The Siddhini of Khajuraho

By Andrew D'Ambrosi

Ancient manuscripts hidden in a temple.

 

An amazing young woman in modern India.

 

A discovery that will change what we thought we knew about meditation forever.

 

A group of seers in ancient India gathers to

• Language: English
• Publisher: Garden of Joy Publishing LLC
• Release date: May 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781735280479

Book preview

Finding Nagarjuna

They retreated into the shade of a huge banyan tree. The massive being had completely engulfed a small shrine containing only a Bhairavi Yantra carved into the sandstone floor and ornamented with hundreds of precious stones. It was not long before their subtle senses found Nagarjuna’s fragrance vaguely quivering at the western borders, where a thick and luscious forest protected the temple town with primordial strength. Although the master’s vibration was strong and distinct, its fluidity made it impossible to confine it to a determinate pattern. Sometimes, it seemed to Siddhini and Vasubandhu that the whole forest was permeated with Nagarjuna’s consciousness. Sometimes, a lone peacock’s piercing cry carried the force of the master’s being.

They moved slowly through the dense brush, moist earth cooling their calloused feet. With no distinguishable path, they attuned themselves to Nagarjuna’s energy-field, needing no outer signs to find their way.

At one point, the energy they felt was so pristine that they stopped. For them, even more than the magical sculptures and architecture of the great temple city, this single being’s luminosity was as beautiful as the snowy peaks of Mount Kailash during the full moon in May.

He has transcended everything, said Vasubandhu.

"Yes, everything, and yet he is here. Without any effort, without applying force, in a body. Remarkable," said Siddhini.

As they entered a long, oval clearing, a simple song arose in the forest. The raucous voice of a man was accompanied by the melodious singing of a girl. A reed hut stood at the clearing’s center. A thin man with a sparse gray beard and a narrow chest stood next to the hut. Like a laborer, he wore a plain loincloth. A small girl fanned him with a huge banana leaf almost as tall as she was. From the interior of hut, some noises emerged, but their source was hidden in shadows.

They knew they had found Nagarjuna. The radiance of his ancient soul filled the Wanderers with joy. If he is here, we are not needed, thought Siddhini. Nagarjuna stopped his song. A middle-aged woman came from the hut. Curiously, her hair was gray on the left, dark as her eyes, on the right. She wore a red sari, and a band of the same color held her hair in place.

Behind her, Ashtavakra crawled to the threshold of the hut. Come, said the women, we have been waiting for you. My son told me you’d find us. Share our simple meal and the water from the brook.

Nagarjuna lowered himself, then sat on the ground. Folding his hands into namaste, he greeted the guests. You come from afar, he said, both to bring wisdom and to carry it to a place of great need.

The woman in the red sari sat next to Nagarjuna. When she had arranged her legs into a full lotus, she took a piece of her sari, unwrapped it, and passed the end to Nagarjuna, who placed it around his waist. Now, they were connected through the fabric of the sari. Ashtavakra and the girl flanked them, sitting at ease, waiting.

Wanderers, said the woman. As she spoke, the contours of her body began to flicker, as did the surrounding air. Slowly, the gentle flicker spread to Nagarjuna, and gradually their bodies lost their distinction. The two sat as one, as one in two.

Siddhini knew the open display of their ability to merge was a sign of their trust. It was an invitation and recognition. In response, Vasubandhu and Siddhini brightened the matrix around which they had assembled the physical elements of their earth-bodies. And to the four observers, luminescent and fluctuating geometric shapes and forms appeared where just moments ago two human bodies had been. Through their intention, the two Wanderers shaped their matrixes into mandalas and auspicious symbols.

Then, almost as precisely as the reflection in a mirror of pure gold, Nagarjuna and his companion recreated the patterns that Siddhini and Vasubandhu displayed. Each shifting geometrical form that arose in their subtle bodies reflected a precise state of understanding and consciousness. There was no separation between the energetic forming and the consciousness from which it emerged.

But then a strange phenomenon occurred. While Nagarjuna and his companion mirrored the Wanderers, Ashtavakra began to pulse in and out of physical appearance. For moments, he simply vanished, and then sat there as before.

Don’t go too far, you might not find your way back, said Siddhini, observing the boy while her own subtle bodies assumed various shapes and colors.

He always returns, said the woman. From before birth, he always turned to the unmanifest, and then he reappears again.

Why do you return? asked Vasubandhu. You have no need to be embodied. A consciousness such as yours that pulsates within the invisible is difficult to hold in a physical form. Your body has been broken by the force of your awareness.

Ashtavakra reset himself into the body, his crooked legs with their painfully swollen joints stretching in front of him at impossible angles. He smiled at Vasubandhu, then said, "I am experimenting. I have surrendered the power of directing the manifestations of my soul, because I want to experience the flow at its core, its original impulse, from which all other motions arise. I let it guide me wherever it wants, and I do not