reflections on the dynamics of learning from another on the internal journey

today i discussed with a friend and fellow spiritual practitioner about our experiences with learning from people and receiving guidance on the internal journey. they shared with me about their moments of disagreement with their teacher, and about how such moments often end in comedic relief or deepened openness.

incidentally, i have recently experienced such a moment myself, in which i felt frustrated with the person i am learning from, and my first impulse was to suppress my frustration – which is the modus operandi i have internalised from past experiences, having come to associate disagreement or conflict with one you are learning from with lack of surrender or respect, with something being wrong with me as a ‘student’ – as myself. (*note: i don’t resonate with using ‘teacher’ – ‘student’ labels anymore, but for simplification sake).

i was set to suppress myself this time as well, only a pestering thought or feeling lingered and pulled at me.

the thought was: “i can’t do this to myself again”.

so i reached out, asked if i could share, expressed all of it as it came, as irrational and messy as it was – and breathed in relief. when the response came, it was most welcoming and kind. and i thought to myself, oh.

it can be like this. easeful. it can be like this; a non-judgmental container in which a full capacity for self-expression is allowed, in my niceness and in my ugliness, in which there is no fear of being wrong or of making an offence.

i sat with this for many hours later, for the first time in years seeing how heavy the burden of having curbed my self-expression had been – in and out of ‘spirituality’ (which, yes, encompasses all, but again for simplification sake).

followingly, questions that came to mind on this dynamic were:

can you ever truly be vulnerable and open with someone if you are continuously worried about offending or disrespecting them? and, can you ever be truly vulnerable and open with yourself if you are continuously worried about offending or disrespecting someone else – even if you consider that person your teacher? (extrapolating this, i believe this applies to our relationship with God as well – how can we connect if we live in self-imposed fears of God?)

although i do think that there is no right or wrong ‘teacher’ (and, extending this to the playground of life, person, friend, whichever the role etc), or right or wrong place to be in, i personally have decided that i want to learn from someone i can speak freely to, and be freely with. if i spend more time being on edge than expanding, i’m out. 

Whisky as Sacrament: Cleansing the Doors of Perception | The WhiskyBaba Experience

Introduction: The Way of Sacraments

“If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro’ narrow chinks of his cavern.”

William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (1970).

From psilocybin, ayahuasca and cannabis to wine and spirits, the practice of utilising intoxicants as sacraments for internal, embodied, or transcendental expansion is a well-established one in numerous spiritual traditions (see Terence Mckenna, The Food of the Gods, 1992).

Single malt scotch is such a sacrament, which, when consumed with proper, ritualised awareness, can become a tool to enter what William Blake and Aldous Huxley called ‘the doors of perception’: a broadening of one’s understanding and processing of the immediate reality.
Known as ‘the water of life’, the medicinal properties of whisky, such as its anti-inflammatory attributes, its potential to reduce blood fat and lower the risk of heart-disease (and many more!) are well-known to whisky-lovers. However, research into whisky’s potential is nowhere near complete, and pioneers continue to make groundbreaking discoveries that continuously innovate our understanding of whisky’s promise.

The WhiskyBaba Approach
Such pioneering research is being put forward by Dr. Sumit Kesarkar through Whiskybaba.in.

Whiskybaba.in’s research centres on unlocking neuro-hormonal intelligence in our systems through the consumption of certain single malt scotch whiskies, on the foundations of the āyurvedic algorithms of rasā.

This method, developed by Dr. Sumit Kesarkar, targets kaśāya rasā, or the astringent complex, which impacts the body’s macro and micro levels to process, digest, excrete mental and physical wastes, and keep one’s system open to profound sensory experience.
Whisky is consumed with a special breath / practice that was developed with the purpose of maximising and accessing the substance’s neural potential. The breath is known as the Sfaim breath, which is demonstrated on the WB channel.With this breath, one can activate parts of the brain which are generally difficult to access in the daily unfolding of life, which results in a heightened expansion of the senses, as well as in the opening of the potential to rewire and dive deeper into the mind.

