Wednesday, January 28, 2026

Gestures.

In the Vedic tradition, nothing is accidental—not the sound, not the breath, and not even the movement of the hands.

Importance of Hand Gestures while Reciting the Vedas

Vedic recitation (adhyayanam) is not merely reading sacred text aloud. It is a three-fold discipline involving sound (śabda), breath (prāṇa), and movement (kriyā). Hand gestures—often overlooked today—play a quiet but profound role in preserving accuracy, sanctity, and inner alignment.

1. Aiding Perfect Pronunciation (Śikṣā)

The Vedas are sound-centric. A single misplaced accent can alter meaning or efficacy. Hand movements act as physical markers:

Rising hand → udātta (raised tone)

Level movement → svarita

Downward or restrained movement → anudātta

By engaging the hands, the chanter anchors tonal shifts in the body, reducing error—especially in long recitations.

The body remembers what the mind may forget.

2. Synchronising Breath, Mind, and Sound

Vedic chanting is rhythmic and breath-controlled. Hand gestures:

Regulate tempo

Prevent hurried recitation

Maintain metrical balance (chandas)

This creates a natural slowing down—something your own reflections on rhythm and balance often return to.

3. Enhancing Memory and Continuity

Traditional pāṭhas (ghana, krama, jaṭā) are complex. Hand gestures:

Serve as mnemonic cues

Mark repetition, reversal, or progression

Help the chanter stay oriented within the text

For generations, this embodied method preserved the Vedas without manuscripts—a living miracle of oral transmission.

4. Completing the Act of Yajña

Recitation is itself a yajña. Just as fire rituals require mudrās, Vedic chanting employs subtle hand movements to:

“Offer” each mantra

Maintain ritual purity

Signal attentiveness and reverence

The hands become extensions of intention (saṅkalpa).

5. Directing Inner Energy (Prāṇic Alignment)

While not always labelled as mudrā, these gestures influence:

Flow of prāṇa

Stability of posture

Mental focus (ekāgratā)

This is why traditional teachers insist on seated posture and visible hand movement—not for show, but for inner steadiness.

6. A Visible Expression of Discipline (Anuṣṭhāna)

In gurukula traditions, hand gestures were a sign of:

Proper training

Respect for lineage (paramparā)

Submission to the mantra, not personal style

Still hands often indicate casual reading; moving hands indicate sacred engagement.

A Deeper Insight

The Vedas were never meant to be “heard” alone. They were meant to be embodied.

When the hands move with the mantra, the whole being participates—

mind understands, voice vibrates, breath sustains, and hands offer.

In that moment, the chanter is not outside the Veda

the chanter becomes part of it.

From Vedic Recitation to Japa:

How Hand Movement Sustains Mantra Balance

The principles that govern Vedic recitation do not end with the Vedas. They flow naturally into japa, where sound becomes inward, subtle, and continuous. What hand gestures accomplish in Vedic chanting, japa mālā accomplishes in mantra practice.

At heart, both serve the same purpose: balance—of breath, attention, and intention.

Mantra as Measured Offering, Not Repetition

Japa is often misunderstood as mechanical repetition. Traditional teaching says otherwise. A mantra is a living presence, not a string of syllables. Like Vedic recitation, it requires śraddhā (reverence), niyama (discipline), and balam (inner strength).

Here the hands once again become crucial.

Just as hand gestures guide Vedic accents, the fingers moving over a mālā guide:

Pace

Awareness

Continuity

Without the hands, the mind tends to wander; without the mantra, the hands fall idle. Together, they form a closed circuit of attention.

The Role of the Mālā: Embodied Śikṣā

The mālā is not a counter. It is embodied śikṣā—teaching the chanter rhythm without instruction.

Each bead creates:

A natural pause,

A breath reset,

A moment of awareness.

This mirrors Vedic hand movements that regulate svara and chandas. The body once again learns the mantra before the intellect does.

This is why elders insist that japa be done:

Seated,

With visible finger movement,

At an unhurried pace.

Haste breaks sanctity. Still hands invite sleep. Moving hands sustain wakeful devotion.

Balam: Strength Without Strain

In Vedic śikṣā, balam does not mean loudness. It means steadiness. The same applies to japa.

A mantra whispered with balance carries more force than one shouted with agitation.

