No Matter What: A Kaula Hymn of Defiance and Final Surrender

No Matter What does not begin like a love song.

It begins like a vow spoken under breath — a line drawn in the dust at midnight.

These words could be sung in a temple or shouted in a storm:
“No matter what they say, no matter what they do — this love is real.”

There is something in this song that refuses compromise.
It moves from defiance to longing to revelation, until the last notes feel like pūrṇāhuti — the final ladle of offering poured into the fire.

This is not just romance.
This is the sound of someone who has already stepped into the cremation ground and decided there is no turning back.

Verse 1

No matter what they tell us
No matter what they do
No matter what they teach us
What we believe is true

This opening is already a mantra of defiance — the sādhaka standing firm at the threshold of the cremation ground.

“No matter what they tell us” – Society always has a story about what is right, what is pure, what is allowed. Kaula sādhana begins with refusing to be hypnotized by these stories. This is the first act of courage: turning away from the collective narrative and facing the Goddess directly.
“No matter what they do” – The path is not protected from hostility; in fact, Kaula practice often attracts resistance. Family may disapprove, friends may withdraw, the world may laugh. But the sādhaka persists. This line sounds like an inner resolve: “Let them come. Let them try. I will not turn back.”
“No matter what they teach us” – Here we hear the voice of someone who refuses to outsource Truth to external teachers who speak from books but not from experience. In Kaula, true teaching is ātmavidyā — direct knowing, transmitted through the Guru’s glance, not dry instruction.
“What we believe is true” – This is not a naïve “my-truth-is-the-truth” relativism. It is the recognition that śraddhā (faith) is itself a form of knowledge. When the heart has been pierced by the Beloved, that experience cannot be debated. This line is like the sādhaka whispering to the inner Devi: “I know what I have seen. Even if no one else believes, I cannot unknow it.”

This verse is the pratijñā — the vow. Before any ritual, before any fire is lit, the sādhaka must make this internal declaration. Without this first step — saying “no” to the hypnosis of the world — there is no Kaula path.

Verse 2

No matter what they call us
However, they attack
No matter where they take us
We'll find our own way back

If the first verse was the pratijñā — the vow to stand firm — this is the saṅkalpa to walk the path, no matter how dangerous or lonely.

“No matter what they call us” – Every Kaula practitioner is eventually given a name by the world: madman, heretic, sinner, blasphemer. This line embraces that reality. The sādhaka accepts being misunderstood as the cost of staying true to the inner flame.
“However they attack” – The Kaula path is not merely philosophical; it is lived in the body, in the marketplace, in the family. Attacks can be subtle (social shaming, exclusion) or direct (persecution, ridicule). This line feels like the sādhaka saying: Strike if you must — I am not leaving this path.
“No matter where they take us” – The journey may drag the practitioner into places they never imagined: the metaphorical cremation ground, the margins of society, the hidden shrine of their own unconscious. In Kaula, these dislocations are not accidents — they are part of the sādhana, tearing away what is false.
“We’ll find our own way back” – This is the heart of the verse. Kaula Mārga is literally the “Way of the Clan,” but it is also the path of returning. The sādhaka trusts that whatever detours life brings — exile, shame, wandering — there is always a way back to the Beloved. This is the note of fierce optimism that prevents the vow from becoming mere bitterness.

Where Verse 1 drew the line of separation (“we will not be taught by them”), Verse 2 declares the motion of return — a trust that the journey will lead back to the source, no matter how dark the road. It’s both warrior-like and devotional, the voice of someone who has burned their bridges and now walks forward without fear.

Chorus

I can't deny what I believe
I can't be what I'm not
I know I'll love forever
I know, no matter what

This is the heart of the song. The first two lines are almost like mantras, expressing the uncompromising essence of the Kaula sādhaka.

