A binary insinuates a structural pattern where normative (male) identity is established through the exclusion of what is not normative, that is, through the exclusion of female as a category. This entails definitionally a devaluation of the non-normative “other”; this devaluation is what founds the possibility of a valued normative identity. In other words, implicit in the structure of a binary is the notion that the two categories are opposed, and one of the two usually predominates. Further, implicitly the dominant category defines itself by what it is not, by what it excludes. This is one of the lessons Hegel so profusely iterated—that a binary implicitly incorporates an agonistic relationship. A multiplicity, on the other hand, diffuses the intensity of opposition (unless all the “others” are grouped again together, just as we see that the classical Hindu tradition affiliates women and dras together). It may be that the stipulation of women as one class among a multiplicity (i.e., they are comparable to Brahmins, but not identified with them) contributes to their greater valuation as a class of persons in these texts.
THE KEY: WOMEN ARE GODS
The Kl Practice centers around women, both the worship of women and worship with women. Thus, the GT tells us:
Together with a woman, there [he should] reflect [on the mantra or practice]; the two of them together in this way [they do] worship. Without a woman, the practitioner cannot perfect [the mantra] at all. He should mentally evoke [the mantra] together with a woman and together with her, he should offer into the sacrificial fire as well. Without her the practitioner cannot perfect [the mantra] at all. Women are gods; women are the life-breath. (GT 35.54-GT 35.56)
The GST asserts, “Together with the woman, one should recite the mantra. One should not recite the mantra alone” (5.11). That the practitioner performs the practice with women—and here it appears women are doing the same things as men, contemplating the deity, saying the mantra, and making offerings into the fire—means that women play an indispensable role in the practice.
Further, we should also note that the attitude of reverence toward women is inculcated outside the rite of sexual union as well and also toward all women, even women with whom one has no relations:
Having bowed down to a little girl, to an intoxicated young woman, or to an old woman, to a beautiful woman of the clan (kula), or to a contemptible, vile woman, or to a greatly wicked woman, one should contemplate the fact that these [women] do not appreciate being criticized or hit; they do not appreciate dishonesty or that which is disagreeable. Consequently, in every way possible one should not behave this way towards them.15
In this way the BT establishes a respectful attitude toward women, and in this context not just toward desirable woman with whom the male aspirant might perform the rite of sexual union, but toward all women, including a woman who is “kutsit,” vile and contemptible, and whom one does not worship or engage in the rite of sexual union with. At this point the BT iterates, “Women are gods, women are the life-breath” (6.75).
Now when does this contemplation happen? This bowing and this contemplation is what one does on a morning walk (BT 6.69–6.72, NST 11.116–11.122).16 The practitioner gets up in the morning and bows to the special tree of the clan. This particular bowing does not involve a mental visualization as does the next thing he does in the morning, which is to visualize the guru. Hence, if we reconstruct his morning, he walks outside to the “clan tree” and then visualizes the guru and contemplates his main personal mantra. He then bows to the women in the quote given earlier and then reflects upon the fact that these women do not appreciate being lied to or hit, as we saw earlier. This part of the Kl Practice is also not connected with the performance of the rite of sexual union but is rather part of habitual morning contemplation.
The worship gets extended further, even to the females of other species, of birds and animals: “The females of beasts of birds and of humans—these being worshipped, one’s ineffective, incomplete deeds always become full of merit.”17 Such a move encodes and highlights females as a separate class. It also makes it clear that the rite of worship does not necessarily entail the rite of sexual union.
One more point of interest, as the MT notes, is that the rite of sexual union that the Kl Practice prescribes is different from the infamous cakra pj, the rite probably best known in the West as the “depraved” tantric “orgy,” where a group of men and women perform a ritual that includes feasting and sexual rites. The MT first describes the rite of sexual union connected with the Kl Practice. After the author finishes this description, the author of MT continues on to say, “Now, I am going to tell you a different practice. Pay close attention. One should worship a woman who is the wife of another (paraky) in the circle (cakra), and after this, [he should worship] his own beloved deity” (11.17). The “cakra” or circle worship involves the wife of someone else chosen among the partners in the circle. This “circle” rite, which was simultaneously sensationalized and presented as a scandal, informed much of what was imagined in the West about tantra (Dubois, 1906: 286; Bharati, 1975). For our purposes here, the scandal attached to the cakra pj is not important, but rather that the spatial organization of these two rites differ fundamentally and as a result, the rhetorical effects of the rites, the “messages” they give, also differ.
