science. It shows how Ayurveda explains the very process of life, the play of life, how life happens and why it happens. It shows why Ayurveda is not the science of herbs or the science of health, but quite aptly, the science of life.
Ayurveda and human wellness: a brief overview
Ayurveda is the Vedic system of medicine that is formally associated with the Atharvaveda(1). It views health as harmony between body, mind, and spirit.
Every substance in the universe is considered to be made up of the five elements, the mahabhutas, which are (in order from gross to subtle) earth, water, fire, air and akasha (2). Ayurveda speaks of good health as a balance between three doshas (bodily constitutions/ energies/ humours) namely Vata (praṇa), Pitta (agni), and Kapha (soma) identified respectively with the elements of air, fire and water (3). The predominance of one or the other dosha leads not only to different physiological but also to different psychological types of constitutions. An imbalance of these doshas leads to illness.
It is important however, to understand what we mean by the ‘balance’ that the science of Ayurveda sets out to achieve. When viewed as a static state, a perfectly balanced body and mind could not sustain life, for life needs some tension to find expression (4). So what Ayurveda refers to is a deeper, dynamic balance which we posit can be properly understood within the archetypal frame of samudra manthan (churning of the ocean).
Samudra manthan – the game of life
The story of the samudra manthan is a well-known and important part of Indian culture, appearing in many ancient texts like the Bhagavata Purana, Mahabharata and the Vishnu Purana. The legend goes that the weakened gods (devas) were advised by Lord Vishnu to enter into a peace pact with the demons (asuras) in order to seek the latter’s help in churning the ocean of milk out of which many boons including the nectar of immortality (amrit) would emerge. The asuras were told that the gifts would be shared with them but Vishnu secretly promised the devas that they would receive the amrit which would restore their strength and dominance over the asuras.
Samudra manthan, churning of the ocean with the devas on the right and asuras on the left. Vishnu’s Kurma (turtle) avatar supports Mount Mandhara at the baseSide view of the samudra manthan installation at Bangkok airport
And so began the churning of the ocean. The samudra manthan is widely viewed as symbolising the process of life which is a play between the positive and negative polarities. However, it is often spoken of as a battle between good and evil but that is a misunderstanding. The legend does not depict a battle but a consolidated effort from two complementary sides towards the same end. The asuras are not opponents in a battle, but contributors in a task. The spiritual meaning is that, for life to happen (the ocean to be churned) the duality of good and bad is needed.
In the samudra manthan story, this is validated by the fact that the stick used for churning the ocean (the Mount Mandhara), is supported at the base by Vishnu in the form of the Kurma or turtle avatar. The maintainer of life Himself supports the churning because the churning makes possible the happening of life. Without the play of dualities, life i.e. experiencing is not possible.
Churning for balance
As we’ve stated, Ayurveda stresses dynamic balance. Life as dynamic balance is conveyed directly through the churning of the ocean which thus serves as the natural spiritual underpinning of Ayurveda. To see this more clearly, we need to elucidate a few symbolisms of the story.
First, it is important to note that the properties associated with an element or mahabhuta emerge only in a state of activation. For instance, if a substance produces heaviness in the body, then it is understood that the earth element (prithvimahabhuta) is present in an activated state in it. Indeed, the activation of the elements in the body takes place as a part of samudra manthan. In other words, if the five elements are what constitute reality, it is samudra manthan that depicts its dynamic nature.
We can recognise the churning in the body taking place between the inner devas and asuras. These two poles are represented by the elements of prithivi (earth) and akasha, where prithivi is materiality or base nature (asuras) and akasha is light or Divine nature (devas). Indeed the words “divine” and “deva” can be traced to the Sanskrit root “div”, which means “to shine” or “to be lit”. Between these two poles lie the remaining three elements of water, fire and air which are mapped into the doshas of Vata, Pitta, and Kapha.
The agitation caused by the churning within the body creates ongoing turbulence amongst the three elements of air, fire, and water. This churning has the potential to cause loss of balance that leads to physical or psychological illness. On the other hand, the potential for healing also resides within the body. Ayurveda is geared towards maintaining the dynamic balance of nature/life and avoiding imbalances that lead to physical and mental disease and disturbance.
Dhanvantari, physician to the Gods and father of Ayurveda
Ayurveda can be thus seen to be directly concerned with the field in which the dynamic play of life happens. Indeed Ayurveda in fact emerges out of this dynamic play. This symbolism is confirmed in the samudra manthan itself with the emergence of Dhanvantari, the first physician and father of Ayurveda, from the ocean at the end of the churning. Dhanvantari carries the pot of amrit signifying Ayurveda’s ultimate role in bestowing immortality once balance has been attained (churning has stopped and one has merged with Divinity). The samudra manthan framework thus shows that Ayurveda is intrinsically linked to Self-realisation.