“I can’t deny what I believe” – In Kaula, once the inner recognition (pratyabhijñā) happens, there is no going back. To deny it would be to betray the Self. This line has the force of a dīkṣā-vow: the practitioner cannot pretend to be “normal” again after touching the current.
“I can’t be what I’m not” – This is the Kaula ideal of authenticity. The sādhaka refuses to live under false identities — whether of social roles, caste expectations, or even spiritual masks. It echoes Abhinavagupta’s teaching that liberation is not becoming something else but fully recognizing what one already is.
“I know I’ll love forever” – Here the voice softens. The previous lines are about truth and identity; this one is about bhakti, the heart’s vow. In Kaula Mārga, love (rasa) is not a fleeting emotion — it is eternal. Once the Goddess has claimed the sādhaka, that current of love never runs dry.
“I know, no matter what” – This is the final seal: unconditionality. The practitioner affirms that nothing — not ridicule, exile, fear, or even death — can separate them from this love.

This chorus is the crystallization of resolve. After the fiery verses, here the song becomes almost liturgical — the sādhaka speaking before the invisible shrine, making a final, irreversible declaration.

Verse 3

If only tears were laughter
If only night was day
If only prayers were answered
Then we would hear God say

This verse is saturated with viraha-bhāva — the feeling of separation that becomes the fuel for the deepest sādhana.

“If only tears were laughter” – This is the yearning for transmutation. In Kaula, tears are not suppressed; they are alchemized. The sādhaka longs for the day when the tears of separation become the laughter of union, when sorrow is not banished but turned into nectar.
“If only night was day” – Night is the realm of the Goddess, the unknown, the shadow. The wish for night to become day is not a desire to escape darkness but for the darkness to reveal its secret — to shine from within. This is classic Kaula imagery: the cremation ground that glows with moonlight.
“If only prayers were answered” – Here the sādhaka acknowledges the ache of unanswered longing. This is the moment between pūjā and prasāda, when the heart waits — sometimes for years — without response. Kaula tradition does not promise instant consolation; it asks the seeker to stay with the burning.
“Then we would hear God say” – This is the turning point. The longing is not just for relief but for revelation — for a direct word from the Divine. In Kaula Mārga, this is not metaphorical: the sādhaka prays to hear the Goddess speak through omens, visions, or the Guru’s mouth.

This verse is like the sandhyā — the twilight — between the defiant stance of the first half and the full surrender of what follows. It is tender, almost childlike, yet filled with the courage to wait until the Divine answers.

Verse 4

No matter what they tell you
No matter what they do
No matter what they teach you
What you believe is true

This repetition is not redundant — it’s a deepening. The first time these lines were sung, they carried the tension of defiance. Now, they are like a mantra recited after the initial storm has passed.

“No matter what they tell you” – The perspective shifts from “us” to “you.” It feels almost like the Guru or Devi speaking, reassuring the sādhaka personally: “Do not let their words shake you.”
“No matter what they do” – The earlier line had the heat of resistance; here it carries serenity. It is less about fighting back and more about standing still, unshaken.
“No matter what they teach you” – This now sounds less like rebellion against outside teaching and more like quiet discrimination (viveka): knowing what to take in and what to let go.
“What you believe is true” – At this point, this line feels like an affirmation rather than a defiance. The sādhaka no longer shouts it against the world but whispers it to the heart. The truth is not in dispute anymore — it simply is.

This verse is where the defensive shell begins to dissolve. The sādhaka no longer needs to prove their truth or fight every opponent — they simply rest in what they know. This is very much the movement Kaula sādhana takes after the first fierce stages: from the sharp break with convention to a quiet, luminous confidence.

Chorus 2

And I will keep you safe and strong
And sheltered from the storm
No matter where it's barren
A dream is being born

This chorus feels like a turning point — the response to the sādhaka’s cry in Verse 3.

“And I will keep you safe and strong” – This is the Goddess as Rakṣākarī — the one who protects. In Kaula, the path is not simply a human effort; it is upheld by Śakti. This line is Her whisper: “You are not walking this path alone.”
“And sheltered from the storm” – The storm is the chaos of the world, the attacks, the judgments mentioned earlier. This shelter is not an escape but a womb — like the mystical kula-yantra that enfolds the sādhaka and keeps them intact until their realization ripens.
“No matter where it’s barren” – Here the song speaks to the desert-times of sādhana, when nothing seems to grow. The Kaula path demands patience — sometimes for months or years — while the inner transformation brews unseen.
“A dream is being born” – This is the revelation: the barrenness was never empty, it was gestational. In Kaula symbolism, the barren ground is the śmaśāna — the cremation ground — where everything is burnt away so that the true dream (the vision of the Divine) can arise.

