35053668-Empire-of-the-Soul-Paul-William-Roberts

160
EMPIRE OF THE SOUL
still thrashing around like angry slam dancers on speed. I did not
feel safe, but joined in to seem less conspicuous.
Beside me, Ma Yoga Parvati was beside herself with howling joy,
her massive thatch of hair like a personal storm cloud swallowing
her head, her arms windmilling as she bounced off her feet and
twisted within the billowing frock. The whole dress soon floated
slowly down into a tangerine puddle at her feet. She didn’t appear to
notice, flailing away with still wilder fury.
I looked around to see that the entire horde was also upping the
tempo, many others also freed of clothing just as they increasingly
freed themselves of those other few trappings left from a culture
they’d abandoned along with their names. People were bleeding by
now, either inadvertently scratched by the frenzy of others, or victims
of their own thrashing limbs. Ma Parvati’s nose bled profusely, blood
dripping onto her chest, from where droplets were flung off
splattering others. A flash of red dots decorated my waistcoat and
one arm.
But suddenly we’d reached stage three. The uncontrolled tumult
metamorphosed effortlessly into everyone jumping up and down,
their arms raised high, great hammering shouts of Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!
blasting from upturned mouths.
Hoo! – the sound seemed to come straight up out of the groin.
The bhagwan, I read later, dismissed the traditional Hindu primal
chant of aum, the original word, as in the opening of St. John’s
Gospel, calling it irrelevant to the New Age he had ushered into
being. Hoo, claimed Rajneesh, emanated from the sex centre,
unleashing an energy of joy, the creating force itself, the vibe of
tomorrow’s sexy world. Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! It was like waiting in a
packed stadium impatient for Pete Townshend’s band to appear,
chords from Tommy already teasing the PA system. Hoo! Who!
But the unmistakable presence of gale-force lust throbbed in the
air. And it built. Ma Parvati and her sisters were now jumping for
orgasm, or so it seemed. The hoos got faster, sounding more and
more like groans of mounting pleasure. In places, men and women
jumped in unison, face-to-face, groan matching groan in an
exhibition of mating techniques by some unknown species – Martians
making out en masse, perhaps.