The Kulaarnava Tantra says that "success is attained by those very things which lead to [one's] fall" and this notion pervades tantric thought, that the sheer immediacy of manifest existence is the vehicle to transcendence. Even the main structure through which we try and organize our existence, even the dense language which we use to categorize and define our world with --- the tantriks co-opt. Tantrism plays with language much like it plays with the social conventions and the ethical structures which it subverts. It employs an enigmatic language which is said to project the yogin into the "paradoxical situation" which is "indispensable to his training." Before outlining this paper on these aberrant modes of tantric speech, let me first historically and geographically locate, the yogis of one such tantric sect, namely the Tamil Siddhas.
Who are the Tamil Siddhas?
Within the context of Hindu myth we can see that this term "Siddha" originally denoted one of the eighteen categories of celestial beings. These beings of semi-divine status were said to be of great purity and their dwelling was thought to be in the sky between the earth and the sun. Later they became associated with a class of more adept human being, often an accomplished yogi. The term had been derived from the Sanskrit root sidh meaning "fulfillment" or "achievement," so the noun came to refer to one who had attained perfection. Because the Tamil language lacks the aspirated consonants of Sanskrit, the word has been written and pronounced by the Tamils as cittar. This has lead the Tamils to associate the word more with the Sanskrit term chit, meaning "consciousness." This appellation is evident even in the Shaivite devotionals known as the Tevaram hymns of the 6th & 7th centuries. There the term is applied not only to one of the 18 categories of divine beings but also to God Shiva himself, who is a cittar because the very nature of God is consciousness. Likewise, it describes the devotee as also being a cittar since his consciousness is always immersed in the Divine presence. Because of a purely phonetic relationship between chit and cittar, the direction of reference gets derailed, and goes speeding off into new territory. This is a common phenomenon, which I see time and again particularly in connection with the Tamil Siddhas, who seem more obliged to "play" with language, than to cling to some immutable meaning.
By the 12th-13th century the term cittar has taken on new connotations as we learn from the writings of Perumparrapuliyur Nambi who describes the God Shiva as the cittar alchemist who is working strange miracles in the city of Madurai. Essentially though, the term Siddha or Cittar has the same connotations as it does when referring to the 84 Siddhas of Vajrayana Buddhism, the Natha Siddhas of North India, or the medieval alchemists known as the Rasa Siddhas. It is a movement born of a synthesis of Vajrayana Buddhism, Shaivite Tantrism, Indian Alchemy, magic, and the hatha yoga and pranayama disciplines as expounded by the ascetic saint Goraknath. Although, in the present era, the term is often applied to any form of unorthodox mystic or saint.
The Tamil Siddha tradition places special importance on the eighteen Siddhas of which there are numerous lists, none of which seem to agree. But presented here is an interesting caste of characters, such as Puunaikkannar, "the Cat-eyed Siddha" who the tradition says came from Egypt, or Paampaatticittar, "the Siddha who makes the snake dance" who is said to have been a migrant North Indian. The names of many of these fellows seem rooted in this sandhaa speech, which is not surprising being that many of them are derived from signature lines or recurrent references in their compositions. Filling out this international caste is a Sinhalese Siddha, a Kannada Siddha, a Siddha who came to Tamil Nadu from Rome, and even a few Chinese Siddha's. One of whom happens to be the Siddha alchemist Bhogar who is said to have been a Chinese potter by trade. Another being a mysterious Chinese preceptor and alchemist named Kaalaanginathar, who was Bhogar's guru, and whom he apparently followed to India sometime between the 16th and 17th centuries.
The Tamil Siddhas are sometimes referred to as the 'Pittalaattakkaarans' (pitftqadfdkfkar[f-s), that is those who turn brass (pittalai/pitftAq) into gold (aadaham/~dkmf). Pittalaattakkaaran/pitftqadfdkfkar[f is a term which also means "trickster." So while the Tamil Siddhas are renowned for these alchemical skills in transmuting metals, preparing longevity medicines, and crafting mercurial amalgams, they are often viewed with suspicion. The basis of such apprehension is very much rooted in the enigmatic character of their language, voicing a profusion of references to tantric practices . Theirs is an obscure symbol system that is mostly uncodified and whose layers of meaning are often contextually based within the body of each individual verse.
Their perplexing modes of expression have inspired a strong response from their audience. Vellaivaaranar, the author of a 1957 literary history in Tamil, contemptuously called the the Siddha language a "slum language." A similar attitude is reflected in the comments made by M. Srinivasa Iyangar in 1914 when he wrote that the Siddhas are "mostly plagiarists and impostors" and "being eaters of opium & dwellers in the land of dreams, their conceit knew no bounds."
The Jnaanaboodagam, a kind of Tamil Siddha hagiography, is a bit more ambiguous in its stand, in that it says the Siddhas spoke a "merciless language" which it characterized as being "the treachery of the Siddhas". But seems to have a fascination with such "treachery" when it cautions one that to make assumptions about the implied meaning of the Siddha works is like a farmer who goes out to plow his field trusting the mist formation. It tells us that this is why many abandon the study of Siddha texts as being a "nuisance". But the text of the Jnaanaboodagam itself appears to be mercilessly playing upon a reference made by Tirumuular in verse 2872 of the Tirumantiram, where Muular describes the yogi-farmer as using the control of the breath to plow the field of the subtle body. The Jnaanaboodagam's mist formation apparently refers to the outward reading of the text which gives no direct indication of the yogic process involved in Tirumuular's verse.
It has been said that of all Tamil poets Tirumuular is the master of symbolism. The Tamil scholar Kamil Zvelebil dramatically characterized Tirumular as the "poet who, by expressing his mystic and occult experiences, lingering on the border of speech and wordless thought, trained the Tamil language to express the ineffable," The Tamil Siddhas trace their lineage back to this 7th century saint, whose 3047 verse work the Tirumantiram forms the 10th book of the Tirumurai

