| With The Naked Philosophers |
Stevan Orescan
In India there are about six million sadhus; philosopher-mendicants, who traditionally wander the
country homeless and penniless. Often naked, staying for no more than three days in a village,
usually under a tree or in a small temple, they teach their own particular doctrine or brand of
knowledge to these isolated villages, bringing news from other communities and the world in
general, translating the holy books, blessing the people and maybe propitiating the gods for a
bountiful harvest or for many strong, fat sons. In return they are fed and treated with that reverential
respect of student to teacher or disciple to guru. They do not charge for their services, many have
taken a vow never to touch money, but are welcome to donations which are considered a benefit to
both parties, for to feed a man who has devoted his life to the higher calling is not only an honor but
an act that gains merit in this life as well as the next.
There are many such philosophical practitioners in Banaras, the city of Shiva the destroyer, and re-
creator, and third aspect of the Hindu trimurti, and they come from all walks of life having left the
mundane world of getting and spending, possessing and enjoying for a life of philosophic and
spiritual study and discipline. Clothed only in the ash from a sacred fire, their few possessions
consist of a vessel for food and water, a blanket, a small bag for pipe and smoking material,
religious accoutrements, notebook, pen and book for the more literate and often a trishul, a trident
type of weapon the more ardent followers of Shiva carry. Some live in the smashan, or charnal
grounds where dead bodies are burned or buried. There, seated on an animal skin in a forest of
skulls and bones, smoking a chillum, a crude pipe of hashish and potent tobacco, they meditate-
contemplate the enigma of life and death.
Theirs is an itinerant life, often being compared to flowing water, for they have no attachment or
emotional bonds to people or places. Usually the highest status will be ascribed to that sadhu who
detaches himself from all human society and concentrates only on freeing himself from the endless
wheel of birth and death, and thus becoming one with the Godhead..
And what is this wheel that ends in our annihilation? A big sleep to wake up in another body? An
endless cycle of births and deaths until liberation is achieved? Or is it a reawakening of the same
person in a parallel universe destined to repeat the same actions ad infinitum ? Does one really die?
What dies? Is there anything that lives on? These are some of the questions these naked
philosophers ponder while living in the graveyard; the mystery of life and death, and the eternal
wheel of samsara with its endless rounds of suffering, birth, old age and death. And in his practice
he pushes his life to the very limits, for in order to be assured a more fortunate rebirth, or better still
no rebirth at all, he must empty his karmic warehouse of all negativity and debt through means of
austerities, sacrifices, deeds and other forms of worship, he must plunge into the purging whirlpool
of the self, surrendering himself to the power of the gods in a quest to become one with them.
I look down from my tower room onto the ghats, the large stone stairs leading down to the water of
the holy Ganges. They are teeming with a humanity intent on purification. Hundreds of people taking
a bath in this holy river, some submerging themselves completely, others offering water and prayers
heavenward, others doing yoga or meditating and all are clothed, the women in their saris, the men
in langotas or underwear. Indians are a most modest nation of people and hardly ever will you see
the exposed flesh of a woman except for that space between the sari and blouse which for some
reason is not considered appealing or provocative.
But wait! Over there are some naked people bathing, a wild looking bunch whose emanating
energy sets them apart from the other bathers. Ah, those are the philosophical practitioners, and
not only is their nudity acceptable but is revered as a natural state shorn of the influences of the
material world and thus closer to God. Another group sits in a circle near the water’s edge. They
pass a pipe around with devotion, putting it to their forehead and saying a short prayer before
taking a puff. This group has long hair, some down to the ground, a symbol of their renunciation.
Sadhus follow a strict hair code; they either let it all grow or they shave it all off. Anything in-
between is vanity.
These philosopher-saints, as they are called, live and travel arduously, with no attachment or
emotional bonds to people or places and never allowing themselves to get comfortable. They
constantly study and teach the scriptures and philosophical systems of Hinduism, engaging in
dialogue and serving the people as mentor-philosopher-counselor, often advising on personal and
marital problems as well as business, and giving their sage viewpoint and opinions on the
complexities of human existence.