In the cakra pj, participants are arranged in a circle, and a centrally located altar instantiates the goddess. The goddess is invoked for the rite, usually into a pot of water, which is worshipped as temporarily housing her. So she is present in the rite, but present as separate from the participants, including the women participants. In the version of the cakra pj that we find in the earlier KuT, in a carnivalesque fashion, the women are made to drink as the men pour liquor into their mouths (KuT 8.70); general drunkenness ensues. The “yogis dance, carrying pots of liquor on their heads” (8.71b). Then, “the yogis, drunk with wine fall down intoxicated on their chests; and the yogins of the group, intoxicated, fall on top of the men. They mutually engage in the happy fulfillment of pleasure” (8.73-8.74).
In contrast, in the Kl Practice there is not a group of women. Moreover, in the Kl Practice the woman is at the center of the rite, both spatially and ideologically. In this case, the living woman «the goddess, not considered separate from the goddess. She herself is considered and worshipped as the goddess instantiated. And aside from the woman, only the person worshipping her is present.18 Spatially she, not the image of the goddess, takes the center, the place of importance, and ideologically she is the center because she is the goddess. The ritual and spatial encoding of the two rites send different messages with respect to the status of ordinary women. In the cakra pj, the woman is not particularly venerable and one can see how, for such a rite, it would be easy to view women as necessary tools during the course of the rite, who would then be unimportant after its conclusion. The rite described in the BT (6.20ff), on the other hand, inculcates a more psychologically durable reverence for the living woman who is worshipped.19 What is also important to recognize with this is that the practice of the rite of sexual union was by no means monolithic in its performance or function. Here, even one of our medieval sources points out that the rite had more than one version.
HOW IS SHE A GODDESS?
Now a question arises: If the woman is worshipped as the goddess, exactly how is she the goddess? Does she get possessed by the goddess in the course of the rite? We might venture this point, and elsewhere, apart from this particular Kl Practice, such is likely the case. Interestingly, however, here the texts are explicit about precisely not viewing the woman as a medium for the goddess: “And there [in this rite] one does not do the invocation of the goddess” (CT 3.16).20 This suggests that it is as a woman in her ordinary, nonaltered state— not when she is speaking in tongues, nor when some special external divinity empowers her, but that as herself—she is divine. The difference between a rite that features a woman as a medium, possessed by the goddess, and a rite that considers an ordinary woman herself to be divine is salient. If she is
possessed, then this state is temporary and ultimately, not hers, not her own subjectivity. Here, however, the point is to see a normal, nonpossessed woman as divine.
In this context, the practice of constantly viewing women as goddesses starts to make sense. If a woman is the goddess only at a specific time, if only during the rite is she a medium for the goddess, then only at that time would it be necessary to treat her with the reverence due to a deity. There would be no need to maintain this attitude beyond the confines of the rite. On the other hand, if the divinity, which is the goddess, is intrinsic to her being, something she carries around with her all the time, something she is, then her status, in general, shifts. Then one would need to be vigilant, constantly maintaining an attitude of listening to her to make sure that the goddess standing before one will be pleased and therefore benevolent. It is precisely the act of looking to her, as ordinary woman, that affords a shift in the normative discourse between the genders and that allows for a recognition of her as a subject, as a person to whom one should listen.
This practice of listening to her is key. It doesn’t matter how many other spiritual practices one does, because, as the MT says, “one’s worship is in vain, one’s mantra recitation is useless, the hymns one recites are in vain, the fire ceremonies with gifts to priests; all these are in vain if one does that which is offensive to a woman” (11.34).