A new paradigm for the link between Ayurveda and yoga
Traditionally, the following verses of the Svetasvatara Upanishad (Chapter 2: 6, 8) have been viewed as elucidating the common origins of and link between yoga and Ayurveda:
“Where the Agni (fire) is enkindled, where Vayu (the wind) is controlled, where Soma overflows, there the mind attains perfection.”
Here, Agni, Vayu and Soma represent kundalini fire, pranayama and Samadhi respectively in yoga, which in Ayurveda represent the Pitta, Vata and Kapha doshas respectively.
The samudra manthan provides a new framework for the association between yoga and Ayurveda. Having set the Ayurvedic view of wellness against the backdrop of samudra manthan, we see a fascinating new coherence between the two sciences. The two poles of earth and ether representing the asuras and devas also represent the Muladharachakra (at the base of the spine) and Vishuddha chakra (pit of the throat) respectively. The chakras that sit in the middle are the Svadhishthana, Manipura and Anahata, representing water, fire and air respectively. This harks back to the Ayurvedic model of the doshas(5). Imbalances in the body are caused by imbalances in the activities of these three elements – represented as doshas in Ayurveda and as chakras in yoga (kriya yoga specifically). Leaving the realm in which these three elements play, signifies transcendence in yoga (the activation of the Ajna or third-eye chakra) as it does in the samudra manthan paradigm of Ayurveda with the stopping of the churning at which point immortality is bestowed.
While kriya yoga which is concerned with energy and has a close relation to the elements readily shows a close association with Ayurveda, the other forms of yoga too, because they signify transcendence of the duality of life, are also related to Ayurveda in a spiritual context. The vasanas that we must transcend in yoga are linked to the doshas we must balance in Ayurveda. In fact, we may even go so far as to say that while samudra manthan has been widely interpreted as a symbolic representation of yoga, the process of churning, being the play of life itself, more truly represents Ayurveda.
Conclusion
In modern materialist societies dominated by a body-centric view of life, Ayurveda naturally too became overly associated with the body. The objective of immortality then became associated with longevity rather than its higher spiritual meaning of recognition of our true Spirit nature.
Spirituality, at its heart, is not about what should be but about what already is. For instance while to the uninitiated it may seem like the Ramayana or the Bhagavad Gita are imparting a teaching, advanced seekers and masters have realised that they are merely expressing what already is so. The story of the samudra manthan shows that the same is true also for Ayurveda, confirming its roots as a spiritual discipline. So far, the common view about Ayurveda has been that it is a means to an end. But the samudra manthan shows that Ayurveda reflects what is already true about life, explains the nature of life and therefore is indeed, in a profound sense, the science of life.
Notes: (1) ‘Veda’ in Sanskrit means ‘to know’. Atharvaveda is the fourth Veda which is considered to have been a later addition. The other three Vedas are Rig Veda, Sama Veda and Yajur Veda. (2) The five bhutas are entities that can be perceived by the five sensory organs (jnanendriya). These operate together with the five organs of action (karmendriya), and manas (mind). (3) This tridoṣha or tridhatu theory has frequently been misunderstood to imply that Vata, Pitta, and Kapha literally mean air, bile, and phlegm, which are the ordinary physiological meanings of the terms. In reality, Vata was taken to stand for the principle of motion, development in general, and the functions of the nervous system in particular. Pitta signifies the function of metabolism, including digestion and the formation of blood, and various secretions and excretions that are either the means or the end product of body processes. Kapha represents functions of cooling, preservation, and heat regulation. (4) This can be understood through the concept of karma, which on a physiological level, holds life in the body. (5) The Ayurvedic model is a horizontal representation while the yogic is a vertical. This seems appropriate given that the play of life is better understood as a horizontal plane (of ‘what is’) while transcendence is better understood as a vertical plane (of ‘being here’).
In Part VI: The Indian Aesthetic in an Age of War, Subhash Kak discusses how the Indian way, with its focus on transcendence can help modern society find a harmony of body and soul. A story from the Puranas serves as an apt metaphor.
