Sadhguru says true wisdom lies not in seeking the Goddess, but in being willing to dissolve into her eternal dance. At that moment when the unseen bells of the Goddess’s anklets rang, the boundaries between self and divine ceased to exist.
Mystic Journey | Khirgram | February 22, 1990
In the early days of Sadhguru’s journey, his sadhana took him to the sacred grounds of Jogadya Shakti Peeth in Purba Burdwan. He was but a young seeker then, following the guidance of his Guru, Avdhoot Atmananda, a master whose wisdom was both deep and elusive, shrouded in the mysteries of Tantra. Together, they traversed the quiet, ancient pathways of this holy land, where the vibrations of past sadhaks and the presence of the Goddess herself could be felt, woven into every stone, every whisper of the wind.
Under Avdhoot Atmananda’s guidance, Sadhguru would sit in meditation by the temple of Ma Jogadya, the divine mother worshipped here since time immemorial. The temple was ancient, a place where the air seemed to hold centuries of devotion, where the boundaries between the seen and unseen blurred. The Goddess, enshrined upon her Ratna Vedi—the jewel-studded altar—was not merely a symbol here but a living presence, pulsating with an energy that seeped into the earth and air, and through the hearts of those who approached her with reverence.
Each night, Sadhguru would sit with his Guru, both wrapped in the silence of sadhana, their breath aligned with the pulse of the universe. Under the canopy of stars, they would chant the mantras that awakened the dormant energies within, energies that could dissolve one’s very sense of self and reveal the infinite. There was an otherworldly quality to the temple at night, a feeling that the walls themselves breathed, and that the Goddess was somehow more alive in the shadows as if she too awaited the cover of darkness to unveil her true form.
But among the many rituals that marked his sadhana, there was one that struck Sadhguru with a sense of profound awe and mystery. It was a ritual that took place each midnight, a sacred rite that only a chosen few knew of, and fewer still had witnessed. This was the ritual of the dhaki, the temple drummer, who played his dhaak before the closed doors of the temple’s garbhagriha, the sanctum sanctorum where the Goddess resided.
As dusk surrendered to the embrace of night, a profound silence enveloped the Jogadya Shakti Peeth, allowing the whispers of the unseen to echo through the trees and temple stones. The air grew thick with the presence of something timeless, something divine. Here, under the cover of shadows, the Goddess’s presence could be felt more acutely, almost as if she awaited the cloaking of daylight to reveal her truest essence.
In this sacred hour, Sadhguru and his Guru, Avdhoot Atmananda, watched as a lone figure—a dhaki, or temple drummer—made his way to the heart of the temple. He was a humble villager, yet he held an honour that few others dared to approach. Every midnight, he performed a ritual as ancient as the temple itself, one shrouded in secrecy and awe, a ritual that bridged the material world with the divine.
Clad in the simple attire of his village, the dhaki reached the great doors of the garbhagriha. These doors, old and formidable, separated the mortal from the immortal, the seekers from the deity. It was here, before these closed doors, that the ritual of devotion would unfold. As was tradition, the dhaki tied a strip of cloth over his eyes, ensuring that he would see nothing in the sanctum, should the divine grace of the Goddess choose to make itself visible. His steps held a quiet reverence, each movement precise and measured, as if he knew that any misstep could disrupt the delicate fabric between worlds.
The silent temple, the rhythmic dhaak, the tinkling anklets—each was a whisper of the infinite, a reminder that the divine is nearer than we dare to believe.
With his eyes blindfolded, he positioned himself in front of the heavy doors and began to play the dhak. The beats started slowly, a low, rolling rhythm that seemed to breathe with the very pulse of the earth. As the tempo gradually increased, so did the intensity of the energy in the temple. The sound of the dhaak filled the air, reverberating through stone and space, its deep, ancient beats calling out to the divine.
The legend, whispered among the priests and villagers alike, told of what happened next. It was said that as the dhaak’s rhythm built to a fervent crescendo, the divine energy of Ma Jogadya would awaken. Within the sanctum, where the Goddess resided atop her Ratna Vedi, her presence would begin to stir. She would heed the dhaak’s call, rising from her stillness to perform her celestial dance.
In this dance, she was both fierce and graceful, embodying the cosmic power that sustained the universe. Her feet, adorned with silver anklets, would move in perfect harmony with the rhythm. The dhaak guided her, and in return, she blessed the land with her protective energy. Those outside the doors often claimed to hear the delicate, otherworldly sound of her anklets—nupur, her sacred foot bells—resonating in the air, a sound that defied mortal understanding. It was as if time itself paused, and all who heard it felt an unshakable certainty that they were in the presence of the Goddess herself.
At that moment, Sadhguru felt as if he, too, could hear the distant, ethereal tinkling of those anklets. The sound was soft, almost imperceptible, yet it filled every crevice of his being. His heart quickened, his breath stilled, and he felt himself drawn into an altered state of awareness. It was as though the Goddess herself danced not only in the temple’s depths but also within him, igniting the divine spark that lay hidden in his soul.
“Listen,” his Guru’s voice whispered beside him, grounding him even as it guided him deeper into the experience. “This sound, this dance—this is the Goddess revealing herself to you. But you must let go of all that you are to truly see her.”
And so, Sadhguru surrendered, immersing himself in the cosmic rhythm that pulsed around him. The temple, the trees, the earth—all seemed to dance in unison with the divine. The mortal world melted away, leaving only the rhythm of the dhaak, the echo of the anklets, and the presence of the eternal Mother.
For that single, boundless moment, Sadhguru transcended his earthly limitations. He was no longer a mere seeker; he was part of the dance, part of the divine rhythm, part of Jogadya’s eternal essence. And in that union, he found himself, not as an individual, but as a living embodiment of the energy that coursed through the universe.
When the dhaak’s beat finally slowed and stopped, bringing the midnight ritual to a close, the energy gradually receded, leaving the temple in profound stillness. Sadhguru, with his soul now touched by this otherworldly grace, opened his eyes, his entire being changed. He knew that he would carry the memory of that night—the rhythm of the dhaak, the sound of the anklets, and the dance of the Goddess—within him forever.
As the moon hung high over the sacred grounds of Jogadya Shakti Peeth, casting an ethereal glow on the temple stones, Sadhguru Avdhut and his Guru, Avdhoot Atmananda, embarked on a journey beyond the temple. This night held something different—a quiet anticipation filled the air. Avdhoot Atmananda had told Sadhguru that, they would be meeting someone tomorrow morning who was eagerly waiting to meet Sadhguru. He is also from a lineage of mystical wisdom, a soul untamed by convention yet bound by devotion to the divine.
This Journey was in November 1980, In the next Journey Sadhguru wrote this article.
