for her first night with Takshak. Seating herself on a mat of kusha grass, the musician strummed her instrument and began to sing:

From the cellar of the muladhara,

The wine is taken up to the brahmarandhara—         

Where kundalini pours blissfully into the moonglass of pure consciousness.    

To taste the wine flowing from this ethereal lotus–ah!–that is ‘real wine drinking;’

Anything else is mere alcohol.

Her voice was a stream of silver entering the group consciousness—even the most stern-faced men were listening intently to the girl’s exquisite rendition of the ancient words.

To slaughter the beasts of praise and blame with the sword of knowledge,

And merge one’s conscious...

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