Aghori : Chapter 1

“People like you come here every year, exhausted from the contemporary tribulations of the world but give up as early,” said the baba giving a doubtful expression at me. He turned and tapped his stick on the ground.

“I know, this is true, Baba!” I told him, sitting on my knees, holding his feet. “They leave because they have other incentives to live but for me, now it’s only the urge to surrender myself to Shiva that...”

I was about to complete my words when the Baba interrupted me and said, “You’re stubborn. Tomorrow in the first prahar of the day, sharp!” He left giving me a sharp look.

I couldn’t believe my ears. He allowed me to come the next day to become an Aghori with others.

I left the Akhara and sat on the bank of Ma Ganga amidst other babas. The dusk is always pleasant but that day it was peaceful. At last, my hard work was about to fruit, my dream was about to become true. The resonance of evening chants from the temples, people walking around, the ringing bells, vendors calling the passersby; everything was so typical about that evening in Varanasi but still so fresh to me. I sat on one of the stairs leading to the magnificent river. My arms were crossed over my knees and I kept my face on my hands; gazing at the flowers and diyas moving away with the flow of water.

After the sandhya Aarti of Ma Ganga, the crowd dwindled, the city was lit by the lights and the superlative full moon was adding to its exquisiteness. I wanted to explore the materialistic world, one last time. So, I went to a nearby Dhaba. It was a thatched edifice with an open kitchen on one side, restaurant on the other side and the open space in the front served as parking lot cum open dining area with tables and traditional cots. I sat on one of the cots. A boy, who was cleaning the tables, came to me, offered me a glass of water and asked if I wanted to order something.

“When I've decided, I’ll let you know!” I told him and he left.

I kept the empty glass on the plank of wood and looked around. There was the boy; probably of 10 years of age, wearing an old, brown, oversized vest and a black boxer who was cleaning tables and taking orders. There was a beggar who was sitting on a jute bag; his legs were underdeveloped. The band playing classic Indian music on traditional instruments was ignored. An old lady with a bump in her back was roaming from table to table asking for food. At the same time, there were people enjoying themselves with their families and friends. Some were complaining about the delay of their order and some were cheering for the cricket team.

I couldn’t bear this contrast, so I left the place. Through the tight yet dynamic streets of the city, I again reached the bank of Ma Ganga. I spread my jacket as my blanket and tried to fall asleep.

‘Are you serious about your decision? Isn’t there any other way? There’s still time! She’ll hate you for it!’ But I couldn’t feel slumbering, even for a second as tonnes of questions were running in my mind and then answers were also coming. ‘You cannot wreck up your hard work of years!  You’re doing it for her. There’s no one for you to back out!’

I got up and took my phone out. The only thing which provided me moments of utter inertness was my family photos. Time passed just looking at them. Wiping my tears, I switched my phone off and removed the SIM card. I threw the mobile in the dustbin and broke the SIM card into two. As I was about to throw it, the sky caught my eyes. The full moon had turned red and the river started to flow much faster.

It was the last thing, I remember that night as moments after watching that moon, an invisible aura surrounded me and I fell unconscious. The next day, the sounds of morning prayers and the ringing bells woke me up and made me realize that the first prahar of the day had started.

Before I left for the Akhara, I decided to take a holy dive in Ma Ganga. With every step towards the river, my heart was sinking, thinking about my decision. To confront me, I started chanting ‘Om Namah Shivay.’ I kept on walking until the water reached the level of my abdomen. I saluted Ma Ganga and Surya Dev and then took the dive. I gave my old clothes to the beggar who was sleeping next to me and wore my white dhoti. But then I realized that something was odd about my right arm. It was a tattoo.

Somehow, a tattoo of a wheel was carved on my bicep. How could I’ve got that overnight? The tattoo was of Kalachakra, the wheel of time. I was stressed if they would still allow me to be an Aghori with a tattoo. I hurried as I didn’t want to be late. Whatever was supposed to happen would happen. Through the busy streets of Varanasi, I was heading towards my destination, the Adyah Akhara.