Hand movement during japa prevents:

Mental fatigue,

Vocal strain,

Emotional restlessness.

The mantra settles into rhythm, and rhythm settles into silence.

Breath, Prāṇa, and Subtle Movement

Every mantra rides on breath. When fingers move bead to bead, breath naturally aligns. In time:

Breath becomes softer,

Mantra becomes internal,

Movement becomes minimal.

This mirrors the Vedic progression from audible chanting to inward recitation. What begins as external discipline matures into inner absorption.

Why Certain Fingers Are Used

Traditionally, japa avoids the index finger, symbol of ego (ahaṅkāra), and employs the thumb with middle or ring finger. This is not symbolism alone—it is psychological conditioning.

The hand quietly reminds the seeker:

This mantra is not mine. I am its servant.

From Gesture to Stillness

An important truth often missed: movement prepares stillness.

In the early stages, hand movement anchors attention. In advanced practice, movement may fade—but only after it has done its work. Premature stillness leads to distraction; earned stillness leads to depth.

Just as a child learns rhythm by clapping before internalising it, the seeker learns mantra through movement before entering silence.

One Stream, Many Forms

Vedic recitation, japa, nāma-saṅkīrtana—all flow from the same source.

Sound is offered.

Breath sustains.

Hands guide.

Mind follows.

When any one of these is neglected, imbalance arises.

The hands that once marked Vedic accents now count beads.

The breath that once carried ṛks now carries the Name.

The discipline that preserved revelation now preserves devotion.

In both Veda and japa, the teaching is the same:

Do not rush the mantra.

Do not abandon the body.

Let the whole being pray.

Tuesday, January 27, 2026

In giving.

Life as Seen Through a Sanātana Lens: A Prime Minister’s Quiet Wisdom

Life, as reflected in the Prime Minister’s words, is not a race toward personal fulfillment nor a ladder climbed for applause. It is a sādhana — a disciplined unfolding of purpose — where one is shaped more by what one gives than by what one gathers.

This view is profoundly Sanātanī, echoing the ancient conviction that human life is entrusted to us not for indulgence, but for ṛṇa-śodhana — the repayment of our debt to society, nature, ancestors, and the Divine.

Life Is Not About Comfort, but Contribution

The Sanātana worldview never promised comfort as life’s goal. It promised meaning.

The Prime Minister’s reflections consistently return to this idea:

that suffering refines, responsibility steadies, and hardship clarifies one’s dharma. In this, he stands aligned with the Gītā’s declaration:

“Niṣkāma karma is not renunciation of action,

but renunciation of ownership over action.”

Life, therefore, is not lived asking “What do I get?”

but “What must be done through me?”

The Self Is an Instrument, Not the Centre

A striking Sanātana truth present in his view of life is the quiet erasure of ego. The individual is not the final doer — one is merely an instrument (nimitta) in a far greater order.

This humility mirrors the Upaniṣadic insight that the same force which moves the stars also moves human destiny. When one accepts this, arrogance dissolves, and gratitude takes its place.

One does not say, “I achieved”,

but rather, “I was enabled.”

Service as the Highest Expression of Spirituality

In Sanātana Dharma, seva is yoga.

The Prime Minister’s understanding of life elevates service from a moral duty to a spiritual discipline. Whether the service is visible or unnoticed, political or personal, its value lies in intent, not recognition.

This recalls the ancient ideal of the Rājā-Rṣi — one who governs not as a ruler seeking power, but as a seeker shouldering responsibility.

Pain as a Teacher, Not an Enemy

Another deeply Sanātanī strand in this worldview is the acceptance of pain as a formative force. Life is not unfair; it is instructive.

Sanātana philosophy never framed suffering as punishment, but as prārabdha unfolding — an opportunity for growth, balance, and transcendence. In this light, even adversity becomes purposeful, and resilience becomes sacred.

Life Is a Trust, Not a Possession

Perhaps the most powerful undertone in this reflection on life is the idea that life is borrowed.

Borrowed from time.

Borrowed from history.

Borrowed from future generations.

This sense of trusteeship — “I am here only for a while” — is the heart of Sanātana wisdom. It frees one from fear, softens attachment, and sharpens responsibility.

Conclusion: A Modern Voice Echoing an Ancient Truth

What makes the Prime Minister’s view of life resonate so deeply is not novelty, but familiarity — the recognition of something ancient spoken in modern language.