Main photo (above) is a Basohli illustration to the Gita Govinda, ‘Hail, Keshava, Hail! Ruler of Wave and Wood!’, c.1730
The penultimate part of this six-part series (Read earlier parts: Part I, Part II, Part III and Part IV) in which distinguished scientist, academic and Vedic scholar Subhash Kak shows how traditional Indian art is not only aesthetically sublime, but is a reflection of the cosmos and of the Divine itself. In Part V we see how the stories of Krishna, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, reflect a harmony between materiality and spirit.
India, for centuries, has had one of the most rigorous, profound and insightful intellectual traditions in the world, the great system of Vedanta. Vedanta was the basis of the training for many of the greatest minds of India from ancient to modern times, from Krishna to Shankara to Swami Vivekananda.
Yet Vedanta is more than a mere conceptual intellectual tradition, such as we find in the West, caught in an outer view of reality, it is a way of meditative knowledge designed to lead us step-by-step beyond the mind and its opinions to a higher truth not limited by time, space or person.
Unfortunately, few Indian intellectuals today seriously study Vedanta, particularly those who claim to be modern. They prefer to imitate more popular but less profound systems of Western thought, which focus on outer sociopolitical views of life and seldom seriously examine the nature of consciousness.
If Vedanta was more commonly studied in India, the country would have significantly more depth and originality of thought, and be able to progress in a determined way on both spiritual and scientific levels.
Teachings of Vedanta
Vedanta during the colonial era was looked down upon as an otherworldly approach, regarding the world as maya or illusion that kept India backward. Yet since Einstein’s Theory of Relativity over a century ago, Vedanta has been sounding more like the cutting edge of physics, which is discovering the illusory nature of physical reality and the existence of subtler energy and information currents behind all that we see.
Vedanta is the very science of consciousness at both human and cosmic levels. It recognises consciousness as the ultimate reality and affirms its presence in all existence. Modern physicists have looked to Vedanta for understanding their proposed unitary field of consciousness behind the universe, to explain the coherence of all cosmic laws.
Vedanta is the unitary philosophy behind the practice of yoga, explaining the oneness of the individual soul with the universal consciousness that yoga aims to realise. Vedanta constitutes the yoga of knowledge, considered to be the highest of all yoga branches.
Vedanta in modern India
Vedanta was the most important philosophy that inspired and motivated the Indian Independence movement, emulated by Vivekananda, Rama Tirtha, Aurobindo, Tagore and Gandhi, among many others. It brought the country back to a dharmic sense of self-rule, not simply political independence, but the independence of the spirit and the awakening of the yogic traditions of the region.
More recently, Swami Dayananda, head of the Hindu Acharya Sabha, spread the message of Vedanta with logic, humour and penetrating insight. Prime Minister Narendra Modi honoured Dayananda as his own guru and visited Swamiji shortly before his Mahasamadhi in September, showing how much the PM respects the Vedantic teachings.
The year 2015 marked the 100th birth anniversary of Swami Chinmayananda, who taught a lucid practical Vedanta that resonated with the youth and intellectuals alike. A brilliant and inspiring movie On a Quest was made on his extraordinary life. The prime minister released a national coin in honor of Chinmayananda on the Swami’s 100th birth anniversary as part of the extensive celebrations.
The Vedantic view
Vedanta is a physics and psychology of consciousness, an inner science of self-knowing that the outer science can benefit from to arrive at a full view of the multidimensional universe in which we live.
Vedanta teaches a way of self-knowledge that does not require any beliefs. It says we must first know ourselves in order to arrive at true knowledge of anything. This requires looking beyond body and mind to the core awareness within us. Vedanta employs a strict rational approach allied with introspection, yoga and meditation to enable us to directly perceive our own consciousness that is universal in nature.
The Vedantic view is simple – the entire universe dwells within your own heart. Your true self is one with the self of all. All the powers of the universe belong to each one of us as energies of love and wisdom.
We have moved from materialist views to a high-tech view of reality as energy and information. Vedanta takes us to a yet higher level of the universe as a manifestation of consciousness.
Let us not forget our true self, which is the self-aware universe. This is the spiritual soul of India and its message of peace, happiness and unity to the world.
This article was first published in the DailyO and has been republished here with permission.
Main photo (above) is a Basohli illustration to the Bhagavad Purana, Krishna Bringing the Parijata from Indra’s Heaven, Tira-Sujanpur, c.1780
Continuing this six-part series (Read Part I and Part II) in which distinguished scientist, academic and Vedic scholar Subhash Kak shows how traditional Indian art is not only aesthetically sublime, but is a reflection of the cosmos and of the Divine itself. In Part III we see how ancient Hindu temples were designed to reflect the cosmos. The representation of the cosmos simultaneously at the level of the universe and the individual, was meant to facilitate the devotee’s spiritual transformation.
