Historical tantra is not an oil massage in Palermo. It is centuries of practices, schools and arguments. The West sometimes reduces it to an aesthetic: lotus, gold, sacred sexual energy, a playlist of singing bowls. That image is incomplete, but the intuition it holds —that eroticism can be sacred— remains useful.
And still the word is useful, because it names something we otherwise lack a term for: that eroticism does not have to be a performance or a shame. Using it honestly means saying what you actually do, with a price and with limits, and leaving room for mystery without inventing lineages.