A few years ago, a banker friend from Orissa who is also an advanced practitioner of Kriya Yoga (belonging to the lineage of Keshavananda Brahmachari of Kāmarūpa maṭha, Kātyāyanī pīṭha) recounted tales of horror when a certain Muslim sorcerer performed an abhicāra kriyā on his sister’s family. While I was familiar with Dervishes and Fakirs who seemed to be a part of many B-grade Bollywood horror flicks, this aspect was totally new. He sought the help of his Guru who successfully destroyed the prayōga with a sampuṭa of Mahāpādukā mantra in conjunction with Hādi Pañcadaśī. A testimony by another disciple of our Guru and several personal experiences that were to follow confirmed that the Mahāpādukā mantra did indeed have several practical uses in addition to its popularly projected use. It is common knowledge that the prayōgas of the eleven Vārtāḷī-s, which are capable of rendering one impotent or at a greater scale even changing someone’s gender, are generally countered through the Mahāpādukā prayōga. The yantra that was discovered in this gentleman’s sister’s house was interesting. It seemed like a normal stambhana/māraṇa yantra and both Sanskrit and Islamic syllables were inscribed on it. While we could decipher the Sanskrit syllables as invoking a popular Yakṣiṇī, we had to seek help to decode the Islamic part. With help from a Molsem acquaintance whose family has traditionally involved itself in mysticism, we could understand that the djinn that was invoked along with the Yakṣiṇī was Soraes Iblis, well-known in ancient Persia. The yantra, made of iron, emanated such negativity that it had to be placed in a large pumpkin smeared with turmeric. The yantra was eventually destroyed and the family returned to normalcy but the Guru lost hearing in one of his ears. He later described to us over the phone that an entity had attacked him one night and before he could react, had stuck his ear with force.
Paramācārya of Kanchipuram recounts one such tale. A certain young boy who had studied with Paramācārya in his pūrvāśrama belonged to a Muslim family that was adept in sorcery. As the young Paramācārya sat performing the navāvaraṇa pūjā in a somewhat open place near Kumbhakonam, this young chap who was passing by noticed his old classmate. He decided to play a trick and recited a certain formula, holding his taviz in his hand. Immediately the left hand of the ācārya was paralyzed. Having understood the cause, he sprinkled the viśēṣārghya on his hand reciting the mahāmantra of the Lalitā. As soon as his hand regained mobility, the Muslim boy began to scream, clutching his own paralyzed hand. Years later, Paramācārya mentioned that it was his intent to reverse the abhicāra that had caused pain to the boy, and felt rather unhappy about his action. He also made it a practice to recite Tiraskariṇī before commencing the navāvaraṇa to avoid such interference.
Decades ago, when the administrator of the Maṭha was tormented by another Muslim sorcerer based in Ranipet, Paramācārya had commissioned Krishnan Nambudari of Thrissur who was equally astonished by the power of the Pagan-Islamist. It is rumored that it took nothing less than Tanjore Sundaresha Sharma and his iṣṭa mūrti (nīlatārādhipatē pāhi) to free the maṭha from this bane.
Over a period of time, I got acquainted with various Pagano-Islamic mystery and martial arts schools such as Pencak Silat, Satria Nusantara, Tenaga Dalam Ilahi, Ilmu Hikmah, Tenaga Batin, Ilmu Kebatinan, Kanuragan, Nur Sejati, etc. Many of these focus on building inner power or chi/prāṇa that facilitates the performance of some astounding tasks. The adept can escape unharmed from various physical attacks, attack an opponent through mere thought, heal physical and mental injuries, manifest certain objects, have a small degree of telepathic abilities, and so on are some of the so-called siddhis accomplished. While the goal of a few such schools of Pagano-Islamic tantra/yoga does indeed seem to be spiritual development, most of the others focus on lesser objectives such as infatuating opponents or romantic interests, inflicting harm upon foes, removing hexes, curing physical disorders, etc. Schools rooted in martial arts derive their techniques to develop this “inner power” from a series of highly guarded breathing exercises and Chi Kung movements. There is very less mysticism, magic, or tantra involved there. However, the other school invokes djinns, departed spirits, masters or gurus, and other beings to manifest a power that is called aji which enables the sorcerer to perform super-human feats. The latter involves drawing of yantras (rajjah), invocation of out worldly beings through mantras (which according to the practitioners pre-date Quran, and were later included stealthily in this book of Muhammed’s made-up stories of divine revelation), fasting, and other associated rituals. There is a wide disagreement regarding the nature of the practices of the second kind. While the practitioners regard the spirits invoked as benevolent and beings of light, others disagree and warn of the possibility of possession leading to a painful death. Nur Muhammed, a famous sorcerer from Jakarta is said to have died a horrible death at the hands of a djinn he once controlled. I did speak to his grandson who had an entirely different story to narrate but we can forget that for now.
A less controversial practice that can be discussed on a public forum such as this one involves a preparatory period of Tirakat, where the intention is combined with a series of activities to build one’s level of power or chi to a certain required level. An interesting aspect of this practice is the use of khēcarī in its initial three forms (referred to as the three pools by Daoists) that does not involve cutting the tendon underneath the tongue but only its insertion in the nasal cavity (exactly like what we are taught in the popular form of Kriya Yoga). This is accompanied by the recitation of a peculiar Persian formula seven thousand times in one sitting. Then a certain Arabic formula is recited seven thousand times to purify a rajjah and the water energized through it is drunk to imbibe the power of Tenaga. The preceptor, on behalf of the student, invokes a Khodam who is described variously as an angel, protective spirit, djinn, etc., and is handed over to the student by means of another mantra or formula. It is easy to see that the supernatural abilities gained are most often associated with the Khodam rather than the yogic kriyā. During and after the invocation, one feels various physical sensations such as tremors, static shock, unexplained fragrances, tingling in the palms and feet, etc. The Khodam does seem to be rather harmless in most cases and is sensed as a dense cloud of warmth that envelopes one sluggishly. The feeling of being “watched” constantly is a common after-effect of the practice. The abilities displayed by such practitioners lie mostly in the realm of śaṭkarma and far exceed those of our own contemporary tantra enthusiasts. These adepts gain such abilities in a few months or weeks and these can be demonstrated time and again with greater accuracy than what our own tantra enthusiasts seem to be able to do today. Though this statement may not be universally true, it does seem so for the majority of current-day Tantric ritualists. There is less talk and a lot more displayable talent in the Indonesian and Javanese occult schools, which are quasi-Islamic. Of course, the “Islamic” nature of these schools is highly debatable.
An Indonesian practitioner whose ancestors migrated from Persia demonstrated some such abilities before us, and they were gained through half a decade of the above practice. His healing abilities far exceeded that of any other healer I have ever seen (and I have encountered some amazing Daoist healers). Rather than the depth of healing, it was the speed that seemed unique to this art – the healing was nearly instantaneous. He could manifest a few fragrances and that really did not impress us as we had seen better showmanship from Chinese Daoists. His mastery of śaṭkarma seemed better than most Tantrics we had encountered in the modern day. When he summoned his Spirit Guide or Khodam however, it was clear that the presence in that room was of an ancient and powerful being and it seemed rather impossible to call it either evil or divine. As one explores the depths of mind-matter, the fallacy of partitioning things into simplistic categories of good and evil becomes clear.