The Turbaned Superman 31
superpower. His explanation is one of the few instances we find of a Western
acknowledgment of this causal relationship between asceticism and the phenom-
enon that constitutes the public face of superpower: magic.
Generally speaking, if Western audiences had any notion of a causal asso-
ciation between asceticism and superpower, the direction of the relationship
would likely have been reversed. That is, the Yogi is able to comfortably recline
on his bed of nails or withstand any other such torturous activity because he is
already in possession of some superhuman talent. If any such reason is cited for
the Yogi’s engagement in these activities, it is that they are displays of his pow-
ers of (in this case, self- )hypnotism. More often than not, however, the issue of
superpower or magic is left out of the discussion of Yogic asceticism altogether.
Yogis, it seems, are just simply gluttons for punishment. Consequently, the Yogi’s
identity as ascetic is increasingly separated from his identity as magician, though
certain images— the bed of nails being a prime example— bridge the gap in the
theatricality of both.
Yogi MagiciansThe Yogi’s various talents do occasionally manifest as a coherent identity. For
instance, if one were to refer to the 1916 edition of the Encyclopoedia of Religion
and Ethics, one would learn that
the caste which is particularly devoted to magic as a vocation is that of the
Yogīs, which is primarily Hindu but has Mohammadan elements affiliated
to it. The Yogī claims to hold the material world in fee by the magical pow-
ers which he has acquired through the performance of religious austeri-
ties, but this claim soon degenerates into superstition of the worst type,
and the Yogī in reality is little better than a common swindler, posing as
a faqīr... . The Yogīs in particular claim power to transmute base metals
into silver and gold— a claim which enables them (and those who person-
ate them) to reap a great harvest from the credulous.^25Here we see the Yogi’s asceticism and superhuman powers causally coupled in
a bid for nothing short of world domination. However, such aspirations— aptly
signified by the Yogi’s pretensions to alchemy— are only swindlers’ tricks. The
Western public’s fascination with what the Yogi could do, or at least what he could
appear to do, often held an even stronger allure than the grotesquerie of his pen-
ances. Stories of Indian jugglers— the preferred term for such individuals, which
in its older usage was a synonym for the magician but came conveniently close to
being a homonym for the colloquial pronunciations of Yogi (jogi)— captivated an