[Shivam Mishra]

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Varanasi, city of Shiva, inhales the cadence of life and death. And here, between the cremation ghats of the Ganges, live the Aghoris—ascetics who tread the unworn way, going against all the convention that gags human life.

Few are scared of them. Few laugh at them. Some say they are crazy. But not many realize the complexities of their world.

The Aghoris are convinced that nothing is unclean—not the dead flesh, not the cremated remains, not even the cycle of life and death.They believe in absolute detachment, purity, and freedom from societal norms. Just like a newborn has no sense of ego, shame, or attachment to material possessions, Aghoris strive to live without societal constraints, desires, or fears… To the Aghoris, Shiva is not only a god; He is life itself, and to become one with Him, one must rid oneself of all illusions, of all attachments.

 

The Ritual(The Discipline)

It is written that an Aghori is born twice—one from the mother’s womb and one from the fire of the pyre. Initiation to their order isn’t for weaklings. The disciple has to surrender identity, self, all that holds him to this life.

At midnight, at the center of the cremation grounds, there is a ritual. Surrounded by burning bodies, an Aghori rubs his skin with ash—the last traces of human existence. He sits still in meditation, overcoming his fear, melting away his ego.

And then comes the final test. Cannibalism the disciple is made to eat what society has branded as untouchable—meat from the funeral pyre. Not for hunger, but for dedication. It is a symbolic exercise, demonstrating that nothing in the world is impure. For an Aghori, all is Shiva.

 

What is Life and Death?

For the Aghoris, the world is an illusion—Maya trapping people in a cycle of desire, fear, and suffering. They believe that by embracing what others reject, by facing what others fear, they can transcend this illusion and attain moksha—liberation.

They are not after money, nor are they afraid of pain. Others have supernatural powers—legends speak of Aghoris with healing touch, with eyes beyond time, who manipulate forces beyond human understanding.

Their way, however, is not that of power. It is a process inward, to the inner recesses of the soul, where light and darkness become nonentities.

 

The Unseen Truth

Humans judge what they do not know. Seeing an Aghori sitting next to a dead body, laughing in the face of death, is enough to give anyone chills.

But look past the fear, and you will notice a reality that few are willing to confront—we are all human. All that we love, all that we fear, will eventually go back to dust.

The Aghori does not flee from this reality. He accepts it. And in accepting it, he discovers a liberty that few will ever experience.

Next time while strolling along the ghats of Varanasi and notice a solitary figure draped in ash, sitting in contemplative silence—know that he is not lost. He is simply treading a path that most dare not tread.

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