Though Devangana Desai does not deny the spiritual aspect of Tantrism, she feels that its goal of achieving the “Divine Bi-sexual Unity” of mysticism is not really relevant here. At another point, she declares of-hand that the depiction of human sexual couples and orgies is not “functionally” (sic) related to Tantric sadhana. Then, she makes another sweeping statement, that magic was one of the essential elements of Tantrism; this last is an especially meaningless characterization of a complex phenomenon like Tantrism: one may as well apply this reductionist argument to the whole of Hinduism itself ! Again, while arguing that some of the sculptures at Khajuraho are caricatures, she herself admits that she is basing her opinion on the accounts of opponents of Tantric and related practices ! Finally, she makes the specious argument that Tantra is essentially hatha-yoga, and since some of the male lovers in the sculptures have protruding stomachs, they could not be Tantrics. This is rather uninformed, because hatha-yoga is the very lowest, i.e. preliminary, of the eight stages of classical yoga.
All this represents a rather unsophisticated, even philistine, attitude towards these multivalent sculptures, the sole aim being to deny their Tantric nature. Thus, L. K. Tripathi identifies some of the protagonists as Digambara Jain monks, the purpose of depicting such erotic scenes being a way to condemn such objectionable practices. Even if we allow that the self-mortifying practices of the Jains could encompass such erotic and antinomian sexual techniques, Tripathi’s argument is as far-fetched as Desai’s similar one about these sculptures being caricatures.
Viewed from another angle, Digambara Jain monks is grist for the Tantric mill. Tantrics view sexual repression as counter-productive; they suggest that instead of “killing” the senses, one should harness them and thus make easier progress to the goal of mystical union. Thus, by turning Tripathi’s argument on its head, one could argue instead that these depictions may indeed be of Jain monks, but made by Tantrics to ridicule the hypocritical, self-righteous pretensions by ascetics of having controlled their senses.
Further, one rationale for creating these sculptures was the concept of drishti-shuddhi whereby the worshiper feasts his eyes on these and other scenes of social life and so on, before entering the dark garbha-griha with his mind thereby emptied of worldly thoughts and thus ready for communion with the divine. The position of the sculptures, their size and numbers readily lend themselves to such an interpretation, which is in line with the Tantric ideology of ritual sex being a means towards the experience of the divine.
In an article on the “metaphysical architecture” of the Kandariya Mahadeva temple, Robert Forman argues that these sculptures have received more attention than their numbers deserve, and that the latterday interest in them stems more from “modem eros than from Hindu theos”.
One may as well argue that morality, and social life in general, are determined by the values of the silent majorities in the highly diversified Western societies. Besides, in the Indian canonical tradition, a single mention is sufficient to establish authority. Numbers do not enter the picture at all. As for the argument about modem prurience, this may hold only for the modem West, which may (rightly or wrongly) be characterized as obsessed with sex. And this obsession may be a reaction to the Christian heritage of these societies: even today, in some parts of the USA., certain kinds of heterosexual activity between consenting adults are still felonies.
In contrast, the Indians who covered their religious edifices, no less, with these erotic sculptures, had a more complaisant attitude to sex as being one of the valued aspects of life. Further, since the “Kama-shastras” were semi-canonical texts, it should not be surprising that Tantrics could use sex as a stepping-stone to the divine: for the Tantric, his ritual partner is a revelation of the mysterium tremendum.
Between the tenth and thirteenth centuries, India “universally accepted the yoga of sexual conjugation as the door to . . . full spiritual awareness .... This is the core of the Kaula marga”. Finally, regarding the mystical doctrine of Divine Bi-sexual Unity, i.e. the trans-sexual coincidentum oppositarium or "unio mystica", the entire Vedic ontology is typically expressed in terms of sexual symbolism.
The same attitude of downplaying these sculptures is exhibited by Zannas in her book, "Khajuraho". She feels that it would be “wrong to attach too much importance" to them. She says, “They represent little more than an official interest in the stylized eroticism which is typical of this period, as much at Khajuraho as at Bhuvanesvara, Orissa". This “Zeitgeist" explanation is, however, too vague and unsatisfactory. There must be more to these sculptures than the style of the times: perhaps the real explanation is that the makers of these sculptures did subscribe after all to the Tantric ideology, and created these sculptures to celebrate their cultic belief in the Tantric way of attaining moksha.
In another book, also called "Khajuraho" Vidya Prakash on the other hand rightly tries to show that these erotic sculptures were a logical outcome of the culture of those times. Thus, the erotic scenes are depicted on the temple walls “with the same profusion of detail as any other aspect of life." Further, he points out that by the ninth century, sculpture became an essential part of the temple; this included erotic sculptures, which were occasionally carved at very prominent places in the temple, as at Khajuraho and Konarak. He then argues that at least some of these may be “affiliated with rites and practices of Tantric cults, predominant in this age and also in this region". In the concluding paragraph of his book he finally states firmly, “Some scenes are clearly a direct representation of Tantric rituals."
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