'Left-Handed’ Hindu Tantrism

Sometimes the scholar can safely take hints for the direction of his scholarship from popular concerns. They may be deeper than they appear. As Erik H. Erikson has remarked in reference to the yearnings of young Americans for the teaching of the Eastern mystics: 'The need to search for total and final values can often be met only under the condition that these values be foreign to everything one has been taught'. Consequently, in the field of religious studies the growing clamour of so many thoughtful young people to find some roots through esoteric forms of meditation may be a clue to the scholar. The quest of psychodelic art to find symbols in its exploration of Tantric forms may call us to a deepening study of Eastern religions. In any case this essay is for me a response to popular interest and possibly to perennial yearnings. It attempts briefly to summarise and clarify the Tantric myth and ritual in the context of its philosophical-historical worldview.

'LEFT-HANDED' HINDU TANTRISM
Tantrism can only be understood as a response to the life problem posed by Indian philosophy. The problem basically is how to cope with karma, 'the law of universal causality, which connects man with the cosmos and condemns him to transmigrate indefinitely'. Man's real self {Atman) is somehow imprisoned in this world, and forced by maya, the recurring and illusory cosmic process, to live out his life again and again (samsara). Samsara goes on endlessly; there is no release as long as man is caught by the ignorance (avidya) that confuses the illusory psycho-mental activities (prakriti) of the world with the real self, Atman. The problem, then, is not only how to gain a freedom from avidya, but how to divorce Atman from prakriti, and attain the unity of the Atman in the Absolute {Brahman). To 'burn' (Eliade's term) the illusory psycho-mental activities is the function of the physical-psychomental discipline of Yoga, which somehow releases the Atman from the endless cycle of samsara, and finally brings that state of immortal unity (purusa, or nirvana), the achievement of Atman-Brahman, 'Absolute reality, "situated" somewhere beyond the cosmic illusion woven by maya and beyond human experience as conditioned by karma'. To destroy the illusion of this world and achieve the unchanging unity of Atman—such is the problem to which all Indian religion addresses itself. There is obviously more than one suggested solution. Tantrism is one of these. It is based, I believe, on two fundamental convictions which are essentially related: First, the illusory condition of being as we know it in duality (world and Atman-Brahman), but a duality that originates from and must move back to a unity. Agehananda Bharati puts it: 'There is dualism on the level of mystical practice, on the level of a heuristic polarity, and there is monism on the ontological level'.We shall see this quite concretely later when we speak of Shakti and Shiva tending towards a final androgeny. Second, tantrism holds that this duality is overcome only in some form of coincidentia oppositorum. The two opposites {prakriti and Atman) must meet. Prakriti must somehow be both entered into yet destroyed ('burnt') to release Atman-with-Brahman. The origin of the tantric solution extends almost certainly back to preAryan, pre-Vedic times. Some of the central elements of tantrism can be recognised as survivals of a cult earlier than Indian civilisation. For instance, Shiva was worshipped in the form of the linga (the phallus), and Shakti remains from the pre-Aryan popular strata, 'the "religion of the Mother" that in ancient times reigned over an immense Aegeo-Afrasiatic territory and which was always the chief devotion among the autochthonous peoples of India'.4 The use of mantra (so central to tantrism, as we shall see later) seems, according to Bharati, if not from pre-Aryan times surely an outgrowth of magic or sacred formulae which 'have been one of the oldest and certainly most permanent elements of autochthonous Indian supernaturalism'. The Upanishads provide the fertile ground for tantrism. They teach a pessimism in the face of karma that pervades the Indian religious awareness. Man is caught through his ignorance (avidya) in the endless round of samsara. 'Living in the abyss of ignorance, yet wise in their own conceit, the deluded go round and round, like the blind led by the blind', says the Mundaka Upanishad. But it was also the Upanishads, especially the Brhadaranyaka Upanishad (and this indeed one of the oldest) that valorised sexuality as ritual, and opened the way for the achieving of purusa by the very entering into prakriti, thus moving via the coincidentia oppositorum. As we shall see, this is ultimately the way of tantrism.
Although the start of the way out of samsara is in the Upanishads, they are also important for providing the atmosphere of pessimism which provoked the actual way out. India is not a land where pessimism can be tolerated. She must find a solution. The Bhagaoadgita brings the actual solution. Krishna brings a message that must not only be understood but lived, imitated. Brahman creates the world and so somehow enters into it yet without participating in it. Just so man must enter into the world and history, he must perform his duty. Such is precisely Krishna's answer to Arjuna. One's own state and moment of duty must be entered into—even if this duty is performed inadequately, this is better than performing well what is another's duty. 'A man's own natural duty, even if it seems imperfectly done, is better than work not naturally his own even if this is well performed'.1 There is obviously here an effort to preserve the worth of human activity. It is important and analogous to Brahman's work of creation. Even if the act seems ineffective and illusory, it is important as long as the desire of the fruits of one's work is renounced. And here is the paradoxical nature of the solution posed by the Bhagaoadgita: 'Work done with anxiety about results is far inferior to work done without such anxiety, in the calm of self-surrender'. Only such work done without desire can be safely done without fear of avidya. 'When he has no lust, no hatred, a man walks safely among the things of lust and hatred' . A man's act, then, although entering fully into prakriti avoids it by avoiding desire. In a ritual way his renunciation of the desire of the fruits of his work now becomes a personal sacrifice, an offering to Brahman. He is united to Brahman while acting in the world. 'He puts aside desire, offering the act to Brahman. The lotus leaf rests unwetted on water: he rests on action, untouched by action'.4 This idea of the ritual of personal sacrifice is an extremely rich one in Indian thought. In fact, it is linked with the Brahmanic Prajapati sacrifice. The ritual reconstruction of the dismembered Prajapati assured the world of another year, and prepared for the renewed dismemberment and dispersion of Prajapati. Thus, the energies in the world were always being drawn in and renewed in unity, yet sent out in dispersion of new creation. Just so man achieves Atman, not by withdrawing from the world and history (in contrast with the general Upanishadic solution) but by living in history, yet unfettered by it. This is not only an act of duty, but one of sacred duty in which history itself is furthered by the personal sacrifice (analogous to the Prajapati sacrifice), and the individual in the very fact of renunciation achieves Atman-Brahman. 'The act of sacred duty, done without attachment, not as pleasure desired, not as hated compulsion, by him who has no care for the fruit of his action: that act is of sattwa.'Tantrism can only be understood as a sincere religious effort to followthe injunction of the Bhagavadgita to renounce the desire of the fruit of action while entering into it. Thus is achieved 'the freedom from the misery of attachment', which as Bharati says is 'the final target of tantric sadhana and of the tantric life'. Tantrism is a serious disciplined religious effort. This must be stressed, since the unusual tantric ritual, as we shall see, can easily be and often is accused of being simply a front behind which to practice hedonism. Some writers, very nervous about such an accusation have solved the problem by limiting their discussion of tantrism to the righthanded practice. This puritanical approach is not helpful. In fact, it seems to me that we can only fully understand the tantric contribution in an understanding of the left-hand method. There may be frauds (even many) in any religion, but as Bharati insists about tantrism: 'Whatever the manner in which ritual is conducted in India—and a fortiori in Buddhist Tibet—the postulated target is never to be sought in the enjoyment of the used materials' .  The fact of the matter is, as Eliade points out, that tantrism was an attempt to resacralise life in India at a time of religious lethargy. He says it was:
  'a "dark age" in which the spirit is deeply veiled under the flesh. The doctors of Hindu tantrism regarded the Vedas and the Brahmanic tradition as inadequate for "modern times". Man, they held, no longer possessed the spiritual spontaneity and vigor that he enjoyed at the beginning of the cycle; he was incapable of direct access to truth; he must, then, "stem the current", and, to do so, he must set out from the basic and typical experiences of his fallen condition—that is, from the very sources of his life. This is why the "living rite" plays such a decisive role in tantric sadhana] this is why the "heart" and "sexuality" serve as vehicles for attaining transcendence.