The Tamil Siddhas, perhaps influenced by their tantric Buddhist predecessors, describe their ultimate mystery as 'vetta veli' (evdfd evqi) or "vast space." It perhaps explains why later commentators applied the expression Sunya Sambaashanai or "a Dialogue with Emptiness" to a group of enigmatic verses contained within Tirumuular's Tirumantiram. Recently, scholars like T.N. Ganapathi, in his Philosophy of the Tamil Siddhas, have presented this phrase as a Tamil equivalent to the Sanskrit term sandhyaa bhaashaa, which means "twilight language". We will shortly explore why a number of scholars have vigorously contested this apparently straight forward translation of the term. But for now let it suffice to say that they prefer to render "intentional language" as a more accurate translation. This faction explains sandhyaa bhaashaa as a language that "intends" something, that points away from itself towards a meaning not implicit in the word or phrase.
This kind of twilight language or intentional speech is viewed by scholars and tantrik adherents alike as being the lingua franca of tantrism. It is described as an idiosyncratic manifestation of language, where the polyvalence of words, their subtle shades of meaning, are contextually structured to generate multiple readings from a single passage. In this way, tantric sub-sects such as the Tamil Siddhas are seen to stack the deck of signification and begin performing their textual parlor tricks.
All that said and done, let me now say that this paper is a response to the dry scholarly controversy generated over the meaning and purpose of sandhyaa bhaashaa. It has been mostly linguists, whose few rhetorical articles, have reduced the Sandhyaa speech to being just a system of lexical equivalencies. Wielding the tantra commentaries and a couple of sandhyaa glossaries they have tried to explain away this mode of speech, imbuing it with a prosaic meaning which betrays their own self-preoccupied linguistic outlook. To demonstrate how tantrik speech is not solely grounded in these lexical equivalencies I will present some of the elements that delineate how the Tamil Siddhas employ this tantrik idiom. After outlining briefly outlining this scholarly controversy, I will present a standard group of settings which form a kind of backdrop or subtext within which the Tamil Siddhas often compose their verses. The settings themselves have a symbolic frame of reference that is not confined to the specific words of the poem. Thus, though the setting itself imparts a layer of meaning, it does not rely upon a particular word or phrase to do so. Next I will present a brief description of the kind of textual layerings found in some siddha works. Here, disparate lines of subtexts are constantly converging. Through proximity alone, the author is setting up equivalencies that function to impart meaning. Without relying upon a linear relationship between the sign and its referent, the author hase constructs an associative relationship through presentation alone.
Scholarly Contention
Scholarly contention was kindled over the etymological character of the term in the early part of this century, when Haraprasaad Shaastri described the sandhyaa language of the Siddhaacaaryas as "aalo-aa-dhaari" a language of "light and darkness." It was he who popularized the expression "twilight language" back in 1916, which was quickly taken up by a number of Bengali writers in their discussion of Tantric literature. While a few contemporary scholars have continued to employ Shaastri's "twilight language" as an appropriate English equivalent for sandhyaa-baasha, his quite literal rendering of the term has inspired continued criticism by those who have found his reading simplistic and inept. In 1924, Panchkawri Banerjee criticized H.P. Shaasrti's elaboration of the term and explained that sandhyaa-bhaasha was actually a dialect spoken in the borderland region of "old Aaryaavarta and Bengal proper" which was then known as the Sandhyaa region. So Buddha in his Saddharmapundarika was reverently referring to the this supposedly peculiar Sandhyaa-bholi dialect. Banerjee stated that, "Anyone who is familiar with the several dialects all closely resembling one another spoken in that region, cannot have any doubt as to their near relationship to the language used by the Siddhacharyas." But V. Bhattaacaarya's 1928 article in the Indian Historical Quarterly presents a sophisticated response to them both by explaining that sandhyaa is actually "a shortened form of sandhaaya, a gerund from sam + dhaa." In two of the manuscript copies of the Saddharmapundariika used by Kern we may find this sandhaaya form used for sandhaa-bhaasha. He goes on to site numerous examples of how the Paali forms often drop the 'ya,' in order to establish how the form sandhaa came into common usage. He points out that the few places where Paali and Sanskrit texts have used the term sandhyaa rather then sandhaa, are indeed, misspellings. In his work, Studies in the Tantras, P.C. Bagchi elaborates on V. Bhattacharya's argument by pointing out that the sandhyaa-bhasha form mostly occurs in badly-copied Nepali manuscripts and that the Chinese translations of the Saddharmapundarika supports his rendering of sandhaa-bhaasha as "intentional language".
Many contemporary tantrikas maintain that "twilight language" is the correct translation of sandhyaa bhaashaa. In his work The World of Tantra B. Bhattacharya equates sandhyaa kaala (dusk or evening time), sandhi puujaa (worship offered where two times meet), and sandyaa bhaashaa all as a single complex of mystic power. He is referring to how the tradition utilizes the inherent potency that is twilight, that is the moment betwixt day and night, a place in between, like the empty spaces that frame words on a page. It is a reconciliatory confluence of two opposing streams where the tantrika may willfully seize the opportunity to slip through the cracks of tangible reality. Hence, the tantrika seeks refuge in the ambiguities of life. He strives to embrace the problematic parts of our existence so that he may avail himself of the chasm-like spaces between those oppositions and therein find freedom. Its an interesting notion and one that sheds some light on how tantric schools might view language and meaning.

