The Naga Babas
Radhanath Swami was sitting on a lonely Himalayan footpath one day when a fearsome tribe of perhaps twenty men approached. They were holding iron tridents crowned with human skulls, and each held their trident like a processional flag. Heavy coils of matted hair were piled on their heads and their knotted beards swung in rhythm to their march. From their dreadlocks to their bare feet, a thick covering of ashes covered their flesh, and strands of rudraksa beads hung from their necks. On their foreheads, they smeared the three-line symbol of Shiva, and around their waists they wrapped iron chains draped with bright red loincloths to cover their groins. Except for the loincloths, they were naked even in the biting cold. Some remained completely naked.
These were the Naga Babas. Avowed to celibacy for life, the Nagas often perform tantric methods to kill sexual desire or mystically transform it into psychic powers. Ignoring social conventions, many roam naked as a discipline. Their unshorn hair was but one act of diverting attention away from the body completely, a form of renunciation. The Naga Baba sect has existed since the prehistoric past, and some Naga sects have fought as armies against Mughal and British conquerors, Buddhists, and even other sects of Hindus.
Radhanath Swami’s mind burned with eagerness to understand why anyone would choose such a severe life. Radhanath Swami mustered his courage and asked to travel with them. One among them who spoke English asked the others. They displayed their approval by raising their tridents high above their heads, shouting “Jai Shankar,” and dragging Radhanath Swami by the arm into their entourage. Radhanath Swami was quickly accepted as a brother. After walking many miles, they stopped on the bank of a river to set up camp where a priest named Dhooni Baba gathered wood and lit a sacred fire. All the Naga Babas sat around it. Radhanath Swami, too, approached the fire to sit among them when a horrifying shriek jolted his wits. Turning, Radhanath Swami saw Dhooni Baba screaming in rage, bolting toward him with his trident raised over his head. Dhooni Baba’s eyes blazed red, lips quivered, and limbs trembled as he waved the trident over Radhanath Swami’s head. Shouting curses, the assembly of Nagas unleashed furious stares at Radhanath Swami. Radhanath Swami was utterly bewildered. What had he done? Was his life to end by the trident of the Naga Babas? He prayed. One of the babas, his face contorted with disgust, pointed to Radhanath Swami’s rubber sandals. Radhanath Swami yanked them off and hurled them far into the jungle. The Nagas stared. Everything was still as Radhanath Swami held his breath.
The Nagas erupted into hearty laughter and welcomed him to sit among them. As the tension broke, Radhanath Swami exhaled and drew in a breath of mountain air, taking his seat on the cold ground but still quite bewildered. The one Naga who spoke some English explained, “The sacred fire is our temple. No shoes are allowed. Actually, we were not angry. This is our method to teach you a lesson you will never forget. Dhooni Baba has given you much kindness today.” Radhanath Swami solemnly promised him that he would never forget this lesson. Dhooni Baba grinned. In the center of the sacrificial fire, they planted an upright trident representing Shiva. Then, chanting mantras, they offered oblations of clarified butter and at a certain point in the ceremony, presented a clay pipe called a chillum before their altar. Still chanting mantras, they ceremoniously filled the chillum with a type of marijuana called ganja and gave the first honors to a senior Naga. Senior Naga reverentially held the chillum to his forehead and chanted incantations before puffing it. Then they passed the pipe around the fire, each Naga chanting mantras before smoking. When it was passed to Radhanath Swami, he hesitated. His mind flashed back to that smoke-filled cellar in Kandahar, Afghanistan, where he made a promise before the Lord. As respectfully as he could, he declined. A hush fell over the Nagas. They stared at Radhanath Swami with discontent and then erupted into shouts of, “Mahaprasad, Mahaprasad, Shankar Mahaprasad.” The English speaking Naga translated, “This is Shiva’s Mercy. You must honor it with us. It will help you to meditate on the Infinite. If you refuse, it is a punishable offense.” The rest of them stared at Radhanath Swami like a vengeful mob. “I vowed to never take intoxicants,” Radhanath Swami said softly.