“A true philosopher cannot charge money for his God given wisdom,” one of them told me, “and
besides, once you charge a fee the government starts to meddle and all objectivity and freedom is
gone. The purist way is by donation. God gives to you. You give to me. Whatever comes we are
happy. If nothing comes we are still happy. We have nothing, need nothing and desire nothing. It is
all a gift from God.”
When I told him that in America we have an organization of philosophical practitioners that charge a
fee for their services and are certified by the government he asked if they went about naked. When
I replied in the negative and told him we would be put in jail if we appeared in public naked he
roared with laughter. “Philosophy is the last bastion of freedom in a world gone mad with women
and gold, lust and greed,” he replied. “Truth is always compromised when gold is involved. We
don’t even compromise with clothes for the costumes we wear tell more about who we would like
to be rather than who we really are and thus not a true indicator of what we are. Take off your
clothes and come walk with us and you will see and feel the difference. Truth and freedom cannot
be compromised.”
A monkey leaps onto my windowsill from above and proceeds to masturbate while I write, looking
me straight in the eye the whole time. He has long, wispy white hair and large, intelligent looking
eyes…another naked, philosophical practitioner living in truth and freedom, a wise man from
another tribe dressed in fur.
What a wild and wonderful place is this land called India; land of philosophy, of enigma, of a
mystic potency born from the cosmic womb in great suffering and deep reverence. I heartily
recommend to all who consider themselves serious lovers of wisdom to come and experience the
depth and breadth of this ancient culture, a culture whose thinkers, long before the birth of Socrates
and Plato, formed a remarkable record of philosophical development, of systems, of world views
born of reflection and experience that was not remote from the life of the people. Come, and you
don’t have to take your clothes off if you don’t want to.
country homeless and penniless. Often naked, staying for no more than three days in a village,
usually under a tree or in a small temple, they teach their own particular doctrine or brand of
knowledge to these isolated villages, bringing news from other communities and the world in
general, translating the holy books, blessing the people and maybe propitiating the gods for a
bountiful harvest or for many strong, fat sons. In return they are fed and treated with that reverential
respect of student to teacher or disciple to guru. They do not charge for their services, many have
taken a vow never to touch money, but are welcome to donations which are considered a benefit to
both parties, for to feed a man who has devoted his life to the higher calling is not only an honor but
an act that gains merit in this life as well as the next.
There are many such philosophical practitioners in Banaras, the city of Shiva the destroyer, and re-
creator, and third aspect of the Hindu trimurti, and they come from all walks of life having left the
mundane world of getting and spending, possessing and enjoying for a life of philosophic and
spiritual study and discipline. Clothed only in the ash from a sacred fire, their few possessions
consist of a vessel for food and water, a blanket, a small bag for pipe and smoking material,
religious accoutrements, notebook, pen and book for the more literate and often a trishul, a trident
type of weapon the more ardent followers of Shiva carry. Some live in the smashan, or charnal
grounds where dead bodies are burned or buried. There, seated on an animal skin in a forest of
skulls and bones, smoking a chillum, a crude pipe of hashish and potent tobacco, they meditate-
contemplate the enigma of life and death.
Theirs is an itinerant life, often being compared to flowing water, for they have no attachment or
emotional bonds to people or places. Usually the highest status will be ascribed to that sadhu who
detaches himself from all human society and concentrates only on freeing himself from the endless
wheel of birth and death, and thus becoming one with the Godhead..
And what is this wheel that ends in our annihilation? A big sleep to wake up in another body? An
endless cycle of births and deaths until liberation is achieved? Or is it a reawakening of the same
person in a parallel universe destined to repeat the same actions ad infinitum ? Does one really die?
What dies? Is there anything that lives on? These are some of the questions these naked
philosophers ponder while living in the graveyard; the mystery of life and death, and the eternal
wheel of samsara with its endless rounds of suffering, birth, old age and death. And in his practice
he pushes his life to the very limits, for in order to be assured a more fortunate rebirth, or better still
no rebirth at all, he must empty his karmic warehouse of all negativity and debt through means of
austerities, sacrifices, deeds and other forms of worship, he must plunge into the purging whirlpool
of the self, surrendering himself to the power of the gods in a quest to become one with them.