In addition the texts direct the practitioner to respect the rights of the bodies and minds of women. So as we saw earlier with the BT we also see elsewhere in other texts that the practitioner “should not hit women or criticize women or lie to women or do that which women find offensive” (CT 2.24).21 The GT and NST advise, “never should one strike a woman, with an attitude of arrogance, not even with a flower” (GT 35.8a).22 Even further, the BT tells us, “Not even mentally should one harm a woman” (BT 6.300).23 Even if the practitioner feels that a woman has hurt him, or has violated his rights, the response should never be to harm her: “Even if she has committed an extreme offense, one should not have hatred for her. One should never hate women; rather one should worship women” (BT 7.111; also NST 16.7).
Now, according respect to women is not done out of a sense of superiority, as in the practice of chivalrous behavior toward women that accepts their offenses without striking back because women are the “weaker” sex. Rather, one avoids harming a woman for the same reason one doesn’t harm a powerful yogin or a sage like the cranky Durvsas: she has power, and she might get offended; then one had better be wary of her curse. So the NST tells us, “When a woman gets angry, then I [iva], who am the leader of the pack, always get angry. When she [a woman] is upset or afflicted, the goddess who gives curses is always upset” (16.11b–16-12a). So if a woman is offended, she brings the ire of both the god iva and an unnamed curse-giving goddess on to the offender.
This shift in attitude is crucial, precisely because it sees women not as weaker but as stronger. A woman has power, power that, in itself, entails the prerogatives both of subjectivity and social clout. The disempowered may not have a voice, and the ref inement of civilization commends the strong for taking pity upon the disempowered. A chivalraic discourse, especially one easily recognized in the West, recommends treating women mildly for just this reason. On the other hand, here we have a different matter. In this case it is an emotion different from pity; it is fear and reverence that drives one to accept the offenses she may give.
WOMEN AND THEIR MANTRAS
Perhaps what’s most important here, however, is the way that this power is coded. The MT tells us, “A woman who is engaged in practicing the Durg mantra is able to increase well-being and prosperity, however if she gets angry at a man then she can destroy his wealth and life” (11.33). What is central here is that the source of her power is her spiritual practice, the fact of her repetition of the Durg mantra (durgmantrarat). Like the yogin, and like the Brahmin, she has a power in her due to her spiritual attainment, and her anger carries an edge. Just as the curse of the peevish Brahmin sage Durvsas sticks, so also her anger will stick, whether one deserves the curse or not.
We see here an instance where women have power that is not connected to their sexuality or to their capacity to be faithful to their husbands. These two types of feminine power are ubiquitous in South Asia, and one can see these two as part of a continuum. That is, a woman has a dangerous power in her sexuality, which, if tamed into a faithfulness toward her husband, for example, Kannagi (Holmstrom, 1980), and notably also for the sat,24 can become a potent force for cursing, even for burning down a whole city. But here we have something quite different. That is, contrary to the normative coding of a woman as a sexual being who is dangerous because of her sexuality, here we have a perilous leap into a world where a woman is dangerous because, like the Brahmin priest, like the guru, and like the yogin, she knows how to wield a mantra.
We also find that women as a class have a special ability to master mantras effortlessly. The BT tells us,
The restrictions that men contend with [in the practice of] mantras are not at all there for women. Anything whatsoever, by whichever [means], and moreover in all ways [is attained], for women magical attainment (siddhi) occurs, without any doubt . . . for a woman, by merely contemplating [the mantra] she in this way becomes a giver of boons. Therefore one should make every effort to initiate a woman in one’s own family. (BT 7.188)
The GT iterates this as well: “She doesn’t have to do worship (pj), or meditate, or purify herself with a bath; just by merely thinking of a mantra women quickly get the power to give boons” (35b-36a). We discuss this more later in the context of women’s initiation; here we can note that it is her gender, her status as a woman, that entails this power, yet not her sexuality. Rather more like the Brahmin, who has a tendency to tell the truth simply because he is born into the Brahmin caste, as we see in the Upaniadic story of Satyakma Jbala,25 so also a woman, because of her status as woman, naturally can perfect a mantra. Similarly, persons by fate born into the caste of warriors have the capacity to endure pain, as we see in the well-known story of Kara with his guru Paraurma, who realizes that he is of the warrior caste despite his claim otherwise, because he can endure pain. Similarly, simply being born a woman affords this facility with mantras (Biernacki, 2007).
