There are a few, though, who do dare and who successfully complete the rigorous Left-Hand training of Tantra and Aghora. Strict renunciation is the prerequisite, extreme enough to purify the aspirant through and through. Only when purity is perfected is the aspirant assigned rituals which to the untutored observer might seem hedonistic or ‘sinful’. Aghora is not indulgence; it is the forcible transformation of darkness into light, of the opacity of the limited individual personality into the luminescence of the Absolute.

Renunciation disappears once you arrive at the Absolute because then nothing remains to renounce. An Aghori goes so deeply into darkness, into all things undreamable to ordinary mortals, that he comes out into light. Sects in India are often distinguished by colour of turban or drape of robe. Popularly, Aghoris have been stereotyped as ash-swathed ascetics with long matted hair who walk through life wild-eyed, skulking about in charnel grounds, wrestling with jackals for carcasses. The title Aghori is claimed by some groups who even assert an exclusive right to it.

Vimalananda had his own definition of Aghori which was independent of any doctrine or dogma. Indeed, his usage of terms like Vedic and Tantric may also be devoid of detectable textual support, for he never cared for texts. He believed—and it is a noble Indian tradition to do so—that a lineage’s practises prevail over textual injunctions. Whatever you believe yourself to be you are, if you are sincere and honest enough. You are responsible for yourself, and your opinion of yourself is authoritative. This attitude often irritates those who have invested heavily in the infallibility of any one text or group of texts, but then Vimalananda had no use for organized religion anyway. As you read his story, remember that what he called Vedic might not necessarily be Vedic to a temple priest, but that both opinions might be equally valid, according to context.