It is an art mastered by only a few. It is an art well-protected, out of the reach of callous hands. Lecherous lips shall never pronounce this wisdom, and rotten ears never hear the grace.

Yet, here comes our seer– a vira on the verge of being a pashu. He must be pulled out of the quicksand, but only the snake of knowledge can do it.

The one that rests at the base. Coiled, closed eyes but not lifeless. That chakra shall be awakened.

Nandini channels in her power and showers it on the fruit. Gently, the breeze takes it to the lap of the seer. He places his lips, grazing the fruit like a feather. It's sweet, it's subtle, it's perfect.

He relishes it, enjoying the Divine through this act of nourishment.

****

Time couldn't be measured in the forest where Hrishav and Maya lived. Cut from civilisation and the intricacies of society, they knew not how long they had been there. What they were aware of was that there time to return to the Mukherjee palace was nearing. Their Guru had hinted so, not failing to mention that it was Maya's blessings from her past births which allowed her to absorb such vast knowledge in a small time. Small time? Nowadays, the two students didn't realise the difference between day and night.

This evening, they were asked to take a bath and come meet the Aghori. He waited for them near the tree where the image of Devi was carved. Hrishav and Maya both were dressed in yellow akin to pollen. Touching the feet of the Guru, they sat down to listen to his lecture.

"When I speak today, do not interrupt. Part your lips when I give permission."

Well, that was a curious order. Maya never stopped him during a conversation, although she found Hrishav jumping and hopping in between words in rare cases. If the Aghori mentioned this the first before his lesson began, that meant whatever he was going to say would trigger a lot of questions.

Maya didn't know. She looked at Hrishav. His face glistened under the moonbeams, a faltering smile crashing repeatedly on the shore of his parched lips. The buzzing grasshopper hushed the inner workings of Maya's mind, occluding from her the minute observation of his heated skin.

"A basic thought that goes in tantra, especially the left-handed path, is that whatever general mindset rules out as sinful can be used in order to attain moksha. Like wine, flesh-eating, sacrifices and copulation. What the mediocre mind can't do with a sacred heart, the disciple of tantra strives to perform with a pure motive."

From the corner of her vision, Maya noticed Hrishav inhaling. Breath hitched in his throat. The air stilled around them, as if he had taken in all of the vayu to sustain the force within.

Perhaps he was seeking strength.

"In Kaulacharya, we offer five elements to the Mother– madya, mamsa, matsya, mudra and maithuna."

A pause. A deliberate pause. Hrishav had transformed into a living statue, his penetrative gaze focused on the dusty feet of the Aghori. Maya's heartbeat slowed down to a whisper only she could hear.

"There are rules on how to offer them. Not even a blade of grass can be given to Maa without proper dedication. The means to make the wine has been written down by Shiva himself, for his dear Kali. It is he who lays down these rules of Kaula, to instill love for the Mother in the mortal children, and to help souls find peace in the union of Purusha and Prakriti. Now, before one might wonder how flesh-eating can be good, I put down some observations for you to consider.

"The deer doesn't touch meat. Is it hailed as an ascended being? No. The tiger hunts. Is it hailed as an ascended being? No. Animals go around naked, living in jungles away from human contact. Does that make them Shiva? No. Every couple has made love some time. Does that make them Bhairava and Bhairavi? No. If merely being a vegetarian, or a meat-eater, if giving up clothes and smearing oneself with ashes, if engaging in physical contact with a woman could take one to godhood, there would not exist anything like tantra– tantra which is older than this Prithvi and revered even by Vedas.

"Rightly used, rightly directed, the means of fall become the vehicle towards liberation. The outer rituals matter less than the inner consecration. Those who do what is laid down in tantra with love and devotion for Kalika become beloved of the deities. It is the inner sacrifice that holds the most value."

The Aghori waited and watched the two pairs of twinkling orbs. They had suddenly come upon the key to a whole new world.

"Like Soma is to the Vedas, Kuladravya is to Tantra. The wine is cooked in a specific manner, its negativities are nullified, offered to Maa, and then consumed by the seekers in a controlled amount. So goes for every other element– meat, grain and fish. Each is eaten while chanting mantras and it takes hours to do the activity. It is a mighty worship of the Mother. Do not do it with fear and doubts, or with lust and greed. Perhaps the latter are bound to come, but as a vira, your duty is to face them and fight the darkness within.

"The wine is the nectar that frees the mind from the bondage of reality and takes one up to the higher realms. The animal which is cut is the animal of duality and ignorance, and by eating the mamsa, you offer yourself, 'mam', to Shiva. All your actions thus get governed by Kalika. The eating of the fish is a psycho-physical discipline to control the Ida and Pingala. The mudra signifies the knowledge of the Atman. And when the man and woman unite, it is the unification of Shiva and Shakti."

With this, the Aghori concluded. Drinking from his leather bottle, he gestured to Maya and Hrishav if they had any questions. Hrishav shook his head. "None," he said. Maya raised her hand.

"Yes?" the Aghori asked.

"You made us do the panchamakara in a different manner initially. With coconut water and garlic, flowers. Right?"

"Yes. I had to prepare you for the ultimate. In general, the pashu or the one who is still learning doesn't engage in literal activities. The pratakshya is reserved only for the vira, who is the limelight of Tantra."

"Then," she stole a glance at Hrishav, "I am also done."

The prince smiled.

The Aghori stared at the clouds hiding the moon. "You two must get ready. The ritual will be done today."

Although it was a shock, they didn't let their eyes widen too much, lest the Aghori be displeased.

"Do not eat anything. Take a walk in nature, talk and laugh. Come when I order."

****

It was a wordless stroll they were doing around the cottage. Mindless circles. Tangled thoughts. Ultimately, surrendering.

