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My MBBS batchmate missed me completely. She was least expecting to see me in a red dress with bare shoulders and the sun-moon tattoo on my left arm. She had seen me covered in my white apron mostly with pen or a scalpel in my hands in the later years. We had not progressed beyond this identity in fourteen years. She ended up as a dermatologist and myself a surgeon. I had perhaps confused her with my appearance for her to even notice while we sat at lunch tables across in the restaurant. She was nine months pregnant at forty-four and was an associate professor in a medical college and that is offbeat enough for I sense whispers and the language of conventions applicable to women. I happened to be in an unconventional workshop myself and I blessed her baby silently. So did the others accompanying me for lunch without even knowing as I introduced her. We do not need to know each other to bless and that’s how it goes in these circles. All are women connected by the womb, from one to another and to that of the divine mother. Every woman is a part of that fertile circle including those that are barren, diseased, cursed and those who have had their uterus removed. Fertility is not about babies alone, it is about being the very creation itself.
The baby was enclosed in the energetic circle of the presence of these powerful women connected by the womb and automatically guarded by the great Jaguar in the west blessing her with powers to trust her true instinct, the eagle in the east teaching her to always take a flight way above the worries of the world. The serpent settled in the south gifting her the power of transformation and shedding and the humming bird promised to cover her in the North to remind her to keep nourishing herself with the best flowers irrespective of the seasons.Needless to guess baby was a female born a month later. Womb is the only essential inclusive criterion and if there are daring men who have connected to their Hara, they will become part of these circles eventually when ready may be on a Friday or Saturday meditation session for that’s where the journey will lead you to , a divine union of being whole again not merely the bodies that has got men and women equally confused and seeking each other in total separation.
The circles dress wild from anywhere to tight fitting jeans and figure-hugging tops to flowing loose Kaftans, long skirts, short dresses, churidar, and saree every clothing to drape female forms in equal reverence. Here every woman wears her attitude. The breasts here are flaunted in complete ease the firm ones, the sagging ones, the developing ones, the flat ones and shame is asked to take a walk to go hiding in the cleavage which has faced enough uncomfortable glare at work places and ridiculed in private. The organs loose identity for essence. The mind body connection is slapped hard to be awakened for the first time for one to understand how women have walked with stiffened torsos in boardrooms and houses alike nursing shoulder aches and backaches they have not complained about. The moves are taught in the most sensual yet gentle manner by women who have been abused sexually and not honored for lack of candle light bearers in society and homes. They never could shout to receive justice.But these powerful spirited women return by chanting the names of Devi endlessly in forlorn places purified and holier than most of us. They do not seek revenge for they understand forgiveness is their only liberation.
They seek no attention or reminders of their past rather their kohl lined eyes and the dangling nose rings invite you to wear yours just in case you haven’t arrived and have an unexpressed “Me too “story. The existence as mothers, daughters, wives, sisters, friends, girlfriends are forgotten and labels of unmarried, married, spinsters, divorced, widowed erased along with those of bitches, whores, sluts, cheeky, cheap, provocative, whales and cows while they groove to tunes of Munni Badnaam hui. The Chikni Chameli dances in gay abandon and the moment the ecstatic dance reaches its frenzy the healing bowls start to strike at the cords of hearts and womb asking for doors to be opened mercilessly. The core begins to be infused by words like pure, divine, sacred , holy as the fiery, resilient , enchantress and peaceful Goddesses start to emerge and one starts visualizing the Kali, Lakshmi, Sarasvati, Durga, Radha , Kwan yin, Isis, and Mary hovering and entering as spirit in the corporate leaders, business consultants , coaches, chefs , accountants , HR managers , forensic experts doctors , healers psychologists, lawyers ,yoga experts, housewives , teachers , jewelry designers, nutritionists , singers ,dancers , artists , makeup artists , sound healers , and many more. A woman has to exist everywhere for the balance. She bears and is born every moment journeying from maiden to a crone and at every stage she is the living testimony of the whiplash of patriarchy on her soul bearing wounds of rejection, shame, atrocity, slavery, abandonment, cruelty, guilt, and hatred against her over timelines including the lineage of her mother and grandmothers.
She is forced from here to return to see herself for the first time as the Queen she missed being. After stripping the layers, labels and false identity which defined her she undresses to her bare flesh ready to and burn herself once more in the holy fire of her truth no matter how uncomfortable it gets and how much more punishment, she will receive for stating it. As she loses the outside the inside starts to crack open revealing her soft, gentle, nurturing, innocent, joyous, wiser, erotic and sensual self all over again. It is not before she has peeled her scabs, massaged her aching body, shed every tear, known every wound that she holds over lifetimes that the feminine begins to heal. The blood continues to be shed again in monthly cycles more painfully than ever as the body connection returns. For her to deliver she has to be delivered first. The circles are now needed much more than ever and expanded not to hold hands but to widen, listen, hold, support, empower and clap. The circle now gathers by the well on full moon nights to rewrite the story of Beauty and the Beast and experiencing the tales again.
No one had come there to update their skills those two days for they knew enough. They came to be woken up by Kali herself and told in the language of light what was required of them? The sacred one had called and those that were attuned met each other neither to claw, ridicule, belittle or burn bras nor to attack the masculine who was as much present in spirit outside that hall. He had always existed in her wildest sexual fantasies and the holy pedestals of her heart where she held him hostage to her love and worshipped him. The journey had taken yet another turn as they anointed each other with scented oils and red bindis with return gifts of scented soaps, incense, rose quartz, flowers, candles, potpourri. They recognized each other as they vowed to remember to put on their anklets and bangles if needed. The mood was set for abundance and creativity in future as they embraced and smiled for the camera. Over the year that has gone by each one has evolved remarkably and bloomed in her own essence and beauty. The color RED was my call at that gathering at the Sea Princess Hotel and it has been one of the most remarkable turning point in my life along with others, the journey within, to know, to feel, to be and to become!
Thank u Dr. Evelet Sequeira, Azeelia Fialho, Leena Haldar, Regina Sneha for being key facilitators and supporting the HP workshop and all the lovely woman who have been a blessing in the past year ……more power to your work !!
