Kapalika Meditation

Calcutta. Today I was informed that Baba is considering my application to become an avadhuta.

Ancient scriptures describe an avadhuta:

• Avadhutas and avadhutikas have given up lust for worldly things; their speech is simple and straightforward, and they always live in the present.
• Their bodies may be smeared with dust, but their minds are always pure.

Even if they do not care much for meditation or concentration, they are always in the state of Cosmic Thought.

Since becoming acharya, I had been working as a brahmacarii, i.e. a monk who teaches the 6 basic lessons of meditation.

I had not yet learned a higher Tantric meditation, called kapalika, which is taught only by Baba directly. This meditation is performed in a graveyard or cremation ground between the hours of midnight and 3:00 AM , at least once monthly during the time of the new moon.

The eerie, death-shrouded atmosphere helps to manifest one’s latent fears and baser instincts while the lonely silence encourages deep concentration. By this practice, the aspirant rapidly gains control over the lower self. At this time, Baba also gives the initiation which follows the brahmacarii stage, called avadhuta (or avadhutika for Didis).

In Ananda Marga, the brahmacarii wears an orange shirt, orange turban, and a white lungi (sarong) or pants, while the avadhuta wears an orange turban, orange shirt and orange lungi.

The uniform is a compromise with the pressing need of modern society for such workers: historically an avadhuta was a naked yogi covered only by ashes, unattached to pleasure and pain, and rarely, if ever, was seen in society.

In India, the word Kapalika is much misunderstood.

Many people believe it refers to black-magic left-hand Tantrics who appear totally wild: drinking wine, eating human flesh, engaging in sexual rituals, and so on. It is nothing other than an injustice to the Tantric tradition when people act in thisway and claim to be kapalikas.

• They have given up thoughts concerned with solid, liquid, luminous, aerial or ethereal factors. They do not fear death, nor are they controlled by the darkness of ego.

• They are free from all worldly fetters. Their lives are pure from beginning, middle, to end. They always remain in the state of bliss.

• They have no attachment, even for such qualities as patience and courage. They worship neither Shiva (Consciousness) nor Shakta (Primal Energy), but remain absorbed in the ideation of Brahma (infinite God), like a second Maheshvara (a name of Shiva, father of Tantra).

During the 7 years of Baba’s imprisonment no worker became avadhuta because the initiation required privacy. Furthermore, in the 7,000 years since Shiva founded the Tantric cult no non-Asian has learned the kapalika practice. Thus something special, something new, is in the works.

The test

Four of the candidates being considered by Ftim are non-Indian. He called us individually into His room. We were told that He would test our readiness for the kapalika training.

It was different than any test I’ve undergone. I’ll explain only part of it.

He called me first. As with Personal Contact, I was alone with Him. But whereas before He sat in a comfortable unassuming posture, this time He was erect, permeated by an intense transcendentality (how else to describe that mood?). As He spoke, the images He described became as real as the room itself.

“You are in the cremation ground in the dead of the night…” He said, a fire burning in His eyes, “everything hides behind a blanket of darkness … vultures flap their wings… a muggy breeze shivers your spine… from some unknown comer echoes ‘hooot… hooot… hooot’—will you be afraid?”

“No, Baba.”

“Very good,” He brought His solemn face close to mine. “And if you plunge deep, deep down into silence … only leaves minutely rustling in the breath of shadows … your heart beats slowly … slowly … slowly … when suddenly! what hey? scores of faces, nay, skulls are all upon you! raining like arrows on your head! scowling, grating their teeth, hissing, wailing!—will you be afraid?”

“No, Baba.”

“Very good. But, then, how will my boy react if I tell him to take off his clothes and move in the streets without inhibition? Will he do it?” “Yes, Baba.”

“Then, go and do it. Now.”

Immediately without a flick of hesitation, I stood up and started for the door. As my hand reached the door handle. He said, “Stop!” I turned and faced Him.

“Very good. Very good. Now tell me … how many blades are in that fan?”

In that moment nothing could have been more strange than such a common question! I looked up at the ceiling-fan—the blades turned lazily, barely merging into each other. I tried to count them.

“I think…there maybe three. Baba.”

“You think, or you know?”

“I…I…think, Baba.”

“The answer is wrong. You should have said. Baba, may I turn the fan off so that I can properly count the blades?’”

I laughed, while He smiled broadly. The “test” was finished.

He placed His hand on my head, then I embraced Him, and reluctantly left, an extraordinary energy vibrating through every vertebrae of my spine.

Next day. We four were given the thick “Senior Acharya Diary” today and told to copy it. After doing so, we must pass the senior acharya exam, another prerequisite before receiving kapalika initiation. For various reasons the time is short, so there’s no time for sleep until the copying is finished. Then we will have to cram for the exam.

Two days later. It was 4:00 a.m., and we were immersed in the endless copying. Dada J dropped his pen, and still mindlessly went on writing with his finger. A little later when he fell off his chair, his shocked expression made us split our sides laughing.

Two days later. I am in the biggest hurry, because I, alone among the four, must attend a workers’ meeting in Delhi on the 11th. Before that I must pass the exam, which covers not only the material in the diary (which I finally finished copying today), but also all the material in Baba’s book Yogic Treatment, and advanced spiritual and social philosophy.

I started taking the test today, but the examiner failed me right away because I had not memorized any of the Sanskrit shlokas in the diary. There are 40 shlokas, each having at least four lines. I wonder how I can manage it.

Next day. So far I have only been able to memorize seven shlokas. So I failed again. My mind seems blocked. Perhaps it’s due to exhaustion.

Next day. This morning my mind inexplicably shifted into cosmic gear. Within forty minutes I had memorized the remaining thirty-three shlokas. I was amazed, having never before experienced this sort of phenomenal mental power.

The examiner, however, didn’t seem surprised. After passing me on the shlokas, he went on to the other subjects, and one by one I passed them.

In the evening. Dada Tadbhavananda (a senior worker) who was scheduled to fly with me to Delhi came to the room and spoke to the examiner.

“You’ve got to pass this boy quickly or we’ll miss our flight.”

“Don’t try to pressure me,” said the examiner nonchalantly. “Now finally let’s turn to C aryacarya. " u

“What!” I exclaimed. “I didn’t know we’d be examined on Caryacarya. How about just forgetting it, Dadaji?” I hadn’t studied the book at all.

“I won’t make exceptions for anyone.”

Suddenly the electricity went out.

“Someone find some candles,” the examiner said.

We all searched around, but couldn’t find any.

“Hey, you’ve got to pass him now!” said Tadbhavanandaji to the examiner.

“Nothing doing.”

A few minutes passed, and still no candle appeared. “For God’s sake,” yelled Tadbhavanandaji, “we’ve got to leave this minute for the airport!”

44 Caryacarya isa book on social and spiritual functions

“Alright…” said the examiner, grudgingly. “Give me your diary.”

I gave him the book and heard him scratch his signature in the dark.

A few seconds later the electricity came on again, just as suddenly as it had gone out. Our eyes blinked in the bright light.

" Victory to Baba!” roared Tadbhavanandaji. “Baba’s grace. The taxi’s waiting!”

Yes, it was a novel sort of grace that made the lights fail instead of me.