A few of the Mahayana tantrik texts have glossaries which seem present Sandhaa Bhaashaa as merely a network of lexical correspondences. This may infer that the basis of Saandhaa is just a system of displaced signification, requiring only the cipher key to render the passage once again intelligible. Bharati maintains that sandhaa language is very much rooted in just such a system of lexical displacement or multivalent layering, but also insists that there are specific rules that such a displacement must follow in order for the expression to truly qualify as a form of sandhaa. Thus, though the lexical listings of sandhaa terminology in certain tantras may gloss vajra as a sandhaa idiom for "sunya," since this association was already established before sandhaabhaashaa was "systematized," as Bharati puts it, it cannot qualify as a true example of such. On the other hand, where we find Vajra being use to infer a "linga" such a qualification he recognizes as a true example of sandhaa. (Bharati 173) But I am curious as to where and when this "systemization" has taken place. He apparently means the lexical listings found in much later works such as the Hevajra tantra and the Dohaakosha, which, in contrast to his argument, present sunya as a sandhaa reading of vajra. Like Eliade, V. Bhattacharya, and the rest, Bharati cites quite a number of works that do not adhere to the patterns laid out by the sandhaa lexicographers. But tangible listings of cross-signifiers are easier to talk about then free-floating abstractions. This makes it easy for such explanations to ignore the fact that the findings of these commentators frequently do not tally with one another, nor the sandhaa lexicons.
Bharati does not acknowledge that we are dealing with a referential system that strives for abstraction, to incorporate as many layers of meaning as possible. By shifting the text beyond the confines of mundane language the work is empowered and sanctified, infused with mystery. Texts are inherently measured in the tradition by the number of possible readings a passage may generate. Abstraction itself, has the power to sanctify.
Settings
Nearly all of the uses of Sunya Sambashanai center around a series of internal processes which take place within the subtle body or manifest as a descriptive travelogue mapping out its terrain. This terrain or these processes are all in reference to kundalini yoga, which is itself already a system of symbolic constructs. It is one which is further enshrouded by the Tamil Siddhas through a number of evocative settings. These settings include mostly agricultural images of fields, plow, seeds, crops, and ripening fruits as both the body and consciousness itself is seen as a field that must be cultivated so that it will bare fruit, such as the mango of enlightenment that seems to come cropping up again and again in both the Tamil bhakti and yogic literature. The Tamil Siddhas also make use of a pastoral setting of cowhands and milk pails. This setting gives a double layering of the processes of the kundalini contextualized within the central Paashupatha philosophy where Siva is lord or Pati pti the guide of the typically bovine animal soul or pasu pC that is rescued from it's state of bondage or pacmf pasam. This trinity of pti-pC-pacmf invoked through such pastoral imagery, never explicitly acknowledges this doctrinal subtext but instead provides a backdrop in which it discusses the arousal of kundalini. Another frequently encountered setting is the mountain terrain, where the sheer immensity of the subtle body is geographically laid out to present a number of yogic process hierarchically arranged at different altitudes, and culminating at the peak where the Siddha then finds union with the absolute. A more simplistic example of this setting is found in verse 2928 of Tirumular's Tirumantiram...