It is Sanātana not because it names scriptures,

but because it lives their spirit.

Life, in this vision, is not meant to be won.

It is meant to be lived rightly —

with discipline, humility, service, and surrender.

And when lived thus, life itself becomes yoga.

Putro.brahma

 The Brahmaputra is a major trans-boundary river flowing through China (Tibet), India (primarily Arunachal Pradesh and Assam), and Bangladesh. �

It originates near Lake Manasarovar on the northern side of the Himalayas in Tibet, where it’s known as the Yarlung Tsangpo. 

It enters India near Gelling in Arunachal Pradesh, flows southwest through the Assam Valley, and continues into Bangladesh (where it’s called the Jamuna) before merging with the Ganges (Padma) and ultimately reaching the Bay of Bengal. 

Measuring roughly ~2,900 km long (and sometimes cited slightly above that if measured to the sea), it’s one of the world’s great rivers by volume and breadth. 

Unique Characteristics

The Brahmaputra is one of the widest rivers on Earth; in monsoon it can stretch several kilometres across its banks. 

It’s known for braided channels, frequent changes of course, and powerful floods, particularly in Assam. 

The river is navigable over much of its course and supports rich agriculture, ecosystems (including Kaziranga National Park), and human settlements. 

Most major rivers in India — like the Ganga, Yamuna, Saraswati, Kaveri, etc. — are traditionally given feminine names and associated with goddesses. The Brahmaputra is unusual in that:

Its name literally means “Son of Brahma” in Sanskrit: brahma (the creator god) + putra (son). 

Because of this meaning and its mythological associations, it’s often regarded culturally and linguistically as a male river — a rare distinction among Indian rivers. 

Hindu mythological narratives (e.g., in the Kalika Purana and regional folklore) link its origin to divine parentage involving Lord Brahma, giving it this masculine identity. 

https://youtu.be/NdPgNulVDEo?si=r7j3MpPx5S_NNoZR

Pappon on brahmaputro.

Monday, January 26, 2026

Balance.

 https://youtu.be/doCKFpSC0uU?si=JqvM43nK6uiFzIfk

https://youtu.be/Bmm1hgi57eI?si=xZTqSgok7YpK8LdE

https://youtu.be/qgjYJK0BxPs?si=FdoQ_z2W9Wff0nPF

https://youtu.be/ODsRxuOrOq8?si=Dfl2Isiw1ormddB-

Balam in the Mantric Sense

When elders or teachers speak of mantra balam, they are pointing to three layers of strength:

Śārīra Balam – Strength of the Body

Mantra vibration regulates breath, nerves, and rhythm.

A balanced mantra practice steadies prāṇa, giving the body endurance rather than excitement.

Not agitation → sustainable energy

Mānasa Balam – Strength of the Mind

This is where mantra truly shines.

Ability to remain calm

Not collapsing under fear or sorrow

Not getting intoxicated by success

This balam is equanimity.

“Samatvam yoga ucyate” —

Balance itself is yoga (Bhagavad Gītā 2.48)

Mantra balance creates this samatva, this inner poise.

Ātma Balam – Strength of the Inner Being

This is the highest form of balam.

Faith that does not shake

Devotion that does not bargain

Awareness that does not depend on outcomes

Here, mantra is no longer repetition —

it becomes support.

The mantra carries you when you cannot carry yourself.

Why Balam Needs Balance

Unbalanced mantra practice can create:

Restlessness

Ego inflation (“I am powerful”)

Emotional sensitivity

Balanced mantra practice gives:

Groundedness

Humility

Quiet confidence

That quiet confidence — that is balam.

A Simple Way to Understand

Noise gives energy

Silence gives strength

Mantra, when balanced, leads from sound into silence.

And silence is the home of balam.

One Line Essence

Balam is the strength that does not shout,

does not hurry,

and does not break.

Works if you have faith. It may sound easy but it is not. Correct pronunciation and continuously recited may help.

Many people do the continuous reading of the RAMAYANA as parayanam. Sundar kaand and ball kaand. Once they finish then they start again. They seem so steady and quiet. No other thought. It's a blessing if you can do that. Better still read the bhagvad Gita one chapter a day. 

Self taught.