Whisky is consumed in a larger context in which a proper lifestyle is cultivated (meaning, a discipline structured on āyurvedic principles, such as eating and sleeping at set times and avoiding inflammatory foods, which results in a regulated body and system that can absorb the substance at maximum potential), as well as with the mindset of viewing whisky as a sacrament.

The mindset of viewing whisky as a sacrament can mean many things: from drinking with the awareness that one is consuming a substance that has the potential to unlock their brain patterns (as opposed to drinking with casualness for entertainment purposes) to ensuring a perfect ambiance (for instance, on the WB retreat the ambiance was created within a Scottish heritage manor that echoed with silence and an air of mystery; but the ambiance need not to be so imposing in terms of daily use, as in, one can ensure it — or I do — by choosing to consume whisky on their own, in quietude, with single-pointedness; not while watching TV or doing other things, but with maximum attention accorded to the process).

Lastly, the whisky that is consumed must fit an astringency profile, which indicatively needs to fulfil the following criteria: 50%+ alcohol vol., cask strength, matured in casks such as European oak, and it is best consumed approximatively two hours after dinner, which in line with the lifestyle principles priorly mentioned would be around 8pm.

Experiencing Whisky

I started drinking whisky every evening since July 2022, following a(n unfortunately brief) taste of the WhiskyBaba experience in Edinburgh. I drank a dram by myself, sat with myself, and experienced myself in the expansion of that. I sometimes rested in quietude, enjoying the heightened sensations, the sharpening of the intellect and the internal pulsations that resulted from the absorption of the sacrament. I sometimes danced, gazing at myself in my mirror and feeling the joy of connection to the movement of my body. I sometimes cried and I sometimes smiled. I sometimes called friends and poured my heart.

The evening ritualisation of whisky led to profound shifts in perspective on three planes.

First, a spur in creativity. At that time, in terms of creative writing, I had been exclusively writing poetry for approximatively six to seven years. I identified (or limited myself as) a poet, and had not felt any inkling toward creating prose in the given time-period. However, to my great surprise, in the quietude of the early evening, my mind began to weave stories and characters together, and I started writing prose fiction. Whatever blockage I had toward this genre (which, looking back, if I were to linearly pinpoint, came from undigested experiences with the world and writers of prose as a teenager) loosened, and I wrote flowingly; unashamedly. The topics varied and trickled out of my brain in waves.

Oftentimes, when I write, I cannot help but write with an audience in my mind, which can corrupt the process by diluting it and moulding it to the preferences or validation of a specific imagined target-group; the concept of an audience disappeared in those evenings, and I wrote as if in a vacuum. I wrote things which would have made me cringe (and sometimes did!) in the early morning, but I did not care. They were in me and were welcomed because they existed in that space-time quantum. It was cathartic.

Second, I arrived at a sudden insight of seeing that I had been holding onto shame around my sexuality, and was both repressing myself and feeling unfulfilled, as well as isolated in my life. Painful experiences as well as buried desires came to the surface, and there was no other way to proceed but to welcome them. This led to taking action in my life: after a very long break, I began dating again, as well as started reconnecting with friends and rebuilding my social life.

Third, a glimpse into what Carl Jung would name the ‘shadow-self’ dawned upon me. The shadow-self is represented by aspects of ourselves we deem as ‘dark’ and hide from our conscious mind out of fear of seeing ourselves. I realised that I was seeing myself as split into two: the light me, composed of parts of me that could be deemed as socially acceptable, such as occasional generosity and occasional kindness, and the dark me, the parts of me that could lead to social rejection, the one that held jealousy, and pettiness, and ‘dark’ desires that made me ashamed of myself.

Jung decrees that, in order for an individual to achieve psychic wholeness, one must undergo individuation, which is a psychological process that merges the unconscious (the darkness we push into the depths of our subconscious) and the conscious (what we deem as light). The shadow-self is welcomed and co-exists with the light-self until the awareness of neither having been separate from the other all along springs. (see: Carl Jung, The Archetypes and Collective Unconscious, 1959).