It is essential to understand the philosophico-religious world view that underlies tantrism before we can make sense of its religious exercise {sadhana). But once that ideology is understood and accepted then the tantric sadhana (in the left-handed mode) becomes the most logical outcome. In fact, the ritual cannot really be separated from the theology. As Bharati says, 'Ritual of all sorts seems so much more important in tantrism than it does in nontan trie literature of the same level of sophistication', that it really becomes impossible to understand the theology apart from the ritual. However, for someone like myself from the West and confronting a sadhana so initially unfamiliar, it seems helpful to first put it in the theological perspective. As we have seen, tantrism is founded on a basic polarity in being— ultimately the opposites of unity and polarity themselves, that is, the unity (Brahman) from which we come and to which we return (Atman-Brahman, if for analysis we must make a distinction) and the polarity in which we live at this moment (prakriti-purusa). Yet, it is this second polarity of the prakriti-purusa that is the proximate point of departure for tantrism. Bharati says :
 'The polarity has its philosophical background in the Samkhya system, the oldest systematized metaphysical school in India. . . . Samkhya is a radically dualistic philosophy; it explains the universe as consisting of two and only two principles, i.e. inert nature {prakrti) and the pure, conscious principle (purusa). Whatever happens in the universe, happens in and through prakrti; purusa does not act—it is the pure witness. Prakrti, however, could not act—or more precisely nothing can happen in prakrti, which is the repository of all actions—if purusa were not there. The analogy would be, in chemical terminology, that of a catalyzing agent.