Part III: Temples and Gods
The temple is considered in the image of the Cosmic Purusha, on whose body is displayed all creation in its materiality and movement. Paradoxically, the space of the Purusha (Rigveda 10.90) is in the sanctuary only ten fingers wide, although he pervades the earth.
The outer cosmos is expressed in terms of various connections between the temple structure and the motions of the sun, the moon, and the planets; the inner cosmos is represented in terms of the divinity (universal consciousness) in the womb of the temple and various levels of the superstructure that correspond to the states of consciousness. The position of the gods in the Vastupurusha-mandala within the temple is a symbolic representation of the spatial projections of the cosmic Purusha in his body. There are other iconic representations of sacred space, as in the Sri Yantra where the body’s three parts – vagbhava, madhya, and mula – have recursive structures within, that represent Vedic cosmology in a unique fashion.
The prototype of the temple is the Agnikshetra, the sacred ground on which the Vedic altars are built. The Agnikshetra is an oblong or trapezoidal area on which the fire altars are built. During the ritual is installed a golden disc (rukma) with 21 knobs or hangings representing the sun with a golden image of the purusha on it. The detailed ritual includes components that would now be termed Shaivite, Vaishnava, or Shakta. In Nachiketa Agni, 21 bricks of gold are placed one top of the other in a form of shivalinga. The disk of the rukma, which is placed in the navel of the altar on a lotus leaf is in correspondence to the lotus emanating from Vishnu’s navel which holds the universe. Several bricks are named after goddesses, such as the seven krittikas.
Ganesha: elephant-headed, wise with mouse as his vehicle
The Hindu temple represents the Meru mountain, the navel of the earth. It is the representation of the cosmos both at the level of the universe and the individual, making it possible for the devotee to get inspired to achieve his own spiritual transformation. The purusha placed within the brick structure of the altar represents the consciousness principle within the individual. It is like the relic within the stupa. The threshold to the inner sanctum is represented by the figure of Ganesha (see right), who, like other divinities, symbolizes the transcendence of oppositions.
The temple construction begins with the Vastupurusha mandala, which is a yantra, mostly divided into 64 (8 × 8) or 81 (9 × 9) squares, which are the seats of 45 divinities. Brahma is at the centre, around him 12 squares represent the Adityas, and in the outer circle are 28 squares that represent the nakshatras. This mandala with its border is the place where the motions of the sun and the moon and the planets are reconciled. It is the Vastu in which the decrepit, old Chyavana of the Rigveda 1.116.10 asks his sons to put him down so that he would become young again. Chyavana is the moon and Sukanya, whom he desires, is the sun.
In the basic Vedic scheme the circle represents the earth and the square represents the heavens or the deity. But the altar or the temple, as a representation of the dynamism of the universe, requires a breaking of the symmetry of the square. As seen clearly in the agnichayana and other altar constructions, this is done in a variety of ways. Although the main altar might be square or its derivative, the overall sacred area is taken to be a departure from this shape. In particular, the temples to the goddess are drawn on a rectangular plan. In Shiva or Vishnu temples, which are square, change is represented by a play of diagonal lines. These diagonals are essentially kinetic and are therefore representative of movement and stress. They embody the time-factor in a composition.
The Hindu temple, as a conception of the astronomical frame of the universe, serves the same purpose as the Vedic altar, which reconciled the motions of the sun and the moon. The progressive complexity of the classical temple was inevitable given an attempt to bring in the cycles of the planets and other ideas of the yugas into the scheme. There was also further complexity related to the expansion of the tattvas within the temple. For example, in Shaivite temples we see the unmanifest (Shivalinga) expand into the intermediate state of manifest-unmanifest (Sadashiva), and finally into manifest (Mahesha).
The Ashtadhyayi of Panini (5th century BC) mentions images. Ordinary images were called pratikriti and the images for worship were called archa. Amongst other things we are told that a toy horse is called ashvaka. (This means that the queen who lay down with the ashvaka in the Ashvamedha did not sleep with the dead horse.) Deity images for sale were called Shivaka etc., but an archa of Shiva was just called Shiva. Patanjali mentions Shiva and Skanda deities. There is also mention of the worship of Vasudeva (Krishna). We are also told that some images could be moved and some were immoveable. Panini also says that an archa was not to be sold and that there were people (priests) who obtained their livelihood by taking care of it. They also mention temples that were called prasadas.