On these evenings, I began to welcome my darkness back to myself, but, in full honesty, only tiny fragments of myself have been fully merged with what I perceive to be my light. Shame and self-rejection are still deeply rooted, but it is okay. The process is not a quick one, and I am learning to remain curious of its unfolding, instead of to rush into wanting a fast fix. Ultimately, there is nothing to fix either way.

A Pause

In September 2022, I paused my whisky experimentation for thirty days. The reasoning behind this period of abstinence was to observe the changes that would occur in the absence of whisky, and to thus gauge the actual impact whisky had on my system and every-day life.

In this period, I noticed a lessened ability to digest thoughts and emotions, a slight increase in mental agitation, and as the thirty days came to end, I also began to miss the evening ritual. It wasn’t the whisky as a substance that I missed, the taste or its sensorial effect, but the opportunity to connect to myself on a deeper level, and to ground myself in myself.

After thirty days, I resumed the ritualised practice with greater attention and respect to its effects and benefits on my system.

The WhiskyBaba Retreat

The WhiskyBaba retreat, a four-day immersion into the exploration of whisky as a sacrament, deepened my connection with whisky from an experiential standpoint. It included numerous tastings of whiskies that matched the WB astringent profile, exquisite culinary experiences, the learning of new breath modulations to utilise in drinking whisky, and experiential arts-performance based on the algorithms of the Nātyaśāstra, a Sanskrit treatise on the performing arts (upcoming article on this): so, overall, it was an all-sensorial experience.

The WB motto is: “It is not about whisky, it is through whisky”.

This precept encapsulates the retreat experience most faithfully. After touching on the basics of whisky on the first day, we minimally discussed whisky as an entity; our discussions centred on the internal experience facilitated by this perfected tool, and, most significantly, the discussions paled before the experience itself. It is difficult to place the WB experience into words, or to say, ‘this changed, and this shifted’. Inside, the landscape seems different, though I am unsure how.

I am tempted to believe that the experience was an under-the-hood absorption, which might become apparent or not in the future. I am tempted to say that the doors of perception creaked open a little, if it is not arrogant of me to do claim so. More knocking at the door is surely needed. I am unsure if it is even worth trying to use words to describe any glimpses of the hallway drawn after these doors open. As Huxley writes after he opened his own doors:

“Sensations, feelings, insights, fancies — all these are private and, except through symbols and at second hand, incommunicable. We can pool information about experiences, but never the experiences themselves.”

I will try, however, to place into words one particular experience. Seated by the fireplace by myself after all went to sleep, I enjoyed a dram with my eyes transfixed on the flames, inhaling the smoke that seeped into the peaty scent of the opened bottle of whisky. The house was quiet, the night was dark. I enjoyed the sensation of ‘me’, and felt myself establishing more deeply into the understanding that I am the path, and the path is from me to me. Followingly, it was fascinating to observe the dynamic of participating in group sessions and imbibing the same sacrament, as well as learning from someone, while having this understanding held into my awareness, sometimes firm, sometimes less.

Perhaps an important reminder is that the entity is the tool and not the path. We are always the path.

On technical terms, I believe the retreat refined my palette into being able to catch, assess the difference between whiskies which match the profile of astringency and those who don’t. Interestingly, most whiskies available on the market are exceedingly sweet and don’t match this profile, as they are matured in, for instance, sherry casks.

Whisky and Overindulgence

Is overindulgence possible with this approach? Everything is possible at any given moment, but I would argue that, if the WB approach is followed to a T, overindulgence is a very unlikely possibility. This is because, if a proper lifestyle is followed and the Sfaim breath is utilised with awareness and the mindset of sacrament is cultivated, there is no use to drink in excess, and less of a chance to drink casually; I would even argue that the wish to drink in excess is likely to not arise, and as you proceed, you will intuitively know how much to drink, as you fall into alignment with your body-mind. For instance, throughout my experimentations, I began to know in the mornings if I drank too much — I could feel a sense of indigestion in my stomach, or my mind would feel heavy. Similarly, I also began to notice when the whisky was not an appropriate one for me, or in alignment with the WB guidelines for whisky (which also become individualised as one deepens their explorations with it).