 see how the mythology based on it would involve three elements: Purusa, prakriti, and their unity. And so it is. There is the god, Shiva {purusa, AtmanBrahman), representing the male who in Hindu tantrism is the passive, the detached, the static; to him is 'assigned "wisdom", "realization", "beatitude"—in short, all cognitive terms of spiritual consummation'.2 Shiva awaits the waking influence of the feminine, Shakti. In iconography Shiva is often pictured as passive or asleep or even dead or 'the goddess's mattress, or her footstool'.3 The Hindu tantric iconological thesis is: 'Shiva without Shakti is a corpse'. Over against Shiva is the goddess, the Shakti. She provides the polar opposite to Shiva, and as such awakens him, brings him to life, to activity, so that touched by Shakti he is often pictured as dancing where before her touch he slept. Only in the unity of these two does movement-but-movementrenounced, and hence ultimate unity, which escapes karma, begin. Shakti is 'the strength or potency of her male counterpart. It was thought that the god was inactive and transcendent, while his female element was active and immanent'.4 She is the dynamic, and to her are assigned ' "compassion", "method", "energy", etc., i.e. all conative terms in this universe of discourse'. As Eliade so well summarises: 'We also recognize a sort of religious rediscovery of the mystery of woman, for . . . every woman becomes the incarnation of the Sakti. Mystical emotion in the presence of the mystery of generation and fecundity—such it is in part. But it is also recognition of all that is remote, "transcendent", invulnerable in woman; and thus woman comes to symbolize the irreducibility of the sacred and the divine, the inapprehensible essence of the ultimate reality. Woman incarnates both the mystery of creation and the mystery of Being, of everything that is, that incomprehensibly becomes and dies and is reborn. The schema of the Samkhya philosophy is prolonged on both the metaphysical and the mythological planes: Spirit, the "male", purusa, is the "great impotent one", the motionless, the con- templative; it is Prakrti that works, engenders, nourishes. When a great danger threatens the foundations of the cosmos, the gods appeal to the Sakti to avert it.'1 As mentioned earlier Shakti's origins seem surely to be pre-Aryan, and are probably embedded in the matriarchal form of life that once spread over the geographical meeting grounds of Asia, Africa, and Europe. In any case it is vital to the tantric religious solution that there be the feminine goddess who represents prakriti, the active, the creative, and the illusory. As M. P. Pandit says, 'It is the Shakti that has brought this vast universe into being; it is She who sustains it and again it is She who dissolves it. She creates [as Parvati] and She destroys [as Durga]. Even if the world She creates is truly an Illusion it is She alone who can dissolve that Illusion. The key to the riddle of existence lies in the hands of this great WorldMother'.2 Shakti, being woman, over against Shiva, the man, brings in the sexual element. This is their point of unity. In the sexual embrace of these two, god and goddess, in a paradigmatic way prakriti is touched by purusa, burnt by purusa, and at the same time in this divine play (lila) purusa is brought to life and united with, while being freed from, prakriti—and all this in the relation of Shakti with Shiva. Here in this sexual union the feminine compassion and warmth and active play both brings to life and is absorbed by the passive wisdom and latent power of the masculine. Without this intimate unity of the opposites in the absolute being of the whole (Brahman), so aptly figured in the androgenous whole that is sexual union, there can be no freedom from the karmic illusion, which is only part. It is not surprising then that Shakti-Shiva both tend towards and are a final androgeny. As with the Prajapati sacrifice creation and its final meaning is both a dispersion and a unity. Speaking of the yogic ritual which follows from this mythology, Eliade says: 'Tantrism multiplies the pairs of opposites (sun and moon, Siva and Sakti, ida and pingala, etc.) and . . . attempts to "unify" them through techniques combining subtle physiology with meditation. This fact must be emphasized: on whatever plane it is realized, the conjunction of opposites represents a transcending of the phenomenal world, abolishment of all experience of duality.'3As Eliade points out elsewhere:
'The most important couple in the Indian pantheon, Siva-Kali, are sometimes represented as a single being (ardhanarisvara). And tantric iconography swarms with pictures of the God Siva closely entwined with Sakti, his own "power",depicted as a feminine divinity (Kali). And then, too, all of Indian erotic mysticism is expressly aimed at perfecting man by identifying him with a "divine pair", that is, by way of androgyny.'