I have noted elsewhere that we find women in these texts accorded the roles of guru and practitioner (Biernacki, 2007). Here I will suggest that it is not just that women figure as gurus; they also figure all the way down, suggesting that not just exceptional women were accorded respect, but ordinary women as well. We find references to women initiates and to women as practitioners along with references to the exceptional facility with mantras that women as a class possess. So, we find that “one should make every effort possible to initiate the women of one’s clan, one’s family (kula )” (BT 7.198).26 Indeed, this act of initiating women is a great blessing for the family, and it will affect future generations: “Whoever does this auspicious act [of initiating women]—in this lineage are born men equal to Brhaspati. There is no doubt about this. This is the truth, this is the truth, O Goddess” (BT 7.199b). Brhaspati is the guru of the gods and noted for his learning and eloquence. So it is interesting that initiating a woman will not bring sons who will become emperors or great warriors but rather sons who will be learned.
THE KEY AGAIN: WOMEN ARE GODS
Earlier I mentioned a particular signature half-verse that is repeated across several texts and that signals a rescripting of the view of women. “Women are gods; women are the life-breath” the verse proclaims.27 Since women are gods, it makes sense to both honor women and to construct an ethic in relation to them whereby one does not offend them—in other words, to treat a woman as one treats a god. And indeed we find that this innate and divine power that women have is profound. Women are, after all, like gods, since as the GST tells us, “Women are the source of the world, women are the source of everything, O Goddess” (1.9a). With this statement the GST assimilates women as a class
to the level of creator deity, which may partially help to explain their apotheosis into divinity. The innate and divine power women possess is so great, in fact, that in the Blue Goddess of Speech Tantra (NST) and the MT women head the list of gods and godlike figures to whom one owes allegiance, even displacing the great gods iva and Viu.
Thus we see that the NST advises one to sooner abandon one’s mother and father and even one’s guru, rather than to insult one’s female partner (16.12b–16.14a). This advice, in fact, precisely inverts the common Hindi proverb that Gloria Raheja (Raheja and Gold, 1994: 121) gives us: “Whoever kicks [i.e., offends] his mother and father to strengthen his relationship with his wife, his sin will not go away even if he wanders through all the pilgrimage places [where sins are said to be removed].” Similarly, in the NST, iva says:
Better to abandon Brahm, ambhu and Hari, better that I (Bhairava) myself be abandoned, than that one should insult one’s beloved (fem.). One’s worship is in vain, one’s mantra recitation is useless, the hymns one recites are in vain, the fire ceremonies with gifts to priests; all these are in vain if one does that which is offensive to a woman (16.12b-16.14a).
If one insults a woman, then all one’s spiritual endeavors are useless. In this instance one can imagine this injunction playing out on the domestic front—a husband all wrapped up in his spiritual quest, worshipping the gods while his wife tries to get him to take care of her and the family’s needs [the husband protagonist in Deepa Mehta’s Fire (1998) comes to mind]. In our scenario here, this wife would have a scriptural injunction to back her case. iva, however, goes further than this; he continues, “It is better to die than to do that which is offensive to a woman” (16.15).
The MT offers the same advice as the NST, and then goes even further. This text asserts that one should give up one’s life rather than insult a woman. Moreover, the male gods and even the goddess are relegated to a secondary position: “Better even that one should abandon the Goddess (Dev); but one should not in any way abandon one’s own beloved female partner” (11.36b). The MT also supplies the rationale for prioritizing one’s female partner: “Not the creator, not Viu, not iva, not the beautiful Goddess, not the primeval eternal Goddess—none of these [gods or goddesses] will be able to protect the person who does that which is offensive to women” (11.37f). So women are accorded this respect because intrinsically they are gods (striyo dev). However, it is rather curious that the texts all use the masculine word “god” (deva). That is, women are gods and not goddesses. Elsewhere in these texts in profusion, women are assimilated to goddesses. For instance, iva says to the Goddess, women are “in their essence, you” (GT 35.8: tvMsvarpi) using the feminine form. Why are they here in the Kl Practice indicated by the masculine term “god”?28
Woman and Goddess in Hinduism Page 17