On the Peaked Mountain is a Summit High,
Beyond the Summit blows a Gusty Wind;
There blossomed a Flower that its fragrance spread
Within that Flower, a Bee its Nectar imbibed,
2928

The gusty wind of the controlled breath spreads the fragrance of the Sahasraara lotus at the crown of the head in which the Lord as a tiny bumble bee sits, lapping up the nectar of immortality. The image of the mountain, usually infers the body seated in meditation or the central naadii Shashumna through which the kundalini shakti flows. We can see this same kind of imagery in later Sanskrit works, like the Sat Chakra Niruupana, where Shashumna is called the Meru-danda. (Please keep in mind that these simple interpretations that I will offer during this presentation are merely suggestions based on various commentators or other readings and should not be construed as an attempt on my part, to relegate the text to any single authoritative interpretation.)
I realize that such symbolic uses of a clearly delineated terrain may well be informed by the literary conventions of the Sangam age. When most poetical compositions were oriented around and infused with a symbolic subtext defined by the Ainthinai or Five Classical Landscapes. These earlier strains of imagery certainly shape the Tamil Siddhas symbol structures, but to what extent, its hard to say.
Bhogar's Layering
A particular kind of textual layering can be seen in certain Siddha works, such as Bhogar's Ezhaayiram or 7000, where the text systematically presents a sequence of images outlining the chaakras. Interspersed with these images is a distinct set of pranayama practices that are supposed to accompany their visualization. In addition there are philosophical models that are intended to compliment the breathing and visualization and a number of fatherly words of encouragement and admonition which give the text a more personal tone. These lines of discourse are constantly alternating, so to fully understand any of these subtexts one must systematically extract each set of layerings. For instance, to see exactly what breathing practice is to be performed one must separate and reconstruct those directions from the section in question before the full practice is made evident.
This kind of descriptive layering itself imparts meaning, as it sets up a subtext of equivalences that are not explicitly stated. As a purely compositional aspect of the text it is not the word or its referent that is establishing these equivalences but merely the ordering and presentation of those words or images. Shortly, we will see how another aspect of presentation can function to impart meaning by viewing a complex structure that is set up within the body of the text and then reflected in what seemed to be the arbitrary numbering of Bhogar's verses. But let me first provide some background information which will help to explain the cosmological impetus behind this structure…

