Where Others End: The Bhūpura as the First Gate of Kaula

Guruji Amritananda’s diagram of the first āvaraṇa (Bhūpura) of the Śrīcakra, showing the three walls, siddhis, Mātṛkā-śaktis, and Mudrā Devīs — the Trailokya-mohana Cakra, “Wheel that Enchants the Three Worlds.”

Kaula Today: A Rare but Living Current

Kaula has never been a path for the many. It is not simply “left-handed Tantra” or exotic ritual — it is the current of the Goddess in Her most radical, liberating form. And today, this current flows only in a few hidden places.

The Kubjikā tradition survives in Nepal, carefully guarded by birth and initiation, rarely opening its doors to outsiders.
The Kālī-kula of Bengal has all but vanished as a living initiatory stream, leaving behind the songs of Rāmaprasāda and the memory of cremation-ground sādhus.
The Trika Kaula of Kashmir ended its direct paramparā with Swami Lakshman Joo, the last great expositor of Abhinavagupta’s vision.

Even Śrīvidyā, the most visible Kaula current, has largely shifted into a ritual tradition. After the mahāsamādhi of Guruji Amritananda, the “wild Kaula edge” — fearless, playful, all-embracing — has largely gone underground. The yantra, mantra, and homa continue, luminous and beautiful, but the raw current that burns through conditioning and transforms the seeker is rarely encountered.

One could add a few more: the Kaulas of Kerala (Śrīcakra upāsakas and fierce Bhairava cults), or the Natha-linked Kaulas who persist in pockets of North India. But the pattern is clear: the Kaula current has withdrawn from mass accessibility. What remains is for the few who are called — and willing to burn.

Śrīcakra as the Map of the Return

In Śrīvidyā, the Kaula vision is enshrined in the Śrīcakra — the yantra that is both a cosmic map and the inner body of Devī. Each āvaraṇa is a full concentric layer, an enclosure or “court” of the Goddess, complete with its own lines, lotuses, and triangles. Each āvaraṇa is guarded by its circle of Yoginīs, whose task is to test, bless, and initiate the sādhaka into deeper intimacy with the Goddess.

To enter the Śrīcakra is to begin the journey back to the Bindu, the innermost point where the Goddess stands revealed as the One — and where the sādhaka dissolves into Her.

But this journey is not done in one leap. Each āvaraṇa must be crossed, each court faced. The very first of these layers — the outer square called Bhūpura — is the first ordeal. It is the place where the sādhaka moves from theory to living fire. And it is here that Kaula begins — where others have ended.

Guruji’s Teaching on the Bhūpura

Before we go deeper into the three-colored walls, let us hear Guruji Amritananda’s own words. His explanation gives the most luminous and simple frame for what the Bhūpura truly is:

Prathamāvaraṇa (Bhūpura / Earthworks) — the Trailokya-mohana Cakra, “the Wheel that Enchants the Three Worlds.”

The Bhūpura is the earth level, where sṛṣṭi (creation) is fully manifested and separateness is felt. Here, our five senses interact with the world, leading to experiences both pleasant and painful, which agitate the mind.

These agitations are represented by the Mātṛkā-śaktis, who inhabit the second wall of the Bhūpura.
The Mudrā-śaktis in the third wall help us overcome these disturbances.
The attainments (siddhis) gained by mastering these influences are represented in the first wall of the Bhūpura.

The bīja of this āvaraṇa is DRĀM — which means vibration or sound, and also “shaking.” Saṃkṣobhana means intercourse, mingling, mixing — an invitation to speak openly, without inhibition, and to listen to Her response.

Guruji reminds us that the Bhūpura is not just a diagram but the earth-plane itself — the full field of sense-experience, with all its pleasures and agitations. The sādhaka does not bypass this level but learns to transform it.

The Three Walls of the Bhūpura

To stand before the Bhūpura is to feel the air thicken.
The outer square of the Śrīcakra is not a quiet border — it is a fortress. Its three walls blaze with white, red, and yellow fire, the three guṇas themselves standing guard. To cross them is to be stripped, tested, and remade.