I look down from my tower room onto the ghats, the large stone stairs leading down to the water of
the holy Ganges. They are teeming with a humanity intent on purification. Hundreds of people taking
a bath in this holy river, some submerging themselves completely, others offering water and prayers
heavenward, others doing yoga or meditating and all are clothed, the women in their saris, the men
in langotas or underwear. Indians are a most modest nation of people and hardly ever will you see
the exposed flesh of a woman except for that space between the sari and blouse which for some
reason is not considered appealing or provocative.
But wait! Over there are some naked people bathing, a wild looking bunch whose emanating
energy sets them apart from the other bathers. Ah, those are the philosophical practitioners, and
not only is their nudity acceptable but is revered as a natural state shorn of the influences of the
material world and thus closer to God. Another group sits in a circle near the water’s edge. They
pass a pipe around with devotion, putting it to their forehead and saying a short prayer before
taking a puff. This group has long hair, some down to the ground, a symbol of their renunciation.
Sadhus follow a strict hair code; they either let it all grow or they shave it all off. Anything in-
between is vanity.
These philosopher-saints, as they are called, live and travel arduously, with no attachment or
emotional bonds to people or places and never allowing themselves to get comfortable. They
constantly study and teach the scriptures and philosophical systems of Hinduism, engaging in
dialogue and serving the people as mentor-philosopher-counselor, often advising on personal and
marital problems as well as business, and giving their sage viewpoint and opinions on the
complexities of human existence.
“A true philosopher cannot charge money for his God given wisdom,” one of them told me, “and
besides, once you charge a fee the government starts to meddle and all objectivity and freedom is
gone. The purist way is by donation. God gives to you. You give to me. Whatever comes we are
happy. If nothing comes we are still happy. We have nothing, need nothing and desire nothing. It is
all a gift from God.”
When I told him that in America we have an organization of philosophical practitioners that charge a
fee for their services and are certified by the government he asked if they went about naked. When
I replied in the negative and told him we would be put in jail if we appeared in public naked he
roared with laughter. “Philosophy is the last bastion of freedom in a world gone mad with women
and gold, lust and greed,” he replied. “Truth is always compromised when gold is involved. We
don’t even compromise with clothes for the costumes we wear tell more about who we would like
to be rather than who we really are and thus not a true indicator of what we are. Take off your
clothes and come walk with us and you will see and feel the difference. Truth and freedom cannot
be compromised.”
A monkey leaps onto my windowsill from above and proceeds to masturbate while I write, looking
me straight in the eye the whole time. He has long, wispy white hair and large, intelligent looking
eyes…another naked, philosophical practitioner living in truth and freedom, a wise man from
another tribe dressed in fur.
What a wild and wonderful place is this land called India; land of philosophy, of enigma, of a
mystic potency born from the cosmic womb in great suffering and deep reverence. I heartily
recommend to all who consider themselves serious lovers of wisdom to come and experience the
depth and breadth of this ancient culture, a culture whose thinkers, long before the birth of Socrates
and Plato, formed a remarkable record of philosophical development, of systems, of world views
born of reflection and experience that was not remote from the life of the people. Come, and you
don’t have to take your clothes off if you don’t want to.
 | |  |
Banaras, India: When I told my father as a young lad
that I wanted to study philosophy he replied that a
degree in philosophy and a dime would get me a cup
of coffee. Philosophy is a poor man’s discipline, he
said, all of the great philosophic minds throughout
history were just a step away from being naked
beggars. Indeed, philosophy by it’s very definition, the
love of wisdom, requires of her lovers to be
minimalists in the ways of the world, for a man of
excess, or someone whose time is occupied with
getting and spending, will be inclined to spend as little
energy as possible in pondering the enigma of
existence and the mysteries therein.
that I wanted to study philosophy he replied that a
degree in philosophy and a dime would get me a cup
of coffee. Philosophy is a poor man’s discipline, he
said, all of the great philosophic minds throughout
history were just a step away from being naked
beggars. Indeed, philosophy by it’s very definition, the
love of wisdom, requires of her lovers to be
minimalists in the ways of the world, for a man of
excess, or someone whose time is occupied with
getting and spending, will be inclined to spend as little
energy as possible in pondering the enigma of
existence and the mysteries therein.