Complementing the tradition of the Vedic ritual was that of the munis and yogis who lived in caves and performed austerities. From this tradition arose the vihara, where the priests lived. The chaitya hall that also housed the stupa may be seen as a development out of the agnichayana tradition where within the brick structure of the altar was buried the rukma and the golden man.
The gods are the entities that hold up the inner sky of the mind. There is the single Brahman or Purusha, interpenetrating and transcending the inner and the outer universes. But the framework of the inner sky is held up by a variety of gods. The physical nature, governed by laws, is the Goddess or Shakti. If Brahma is the deity of the astral world, Shiva is that of the physical world, and Vishnu that of the causal or the moral world. They each have a consort: Brahma’s is Sarasvati, the goddess of learning and the arts; Shiva’s is Parvati, the goddess of power, energy, and intuition; Vishnu’s is Lakshmi, the goddess of good fortune.
ShivaShiva as Ardhanarishvara (Shiva-Shakti)
The gods themselves are interconnected. Brahma’s origin is from the lotus in Vishnu’s navel. Shiva is the god who subsumes all oppositions. He is the celibate, divine yogi, who is also the perfect husband to Parvati. He brings the world to an end by his dance, but he also creates the world. He is the heart of consciousness, the lord of all beings, the divine dancer. As Ardhanarishvara, he is half Shakti; as Harihara, he is half Vishnu.
Vishnu is the all-pervader, the primal person, without beginning or end. He is also known as Narayana, with his abode is in the waters. He is Hari, the golden-garbed one (like the Sun), and his mount is Garuda, the eagle. During the periods in between dissolution and creation, he sleeps on the cosmic serpent Ananta (the endless). He wields in one of his hands the discus, Sudarshana, which represents time. His consort, Lakshmi, appeared out of the Churning of the Ocean. Periodically, he descends to earth as an avatara to battle evil. Two of the most popular of these avataras are Rama and Krishna.
Yoga comes from an unbroken Indian tradition that finds earliest mention in the Vedic or Agamic philosophies of Upanishads, Bhagvat Geeta and Mahabharat though the most unambiguous source of Yogic principles is the well-known seminal work by Patanjali, the Yoga Sutras.
However, what these scriptures describe is today known as ‘Classical Yoga’ which considerably differs from how we today perceive Yoga. Traditional Vedic philosophies fall under the purview of what is known as ‘Nigama’. In conjunction with these older texts, ancient India had also developed the non-Vedic scriptures collectively termed ‘Agama’.
Modern Yoga contains a lot of contributions from the Agama texts. While the Vedas continue to provide the basic philosophy of all rituals and beliefs of Hinduism, it is the Sanskrit and Tamil Agamas that provide more practical advice. The word ‘Agama’ refers to precepts and doctrines that have been handed down, perhaps referring to the Guru-shishya tradition, and cover topics ranging from the construction of temples to worship involving Mantras, Yantras and Tantra. They include the 28 Shaiva Agamas, 77 Shakta Agamas/Tantras, and 108 Vaishnava Agamas.
How does the concept of Yoga differ in these scriptures from what is mentioned in the classical literature? Well, for starters, while the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali mention bodily practices and breathing exercises, their chief concern remains the realization of man’s true Self. The Agamic texts, on the other hand, give emphasis to the transformation of the body from a gross physical structure to a divine entity. Instead of discarding matter, Tantra focuses on how it can be transformed from something mundane into something divine.
For example, one of the Pancharatra of the Vaishnav Agamas, known as the Jayakhya Samhita, talks about bhuta-shuddhi, or the purification of material elements within the body prior to the installation of the deity within it. This is a very different approach from the earlier texts pertaining to Yoga, where getting rid of the material body and union of soul (atma) with the super-soul (Parmatma) was the primary focus.
Similarly, Shaivite and Shakta Agamas talk about the concept of latent kundalini energy that lies at the base of the spine like a coiled serpent. From the viewpoint of Yoga, this is a very important concept since the asanas and meditation followed by a practitioner are supposed to ultimately awaken this latent energy and cause its arousal within what are known as the chakras.