Beautiful examples of Shiva and Shakti 'closely entwined' so that Shakti appears to be the energetic but compassionate empowering of Shiva are found in the statuary of the tenth to eleventh centuries A.D. at Khajuraho, V.P., and of the thirteenth century A.D. at Konarak, Orissa.2 There is an example of the ardhanarisvara at the Chicago Art Institute from South India in the thirteenth century A.D.3 The right half of the statue is Shiva and in his features he is clearly masculine, yet passive. The left half (interesting in the light of the left-handed practice) is Devi and she is clearly feminine yet energetic. Where the two halves blend, especially at the mouth, the artist has accomplished the unity so finely that at first the observer is almost not aware that there are two halves—one masculine and the other feminine— but simply a single androgenous god. The opposites are united in the sexual play (lila) of Shiva and Shakti at creation. In this paradigmatic entry into illusory history (the feminine, Shakti) by wisdom (the masculine, Shiva) the world is both created and history is passed beyond. In this paradigm wisdom is revealed for man to conquer avidya and escape samara in the complete androgeny of purusa. 'Thus the universe is a manifestation by the Supreme as Shakti out of its own Being for the delight of Her play with the Supreme as the Lord. The same play, lila, that results in the manifestation of the universe totally, is repeated in each individual form.' So now we are ready to try to understand the tantric sadhana, the ritual as it is acted out by the individual following the Shiva-Shakti paradigm. Just as sexual union achieved in the case of Shiva-Shakti a creation and a passing beyond, so for the tantric adept ritual intercourse will achieve that entry into history while renouncing the fruits of action taught by the Bhagavadgita. Such for the individual is the way to purusa. In some ways sadhana is easy. It is the natural entry into the functions of life. But in another deeper sense it is a hard way, as is the way of all authentic religious experience. 'Every conjunction of opposites produces a rupture of plane and ends in the rediscovery of the primordial spontaneity.'5 This rupture is never easy. As Eliade says of Krishna-Radha, a homologised form of Shiva-Shakti, theirs 'is chiefly an adulterous love .. . a secret, illegitimate, "antisocial" love, symbolising the rupture that every genuine religious experience imposes'. Such rupture is terrifying and risky; such courage is never easy; it demands discipline and art and preparation.
A word must be said here about the 'left-handed' tantric rite, which I will be describing, and which seems to be the logical consequence of the tantric ideology. The dispute between left-handed and right-handed (in left-handed the yogini sits to the left of the yogi, and in right-handed she sits to the right) arises to some extent from the tantric's opposition to the categorising orthodoxy of the Brahmins. According to Bharati, 'the tantric . . . refuses exegetical categorizing and chooses sandhabhasa as a means to counter the orthodox attitude'.1 The tantric is able to oppose the orthodox on textual grounds because of sandhabhasa, which is the 'intentional language' used in the tantric texts. 'Tantric texts are often composed in an "intentional language" {sandhya-bhasa), a secret, dark, ambiguous language in which a state of consciousness is expressed by an erotic term and the vocabulary of mythology or cosmology is charged with Hatha-yogic or sexual meanings.'2 When the orthodox reads the text, he intends the words in a mystical or conceptual absolute. For him the sandha-term refers to a state of consciousness or an event of mythology or is a cosmological reference. Bharati cites examples using the key term bodhicitta where it is always used as state of consciousness or understanding. But for the tantric the intention of such words is an objective thing or action. So, a term like bodhicitta would mean concretely the male sperm. Anyone familiar with gnostic and alchemical language meets the same ambiguity of meaning. Such ambiguity may both hide the true doctrine from the uninitiated who would not understand and so be scandalised, and also serve to emphasise the paradoxical nature of the tantric theory and practice, which in no case could be expressed in unambiguous concepts. Aside from being a reaction to orthodoxy, the left-handed reading of the texts in an overtly sexual way is a logical consequence of the ideology expressed in the paradigmatic myth of Shiva and Shakti. The left-handed tantric sadhana does indeed end in sexual union of the bhaga ('vulva') and the linga ('phallus')—yet, this 'sexual union is understood as a means of obtaining "supreme bliss" (mahasukha), and it must never end in seminal emission. Maithuna makes its appearance as the consummation of a long and difficult apprenticeship'.* The preparation for the ritual maithuna (sacred tantric coitus) is a strict discipline for both the yogi and the yogini under the direction of a guru.