This chorus is full of grace. It’s no longer just about the seeker’s courage but about the Beloved’s promise: You will be held. You will not be destroyed. Even your wastelands are secretly holy.

Verse 5

No matter who they follow
No matter where they lead
No matter how they judge us
I'll be everyone you need

This verse feels like the culmination — the point where the sādhaka realizes that the Beloved is not just a distant protector but the very substance of reality itself.

“No matter who they follow” – The world can chase after any teacher, any religion, any ideology. The Kaula practitioner no longer needs to compare or compete. The path has become inward — its truth does not depend on the validation of the crowd.
“No matter where they lead” – This is radical freedom. Others may go into war, politics, dogma, or distraction, but the sādhaka no longer has to be dragged along. The current of Śakti has taken over the steering.
“No matter how they judge us” – Judgment was the sharp pain in the first verses. By now it has lost its sting. The sādhaka stands naked before the Goddess and is no longer wounded by public opinion. This is the heroic stance of one who has passed through fire.
“I’ll be everyone you need” – This is the most mystical line of all. It is as if Devi speaks directly: “I am the guru, the friend, the lover, the parent — I am the All. You need no one but Me.” In Kaula metaphysics, this is the realization that all this manifestation is indeed the Goddess.

This verse is the revelation — the moment when the sādhaka’s longing is fulfilled not by an external rescuer but by the recognition that the Divine pervades everything.

Final Chorus

No matter if the sun don't shine
Or if the skies are blue
No matter what the ending
My life began with you
I can't deny what I believe
I can't be what I'm not
I know this love's forever
That's all that matters now, no matter what

Here the polarity of joy and sorrow collapses. The sādhaka is no longer asking for a happy ending — only for union with the Beloved.

“No matter if the sun don't shine / Or if the skies are blue” – Both darkness and light are now accepted equally. This is dvandva-ātīta — going beyond the pairs of opposites. The sādhaka no longer clings to auspiciousness (śubha) or rejects inauspiciousness (aśubha).
“No matter what the ending” – Death, disgrace, exile — none of these can undo the truth of what has been seen. The sādhaka’s entire life, with all its trials, is transfigured.
“My life began with you” – This is a stunning mystical insight: life truly begins only after the meeting with the Beloved. Everything before was a kind of half-life. This line could almost be placed in a Śakta tantra as the sādhaka’s confession: “Only after You claimed me did I begin to live.”
“I know this love's forever / That's all that matters now” – The final liberation. Nothing else — not reputation, not worldly success, not even survival — matters. The sādhaka is fully possessed by the current of grace.

Outro

No, no matter what … that’s all that matters to me

The outro is like the repetition of a mantra, driving the realization deeper with each cycle. By the end, the voice is not pleading or resisting — it is simply resting.

Pūrṇāhuti — The Final Offering

In the language of Vedic ritual, pūrṇāhuti is the last oblation poured into the fire — the moment when everything is given and nothing is held back. This song ends exactly on that note.

After defiance, prayer, and revelation, the final chorus and outro are not just words of love — they are the last ladle of ghee into the fire of the heart. The sādhaka does not merely promise to keep believing; they lay down their whole life, declaring:

“My life began with you … that’s all that matters now.”

At this point, the polarity of victory and defeat dissolves. Whether the world calls them a saint or a sinner, whether the sun shines or the sky darkens, the offering is complete. The sādhaka stands in the ashes of the ritual, emptied and yet overflowing — the true mark of Kaula realization.

This is why the song leaves a lingering stillness after it ends. It is the silence of a fire that has consumed everything and now glows quietly. Pūrṇāhuti is not a dramatic climax; it is the serene completion of a journey.