Remembering Rumi At Konark

konark chandrabhaga beach
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The other day I was at Konark and I did both, moon bathing and sun bathing. Moon bathing under the clear blue sky, next to Konark, the epitome of tantra. I realised I am a nothing. Not a thing at all.

I keep changing all the time and this metamorphosis from one way to the other is like the flow of water. Simple flowing and if there is a block somewhere, it renders me dysfunctional. That’s the reason why I stumble, get inefficient, downslide on my performance and belittle my existence. That is where I get small.

Only change is unchanging; everything else changes except change. That means only change has eternity. It is a continuum. I danced under the smiling, romantic moon. Far away was the whistling wood, the gentle breeze caressing the Jhaun trees eternally. They always do that whether I am there or not. The waves dash the sand in white lines, waxing under the moon whether I am there or not. Time does not wait. We have to go on, we have to change, because change is the only constant.

Konark has also changed. Since the 13th century, there have been waves of change all around. The splendour has changed. But under the same moon, Konark still croons with the waves. Still longs for a little love. Love is certainly not defacing the walls of the chariot with plaster, which is faceless. In the godly environs of Chandrabhaga, I could hear the wailing danseuses. No one looks at them before or after “festivals”, which is almost parading them. They long passionate love in solitude and not “mean” cacophony.

“There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled.
There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled.
You feel it, don’t you?”
―Rumi

Today, there is a void in Konark. We have to fill it with life. I feel a pulsating, dynamic tantra at Konark. It is alchemy; it can transform our centres, it can transform the others’ centres, it can create a rhythm and harmony between us and our beloved. This is the beauty of tantra. The precious tantra at Konark gives us the science of transforming ordinary lovers into soul mates. And that is the grandeur of Konark. It can transform the whole earth; it can transform every couple into soul mates. Each partnership transformed is the great revolution we are looking forward to. We want to live as smart human beings, shackle-free, beautiful, momentous, radiating, and strong. Konark is our navigator, the laboratory, the science of beauty.

“I want to sing like the birds sing, not worrying about who hears or what they think.” ―Rumi

Truly blessed is the land that has Konark. It is the culmination of thoughts, ahead of their times. The chariot of artistes’ perception, which knows no bounds, leaping ahead. Seamless is the imagination and this is the place where imagination has touched the divine. This divinity of human form is what I believe is tantra.

No wonder it is an obeisance to the Sun God. The life creator. Early morning, I was at the altar with the first ray of the sun kissing the stone sanctorum. When I stood there at the top, bowing to the might and tender love of creation, I was marvelling at my birth as a human being. This is worship for me. Worshipping the world and the “beyond”.

Do you think after this orgasmic shake up, I would continue to be the same human, frittering away days, months, years, not prostrating to the Supreme all around us: the trees, the birds, the sky, the waves? Why do I disable my life years deliberately and still be foolish to assume that I am smart? Konark humbles you. It is elixir; it is the pinnacle of dexterity, unfettered and the ultimate evidence of pragmatism. It told me that nothing is impossible. Possibility is what is has demonstrated. Yet I while away my time, drowned in mediocrity. Konark is the colossus of timeless brilliance. Times change, life is change. Konark is the watcher. It is the tantric.

Heraclitus had said: You cannot step in the same river twice. Life, the river, is constantly moving. We know this but treat ourselves as the moss-smudged stagnant rocks. Twelve hundred years ago lived Mevlana Rumi, the eclectic, great Sufi mystic poet. His words are essentially sources of deep silences, echoes of inner and the innermost songs. He was not life-negative, but life-affirmative. And the meditation that he has found has been based on the whirling dance, which has continued for seven hundred years among mystics. His followers are called whirling Sufis or dervishes. When he whirled himself, he realised that if you go on whirling, there comes a moment when the centre of your being remains static and your whole body, mind, brain, everything, whirls. And that centre, which does not whirl, is you, the centre of the cyclone. The whirling is almost like a cyclone, but exactly in the middle of the cyclone/the eye, you will find a point, which has not moved at all. Every wheel needs a centre on which to turn, and the centre has to remain fixed. He tried whirling for 36 hours non-stop and then discovered enlightenment like an electric current. Absolutely dazzling, quivering. This centre of cyclone is what I felt at Konark. The centre having seen, experienced, watched many a storm. And has not lost the sheen, the glory, the self-respect.

This is our heritage: rare in humanity, ahead of its time, resplendent in glory, eclectic, transforming and dynamic.

Why be suicidal?

 

[The writer is a columnist based in Delhi]

[Disclaimer: The views expressed by the author are his own and do not necessarily represent that of the website]

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