The term is “svayam AchArya purusha”. “AchArya purusha” is a learned, tradition person who administers the rite of pancasamskAra (samASrayaNam) to others.  “svayam” means “oneself”.  So, the term “svayam AchArya purusha” means “having an acharya from one’s own”.
svayamAchAryapurusha is term used for people who do not follow a maTham (Parakala, Ahobila, Vaanamaamalai,  Andavan, etc.) and who also do not have an Acharya outside their family (mudaliyaandaan, kOyil kandAdai, etc.)

This term is used for Sri Vaishnavas who are descendants of the original 74 disciples of Ramanuja, and who continue to have association with learned members of their extended family who administer the pancasamskAra (samASrayaNam) and minister to their needs.  Many of our most learned acharyas came from “svayamAchArya” families  Desika, Pillai Lokacharya, etc. This is because the concept of a maTha and therefore a sampradAya based on the maTha dates from the 14th century, much after Sri Ramanuja’s time.

Some notable svayamAchArya families are Prativaadi Bhayankaram, Tatacharya, Tirumalai Anandaanpillai, Nallaan Chakravarti, etc. There are many scholars among these families even today, as they have a strong sense of connection to the tradition and maintain a certain level of scholarship.
 
Not all descendants of the 74 original disciples are still considered “svayam AchArya”.  At some point, some of the descendants drifted away from their traditional acharya or did not have a strong scholar in their family, and consequently became associated with some maTham or other swami.  So there will be Sri Vaishnavas who bear the appellation “Kidambi”,”Vangipuram”, “Tatacharya”, etc., who at one point belonged

to svayam AchArya purusha families, but who now follow some other swami.

It should be pointed out that some people object to the term “svayam AchArya purusha” (not the concept behind it) with the feeling that only one person is truly a “svayam AchArya”, an acharya for himself  the Lord.


The pause.

 Aye Mere Watan Ke Logon was not written to stir excitement or pride. Its single, quiet motto was remembrance.

“Jo shahīd hue hain unki

Zarā yaad karo qurbānī.”

Remember those who were martyred.

Pause, and remember their sacrifice.

That pause is the soul of the song. It asks the living to slow down, to look beyond slogans, and to acknowledge that freedom rests on lives given without return. When Lata Mangeshkar sang these words, the nation did not cheer—it fell silent. That silence itself became the tribute.

Even today, decades later, the song has the same effect. Conversations stop. Heads bow. A collective stillness descends. It does not demand patriotism; it awakens gratitude. It does not glorify war; it honours sacrifice.

In that sense, the song has become more than music. It is a moral reminder—that to remember is also a duty, and that remembrance is the truest form of respect.

Why the pause.

Aye Mere Watan Ke Logon carries many images—of snow-bound posts, lonely sentries, and final letters home—but all of them quietly lead to one moral centre.

Early in the song, the poet reminds us of the unseen hardship:

“Jab ghāyal huā Himālay

Khatrā āyā jab desh par…”

The nation is wounded. Danger has arrived. The setting is vast, cold, and impersonal—almost indifferent to human life.

Then comes the image of the soldier:

“Jab desh mein thī dīvālī

Woh khel rahe the holī…”

While the country celebrated, they stood watch.

This contrast sharpens the sense of quiet duty—service without witness.

But all these lines exist to prepare the listener for the heart of the song, where the voice slows and the nation is asked to stop:

“Jo shahīd hue hain unki

Zarā yaad karo qurbānī.”

Here, the song turns from description to command—not a loud order, but a moral appeal. Everything before it explains why remembrance is owed; everything after it bows in respect.

The closing words reinforce that restraint:

“Jai Hind… Jai Hind ki senā.”

Not as a slogan, but as a whispered salute.

That is why, even today, this song still works. Not because of its music alone, but because it does not compete for attention. It creates a pause. And in that pause, remembrance arises naturally.

The lines about sacrifice stand out because the song clears a space for them—

a space where pride gives way to gratitude,

and noise yields to silence.

Seven.

 Sapta Ṛṣi: The Seven Who Chose Stillness Over Speed

Before history learned to measure time, before calendars learned to divide it, there lived seven beings who understood it.

They were the Sapta Ṛṣis—not merely sages, but anchors of cosmic rhythm. While the world rushed toward creation, conquest, and continuity, the Sapta Ṛṣis chose something radical: stillness.

In a universe that was expanding, they sat unmoving.

Who Are the Sapta Ṛṣis?