"You are not worried?" Maya asked.

Hrishav was busy plucking flowers from the bushes. Those were night jasmines. So beautiful.

"I am not," he replied. There was a strain on his forehead, folds of skin wrinkling.

Maya took some flowers from the cup of his palm. "I do not feel afraid. I don't know why. Isn't this supposed to feel odd?"

"I suppose not."

"I feel like–" Maya swallowed. Was she happy? Was it a feeling she was free to have? A heartburn swayed in her ribcage, a dwindling flame's vain attempt to survive. "How did you change so much?"

Stars floated in his eyes, her reflection carried in his cocoa pupils. His brows pinched at the middle. "I haven't changed," he croaked. "I never did."

"You don't disrespect me anymore."

"I will not. You are my," he turned his back to her, "Bhairavi."

"It's strange." She chuckled, a hearty one that made the owls hoot. She sniffed the jasmines, putting some in her braid. "You say you can't love me. I can't love you. And nothing feels wrong. Shouldn't I be insulting you? It's like I don't consider your sins as anything capable of hurting me any further. I have become immune to all your howls and fatal attacks."

"Like Shiva dances and destroys her creation, calling it an illusion. Maa again creates everything, drop by drop, sweat by sweat, blood by blood. Then Shiva asks for forgiveness. She forgives, and they make love. But Maa remembers– he shall again repeat the same mistake, and she will again forgive him. Goes on and on...on and on..."

Tears trickled down his eyes. He moaned, a cry erupting from the chasm of his soul. Guilt tripped him over. "I was a fool. You put a mirror in front of me, Maya." He spun around. The rays of the night infiltrated the shadows they dwelled in. "As much as your name may mean illusion, as much as people may use your name to refer to the delusional attachments they have spoiled themselves to, you are a part of Kalika herself. You are the test she gives us. You are the beauty. Your name holds so much power. Do you even realise it?"

Mouth agape, she pondered. Her hands reached for his. "What does Hrishav mean?"

"I don't know?" He shrugged. "Maybe bull. Doesn't matter." He drank his tears. "Relax your mind Maya. Well, I should at least. We are going to be really Bhairava and Bhairavi."

"It's alright. Be calm."

"You are so chill." He grinned. "You are truly blessed. I am not. I failed to see you, Maya. And I know I will get the punishment."

You will leave me. You will leave me when you know.

I am the blood-curdling shriek of Rudra. I am a beast. A monster. And you are...you are a goddess hiding in simplicity.

You will abandon me.

"I don't know how much is left for you to go through," Maya said. "But if you have realised your mistakes, do not whip and berate yourself more. You have seen the light. Now, only picture yourself as a good human being. A lover of tantra who shall not disappoint Maa. At least not willingly."

"I won't disappoint Maa anymore. I know. But what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yes."

"If Maa is happy, then I am happy too."

"Oh dear..." He knelt before her. "You know nothing. Nothing. No, wait! I mean," he blushed, "you know nothing about the grey parts. The parts which are frightening."

For a moment, the kharga of Mother flashed across her mind. She pushed it down. "Hrishav, leave the past where it is there. We are destined to be together. I have accepted it, believe me. I hope you have too."

Seeing that he refused to leave her feet, she pulled him up. "Have you, Hrishav?"

He nodded. "Yes. I have."

A ringing sensation struck their eardrums. It was the voice of the Aghori. He had summoned them.

"We need to go." Maya caressed his arm. "Discard your fears here, uproot them for bhumi to eradicate. Only take your devotion. Maa will do the rest."

"I know a secret, Maya."

She giggled. "What?"

"They say, to be a Bhairava and Bhairavi, two souls need to have a connection for several births. So I guess, we did love each other in the past."

Maya's stomach churned.

"It won't be difficult," Hrishav whispered. "We began on tears. Perhaps our story was supposed to be born out of sadness. I pray we never end. I do not like when a story completes itself. Feels like a goodbye, and I am bad with it."

****

Someone had sprinkled milk and honey in the air, so pleasant was the forest. Hand-in-hand, the couple presented themselves to the service of Maa.

The Aghori explained in detail what was to be done.

"Let us begin."

Argha brought the specially-prepared wine. The Aghori instructed Hrishav to purify it, and he followed.

Next, they consumed the first four tattvas. It was a long ritual, spanning eight hours, chanting hymns that flowed like melodious songs.

Then, in silence, the Aghori left Hrishav and Maya. In the privacy of night, they greeted each other in the manner of Kalika's lovers. Half-hearted shame shunned, the chalice of the mind filled with the elixir of divine play, they undressed. Maya sat in a particular posture, meditating, and Hrishav did nyasa– touching each part of her sanctified body to invoke the goddess within.

The Shiva called for Shakti.

When the goddess awakened, Hrishav sat down under the tree. The same tree under which their Guru had imparted them the wisdom of tantra. His lips never left murmuring the mantra of the Mother, never failed in praising the living ansh of her that was to soon merge with him.

"Open your eyes."

His sight bloomed like a sunflower, gazing at the sun in front. No, not a sun, rather a blazing thousand. She was a figure moulded from the earth, decorated in the shine of the moon, magic coursing in her veins.

She came and sat on his left thigh– his vamangi– a sublime smile gracing her pink bow of flesh. They were to fire arrows of bliss at him any moment.

"I wait for you," he said, his voice quivering.

The maithuna was to be lead by the woman.

And so she welcomed him.

****

word count: 2250 words

As I had told earlier, I wouldn't describe the rituals in detail and I didn't. But hopefully, the message is clear.

From next chapter, we are going back to the mystery. Now Hrishav and Maya will work as a team!
Although, Maya will work on her own too...