Whisky and Escapism

Generally, we associate alcohol with escapism. I would maintain, however, that the WB approach of drinking whisky allows for no such thing. For instance, one particular evening I was feeling discomfort, shame before picking up the glass. A part of me would have very much preferred if the whisky would have wiped both the feeling away, as well as the experience that my mind kept rewinding. However, drinking heightened the feeling of embarrassment, and I was forced to bite through it until it was fully welcomed inside of me and it dissolved on its own accord. Sidenote, this does not mean that any given time the uncomfortable feeling will dissolve on its own when connecting with yourself through whisky. I mean, sure, as the theory goes, every feeling will ultimately dissolve because everything is transient and nothing is permanent, but the expectation of the discomfort to dissolve is an ineffective one, as it might simply not achieve fruition in that particular instance.

Stay tuned for part II. Here’s to cleansing the doors of perception!

Finally, many thanks to WhiskyBaba for providing this platform and this method to us. I am sure so many will benefit from it. ❤

To learn more about WhiskyBaba, follow these links:

Website: https://whiskybaba.in/

Book: https://tr.ee/oQpzj7iXIj

YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GbMmVPRIqAo&t=25s

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/whiskybaba.in

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/whiskybaba.in/

WB Foundational Series: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/whiskybaba-accessing-neurohormonal-intelligence-through-single-malt-tickets-656200412097

fluorescent tears on the train

crying fluorescent tears on the train,

𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸?,

i say to you. my eyes are soft but i house venom underneath my teeth. i cloak my vulnerability in spite, daring you to be cruel to me so i can finally bite. you can tell.

𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨,

you finally say.

i gauge your kindness with suspicion.

when i detect no snide, i soften my tongue.

yes

but

𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥,

𝘪 𝘥𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

there’s this song that lorde wrote after david bowie died

she sings about spilling our guts out on graceless nights because we are young and so ashamed,

frying our brains to the speakers

as we watch our heroes die

like lorde, all my heroes perished.

the party’s cut into my bones,

and the magic bullet’s wearing off.

dancing her feet on tombs,

lorde concludes

that she can’t stand to be alone.

watching my heroes fade,

i also thought

that i couldn’t stand to be alone.

yet i’m crying fluorescent tears on the train

and i feel my youth burning strong,

flaming my throat with anger and song.

my youth,

it still burns strong.

and i know.

my heroes ashed,

but i can stand

to be alone.

you open your mouth to respond

but i shake my head. i already know. it doesn’t need

to be spoken to me,

not anymore.

you smile and vanish in the scenery.

i’m crying fluorescent tears

on the train

and i can stand to be alone.

🦋 poem from my upcoming poetry collection which tackles the blooming into young adulthood. 💙

what is the real Tantra?


at the beginning of my internal journey, i was desperate to find “the real thing”. my thought process was the following: the legacy of colonialism fuelled appropriation in the multicultural spiritual landscape and stripped traditions such as Yoga & Tantra off their complex nuances, which in turn became oversimplified replications of the streams in question, with Tantra bearing the brunt of postcolonial fetishisation and extreme oversexualisation. i was fascinated by the profound non-dual philosophy of Tantra, but i was worried that if i dived into it, i wouldn’t find “the real thing” in terms of practices, teacher and community. and so i read the books, the papers, the testimonies, and made myself lists with boxes to tick off. a list looked like: a well-defined lineage of practices and gurus, classical elements such as rituals, a grounding in an academic background etc… i ensured myself that if the boxes were ticked, i would find the “real thing”. the real Tantra. i would be set. i would find certainty.


yet i’m finding that the only certainty in life is uncertainty. ticking all the boxes i myself have created (in all areas of my life, this does not just apply to spirituality) ensures only the illusion of security. i can never be sure what the real stuff is, and ultimately the only “real thing” i can ever know is my experience. myself.