'In the tradition of the Tantra the Guru is the central pivot on which every movement in spiritual life turns. He is not just a learned man who can teach. It is profane to look upon him as human. He is much more, in fact, he is looked upon as a representative of the Divine, even the very Divine Himself. . . . The Tantras declare unambiguously that no man can walk the path unaided. . . . One may be qualified. But he still needs someone to launch him on the journey, to implant that power in him which would keep him moving and lead him aright through the regions that are beyond the limits of human capacity to negotiate

Obviously, then, although the guru is a teacher of sorts, he is much more. He is one who through his guidance in some sense gives the power to walk the road. That is why 'some of the Tantras lay it down that initiation taken from a woman-guru is more effective than from a man'.2 She embodies the energising power of Shakti. There are several helps to reach the moment of maithuna, which the aspirant must learn to use adeptly. He must enter long term practice, so that he may use them during, as well as in the preparation for, the ritual itself. Iconography is central in tantrism. It is not only a teacher and an aid to meditation, but it 'represents a "religious" universe that must be entered and assimilated'. This entry and assimilation is accomplished in various stages through which the aspirant identifies himself with the god or goddess represented in their activities and thus raises his own activity to the sacred plane. The use of the mandala is important, and connected with iconography. It is a symmetrical and often complex pattern into which the yogi enters in his consciousness and often physically (it is sometimes drawn on the ground as a ritual setting). It too represents the mythological cosmos, the sacred world. An important simple paradigmatic mandala is the yantra, which in a conjunction of triangles symbolises the sexual union of Shiva and Shakti. 'The yantra is an expression, in terms of linear symbolism, of the cosmic manifestations, beginning with the primordial unity.' According to Bharati, the 'mantra is the chief instrument of tantrism'. 'In all the processes of tantric initiation, mantra is the nuclear element, the basic unit. It is in a way the atomic constituent of initiation as well as of the further practices and the consummation of tantric discipline'.3 The mantra is a symbol, a mystic sound or complex of sounds which are repeated by the initiate, preparatory to and during the maithuna ritual. To the uninitiate the sounds may be meaningless, but for the initiate, who has learned their significance from his guru, the mantra, like iconography, draws the initiate into that non-thetic world of identity with the god or goddess—that sacred world of origins. Eliade explains:
 'A mantra is a "symbol" in the archaic sense of the term—it is simultaneously the symbolized "reality" and the symbolizing "sign". There is an occult correspondence between the mantra's mystical letters and syllables . . . and the subtle organs of the human body on the one hand and, on the other, between those organs and the divine forces asleep or manifested in the cosmos. By working on the "symbol", one awakens all the forces that correspond to it, on all levels of being. Between the mantrayana and tantric iconography, for example, there is perfect corres- pondence; for each plane and each degree of sanctity has its corresponding image, color, and letter. By meditating on the color or the mystical sound that rep- resents it, the disciple enters into a particular modality of being, absorbs or in- corporates a yogic state, a god, etc.'

