#  The Childless Ascetic  

 





May 26, 2026

 

 

 [ Daniela Bevilacqua ](https://yso.soas.ac.uk/tutors/daniela-bevilacqua/) 

Edited by Aaron Michael Ullrey

*The following Research Reflection is part of an ongoing series spotlighting the academic study of religions.*

When I was seven years old, through songs and poems, my teacher, a widow, instilled in me an awareness of the inevitability of mortality. Her words left a lasting impression that crystallized into my realization at the age of twelve that “time” is merely the interval between birth and death. I decided to never have children.

Birth is inseparable from death, its necessary counterpart; indeed, birth is the primary cause of death. This intuition has never left me, and it probably unconsciously influenced both my university studies and my later decision to research the lives and philosophies of celibate Hindu ascetics, often called *sādhu*s. I present my ethnographic and historical research in an upcoming entry to the Archive of Mystical Experience.

   ![Sadhu seated among others looking at the camera](/sites/g/files/omnuum4346/files/styles/hwp_1_1__720x720_scale/public/2026-05/Rama%201_%D0%90.jpg.resize.jpg?itok=IjP6A5nR) 

 

Rāmānandī *tyāgī*, the term comes from *tyāg* which means “leaving” or “abandoning,” for these ascetics leave behind clothing, food, housing, and sexual gratification to begin a wandering lifestyle. Prayagraj Ardh Kumbh Mela 2019. Photo by author.The *sādhu*s’ commitment to non-procreation, I suggest, is not merely a lifestyle choice but an ethical and existential position. To refrain from generating life may mean refraining from perpetuating *saṃsāra*, the cycle of worldly existence dominated by life and death. Generally, for Hindus, to be childless is traditionally understood as a lack, a failure to complete one’s life purpose. Producing children is part of one’s *dharma*—not just a private choice but a responsibility to ancestors, kin, and the wider social order—and children are necessary to repay the debts with which each human is born.

*Sādhu*s renounce traditional Brahmanical norms and society in order to pursue liberation (*mokṣa*). Their path is structured through maintaining celibacy (*brahmacarya*) and *sādhanā*, a disciplined practice cultivating detachment from the senses and sexual impulses. The celibate *sādhu* challenges the religious and social valorization of reproduction.

This anti-procreation logic appears in the cosmological framework of one of the earliest Upaniṣads, the *Bṛhadāraṇyaka* (c. ninth-sixth century BCE), which offers a striking narrative that birth is just a way of feeding Death. In the beginning, there was only Death, who, being hungry, created “everything that is here” so that he might eat whatever he birthed. The whole world, therefore, is his food, perpetually created through procreation. But Death is evil, and one must strive to be free from Death.

In the context of this Upaniṣad scripture, the desire for offspring arises from loneliness and the need for continuity, hence the Upaniṣadic ascetic considers procreation a response to existential insecurity that only further entangles those who bear children with Death. Real completeness arises from detangling from Death and the world, considering the mind as the self (*ātman*), the speech as the wife, the breath as the offspring, and seeking insight into *Brahman*—the ultimate reality. If birth feeds Death, abstaining from reproduction interrupts Death’s economy. Following this perspective, non-procreation overcomes possible future deaths, and celibacy is not merely rejecting sexuality in favor of personal liberation but an ethical attempt to deactivate the cycle of *saṃsāra*.

Among *sādhus*, however, celibacy is not only related to non-reproduction but to the retention of the semen, which is believed to conserve and accumulate spiritual powers. This logic is reinforced in yogic practices centered on *bindudhāraṇa*: *bindu* meaning “semen” and *dhāraṇa* meaning “retention” or “concentration.” In *haṭha* yogic contexts, semen is a source of power and energy that leads to spiritual attainment and liberation. But expending semen and procreating depletes that power and energy.

During my fieldwork, an ascetic known as Jogi Baba, living in a jungle at the outskirts of Shantiniketan in West Bengal, articulated this view succinctly: **“***Sāṃsārik* people find their place in their sexual union. But *bindu patan maraṇ*, *bindu dhāraṇam jivam*: if one drops semen \[*bindu* *patan*\], this leads to death, but if one does *bindudhāraṇa*, he gets *jivam*, that is life.”

 ![A group of sadhus walking on the street, some carrying sticks](/sites/g/files/omnuum4346/files/2026-05/P4110128_%D0%90.jpg.resize.jpg)

 

A group of *nāgā sādhu*s. Their nakedness signifies their detachment also from sexuality and the numbness of their penis. Ujjain Simhast Mela, 2016. Photo by author.Jogi Baba’s perspective inverts conventional assumptions by asserting that life is generated by continence, which leads to “true” immortality. What is really important is the preservation of semen—this view justifies certain ascetic groups endorsing ritual couples whose sexual life is characterized by childlessness. However, since a life without progeny or family obligations allows an individual to focus entirely on spiritual disciplines, one could also argue that celibacy and non-procreation are, in reality, motivated by personal self-interest. Non-ascetic individuals like me who choose not to have children may similarly be accused of selfishness.

My intuition at the age of twelve that bringing life into the world meant bringing another being into death no longer appears to me as merely personal or emotional but ethical, a commitment to preventing a future person from suffering. I suggest that for *sādhus*, too, non-procreation and celibacy are practices that, while enabling them to preserve their spiritual power and pursue their individual religious goal, have ethical implications insofar as they prevent future beings from becoming food for Death. While such an interpretation requires further textual and ethnographic support, it offers a compelling lens to reconsider celibacy and non-procreation as a form of responsibility, not merely renunciation.



 

 

 



 

 See also:- [ Researcher Reflections ](/topic-tags/researcher-reflection)