White — the dazzling clarity of sattva. Here, siddhis ignite like stars: power, will, charisma, the strange sense that the world begins to respond to you. This is intoxicating — and dangerous — because it is the first taste of sovereignty.
Red — the burning intensity of rajas. Here wait the Aṣṭa-Mātṛkās, the Eight Mothers of Passion. They do not smile. They drag up everything hidden — lust, anger, greed, pride, envy, even your secret righteousness — and they magnify it until it fills the sky. This is where many sādhakas are devoured, not because the Mothers are cruel, but because they do not allow the half-ripe to pass.
Yellow — the heavy gold of tamas. Here sit the Daśa-Mahāmudrās, the Ten Mothers of Mastery, their gaze unblinking. If you reach them, they will not coddle you — they will bind, seal, and forge you until the power you awakened no longer leaks, no longer burns you, but flows steady as lightning caught in a rod.

To step into the Bhūpura is to agree to this ordeal. This is not “preliminary practice.” This is where the Goddess begins to take you seriously. From this point on, nothing in your life will stay untouched.

The First Wall: White — The Birth of Power

The first wall of the Bhūpura shines white — dazzling, almost blinding.
This is the realm of sattva, where siddhi awakens.

Most yogic and spiritual books explain these siddhis in an exoteric way:
Aṇimā means shrinking to the size of an atom, Laghimā means levitation, Mahimā means becoming huge, Prākāmya means flying through walls, and so on. These descriptions are not wrong, but they are a surface-level understanding — metaphors for something far more intimate.

Kaula does not treat siddhi as spectacle. It sees them as deep transformations of consciousness, proof that tapas has ripened, that the Goddess has placed Her hand on you. They are the first initiations — and the first intoxication. If you cling to them, you will never pass the second wall.

Here is what it feels like when the siddhis come alive:

Aṇimā — what once crushed you now feels small. Insults, failures, fears can be made insignificant, almost invisible.
Laghimā — a lightness enters your steps. Things that once took grinding effort now flow easily. Work bends to your hand.
Mahimā — your sense of self grows vast. Charisma awakens. You feel the power to expand, to rise, to take up space.
Garimā — you gain weight, not of the body but of presence. People notice you. Your words carry consequence.
Īśitva — the ability to command, to assert, to take the reins of life.
Vaśitva — the subtler power of attraction. Doors open. People are drawn in. (This is the śakti of Matāṅgī.)
Prākāmya — the shocking immediacy of manifestation. You think — and it happens.
Bhukti — a flowering of enjoyment. Life tastes vivid, delicious. Pleasure ceases to be guilty.
Icchā — your will sharpens like a sword. You can cut through obstacles.
Prāpti — you attain what you seek, but with enough space to savor the process, to enjoy the pursuit.
Sarvakāma — all your plans begin to take shape. Reality itself seems to rearrange to meet you.

Each of these is a gift — and each a trap. The first wall is dangerous precisely because it feels so good. This is why it is white: its brilliance can blind you. If you mistake this for the goal, you will build a palace outside the gate and never cross the red wall.

But if you bow and walk on, the air thickens. The Mātṛkās are waiting.

The Second Wall: Red — The Mothers of Passion

The second wall of the Bhūpura glows red — not soft rose, but the deep crimson of blood, fire, and raw life.
This is the wall of rajas, the place where everything you have hidden is dragged into the open.

Here dwell the Aṣṭa-Mātṛkās — the Eight Mothers.
They are not gentle. They do not care for your theories or your self-image. Their task is simple: to magnify your passions until you can no longer pretend they are under control.

Brāhmī is desire itself — kāma. In her presence, even a trace of longing becomes a wave that can sweep you off your feet.
Māheśvarī is anger — krodha — white-hot, purifying, but also consuming if not faced.
Kaumārī is greed — lobha — that sharp little hook of possession that can suddenly take over the mind.
Vaiṣṇavī is delusion — moha — when obsession blinds you and you cannot tell dream from truth.
Vārāhī is pride — mada — the intoxicating sense of “I am powerful, I am special.”
Indrāṇī (Māhendrī) is envy — mātsarya — the gnawing pain at another’s joy, the fury of wanting to be first.
Cāmuṇḍā is pāpa — not mere “sin” but the raw ego that would put itself above dharma, even at the cost of others.
Mahālakṣmī is puṇya — righteousness, merit — but here she tests whether you cling to being “good,” to moral superiority, to spiritual pride.