etymologically, tan-tra (तन्त्र) translates as “expansion-device”. where i’m at in my process is that i’ve stopped asking myself what the “real thing” is outside of me. the real thing is my experience. i don’t need to make sure if the place and the people i choose to be with are the “real thing” as long as i am expanding within. to be completely honest, i don’t care anymore. i am “here”. and i’m having an experience. and if the platform changes and the people go, i am still “here”, within myself, in my experience.


similarly, if i do not expand, i don’t need to stay where i think “the real thing” is just because i have convinced myself or logically reasoned through deductions that it was * it * – or was told was it.


so is there a real Tantra? a fake Tantra? perhaps. perhaps not. i don’t know. perhaps that’s the wrong question to ask. perhaps there is no answer – or if it is, it won’t come through logic or ticking appearance boxes.


perhaps when experience prevails, there is no need to ask this question or to differentiate between what could be real or what could be fake.


one certain thing is, i know i’m tired of doing anything else but be in my own experience.
and… you’ll know if you are expanding.

you said you loved me accusatorily | poem | songs of youth

you said you loved me accusatorily

with a glimmer in your eyes.

your hands entwined with mine

like ivy,

swiftly travelled to my shoulders

and strangled my neck

with care.

your tender messages were

sweet like thyme

and your love

smothered me.

i was ashamed

that i could not mirror your affection,

but God knows i tried.

on our last night together

you listened to music

while i cried on the floor.

as you slept,

i curled to the edge of your bed.

lips pressed to my knees,

i saw through my attachment to you,

and left wordlessly.

i know i did you wrong, too,

i’m sorry.

but love does not cage.

slighting bhakti poetry, the poems belonging to the “of jumbled warmth” section of ~ songs of youth ~ are poems i wrote which would most closely resemble what would be known as poems of love. sharing the ending stanzas of “you said you loved me accusatorily” from verona, the city of love!

*when i mused something similar, my very wise friend @flagrantambiguity noted that all poetry is love poetry in essence, only not in the customary way we think about love – which i *love*-d 🫀😁 because, indeed, to write a poem about something implies devotion to it – be it devotion to anger, grief or hatred. (my take!)

Entering the Doors of Perception: Reflections on Fear and Independence on the Path to Yourself

In the recent months, I have been deeply reflecting on independence and personal power, and the reflections that I am sharing in this article are emergent from interactions with friends, from browsing social media trends, as well as from contemplations on my own journey.

What I’ve become familiar with, within and without, is recognising fear: the fear to stand on one’s own, in full autonomy and independence, which, I find, stems from deeper, more rooted fears of our own incompetence; fears of something just not being quite right with us.

I have observed, within and without, how, controlled by fears, we shy away from paving our path by ourselves, and fall into wanting it to be paved for us by an external agent. Insecurity leads us to wanting to be told how to think; how to act; how to be treated; what to aspire for. We desperately want to feel okay within ourselves, so we seek comfort and security in dependence — be it on a person or on a thought process. We conceal our gifts, infantilize ourselves and make ourselves small in exchange for what we think is love.

And, in a desperate quest to, very simply put, not feel awful about ourselves, we seek help: in the work of great thinkers, philosophers, spiritual leaders and mental health coaches. However, what I’m noticing is that, in such fear-based seeking, we don’t even trust ourselves to absorb these thought processes on our own. We rely on others to interpret them, and, in this, we remain even more stuck; dependent on someone, or something, for information, knowledge, comfort; dependent on someone to offer us an experience.