Again the yogic asanas (body postures) and pranayama (breath control) are not only preparatory functions but in fact modes of identification with the god and of entry into the very state of being (purusa) represented by the god. We shall see this vividly in relation to pranayama when we discuss the interrelation of breath, thought, and semen control in maithuna. Before passing to the rite of maithuna, a few remarks must be made on the rites immediately prior. In the tantric intentional language these rites are spoken of as the first four of the five makaras (maithuna itself being the fifth). They are madya (liquor), matsya (fish), mamsa (meat), and mudra (the yogini, the ritual partner, and the yogi's position in relation to her). Bharati sees the mudra here as a cereal preparation thought to be aphrodisiac. And in fact aphrodisiac is on one level of left-handed practice what each of these four are meant to be. They also symbolise the rupture with the traditional attitudes to these foods. Of course, the right-handed orthodox Hindu takes them not in this literal sense, but in a metaphorical one. But again, because the sexual act is intrinsic to the identification with Shakti-Shiva and with a real entry into prakriti to 'burn' it, the left-handed literal view is most logical. In fact because the maithuna is a rupturing of the orthodox and prevading Hindu moral code, stimulants which help to this would seem necessary. Meat, fish, and liquor were thought to be aphrodisiacs, and of course the necessity of the yogini is obvious. This aphrodisiac intent is supported by the practice several hours before maithuna of taking 'hemp' (vijaya). It contains the same chemical agent as marijuana, and as Bharati explains, its use is very important so that during maithuna the spiritual postulant who has enormous cultural inhibitions to overcome can be really 'high' on the drug.2 However, the use of the makaras is more than just a narcotic. They are an integral part of the process of entry into and identification with that mystic trans-temporal state represented by the Shakti-Shiva myth. The process includes remote preparation and training in the hatha-yogic practices of the asanas and pranayama, the understanding and use of iconography, mandalas, and mantras. The proximate preparations on the day itself include the various ritual purifications, the use of silent repetition of the mantra revealed to the disciple by his guru, and the taking of the four makaras. However, as Bharati remarks, 'it is not the sadhaka [disciple] as an ephemeral individual who takes them, but. . . they are being fed to the goddess residing in his body as the kulakundalini (the coiled-up lady of the kula)
An understanding of the character and function of kundalini is essential to an understanding of maithuna and in fact of the entire tantric ritual and attitude. It is the feminine power, the Shakti within each of us, that must be released and activated so that the Shivic Atman may be freed from prakriti and be united with Brahman in samhadi. Basham describes well the tantric conception of the psychic- body, and the situation in which kundalini is awakened
'The chief vein of the body, known as suswnna, runs through the spinal column. Along it at different points are six "wheels" (cakra), or concentrations of psychic energy. At the top of the vein susumna, within the skull, is sahasrara, a specially powerful psychic centre symbolically referred to as a lotus. In the lowest "wheel", behind the genitals, is the kundalini, the "serpent power", generally in a quiescent state. By yogic practices the kundalini is awakened, rises through the vein susumna, passes through all the six "wheels" of psychic force, and unites with the topmost sahasrara. By awakening and raising his kundalini the yogi gains spiritual power, and by uniting it with sahasrara he wins salvation

The kundalini, being feminine, must be awakened by the feminine. And so we come to the central tantric rite, maithuna. In left-handed tantrism maithuna is the full sexual embrace of the yogi with his yogini. It is carefully prepared for, as we have seen, and it is a ritual embrace. The human couple are transformed into the divine couple, and the sacred state of purusa is entered.

'Every naked woman incarnates prakrti. Hence she is to be looked upon with the same adoration and the same detachment that one exercises in pondering the unfathomable secret of nature, its limitless capacity to create. The ritual nudity of the yogini has an intrinsic mystical value: if, in the presence of the naked woman, one does not find in one's inmost being the same terrifying emotions that one feels before the revelation of the cosmic mystery, there is no rite, there is only a secular act, with all the familiar consequences (strengthening of the karmic chain, etc.). The second stage consists in the transformation of the woman- prakrti into an incarnation of the Sakti; the partner in the rite becomes a goddess, as the yogin must incarnate the god. . . . We should note the immobility of the god; all the activity is on the side of the Sakti

Obviously this is a special form of sexual union, neither an excuse for hedonism, nor a type of fertility rite. It might be practiced often, or only once in life as an initiation and awakening of the kundalini. If maithuna is practiced in an external way only once at initiation this would fit well with the understanding that this ritual union is between a god and a goddess, and so is a-temporal, in Mo tempore, 'a "divine condition", in the sense that they not only experience bliss but are also able to contemplate the ultimate reality directly'. Thus maithuna in the future could be interiorised in the yogi's endless contemplation of his Shakti.

