by Seema Anand
The
Arts of
Seduction
ALEPH BOOK COMPANY
An independent publishing firm
promoted by Rupa Publications India
First published in India in 2018
by Aleph Book Company
7/16 Ansari Road, Daryaganj
New Delhi 110 002
Copyright © Seema Anand 2018
Author photograph © Carl Ward-Reid
All rights reserved.
The author has asserted her moral rights.
The views and opinions expressed in this book are the author’s own and the facts are as reported by her, which have been verified to the extent possible, and the publishers are not in any way liable for the same.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from Aleph Book Company.
ISBN: 978-93-86021-91-5
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.
To my bubbas,
Tarini, Varun and Nikhil
The right to feel pleasure
The right to tell your story
And the right to choose to do so…
Here’s to changing the world, one little story at a time.
Contents
Introduction
The Art of Perfuming
Lovers’ Quarrels
Secret Language of Lovers
Love Bites
Erotic Nerves
The Phases of the Moon
Scratching in the Art of Lovemaking
The Art of the Curved Finger
Dildos—Romance, Seduction, Fulfilment
Kissing
Oral Sex
Feet
The Art of Thrusting
Pillow Talk
Paan and the Arts of Seduction
Sex and Food
Therapeutic Sex
Gems and Precious Stones
Shringhar
The Courtesan Fantasy—Jewellery and the Arts of Seduction
The Sixty-Four Skills
Acknowledgements
Introduction
‘So long as lips shall kiss, and eyes shall see, so long lives This, and This gives life to Thee...’
—Kama Sutra*
This book is a guide to having great sex in the twenty-first century. It seeks to transform what has largely been reduced to instant gratification into a rather more sensuous experience.
My motivation in writing this book is best summed up by this response by Dr Alex Comfort (translator of the Ananga Ranga) to a reader in the New Statesman: ‘Mr. Simon Raven finds sex an “overrated sensation which lasts a bare ten seconds”—and then wonders why anyone should bother to translate the erotic textbooks of medieval India. One good reason for doing so is that there are still people in our culture who find sex an overrated sensation lasting a bare ten seconds....’
‘Mr. Simon Raven’ wasn’t alone in his way of thinking. Someone recently said to me, ‘All this seduction stuff is crap. Sex is hot and fast. When a lion has sex the female knows it…’ Except, we are not animals. Yes, it is possible to throw yourself on top of your partner and hammer your way to an ejaculation in a matter of seconds but, as journalist and author Yasmin Alibhai Brown says, ‘there is a difference between a fuck and [an] experience’.
In order to elevate our animal instincts to a more refined form of pleasure, I turned to the Kama Sutra, which remains a groundbreaking work thousands of years after it was written. The Kama Sutra, compiled by Vatsayayan some time in the third century, is the oldest and most notable of a group of texts on erotic love from ancient India known generically as the Kama Shastras. The Kama Sutra goes deep into the art of making love, and shows how it can be sophisticated and hugely enjoyable. It offers every permutation of every act of foreplay and lovemaking. After all, we as humans are the only species on earth capable of consciously creating and enjoying mutual pleasure. And it wasn’t just momentary physical pleasure—ancient Eastern cultures believed that a stable society depended on a stable marriage and the secret to a stable marriage was extremely good sex. Marriage was the path to heaven and sex was the vehicle to get you there, and therefore the Kama Sutra—and its fellow manuals—were considered works of divine instruction.*
What makes the Kama Sutra stand out from other similar texts is that in compiling the book, Vatsyayan did what no one had ever done before—he broke the ultimate gender myth. For centuries religious belief had held that a woman did not have an independent source of pleasure, that her pleasure depended on that of the man—in other words, a woman’s orgasm was the result of a man’s orgasm. The Kama Sutra stated that not only do women have an independent source of pleasure but that a man is not even necessary to the process. This belief was so controversial at the time that it created a huge stir; more importantly, it put the book on the map for all time.
However, as the centuries passed, the Kama Sutra got lost in the fog of prevailing attitudes and the mire of mistranslations. In the twentieth century, Freud reiterated the antediluvian idea that a woman can only achieve orgasm through regular sex with a man (an idea that the Kama Sutra had discarded almost 2,000 years ago)—any other kind of orgasm was of no real significance; in his words it was ‘immature’. So a woman’s sexuality—that spans an incredible spectrum of pleasure, fulfilment and potential—was reduced to an undifferentiated entity that revolved around the instant gratification of the male. Everything else was dysfunctional. The result was a whole century of sexual angst. And even though we now know better, attitudes are hard to shift.
