Naturally, such a sadhu has an entirely different everyday existence from, say, that of a reporter from Santa Lemusa. The «good man» probably has lived in a Shiva temple for years, lived on alms, smoked hashish and meditated for hours every day – and hoped for liberation from the endless cycle of existence. Definitely, the «Baba» has left all his family and friends, renounced all worldly possessions and taken the vow of chastity. He wears the colours of his god on his body and his face and, probably, heaves no heavy trident across the world.
That’s a life that we cannot imagine leading – the trident alone would be embarrassing enough for us. But what is a sadhu’s dream? Can he control it? Must he control it? Does he wish to control it? What happens when a silky finger glides very gently over the contours of his belly – accompanied by the soft, seductive tinkle of golden armlets? Can the «holy man» accept the warm sensations, passions, which he must surely feel now and again during his dream? Does he find waking up an unwanted solution? Or, must he punish himself? Does he beat down his desire? Does he hit his undisciplined organ with a stone? Does he use a leather belt to press the blood out of his desire or the desire out of his blood – and damn himself because his specimen does not have the required length to be tied into a knot?
We know nothing about the everyday life of a sadhu – and even less about his dreams. Yet, we have this peculiar feeling that we are a step closer to the holy man in sleep than we are in the waking state.
First Publication: 5-6-2013