The Kaula Marga Siddhas are usually described as being a subsect of Kashmere Shaivism, whose philosophical orientation has been grouped with that of the Tamil Shaiva schools by K.C. Pandey. In the ninth chapter of their Kaulajnana Nirnaya an early Kaula work attributed to Matsyendranath we find a system of eight chakras. Each of these eight chakras has eight petals that house the 64 yoginis who are said to be well known in "Kaama-ruupa." Kaama-ruupa meaning not only "the geographical region of Assam, a stronghold of Tantrism," but also it came to be associated with both the female generative organ and the trikona or triangle found at the root chakra Muulaadhaara. The text describes how contemplation of each of these 64 petals imparts a boon or siddhi through the power of the resident yogini, much as we find in Bhogar's fifth verse. "In eight petals there are eight shaktis. The shaktis are there to give you power." He then names each one in accordance with traditional listings of the eight siddhis. But he expands upon there being just eight siddhis, enumerating, as does the Kaula text a 64 fold matrix of power, that harbors all the hidden secrets of alchemy and bodily perfection…

These eight goddesses
stand in the field,
keeping the petals closed,
Who knows why?

They won't let you see Nandi
and rise up.

But you will drink
the very substance of sky.

If you puff
and make the eight shaktis swoon
they'll open all the petals
and go staggering off.

By using the heart of the flower
you'll make them obey
the Mother's commands.
-7

By embracing Mykfkmf (also "copulation")
the eight sharp-edged shaktis
it is complete.
-23

Ask which path
to climb,
and receive
the 8x8 siddhis.

Being molded...
You are forged
by listening to all
of the alchemical secrets.

Ask specifically
for the path
to the Kaaya Siddhi.(the Perfection of Immortality)
-51

Nandi can come here easily.

Being friendly,
he will give
the eight into eight;
the sixty-four.

The malleable alchemy
will stand before you
with folded arms.

The deepest essence
will appear explicit
and complete.

In Joy,
the body
becomes perfected
-24
We can see here some of the desciptive layering mentioned above

Setting these images aside for a moment, let me mention yet another form of indirect reference that can be found throughout Tamil Siddha writings from it's earliest textual beginnings in the 7th century, up to and including the more contemporary writings of Ramalinga. As with other tantric sources, essential mantras or other trade secrets are sometimes presented in an encoded sandhaa form within the body of a verse without actual disclosure of the mantra, yantra, rite or discipline in question. Douglas Brooks takes up just such a practice in his work Auspicious Wisdom, as he seeks to trace out the earliest strata of the Srividya system in South India. He finds that up until the 9th century when Srividya develops as a full-fledged written Sanskrit tradition, there is no substantial northern vernacular sources that can help delineate the regional diffusion of the tradition. But he finds in the Tamil an enigmatic reference of Tirumular to demonstrate "at least a prototypical" form of Srividya as early as the 7th century in the deep South. Here Tirumular expresses the subtle character of the Srividya mantra or Paanchadaasakshaari, by coloring the three sets of letters that comprises her 15 syllables.

The letter ka and five letters are golden colored.
The letter a [i.e. ha] and the six are red in color.
The four letters beginning with ca [i.e. sa] are pure white.
The three vidyaas [i.e, kuutas] beginning with ka give desired liberation.