The names change with each Manvantara, yet their essence remains eternal. In our present age, they are remembered as:

Atri

Bharadvāja

Gautama

Jamadagni

Kaśyapa

Vaśiṣṭha

Viśvāmitra

They are said to dwell in the sky itself, shining as the seven stars of Ursa Major (Saptarishi Maṇḍala)—not as distant ornaments, but as cosmic reminders.

While stars rush across the sky with time, these seven appear steady, almost watching.

The Ṛṣi as a Counterforce to Rushing

Creation is movement. Life is momentum. Civilization is acceleration.

The Ṛṣi represents the opposite principle.

A Ṛṣi does not hurry toward truth.

Truth comes to the Ṛṣi.

While kings sought dominion and warriors sought victory, the Sapta Ṛṣis sought alignment—with ṛta, the cosmic order. Their power was not in action alone, but in restraint.

They taught humanity that:

Knowledge ripens slowly

Wisdom cannot be forced

Revelation arrives only in silence

In a sense, the Sapta Ṛṣis are anti-haste personified.

Bearers of the Vedas, Not Owners

The Sapta Ṛṣis did not invent the Vedas. They heard them.

The Vedas are called śruti—that which is heard. Only those who could quiet the mind enough to listen could receive them. The Sapta Ṛṣis became vessels, not authors.

This is crucial.

They remind us that the highest knowledge is not produced by effort alone, but by attunement.

The world rushes to speak.

The Ṛṣi waits to listen.

Family Men, Not Forest Escapists

It is often forgotten that most of the Sapta Ṛṣis were householders—with wives, children, responsibilities, and social roles. Their greatness did not arise from escaping life, but from sanctifying it.

Vaśiṣṭha guided kings.

Viśvāmitra struggled fiercely with ego before becoming a Brahmarṣi.

Kaśyapa became progenitor of entire lineages.

They show us that stillness is not withdrawal—it is inner posture.

Why the Sapta Ṛṣis Still Matter

In an age where knowledge is instant and attention fleeting, the Sapta Ṛṣis stand as quiet reproach.

1. Atri

शान्तचित्तो महातेजाः सत्यदृष्टिर्महामुनिः ।

अत्रिर्नाम ऋषिः साक्षात् तपसा देवतासमः ॥

Calm of mind, radiant in spirit, seeing truth as it is—

Atri stands as a sage whose tapas made him godlike.

2. Bharadvāja

विद्यया दीप्यते लोको भारद्वाजेन धीमता ।

ज्ञानं यत्र कृपारूपं स ऋषिः पूज्यते बुधैः ॥

Through Bharadvāja’s wisdom the world is illumined;

Knowledge in him flows as compassion.

3. Gautama

न्यायमार्गप्रवक्ता यो धर्मस्य दृढनिश्चयः ।

गौतमो लोकदीपस्तु मौनं यस्य महाव्रतम् ॥

Teacher of righteous paths, firm in dharma,

Gautama shines—whose great vow was inner silence.

4. Jamadagni

तपःशक्त्या ज्वलन् नित्यं संयमेन समन्वितः ।

जमदग्निर्मुनिः श्रेष्ठो क्रोधं जित्वा जितेन्द्रियः ॥

Ever blazing with ascetic fire, grounded in restraint,

Jamadagni conquered anger and mastered the senses.

5. Kaśyapa

प्रजाः सर्वाः समुत्पन्ना कश्यपस्य महर्षिणः ।

विश्वं यस्य कुटुम्बं स वै द्रष्टा जगतो गुरुः ॥

From Kaśyapa arose countless beings;

For him the world itself was family.

6. Vaśiṣṭha

राज्ञां गुरुर्महातेजाः ब्रह्मज्ञाननिधिर्मुनिः ।

वसिष्ठो धैर्यरूपेण सत्ये स्थितमनाः सदा ॥

Preceptor of kings, treasury of Brahma-knowledge,

Vaśiṣṭha ever stood steady in truth and patience.

7. Viśvāmitra

क्षात्रतेजः परित्यज्य ब्रह्मतेजः समाश्रितः ।

विश्वामित्रो महान् साक्षात् तपसा ब्रह्मर्षिर्भवेत् ॥

Renouncing royal power, embracing spiritual fire,

Viśvāmitra rose through tapas to brahmarishihood.