Perhaps the real deciding factor, if I had to pick one, as to why I would like to introduce the Kama Sutra to people in the twenty-first century is its language. Far from the crudely misogynistic and downright abusive vocabulary that has come to be associated with sexual practices, the language of the Kama Sutra (as well as all the literature it inspired over the following 1,500 years) is characterized by a degree of refinement, beauty and nuanced pleasure, which even extends to the words used to describe women’s genitalia—the clitoris is referred to as the ‘madan-chhatri’ or the ‘love umbrella’, the vulva is the ‘chandan-mahal’ or the ‘fragrant palace’. If the words that we use define our actions, then this is certainly a book that is very deliberately leading us away from the gratuitous violence of imagined passions or the ennui of stale sex towards a world of pleasure where arousal happens one little nerve ending at a time. As feminist Naomi Wolf has said, ‘Just imagine how differently a young girl today might feel about her developing womanhood if every routine slang description she heard of female genitalia used metaphors of preciousness and beauty, and every account of sex was centred on her pleasure—pleasure on which the general harmony depended.’ *
Alongside India, ancient China also had a prominent culture of erotic treatises. A few thousand years ago, borders were not quite as sharp as they are now and there was a surprising exchange of information and ideologies between the two cultures. Both viewed sex and sensuality as essential to the human condition. Both promoted the experience of sexual ecstasy as the vehicle to heaven. Both disseminated it as a medical science, teaching the healing and therapeutic effects of sex.
Of the differences, however, the most important one according to me was that while the Chinese manuals concentrate on the sexual act (detailing the number of thrusts, levels of bodily fluids, the length of time for penetration, etc.) the Indian treatises focus on foreplay and seduction—how to de
velop the perfect mood before and after sex. Seduction was considered an art and, when practiced carefully, it benefited the mind, the body and the soul because it gradually stirred up all the senses and activated the latent energy within us. Refinement was paramount—it elevated the human mind and prepared us for better things.
So why did the Indian treatises value the arts of seduction so much more over the actual act of sex?
Let me posit a couple of theories.
Not only did the finer arts of seduction elevate us from the level of the beasts, as I’ve said, they were very effective in harmonizing the sexual energy of lovers so that the sexual act became a mutually enjoyable experience. The ancients understood that men and women were completely different as lovers and if left to discover their own arousal there was almost no point at which their sexual energies would coincide.
Men’s desires are like fire, starting at the genitals and moving up to the brain. They are easy to ignite and equally quick to extinguish. They need very little encouragement to arrive at full arousal and are content with instant gratification. Women’s desires are like water, starting at the head and flowing downwards; and like water they take far longer to come to the boil and equally long to cool down.
The arts of seduction as prescribed by the Kama Sutra— with all its hundreds of rules and rituals—were meant to bridge the gap between the two sexes. They were meant to slow the man down and encourage him to take his time over his arousal and at the same time give the woman enough time and motivation to raise her sexual energies and desires.
The goal of seduction was more than just a meeting of two bodies—it involved every single sense, beginning with the most erogenous zone of all—the mind. That, according to the Kama Sutra, is the start and end of the road to sexual fulfilment. And to stress this point—although the Kama Sutra invokes the blessings of Kamadeva (the god of love and desire)—the patron deity of the work is Saraswati, the goddess of music, literature, learning; because, as everyone knows, a man who is culturally well informed, the one who can stimulate your mind is the most attractive man of all.
My other theory is that the Indian arts of erotic love and seduction were created by a woman. Very early on in Hindu mythology, Kamadeva is killed off, incinerated by the great god Shiva in a moment of rage. You may not have consciously considered this, but we are the only culture in which Cupid (or Eros) doesn’t have a physical body—he is ananga.*
After Kamadeva’s death the gods convince his wife, Rati, to assume his duties. When she hears of her husband’s death, a heartbroken Rati tries to kill herself but is dissuaded by the gods—the world cannot exist without love and desire. She agrees to carry on his very important work for the time being.
In the Indian context, playing Cupid is not as simple as running around shooting love arrows, it is a far more onerous task and involves teaching the refinements of the arts of love to interested parties so that they can be practised properly.
As you will discover, there is nothing utilitarian about the Kama Sutra. It is not a book about sex, but rather a vade mecum on the arts of seduction; this is a book about finesse and sophistication, about passion and skill, about the nuances of pleasure and depths of satisfaction—where arousal is a combination of physical intimacy and mental fantasy and everything is driven by an exquisite refinement.
In The Arts of Seduction I have made a careful selection of the best techniques of love and sex chosen from the wealth of variations and ideas for seduction that the Kama Sutra has to offer—whether it is the innovative codes for love messages, the effects of applying perfume to different parts of the body, describing the many different types of kissing, where and how to massage your lover’s feet or what kind of jewellery to wear during lovemaking—there’s something for everyone here.
My main aim in writing this book is to make the idea of seduction part of everyday life. As Vatsyayan says, seduction is not an ‘event’—it is not about ‘doing’ it for your partner, nor is it the exclusive property of people in relationships—seduction is for yourself, it should be a state of mind. Something that puts a spring in your step, a lilt in your voice and the fun into sex.