In a paradigm of co-dependency and fear, self-help and coaching businesses, as well as pop-psychology thrive. I want to underline that I find nothing wrong with either, and consider them to be essential in the great design, as well as helpful on an individual to individual basis. However, in my view, there is a worrisome element to the structure of these businesses as they prevail on social media, and it is this very element that enables much of our mental dependence: which is that, in an effort to appeal to the masses (which, again, is a logical and natural goal to have in the context of sustaining business), pop psychologists, health coaches distil the knowledge of great thinkers in consumable bites: rephrasing, extracting, simplifying, sometimes even appropriating without reference. So much is lost in this; we end up engaging with pruned versions of philosophies and pruned truths which only give a taste of the encompassing worldview we want to grasp and embody; we don’t enter that door of perception, we only hang at the frame. Our fears and mistrust in ourselves, combined with a modern short attention span and desire for quick fixes, provide the perfect context for us to fall before the illusion of knowledge, and not before the knowledge itself, as well as facilitate our dependency on surface-level content for relief, comfort, and insight. We remain alienated from ourselves and cling to external sources (coaches, teachers) in the absence of connection to ourselves and to direct sources of knowledge (which, ultimately, I am learning are our internalisations of our own experience). We end up extolling people and not knowledge, and, in impaired autonomy, remain perpetually unsatisfied, powerless, and stuck in one-dimensional echo-chambers, believing truth is held or experienced outside of ourselves, and can be offered to us by an external force; instead of attained within through our own power — yes, supported, and, yes, with guidance, but not as a passive, powerless actor, but as an active, free agent.

What I personally want to tackle within is dependence, and not trusting myself to pave my own path. After years of remaining stuck in personal mistrust, perpetual insecurity and in the fear of losing myself to myself, what I am coming to see is that it is only by having my own experience of the teachings that I want to follow that I can both understand them and break from my patterns of churn; so, for instance, if I resonate with Marcus Aurelius decreeing ‘no one can keep you from living as your nature requires’ (6.58), what I want to do is, after satisfying my intellectual curiosity by reading and inquiring into this precept, is to followingly FEEL, experience and embody what my nature is;to FEEL what it is to live as is; understand how I cannot be kept from living it; then decide if it’s a precept that I want to live by based on whether it brings most growth to me at this particular point in time. And, revisit, recheck if this remains valid as I move through life — as Aurelius says himself, your nature is of continuous change. Contrarily, what I have done until now is to read and either stop there by assimilating others’ takes without forming my own, or by relying on the experience of an external source / individual to teach me what it is for them to live as nature requires, and build my worldview, mould myself on that. Both approaches have left me powerless, insecure, and ultimately in pain.

I am learning that no intermediary is needed between me and knowledge — between me and understanding myself.

Of course, this does not mean that teachers, mentors, friends and guides are not needed; for me, this understanding, however, implies self-reliance and steadiness in my own knowledge and experience. Why is this important? Because, when these arrive, you will choose to stay at, or to leave a place you are learning in, or to stay with or leave a person you learn from, from a fearless place of autonomy, in which your discernment is not clouded by the fear of being alone. By the fear of being wrong.

I am learning that it is in the absence of fear, hierarchy, and personal gain that knowledge flows most abundantly, a place in which individuals can join each other in complete freedom of being, in mutual respect and openness, with the purpose to enrich each other’s understanding of their own self. A place where you enter and walk away as a captain of your own soul, steering the ship toward yourself.

Concluding this article by reminding myself that it is not enough to peer through the doors of perception, expression so beautifully coined by Aldous Huxley; we must enter.

de paris avec l’amour

#1: dreamlike to experience l’atelier des lumières! they are showcasing three exhibitions at the moment: Marc Chagall’s “paris-new york”; Paul Klee’s “peindre la musique”; “convergence: sounds and colours” by cityshake.

🌌 Chagall’s wondrous, russian folklore-inspired paintings are displayed on tunes of mostly classical music. the explosion of melded sound-vision coaxed tears, thrill and joy out of me, and it was fascinating to observe how the music manipulated my emotions – and yes, i chose this word very pointedly! by ‘manipulation’ i mean that my processing of the imagery, in the split-second that rested between the display of the paintings and the advent of the music, was often overturned by the music; an image of a woman with braided hair that i first registered as serene rendered me tearful when wrenching music sank in.

🎇 in the second exhibition, which stemmed from the premise of painting the music, the dynamic was overturned; it was the paintings that conferred meaning to the music!

