I think I´ve been around so much in this life, I´ve done so many things - in the sole 29 years I´ve been alive - that most people wouldn´t dare think about during a whole lifetime, that sometimes I think nothing else will surprise me, there´s nothing left to see. I´m grateful life proves me wrong: something extraordinary always happens to astonish me again, to stimulate... and this is how I ended up in India this summer. There I was on my perfectly normal kung fu class on a Tuesday night when a new student shows up at the door, so gorgeous he actually made me want to get down on my knees and pray so grateful I was just to look at him. So dazzling with his dark skin, actually golden, brown hair, blond from the sun at the tips, the body simply perfect, the definition of health itself. As I am ( and, I have to admit, have always been) the luckiest person on the biosphere, the instructor asks me to help him. I, evidently truly helpful, said the pleasure was going to be all mine and bla bla bla. Corrected one hit here, gave him a tip on concentration there while doing small talk. One thing lead to another and we ended up at the cafeteria after class. He told me his name was Suria (sun in Sanskrit), his parents did yoga for ages - hence the name - and so did he, since he was a child. Told me yoga was his true passion and that he went to a kung fu class just for curiosity. I showed (true) interest on that and so he said that since I had been so patient and nice to him during kung fu, he would be glad to do the same for me, showing me a yoga class. He said he did it at home, invited me over and we set a time - for the record, Friday, absurdly early in the morning - to start. I have a serious problem with waking up early, one of the reasons I wanted to be a writer, as a matter of fact, but it´s all right, anything \"In the name of love\" as Bono would say. So there was I, in the crack of dawn (8 o´clock), at his gate, across town for me. From there I could state it couldn´t be that bad: a wonderful rustic house by Lagoa da Conceicao, with an equally amazing landscape around it and the sweetest Vaimaraner, almost as gorgeous as his owner, greeting me with a dog smile - wagging his tail non-stop. He had already placed our matches on the grass, looking over to the lagoon, more perfect than ever that day, reflecting a grey sky. In the space between the matches and the lagoon a small Ganesha statue - one of the main gods in Hindu mythology, the one that looks like an elephant - and incense. I was charmed. And the class left me feeling even more delighted. After practice, he invited me in for breakfast, which I accepted, certainly. Between a cup of coffee and a toast he said the words I was hoping to hear from the time I heard his name was Suria: Tantra. Most people think that´s some Hindu perversion, but fortunately I´m not most people and know it is actually a very serious and beautiful tradition that believes in sex as means to achieve the sacred. I showed him I wasn´t a complete ignorant on that matter, but that I was willing to learn a lot more if he would indulge me. That was the moment he surprised me as very few have until today: he told me there was very little to say on that, that it was something to be felt. By this time I was jumping on the inside, so happy where this was going. So he pushes me from the top of the mountain: he has not had sex for about a thousand years. He has replaced sex with a kind of meditation that, according to his own words, leads him to a sort of eternal orgasm, the famous Nirvana. I thought I was going to fall from the chair I was sitting, or maybe just melt or turn into stone, anything like that. That´s when he pulls me backing, putting me on the top of the mountain again: he does a tantric massage on the ones who have not been initiated yet, the Yoni massage. I have read about it before, Yoni means the source of life in Sanskrit, that is, if he is massaging my source of life, I´m happy! And that was exactly what he did. He took me to his bedroom, closed the curtains, lit up candles, put on some soothing music, asked me to take off my cloths (at this moment he must have thought I was Jeannie, since they came off with the blink of an eye), ask me to lay me down on my back, with a nice cushion under my tushy. Than he told me to just close my eyes and relax. He also told me that orgasm was not the goal of this massage, but it would be a welcome effect. I mentally agreed. I realized his hands sliding on the inside of my thighs, slowly upwards, as if they were glad to be taking their time around there. The sensation was extremely pleasant and exciting. The \"happy hands\" wondered about the up part of my thighs, still playing. At a normal situation, by this time I´d be going crazy, climbing up walls; but not here. I was really into it, enjoying the present without thinking about the future, profoundly relaxed, feeling a very intense kind of pleasure. So the happy hands were inside me, presuming they were very welcome to do so. I started coming right that minute. A different orgasm, intense yet continuous. Really hard to explain, even for a writer with vast experience in describing orgasms. I came with my entire body, from head to toes, even the tip of my hair. Definitely memorable. But he kept on going for hours and I kept on coming for so long it was difficult to measure how long. I have actually understood the meaning of reaching the sacred through sex: it felt like I was talking to God about the most interesting subjects, understanding the meaning of existence. A philosophical orgasm, I´d say, an epiphany. After we just laid there, side by side, still, belly up, gazing at the infinite for a very long while. In the kitchen, while he prepared the best curry in the south hemisphere, we talked about our trip to India. But that´s the next story...