Naga who knew English translated Radhanath Swami’s words to the Nagas and they fell into an eerie silence. Then one of them stood up to gather wood and fed it into the sacred fire. Pausing, he stared at Radhanath Swami and shook his head in disapproval. Radhanath Swami’s head swirled. Would this fire be his funeral pyre?Suddenly all the Nagas smiled at him. Dhooni Baba affectionately rubbed his head and laughed. They honored Radhanath Swami’s vow to abstain from ganja. To his relief, an iron pot was placed on the fire for cooking dinner. When the cooking of the rice and dal was complete, Dhooni Baba offered part of it into the fire while chanting mantras. The remainder became the sanctified food called prasad and was served to the assembled Nagas. That night, they all slept near the fire and in the morning, after bathing in the chilly river, Radhanath Swami watched as they smeared their bodies with the ashes of the sacred fire, which they did whenever crematorium ashes were not close by. Perhaps because of the bitter cold, the fire was the most popular place to be. Some of them smoked ganja while other Nagas meditated or chanted mantras on their rudraksa beads.
Then, before Radhanath Swami’s eyes an elder Naga, sitting motionless in the lotus posture, slowly levitated about a foot above the ground. Another Baba near the fire did the same. Radhanath Swami pinched himself to be sure he wasn’t dreaming. No, he was awake, just in another world, a world of rough and rowdy mendicants aloof to everything but their own reality. Everywhere there were outlaws who broke the law and here, retreating in their forest hideout, were these Naga Babas who effortlessly broke the laws of gravity. They were so much in harmony with the natural laws that they were free to play with them as they liked. While the two Nagas floated in the air, Radhanath Swami looked around to see the others’ reaction. The rest of the Nagas paid no attention; levitating was common practice to them.
The next morning, they received a summons from the Naga tribe’s guru. They traveled to the forest where, Radhanath Swami was told, their guru was performing his severe yogic meditation while sitting for days in the lotus posture without movement, food, or water. As they strode through the bushes, the English-speaking Naga who had become Radhanath Swami’s translator enlightened him about their leader. “He abandoned his home at the age of twelve to become a Naga Baba. Strict in yogic discipline, he never indulges in smoking ganja or any intoxication like many of us. Nor does he engage in any sensual pleasure. Meditating almost constantly, he has attained supernatural powers that are a wonder to see. He seldom speaks, but when he does everybody listens.”
It took six hours until they came to a clearing in the forest where the Nagas’ guru presided. His enormous body was folded in the lotus posture and his form pulsated with power. Perhaps in his seventies, his gray, matted hair extended down his back and stretched several feet on the ground. Naked and covered with a thick layer of ashes, his eyes were shut in meditation. One Naga Baba beat a primitive kettledrum with a tree branch, while another blew a buffalo horn to rouse the guru and announce our arrival. The guru slowly opened his eyes. Without blinking, he stared at Radhanath Swami. Radhanath Swami shivered. All the Nagas gathered around to witness the event; there was pin drop silence.
A deep growling voice emerged from the guru’s mouth as he bellowed out, “Why waste your life? You become Naga.” Smashing his fist against his massive bare chest, he boomed out, “Naga will conquer illusion. Naga is MAN.” Aiming his finger into Radhanath Swami’s face, he slowly shook his head and blasted, “You become Naga Baba. Now. Not tomorrow. Now!” The Guru’s stare sizzled right through Radhanath Swami. Feeling like a tiny mouse in the presence of a roaring lion, Radhanath Swami wondered if his mere glance would reduce him to ashes. He waited for Radhanath Swami’s answer, as did they all. What should he say? What was to come? He had to follow his heart.
Radhanath Swami stood in silence. Long seconds passed. The Naga guru seemed to be staring right into Radhanath Swami’s mind. In that silence, Radhanath Swami now felt confident that the Naga guru would understand him, would understand that, while he appreciated the path of the Nagas, he did not feel it to be his own. With a gaze of acknowledgment the Naga guru raised his thick powerful hand, and, closing his eyes in meditation, offered Radhanath Swami his blessings. “Yes, God will help you,” he said. The Naga Babas praised Radhanath Swami’s good fortune and went back to their activities. Through yogic discipline, this Naga Guru radiated an unearthly power that invoked both awe and fear, and his determination seemed as unshakable as the Himalayas. Radhanath Swami was honored to meet him, but felt that he better move on.
The next day Radhanath Swami bowed to the leader, asking for blessings to carry on his pilgrimage. The Nagas all raised their tridents and shouted their blessing, “Jai Shankar!” Turning around, Radhanath Swami walked alone through the forest path, barefoot. This particular sect of Naga Babas shared a rare camaraderie. Their loyalty to the sect and to each other was real and for life. Wherever they roamed, onlookers often shook with fear, for they were wild, rough, and lived severely, but in their own way it was all in the search for God.
Thank you for sharing this inspiring incident from Radhanath Swami’s life.
How adventurous Radhanath swami’s journey is!
Thrilling!!!