🎆 as for the third exhibition, it was an exploration of synaesthesia (once upon a time, i wrote an article on this!) which invites you to listen to the colours! 🤍 fills one to the core.

the interplay of the senses 😍 would highly recommend a visit here to anyone who finds themselves in paris or in a city where branches of the atelier exist! 🌌

#2: i haven’t visited paris in many years & i’ve been remarking how fresh everything feels, as if i’m here for the very first time! then again, i was thinking to myself that even though the obvious cause-effect correlation would be having not been here in long, still, every place & experience could be fresh & new if i don’t fall in my modus operandi complacency of having been there before, having already seen etc!

there was a beautiful share i saw on here a few weeks ago, about a professor telling his students that even going to the supermarket, if experienced fully “without the goggles of habit and categories”, would make one “go crazy with pure sense and joy”. credit for this: alice in honeyland 🤍

iele and strigoi magic

this summer, i had the opportunity to present my beautiful homecountry to two dear friends of mine, and, in this process, to myself experience romania with freshness and openness, and rediscover its magic.

romanian folklore is so incredibly rich, and it has been so profound to experience the stories of mystery and magic that i grew up with in the heart of Transylvania this summer. ielele are my favourite mythical beings from our folklore and i’ve been mesmerised by them since childhood; they are female mythical creatures who dance in forests naked, disheveled, with bells on their ankles, and carrying candles. their dance maddens those who encounter them and the earth on which they dance becomes scorched by the heat dripping from their feet. in the dead of the night, remnants of the tingle of their tunes resound in the forests – heard by those who brave their hearts to listen… 😊

i had a strained connection with my homecountry for a long time, having remained blind to much of its beauty out of my own contractions and feelings of inadequacy emergent from absorbing limited beliefs about my nationality that are sometimes propagated in western europe. however, in the past years i’ve been falling more & more in love: i’ve been falling in love with how alive bucharest comes at night, with how delicious it is to walk with my friends on the streets we used to stumble on our wild escapades in high school, with how melodious our language & music are, with treading the journey from universitate to my place to clear my mind & connect to myself, with how hearty our traditional food is, how mystical and complex the folklore is, how vast and abundant the mountains and forests are – with how there was never a moment in which i was in need in which i did not encounter kindness.

so healing, to let go & see how beautiful it all was, all along.

mândră că-s româncă! ✌️

p.s. how cool was our accommodation in predeal? they’re called the palo cabins and the hosts are truly lovely people. would highly recommend!

the grief of women: reflections on Strī Parva

spent today absorbed in the père lachaise cemetery, and one of the things i was struck most by was seeing the many sculptures of female figures towering over tombs: almost all tearful or in distress. it made me think of Strī Parva, “The Book of Women” from the Mahābhārata, which exclusively focuses on portraying women’s grief and tears, who break upon seeing their men & sons slaughtered on the battlefield in the aftermath of the war. one of the distressed female characters, queen Gāndhārī, lashes out at Kṛṣṇa and accuses him of murder, declaring that he could have stopped the war as he is both omniscient & ever-powerful.

Kṛṣṇa rejects her blame and retorts that he cannot override the cosmic laws. he himself is subjected to them; the massacre was ordained, no one is exempt from death, and the cycle of life is definitive.

my understanding of this exchange is: he is not telling her that she should not grieve or that her grief is “wrong”; he merely offers her the opportunity to place it in a larger context and to use her distress to understand deeper herself as well as the web of nature / existence / cosmology. there is no one to blame or resent or victimise; life unfolds as is. and,

even what we understand as ‘negative’ feelings therefore can be utilised as a stimulus for self-reflection. i myself have spent a lot of time simmering in grief without considering what it could teach me, so this particular scene is very profound for me.

and, how beautiful is Kṛṣṇa’s revelation that he himself is subjected to the cosmic laws once incarnated! will elaborate on this in a future article or post 😊

*my retelling of this dialogue is not based exclusively on the critical edition but also on its variations, as this is one of the instances in which i find referring to multi-versions valuable.

photos: some of my favourite sculptures seen in the cemetery!