Since, in the light of the Bhagavadgita, salvation (purusa) is obtained only through entry into activity while at the same time renouncing the desire of its fruits, the maithuna ritual entails the yogi's entering into prakriti in his sexual relation with the yogini, while at the same time renouncing the fruit of this activity through his own immobility. There must be immobility of his breath through pranayama and immobility of thought prepared for by the long yogic practice of concentration (dharana). But central to the tantric system is the immobility of the sperm itself in the very sexual act. Thus Atman or Shiva or purusa remains 'motionless and serene amid the cosmic play'. Bharati explains

'How closely retention [of the sperm] and mind control seem to be connected in the tantric's mind. The moment of suspense, effected by simultaneous breath and seminal control in conjunction with the Sakti or Mudra, seems to effect suspension of the distracting mental functions—that is to say, of all the discursive functions of the mind, cognitive, conative, and volitional. . . . Ecstasy is reached when the adept succeeds in suspending, temporarily at first, but in increasing spans of time, all object-thought, and in concentrating on the non-discursive, interiorized object of his meditation.'

This object is ultimately the Atman of the yogi identified with Brahman. Of course, the apprenticeship for such yogic control is long and demanding. The yogi and his yogini must over months approach ' "autonomization" of sensual pleasure', as Eliade calls it through months of gradual conditioning by sleeping closer and closer until they sleep embracing. In fact, their maithuna has all the physical characteristics of sexual intercourse, except that the seed is not given. Or possibly the seed is given and reabsorbed. 'In Hatha-Yoga, the adept works to obtain "immobility" of breath and semen; there is even supposed to be a "return of semen".'The Hathayogapradipika commands that the same act of reabsorption of the genital emission must be performed by the woman too.Possibly even the yogi's arresting of his seed or its emission and reabsorption is connected somehow with an absorption of the yogini's genital emission. Eliade quotes a very interesting text and commentary:

' "Arrest of breath" is to be understood as accompanying arrest of seminal emission. Kanha expresses this in his sibylline style: "The Motionless embraces the Thought of Illumination . . . despite the dust that ornaments it. One sees the lotus seed, pure by nature, on one's own body". The Sanskrit commentary explains: if in maithuna (coitus) the sukra (sperm) remains unemitted, thought too remains motionless. In effect, the "dust" (rajas) is the "rajas of women" (both menses and genital secretions); during maithuna, the yogin provokes his partner's emission, at the same time immobilizing his sukra, with the twofold result that he both arrests his thought and becomes able to absorb the "lotus seed" (the rajas)

Again, although biologically extraordinary, how very logical such a ritual absorption is. For here the feminine, being absorbed, activates the feminine kundalini and the passive male in his 'immobile intercourse' is freed. The kundalini is awakened and rises through the cakras. Atman is freed. The Kularnava-tantra says: 'The true sexual union is the union of the Parasakti {kundalini) with Atman'.2 In the union of Shakti and Shiva, Atman is united with Brahman while entering into, yet in the same act being freed from, prakriti. The tantric knows directly in the experience the state of non-duality, the androgeny. Thus human sexuality, at the heart of prakriti, becomes paradoxically the ritual act which frees from prakriti, burns avidya, releases from samsara, and gains immortality. The entire process is summarised in a clear way by Eliade:

'The "return of the semen" stands, on the physiological plane for a transcendence of the phenomenal world, entrance into freedom. . . . this "return", the "reg- ression" imply destruction of the cosmos and hence "emergence from time", entrance into "immortality". . . . Siva reveals the doctrine of Hatha Yoga. Now immortality cannot be gained except by arresting manifestation, and hence the process of disintegration; one must proceed "against the current" (ujana sadhana) and once again find the primordial, motionless Unity, which existed before the rupture. . . . 'It is the coincidence of time and eternity, of bhava and nirvana; on the purely "human" plane, it is the reintegration of the primordial androgyne, the con- junction, in one's own being, of male and female—in a word, the reconquest of the completeness that precedes all creation