I am at Auroville, a small and an incredibly green place, an organic community, started as the manifestation of a vision that a French woman, they call The Mother in India, had. She came to India as she had visions of a place where divine consciousness would ascend. She had had visions of a man who was waiting for her to aid him in manifesting the divine life on earth. When she came to Pondichery in the southern state of Tamil Nadu, then a French colony, and met the patriot and saint Sri Aurobindo, she recognised him as her Krishna, the man in her vision.
It is the middle of November, the month of my birth, 39 years back in Kolkata, on the night of the Hindu Festival of Diwali. It was also the night when people from eastern India worshiped Kali, the divine feminine, Shakti.
I am staying at a place called New Creations, a small property full of large and small trees, lily ponds, rocks and many cats. There are white homes in every nook and corner for guests and permanent residents to stay in. It is run by a French man Andre. And maintained by two very cheerful and hardworking young men Joshua and Akshay.
I was alone the day I wrote this piece, as my travelling companion, was off on her own for an excursion. I stayed back to be with myself. I decided to take off all my clothes and work naked at the computer. It was amazing how the moment I undressed and sat down on the chair facing the lap top, through the window overlooking a fruit orchard cool gentle breeze entered the room and caressed my skin and a strong and vibrant energy rose up my spine. I felt my heart beat race at the speed of a Ferrari in formula one. I was my own Michael Schumacher this moment. I was making love to myself. Allowing the wind to enter me through the pores my skin and leading me to ecstasy as I took on the colours of the trees and the sunlight dancing on the leaves with eyes and listened to the breeze carry the songs of the many birds that inhabit this property as a lover who whispers erotic and sexy endearments into the beloved’s ears.
My mouth felt sweet with the loving rush of blood in my heart. The lips moist with yearning for my beloved who dwells in many forms in the canvas of my mind and whose touch I sense from behind closed eyes, in the silence of my being.
I met a beautiful man with long flowing black hair and beard as he rode a bicycle along the shuttle car that took me and my friend into Auroville. His face had the beauty of a woman and his body lean, ascetic and a back that is hermit straight. He took me to Matri Mandir, the womb of silence. I followed him as he led me into the golden globe with its flower gates. I walked in silence behind this man as we walked up a spiral pathway made of white marble, suspended in air as white as the snow. I walked slowly with burning, pulsating, vibrating ecstatic anticipation as we elevated to the large circular space with a crystal in the middle and diffused and compressed sunlight and white pillars all around.
To me it appeared as a set from the Greek legend of Titans clashing in heaven. There were cushions to sit in silence. The man sat down and I sat on a mat next to him. I closed my eyes as I was afraid of keeping it open. I stopped listening to the sounds around as I was afraid I would loose myself if I did not listen to my own breath. I looked within as my insides started to shake with gratitude, as tremors filled my body and organs and blood rushed to my head. My heart was opening and I was afraid to let go. I brought all my focus on my breathing and allowed the energy to do what it needed to. The sound of silence was roaring in my ears, it was making my head burst, my stomach was falling into a dark pit and I did not know any longer what control was. I surrendered to silence that took me on a ride and I went surfing. I could soon feel the warm and cool tears streaming down my hot cheeks. My breathing was the only sound breaking through the barrier of silent speed. And my palms were radiating heat. I was afraid to open my eyes lest I dissipated into pieces.
I stayed patiently with the energy and slowly it started to calm down. Peace and solitude started to descend like soft snowflakes on the first cold night of Capricorn on the foothills of Nanda Devi in the norther Himalayas to the beat of the drums played by villagers invoking the harvest season with fire and songs of ancient wisdom.
And then I was again aware of the world outside and sensed the man with long hair and full lips stand up. I opened my eyes and saw the landscape blanketed with a night fall of snow that covered the dark dry grass of the rocky Himalayas. As we descended from the womb into the light outside, I touched the small of that man’s back with deep affection of souls who have known each other and thanked him for everything. We embraced tightly and I whispered my love in his ears and he sighed into my being his gratitude for receiving what he had to give me. We said goodbye.