The Kama Sutra, although a treasure trove of the arts of seduction, is not an easy book to read, with its obscure references, obsolete materials and impossibly archaic language. I have shaped the information I wanted to disseminate into short, self-contained chapters so that readers can dip in and out depending on what interests them at different times. I want the reader to treat this as a handy guidebook for new and exciting experiences. Each chapter ends with a section titled ‘My Advice’ wherein I suggest ways in which to use some of the ideas discussed—to excite the mind, to share a laugh or to spice up your sex life. Whether you decide to begin a flirtation using paan or stimulate your own senses with perfume, my hope is that this book will irrevocably enrich your sex life.
*The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana, translated from the Sanskrit by Sir Richard Francis Burton, Kama Shastra Society of London and Benares, 1883.
*‘The union of man and woman is like the mating of heaven and earth. It is because of their correct mating that heaven and earth last forever. Human beings have lost this secret and have therefore become mortal. By knowing it, the path to immortality is opened...’—Shang-Ku-San-Tai
*Naomi Wolf, Promiscuities: The Secret Struggle for Womanhood, New York: Random House, 1997, p. 183.
*Ananga, ‘formless’ or ‘without a body’, is an epithet for Kamadeva.
The Art of Perfuming
Seduction begins with the art of perfuming the body.
Perfume was not meant to be merely dabbed and applied—it had to be absorbed into the skin and mingle with your perspiration to enhance your body’s fragrance. Over the course of the day, as you perspired, the sweat would distil through the layer of scent and morph into an entirely new smell that was unique to you. This was you, your own personal scent, and it was this smell that had to be embedded in the consciousness of your lover and become reminiscent of all the things you had done together, so that each time you made love, your scent would stir up your lover’s every sense with memories of past pleasures and anticipation of the delights to come. It is said that when Cleopatra set out to meet Mark Antony she had the sails of her barge soaked in perfume, so that even ‘the winds were lovesick....’
Perfuming was considered a very skilled craft in ancient India. Every part of the body had to be perfumed with a different fragrance—each scent was distinct and yet merged together like a shifting but composite whole; you could tell the fragrances apart but it was nearly impossible to know where one ended and the other began. It was an ocean of intoxicated senses with no room left for lucid thought. Seduction was not an event, it was a mood, a feeling, a desire that came from the soul and took time to build up. Perfume seduced the mind and the slow, languorous movements of warm scented oils being massaged into the body would bring a woman to a more advanced state of arousal and prepare her for a night of lovemaking.
Both men and women wore perfume but the perfuming rituals of women took longer and were far more complicated. For women, the perfuming was done after the bath and could take up several hours.
According to the Kama Sutra, the well of sexual desire sits in the parting on top of the head, so perfuming had to start with the hair. Traditionally, flirtation began with scented hair. If you wanted to attract a man’s attention you would walk past him swishing your hair and leaving behind a trail of perfume. Or you could set up a rendezvous in the woods and then hide behind the trees, allowing the would-be lover to seek you out by following the scent of your hair.
Amongst the different perfumes used on hair, my favourite is khus or ‘mitti attar’. Khus is literally the fragrance of the first rains falling on scorching hot soil. It is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Khus was applied to slightly wet hair very early in the morning before it was rolled up into a bun. Over the course of the day the perfume would seep into the hair, fuse with the perspiration and completely s
aturate the scalp so that by evening, when you opened your hair, you were a walking cloud of erotic promise—smelling of sun-baked earth and fresh rain.
The neck was perfumed with a fresh scent, usually jasmine or tuberoses. These light scents were meant to conjure up an image of innocence and be the starting point for heavier scents that were concealed in the clandestine crevices and dimples further along the body. Jasmine was literally a sweet, ‘non-intimidating’ smell that encouraged the lover to come closer. In eighteenth-century France, jasmine became the perfume of the prostitutes because it made them smell clean and fresh and innocent—like the girl-next-door. This resulted in upper-class women not wanting to use it any more and so the heavier, more lush fragrances were created for them.
The breasts (or chest) were rubbed with a perfumed oil made of saffron and spiced cloves. Not only was the fragrance stronger but the saffron also served to even out the colour of the skin and make it glow.
The belly button was scented with musk—it was a small area and so it needed something heavier to draw the lover down to it.
The curve of the waist on the other hand was a larger space and so it was perfumed with the very subtle akund (crown flower). The curve of the waist was a road all lovers would have to travel; the perfume ensured that the journey didn’t end too soon. In Indian mythology, the akund is one of the five flower arrows of Kamadeva and anyone who inhales this fragrance from the waist of the lover will be blessed with superior orgasms.
The arms and underarms were very important perfume spots. The arms were the largest exposed part of the body so they were perfumed as well as beautified. Makara (a magical animal like a dragon) designs were painted on the arms with perfumed civet powder.
The perfuming of the underarms was even more complicated. According to the Kama Sutra, the armpit is a very important erogenous zone. There is a large erotic nerve that directly connects the underarm with the vulva and kissing the armpit stimulates the woman’s love juices. There were several different embraces specifically created for the armpit and an entire array of perfumed oils, powders and substances have been suggested for this area.