Anyone who knows even a little about Yoga has generally heard of the concept of the ‘seven chakras’ that this energy is supposed to traverse before leading to complete enlightenment. Scientifically, these chakras may actually relate to the neuro-endocrine system of the body and this is a probable co-relation between the two:
Sahasraar Chakra – Pituitary gland that regulates the entire Endocrine system
Agnya Chakra – Pineal gland that regulates sleep-wakefulness cycle
Vishuddha Chakra – Thyroid gland responsible for growth and maturation
Anahat Chakra – Thymus gland helpful in fending off disease
Manipur Chakra – Pancreas, that help in digestion
Svadhishthaan Chakra – Sexual glands
Mool-aadhar Chakra – Accessory sexual glands like the prostate and Skene’s glands
The sexual connotations of Tantra may also come from this very concept where a stimulation of the sexual glands located at the Mool-aadhar chakra releases the fluids required at the time of sexual union. The idea of male and female sexual fluids as substances imbued with power is dominant within Tantra. In some cases this view led to the practice of strict celibacy so that the male practitioner could avoid discharging semen and raise his potency up through the body. The practitioner could engage in sexual intercourse but would attempt to avoid discharge of semen which is the bindu or nucleus, the point from which all creation becomes manifest.
The life force or prana is believed to traverse within the body along three main nadis – the ida, connected to the left nostril, pingala, connected to the right and the central channel sushumna. When the awakened kundalini traversing through these channels finally reaches the sahasrara, the practitioner is supposed to achieve great psychical and spiritual powers. The raising of the kundalini to the top-most chakra also reflects the metaphysical union of Shiva and Shakti inside a sadhak’s body.
These are very important concepts of modern Tantrik yogic practices and it may not be too presumptuous to say that even the Hath-yoga texts are derived from Tantrik teachings. The opening verses of the Hatha Yoga Pradipika hint towards this association and the mention of the Maha-Mudra in later verses especially in relation to invigorating the kundalini energy is another case in point. Also, the Shiva Samhita, an authoritative work on Yoga is as much a work on Tantra and highlights the syncretistic development of the two concepts. The Gheranda Samhita also clearly mentions that the practices advocated in it are derived from Tantras.
Weighing up the evidence, it would appear that Tantrik texts have given a firm foundation to the principles of modern Yoga. The concepts of divinization of the body, kundalini energy, seven chakras and three nadis are the basic principles of Yoga as it is understood today. The concepts of establishment of deity within the body of a practitioner and utilization of sexual union as a symbolic representation of the union of Shiva and Shakti are also no less important though they may be followed today by the practitioners of Tantra proper rather than Hath-yoga.
Tantrik texts also redefine what is required to attain liberation, breaking the age-old concepts of purity and impurity. Actions or objects are not seen impure in themselves; rather it is the attitude of the practitioner which is the determinant factor. This is hard for the ordinary person to comprehend because for most people, things like sexual interaction are a result of physical or emotional attraction, either for progeny or pleasure.
Wrapping up the discussion, I would say that modern Yoga owes as much to the Tantrik or Agamic texts as it does to the Yoga Sutras and a modern practitioner of Yoga would do well to know the true significance of these concepts besides exploring the physical possibilities of the body. Perhaps, only then, would the true potential of Yoga be achieved.
The river begins as the Bhagirathi at the edge of the Gangotri Glacier at the height of 13,200 feet. It becomes the Ganga after joining up with the Alakananda at Devaprayag. Other tributaries merge into it before it flows from the mountains at the ashram town of Rishikesh and then moves into the plains just a few miles south at the pilgrimage city of Haridwar.
Many artists and art forms take on an ‘educative’ role as their raison d’être these days. But are they really able to do so? Art definitely has an educational purpose, but not through dry intellect or through a sensationalist-vitalistic provocation or activism. Art educates by a subtle training of the intellectual faculty as it helps make the mind quick to grasp at a glance, subtle enough to distinguish shades and deep enough to reject shallow self sufficiency. Art raises images in the mind which it has to understand not by analysis, but by self-identification with other minds, thus helping the mind become mobile, subtle, delicate, swift, and intuitive (Sri Aurobindo, CWSA, Vol. 1, p. 449).
The poison is held by Shiva in his throat, turning it blue, hence his name ‘Nilakantha’ or blue-throated, and it generates tremendous heat in his body. The temple ritual of pouring water and milk over the shiva-linga is symbolic of cooling this heat. The ritual is sacred theatre to connect the worshiper to a deeper experience of the Self.
For example, one of the Pancharatra of the Vaishnav Agamas, known as the Jayakhya Samhita, talks about bhuta-shuddhi, or the purification of material elements within the body prior to the installation of the deity within it. This is a very different approach from the earlier texts pertaining to Yoga, where getting rid of the material body and union of soul (atma) with the super-soul (Parmatma) was the primary focus.