Free sex is spice of life in India
By William Rhode
VATAKARA, India (Reuter): Sunlight filtered through the ashram's narrow windows to reveal mountains of pepper, cardamom, nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves.
An ancient man with a handful of ginger nuggets emerged from behind the condiments, his wispy white beard dusted with spices.
"We use hundreds of spices and spend months of preparation to make ayurvedic medicine," said S. Krishnan, herbal treasurer at Siddha Samaj ashram in India's south-western Kerala state.
One of Kerala's leading manufacturers of ayurvedic cures, India's traditional herbal medicine, Krishnan said Siddha Samaj generated one million rupees from these operations annually.
"But devotees prefer to concentrate on strenuous yogic exercises, strict vegetarian diets and free sex practices in a quest for self-realization," Krishnan said.
Based on the philosophy of a wandering aesthetic who lived 75 years ago, ashram-dwellers believe the lifestyle in a religious commune offers the quickest route to god.
"God exists within all of us but he often remains shrouded by an illusion of the self," Krishnan said.
"The more we advance toward self-realization through these methods, the less selfish we become."
Nearby, another disciple wearing wooden sandals stirred a row of 600-liter vats filled with boiling coconut oil.
"Our guru, Swami Sivananda Paramahamsa, told us that the soul cannot have any attachment," Ramasamy said as he stoked the ferocious log fires with a giant spatula.
"That means sex is allowed in the ashram but marriage and all other personal relationships are banned."
Disciples attracted to each other must first publicly declare their desire, Ramasamy said.
"We all sleep in one room so sex is fairly public anyway."
The youngest inmate of the ashram is three, and the oldest 98. Krishnan said there were no age restrictions governing who could have sexual relations.
"As long as they both like it," he grinned.
But Krishnan, who jealously weighs out the precious herbs for each potion with a pair of antiquated wrought-iron scales, said he had not joined the ashram to make medicines.
"I joined to realize my own true nature," said Krishnan, an inmate for 20 years. "We only started making ayurvedic medicine to help finance the ashram."
He gave the ginger to a woman in a skimpy white sheet, who placed it in an earthen pot filled with other herbs, before burying the mixture in a mud-hole for a month.
"I'm making a general medicine that is particularly good for stomach and rheumatic complaints," she smiled coyly.
Children born in the ashram are collectively raised by all 500 disciples, evenly divided between men and women.
The 100 children born in the ashram since it was founded in 1921 have been adopted and raised by the community as a whole after being weaned from their mothers after three years.
"Children are never allowed to know who their mother or father is," Ramasamy said.
Teachers from a school nearby educate the children but special emphasis is laid on the ashram's spiritual teachings.
Admission to the commune is open to anyone interested in the philosophy of its founder guru, but photography is not allowed.
"No one is barred from coming or going," Krishnan said. "But almost no one leaves."