Arun Kumar was flirting with his gorgeous wife in the private elevator bringing them to their Babylonian triplex. He had a deep attraction to her; she was the perfect symbol of Hindu sensual karma. She was very strong and supported his energy, but she was also exquisitely soft and capable of guiding him to his own wisdom. They were the perfect Tantric couple, with balanced sex and mind in a complex and harmonious exchange of cosmic energy.
From the window of their elevator they admired the suspended gardens that had an impressive waterfall cascading into three swimming pools at different levels.
Every detail of the party had been inspiring and well planned and the guests were overwhelmed. The party was not yet over, nevertheless, Arun Kumar was tired and emotionally affected by the way his daughter had responded to his reprimand. He and his wife had excused themselves a few minutes after the huge birthday cake had been wheeled out on a large, decorated cart while the splendid fireworks were launched from the shore.
For a long time he had had no real conversation with her, and he felt dearly that the young child, so fond of him in the past, had recently turned into an uncaring rebel.
As with most parents, he didn’t understand the fracture that was opening between the obedient child, full of tenderness, and the young adult who was eager to express herself.
They were probably both vexed by losing face in front of the guests and her new friend. She wasn’t ready to listen to him, and rejected his strong arguments.
Arun could no longer bear the noise, the tumult, the efforts of socialising amongst people mostly interested in asking for favours and contracts. He just wanted to go back to his penthouse to have some quiet time to talk with his wife in the intimacy of their nest. She had always been his light and his beloved family counsellor, particularly on the subject of their daughter.
She insisted that he didn’t have to worry; that he had to accept that this was the way with young people. She was sweet but straightforward.
“You bear some responsibility for that Arun. Your telecommunication empire, your satellites, your TV channels are feeding the young generation with challenging ideas; not to mention incorrect data.”
Still stressed, Arun refused to listen or admit any blame.
“In our family a girl would never argue with her father!”
“Times have changed darling. Her manners are nothing serious; your daughter loves you deeply. You know that, don’t you? It is important for her to challenge you to evaluate her own potential. She is one of the most intelligent young girls I have ever known. You should be happy; if she did not rebel it would mean that she did not care.”
“How can you say that? To challenge her father is contrary to our Hindu traditions, which are the foundations of our nation.” He was almost shouting.
“You know that Tantra is what supports our path not only to illumination, but also to the siddhi: success in life. And you see it works! I have always considered you my creative power, my shakti, and even I sometimes need to meet your dreadful face of Durga, the terrible deity. ”
“You and I have witnessed the power of our personal mantras that we repeat all the time; it has maintained our unity. I would like our daughter to understand that!” Arun ranted.
“She will. Do not worry; her current attitude is only temporary. Do you remember what you told me about your father? It was the same! You also disagreed about his lack of openness. Nowadays the new generation is more compassionate; they do not search for ideal goals but want to be practical, aware of the situation and not immersed in philosophy or religion,” she said.
“And remember also what our Guru said: ‘Tantra is the science of investigating consciousness. It has always been like this and that is why it will re-emerge as the force of our new age!’ This is what you should explain to your daughter; this is what she expects: action.”
Arun, as always, was slowly becoming convinced by his wife’s perfect common sense. Tantric couples considered the woman as the power, the energy, and the wife was now vitalising her man—who was the source of compassion.
“Let’s practice,” she whispered softly as she embraced him tenderly arousing him. Her silk dress slid slowly from her mature body to the carpet and she was ready to receive his compassion; ready to reach the vacuity, the state of perfection between all things and nothing.
His private mobile phone started ringing. Who dared call at that time? It was a short message from Sheela saying ‘I need to talk to you urgently’. He showed the screen to his wife.
“Never mind,” she exhaled. “Just send an SMS to her that you will answer tomorrow. Even though I agree that she must express herself, I still think she needs to learn some respect.”
As he finished sending the text, she shut off the phone and took him by the hand to their bedroom for an exhilarating, tantric night.