Each Mother is both a mirror and a flame.
If you are not ready, they will devour what is false — not as punishment, but as protection. To cross the red wall half-ripe would destroy you.

If you are ready, they initiate you. They show that desire can become devotion, anger can become clarity, pride can become dignity, even envy can become aspiration. They teach that nothing is to be repressed — everything must be transmuted.

This is the Kaula paradox at its sharpest: the very forces that bind the world become the ladder of liberation. But it is a razor’s edge — and many turn back here, or are thrown back into the world to ripen longer.

If you do not run — if you can stand before the Mothers without flinching — the wall turns golden. The third gate begins to open.

The Third Wall: Yellow — The Mothers of Mastery

If you endure the fire of the Mātṛkās, the red glow turns golden.
This is the third wall — the wall of tamas, but not the dull tamas of sleep. This is tamas transmuted — heavy, luminous, grounding.

Here sit the Daśa-Mahāmudrās, the Ten Mothers of Mastery, guardians of the ten directions.
Their work is not to test but to seal. If the sādhaka’s bhāva is pure — if the passions stirred by the Mātṛkās have been faced without repression or indulgence — these Devīs fix that victory into the bones.

Each Mudrā corresponds to a chakra, beginning with Sava-saṃkṣobhiṇī in the Mūlādhāra and extending upward through bindu and sahasrāra. Together they form a circle that locks in the sādhaka’s realization, turning scattered śakti into a steady current.

Their names are a litany of power:

Sarva-saṃkṣobhiṇī — the one who shakes all.
Sarva-vidrāviṇī — the one who makes all flee (clearing the field).
Sarvākārṣiṇī — the one who attracts all.
Sarva-vaśaṅkarī — the one who subjugates all.
Sarvonnmādinī — the one who intoxicates all.
Sarva-mahāṅkuśā — the great goad that guides all.
Sarva-khecarī — the one who roams through all space.
Sarva-bīja — the seed of all.
Sarva-yoni — the womb of all, the source.
Sarva-trikhanda (Trailokya-mohanā) — the one who enchants the three worlds and covers the entire cakra.

When these Mothers bless, the sādhaka is no longer tossed about by passion — the fire that once threatened to consume is now held in the heart like lightning in a vessel. This is why they are called “Mudrās” — they seal the sādhaka, making them ready to step into the inner āvaraṇas without fear of collapse.

To reach this wall and pass is to become someone new: no longer a seeker, but a vessel of śakti, steady enough to enter the living courts of the Goddess.

Gate Has Opened

The Bhūpura is not just the “outer square.” It is the first trial by fire.
Here, you are given power, plunged into passion, and finally sealed so you can hold both without breaking.

The White Wall awakens your capacities — will, charisma, delight — and asks whether you will worship these gifts or walk past them.
The Red Wall magnifies every passion until you either shatter or transmute them into fuel.
The Yellow Wall seals what is ripe, forging you into a vessel strong enough to carry śakti deeper.

To cross all three is to be reborn. The timid cannot pass, but the willing are made fierce — not by violence but by alignment with the current.

This is why the Kaula path begins where others end. Most stop at the first taste of power or bliss and call it liberation. Kaula takes these as the price of admission.

If you have stood before these walls and not run, if you have been scorched and yet chosen to go on — then the gate has opened. The inner āvaraṇas await. The Yoginīs are watching. The Bindu is still far ahead, but the journey has truly begun.

May the Siddhis ripen without pride.
May the Mātṛkās devour only what is false.
May the Mahāmudrās seal the vessel until no power leaks.
May we cross the Bhūpura and walk into the courts of the Goddess.