Reflections of an Aryan woman, 89

It is curious, to say the least, to note that this expansion, still slow, perhaps, but now inexorable, of the two-legged mammal, begins, according to the estimation of researchers, ‘around four thousand years before the Christian era’,[1] that is, according to Hindu tradition, a few centuries before the beginning of the Dark Age, or Kali Yuga, in which we live.

This is not surprising. The Kali Yuga is the age of universal and irremediable decadence—or rather, the age during which the irremediable decadence, imperceptible at the dawn of the cycle, then, relatively slow, accelerates, until it becomes, in the end, vertiginous. This is the age in which we are increasingly witnessing the reversal of eternal values in the lives of peoples, and in the lives of the growing majority of individuals, and the persecution, ever more relentless (and more effective, alas!), of those beings who live and want to continue to live according to these values of the human elite: the elites of all traditional civilisations, which, originally, are always biological, and of the entire animal and plant world.

This is the age in which, contrary to the primitive order, quantity increasingly takes precedence over quality; in which the Aryan worthy of the name recoils before the masses of inferior races, increasingly numerous, compact, and uniformly daubed with compulsory education. It is also the age when, on the other hand, the king of the animals and, with him, all the aristocrats of the jungle, recoil before the average (and less than average) man: less handsome than they, less strong than they; decidedly further from the perfect archetype of his species than they are from that of theirs.

This is not the triumph of man in the sense in which we understand that word; of that ‘god-man’ of which there is sometimes talk in certain remarks by Adolf Hitler, as Rauschning reported them.

This man died, mostly in the uniform of the SS on all the battlefields of the Second World War, or in the dungeons of the victors of 1945, or hung from their gallows. If, exceptionally, he survives—or if, born after the disaster, he breathes among us, adorned with youth—it is in the strictest clandestinity. He lives in a world that is not his, and which he knows will never become his, at least until the day when the sleeping Emperor—He-Who-Returns-Age-After-Age—will come out of the shadows where He waits, and rebuild the visible in the image of the eternal. Until that day the overman, or at least the candidate for overmanhood, knows that he is and will remain ‘the vanquished’: the one who has no place anywhere and whose action remains useless, heroic though they may be.

The man who reigns today—the victor of 1945 and, before him and with him, the winner in all the decisive conflicts of ideas of truly global importance—is the insect-man. Innumerable, and increasingly uniform, banal, despite all the contortions to make himself look ‘original’, and believe himself to be so; irresistible by sole virtue of his proliferation without limits, he takes possession of the Earth at the cost of all beings that change relatively little, while he was degraded more and more quickly during this cycle, and particularly during the Dark Age.
 

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Editor’s note: According to an online encyclopaedia, Kaliyuga is a period that appears in Hindu scriptures. It is commonly referred to as the ‘age of quarrelling and hypocrisy’. In Sanskrit, kali means ‘die’ (or more precisely ‘the side of the die marked with a one’) and yuga, ‘age’.

Kali (not to be confused with the goddess Kali or with Kalki, the Avenger) is a brown-skinned demon that committed incest with his friend Durukti (‘slander’) and thus had two sons: Bhaia (‘fear’) and Mritiu (‘time’). He appears as an evil genie in the Nala episode in the Mahabhárata.

The age of Kali began at midnight on the twelfth day of the Kurukshetra war which lasted a total of eighteen days, the night when the two armies refused to stop at sunset to pray and continued killing each other in the dark, until dawn. In the middle of the 6th century, Aria Bhatta determined by astrological calculations that this time could have been between 17 and 18 February 3102 BC. Today, Hinduists maintain that this date is correct.

Because of the presence of the god Krisna on the planet, the personification of Kali didn’t dare to enter in full force. But on the very day of Krisna’s ascension to heaven Kali entered this world in the form of the crime of hurting a cow.

(Left, the demon Kali tries to kill a cow and is stopped by the Aryan king Parīkṣit, a descendant of the Pandavas.) This yuga of vice will last exactly 1200 years of the devas (gods) or 432,000 years of humans. In the end, Kalki—again: not to be confused with Kali—will be born, the tenth and last avatar of Vishnu, who, riding a white horse and wielding a sword, will kill all corrupted humanity and save those who remain devotees of Vishnu.

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[1] Tier, eleventh year, No. 5, page 44. Article: ‘Die Überbevölkerung droht als nahe Weltkatastrophe’.