The golden colored five letters beginning with ka are of course "ka ye ee la hrim".
The six red letters are "Ha sa ka ha la hrim". The white letters beginning with sa are "Sa ka la hrim". This is the pAnchadAsakshAri, the fifteen syllabled mantra. This Siddha puzzle can mean very little to the uninitiated, but Brooks assures us that it is the earliest tangible indication of what will become a pervasive goddess cult throughout the subcontinent.

Within the numerological web that seems to form a minor subtext in Bhogar's work we see this Siddha's apparently outright disclosure of this same secret formula of the Goddess Tiripurai. She is intimately connected both with the "triple city" that is the triangle found at Muladhara and the 64 yogini's referred to in the Kaulajnana Nirnaya which is mentioned above. Bhogar, like other Siddhas, has spun out a net of obscure numerical allusions, that suggest that the numbering of his verses are not completely arbitrary. Numerological inferences such as these, reveal how the text can go on saying something even where there are no words. Before I proceed, I should mention the tremendous weight placed on two mutually related symbolic units in Agaamic lore (as well as the Shilpi shastras of the South) the word vastu, which Bhogar frequently uses to denote the ultimate essence of all his endeavors, and the number 64, which, as the 64 siddhis function as the initiatory means to realize that essence. The relationship between these two elements form the centerpiece of the Shilpi Shastras, as the Vastu Purusha Mandala is composed of 64 parts. It appears that a number of themes presented in Bhogar's text coincide with the numbering of the verses, so that in his 7000 couplets he begins in verse three describing the 3 points of the triangle at muladhara and in verse 72 he takes up the 72, 000 naadis that make up the profusion of praanic foliage that is the tree of the subtle body. Sandwiched between, we find Bhogar in verse 64 presenting what appears to be the his ultimate secret

64

Having said this,
Aajnaa will manifest.

In this chakra
relish Manomani
as she is spelled out
before you.

Listen to the mantra
I tell you secretly...

The uniting...
Ka Ea Ee La Hreem
and in the middle...

Ha Sa Ka La Hreem

and then...
Sa Ka La Hreem

These are the three parts
of the Panchadaasakshaari,
the fifteen letters.

Spell them out carefully...
And set yourself
on fire!
Here Bhogar's trickery is infinitely more insidious then Tirumular's obscurity. As we have seen Bhogar's constant reference to the 8X8 or sixty-four siddhis seems to reflect some cosmological influence from Matsyendranath's Kaula text. His frequently repeated, but vague allusion to 64 siddhis which he connects to some ultimate understanding of all the "alchemical secrets" ostentatiously looms out amidst the other layers of yogic discourse. So when verse 64 rolls around, and Bhogar takes on that more intimate tone with his reader, conspiratorially offering to whisper some secret mantra in their ear, the reader feels they have very much come to the crux of his text. But all the various editions of the Ezhaayiram omit one of the precious syllables of the Paanchadaasakshaari, conferring an empty secret. It is interesting to explore the teasing character of a Siddha language that strives very hard to set up a situation where they try not to tell you something…

In the Foundations of Tibetan Mysticism, Lama Anagarika Govinda has presented the only scholarly discussion of Sandhyaa Bhaashaa that actually ventures away from the lexical model. He also maintains that "twilight language" is the appropriate English rendering of the term. Though he doesn't go into much detail, in this regard, he breaches the subject of sandhyaa bhaashaa, when discussing the biographies of the 84 Siddhas of Vajrayana Buddhism. He sees the biographical narrative in the siddha tradition as a dominant mode of sandhyaa speech. This manifestation of sandhyaa speech demonstrates that it is not only located in a tantric textual framework, but is also expressed through oral tradition, where the images and symbol usages are in no way static. Here they will certainly be subject to constant modification as new variants of a legend are generated over time.
To provide a more simplistic model that is imbued with a kind of doctrinal resonance we need only look at contemporary legends surrounding Tirumular's journey to the south to found the Tamil Siddha school. His name was originally Sundarar and he came to Tamil country in search of his friend and fellow-yogi Agastyar who had taken up residence in the Pothiya Hills. After joining his friend for a time, Sundarar wandered deeper into the south. One evening just after dusk, on the outskirts of a little village, he came upon a small herd of cows lowing and bellowing mournfully. As he came nearer he saw that the cows, obviously very upset, were standing round the dead body of a cow-herd. A few hours earlier, Moolan the cow-herd, was stung on the heel by a serpent. His soul had gone to pasture, and his body lay crumpled in the grassy field. It was getting quite dark and Sundarar, taking pity on the poor cows, shifted his awareness into the body of Moolan. Leaving his original body hidden in the hollow of a log, Sundarar brought the much relieved cows home wearing the guise of the cow-herd Moolan. The new ?Moolan' was no longer your average cow-herd, but a great yogi. You can imagine the consternation of his wife when Moolan refused to come home. In frustration, she called together the village elders who examined Moolan. They found that the little cow-herd had become a saint. They had no recourse but to advise Moolan's wife to let the sage wander as he like. When the yogi went back to the grassy field in search of his body... it had disappeared. The saint disregarded this minor inconvenience as Siva's grace.

In this story surrounding Tirumoolar establishing himself in South India we also see a mythic reenactment of the establishment of the earliest strata of Shaivite philosophy in the South as Lakulisha's Paashupathi doctrine of pathi, pasu, and paasam is apparently hidden within the narrative. Here Sundarar takes on a second body, that of Moolan, literaly the "root", who has died to the world after experiencing the "bite" of the serpent kundalini. This notion of the second body is pervasive throughout all of Siddha tradition as the Siddha seeks to transform their physical from into the deathless body of the "second Shiva." So here this second body is that of Shiva as Pathi, the cowherd guide of the Pasus or animal souls, which he guides home, by establishing them in moksha.

The Tamil siddhas often express the contempt they feel towards mundane speech. This perhaps explains why they opt to cloak their teachings in stories, alchemical allegory, or through a carefully constructed sequence of images. Bhogar's feelings towards language is made quite clear in verse number 13 of his 7000.
13
My fine fellow,
If you see Nandi,
then you will know alchemy.

To say even one word
is just noisy useless talk.

It's like having a chat
with a corpse in the burning ground.

Only by seeing the light
of the jeweled root
will the golden chain
of the Circle's End
come open.

The reference made here to Nandi is uncertain, as it may refer to the god Shiva, as also the historical Nandi that is the guru of Tirumular. In some texts Nandi is presented as a kind of god of alchemy and I suspect that here all three Nandi's are blurred together. The light of the jeweled root refers to the root chakra Muladhara located at the base of the spine where the solar and lunar currents are joined. The circle's end or suzhimunai is the central current into which prana from these solar and lunar nadi's flow. It's golden chain, is the network of chakra's which, unopened, bind mankind to earth.

MulAr's verses on Parianga Yoga or "Beadstead Yoga" reveal an interesting confluence of maithuna, advanced yoga techniques, kundalini and alchemical imagery. Here the semen and vaginal fluid are desribed as part of a smelting process that is guided by the breath and the refining efforts of the yogi goldsmith who is crafting amrita from his own vital essence.

Lest the silvery liquid into the golden flow,
The artful goldsmith (practitioner) covered it up with yogic breath
The sparks (Kundalini) that flew traveled up by the way of Spinal tube
There above,
He contained them with the tongue's tip (Kechari).
-834

As the sparks of the mercurial fluid, that is semen, is withdrawn from the smithy of the lover's union it is caused to rise through the central channel of the susumna nadi by the bellows of the breath. It is then held in the cranium for it's final transmutation into the elixir by applying the kechari mudra where the tip of the tongue is turned and thrust upwards, behind the hard palate. Describing inner alchemical processes as being the vocation of the goldsmith is common as we shall see in both the writing of the Tamil Siddhas and the Naths of North India. Her we see that the text leaves much for the imagination of the audience to fill in. In describes a whole complex of alchemic and yogic correspondences that a set of lexical equivalences cannot provide, only the imagination and a familiarity with the tradition can make the all of the implications of the verse eveident. To refine the complexity of this verse, let me present the more explicite Tantric writings of the yogi Goraknath.
Tirumular is about two centuries before Goraknath (9th-10th), still they share in addition to that precarious connection with Buddhism through their gurus, amazing parallels in philosophy and the imagery which expresses it. Indeed, Goraknath's name appears on many of the lists of the 18 Tamil Siddhas. His name is also connected with quite a number of Tamil works, mostly dealing with medicine and alchemy. This is most certainly a Tamil ghost-writer(?) named after the famous North Indian Naath, who was born from a cow-turd and later rose to become the first to systematize hatha yoga. He is said to have tempered the extreme character of his guru Matsyedranaath's tantric teachings. His goraknAthi or nAth siddha sect has it's name located in a bit of sandhA slight of hand as it is said to be derived from the PrAkrit word "nattha" the name for the nose ring used to control, steer, or guide an animal. Which harkens back to the Paasupatha doctrine as well as demonstrating that it is the nose and manipulation of the breath in the two nostrils that guides the yogi to freedom.
We can see in White's translation of this verse ascribed to Goraknath a similar structure to the verse of Tirumular which we have just seen. Here again, the goldsmith-alchemist is working the bellows of his breath to tame his wily mercurial seed...
"I take the gold [the void essence] in the goldsmithy [the cranial vault]---I am a goldsmith by trade. Pumping the bellows [of my breaths], stabilizing my mercury, I have fixed it and then mixed it together with mica.
I the goldsmith am in my gold. The root cakra [mUlAdhAra] is my fire pot. I forge it on the anvil of vibration [nAda}, using my drop [bindu] hammer to press out the gold.
In an ever -verdant forest my poisoned charcoal [burns, with its fire] blowing upwards naturally, through the bellows' twin jet.
Harmonizing [the jets of] sun and moon [iDA and piNgalA] upbreath and downbreath] I stop the breath [kumbhaka], and breath is merged into breath.
With one rattI [grain] of work, you can steal away a mAsA [lentil's weight] --- and I am the rattI who does the stealing. Stealing the mAsA, I remain within the mAsA: by gathering up [gold] in this way, it is I who am gathered into myself.
Gold above, gold beneath, gold in the midst of gold. He who makes the triadic-void his dwelling place has a body that is neither pure nor impure.
That which is beyond mind [unmani] is the balance beam. Mind is the weighing pan, and six lentil's-weight of breath are in the pan. While Goraknath was sitting here seeking after gold, gold came in [to his smithy] of its own accord."

This work also employs the sandhha imagery butThe vocation of the goldsmith as mirroring the endeavors of the yogi is summed up in the foundational text of the Rasa Siddhas, the Rasaarnava, which says: yathaa lohe tathaa dehe, "as in metal, so in the body." But this transmutation of the base physical body into the gold of the immortal is facilitated only through the reconciliation of the solar and lunal praanic currents, as we have just seen.

This notion brings up the issue of the siddha's stock terminology, I want to show not only how an expression modifies the symbol structure through indirect reference, but also how the disparate meanings associated with a term can reflect or even inform the associative matrix which the siddha employs. Take for instance the word which the Tamil Siddhas use for praana vatmf (vaatham), it is derived from the Sanskrit word vaatah. which means "a humour, wind, or flatulence." In the Tamil, vaatham also refers to the windy humours of the body, wind or air in general, but its meaning seems to get mixed up with another word vaT (vaathu), which is derived from a different Sanskrit (vaadu) word, meaning "a proposition, argument, or discussion." This ammended layering of meaning suits the evocative character of siddha works as the siddha tradition views the vital airs as being in a state of conflict, that must be reconciled through the manipulation of breath. The fact that the word vaatham also means "alchemy" gives the siddha a whole new venue of associative play.