Reflections.

The Tenth Canto — the very heart of the Srimad Bhagavatam.

If the Vedas are the ocean, and the Upanishads the waves, the Bhagavatam is the nectar churned from it — and the Tenth Canto is its sweetest essence.

Where the Infinite Becomes Intimate

The first nine cantos prepare the ground — cosmology, dharma, devotion, incarnations. But in the Tenth Canto, something astonishing happens:

The Supreme, who is described as beyond thought and speech, chooses to become a child.

1. 7The Descent of the Infinite

10.3.8–9 (Krishna’s birth vision)

तमद्भुतं बालकमम्बुजेक्षणं

चतुर्भुजं शङ्खगदाद्युदायुधम् ।

श्रीवत्सलक्ष्मं गलशोभिकौस्तुभं

पीताम्बरं सान्द्रपयोदसौभगम् ॥

Meaning:

Vasudeva saw a wondrous child — lotus-eyed, four-armed, holding conch, mace and other divine weapons, marked with Śrīvatsa, adorned with Kaustubha jewel, clothed in yellow silk, dark like a rain-laden cloud.

Here is the paradox:

The Absolute appears first in majesty — Vishnu-like — and then becomes a helpless infant.

The Lord who sustains universes now rests in a mother’s lap.

2. The Miracle of Childhood

Krishna’s early leelas are not mere stories — they are revelations.

When Mother Yashoda looks into His mouth (10.8.37):

सा तत्र ददृशे विश्वं जगत्स्थास्नुचराचरम् ।

Meaning:

She saw within His mouth the entire universe — moving and non-moving beings.

The child contains the cosmos.

Yet the mother chooses love over logic.

This is bhakti’s triumph:

Devotion sees the Infinite — and still embraces Him as “mine.”

3.  The Call of the Flute

One of the most poetic verses comes from the Rasa Leela section (10.29.4):

भगवानपि ता रात्रिः शरदोत्फुल्लमल्लिकाः ।

वीक्ष्य रन्तुं मनश्चक्रे योगमायामुपाश्रितः ॥

Meaning:

Seeing the autumn nights fragrant with blooming jasmine, the Lord resolved to sport, taking shelter of Yogamaya.

The setting itself becomes sacred —

The stillness of Sharad season, the fragrance of mallika flowers, the moonlight.

The Divine does not act impulsively —

He chooses the perfect moment.

4.  The Rasa — Love Beyond Ego

During the Rasa dance, when the gopis momentarily develop pride, Krishna disappears.

Then comes one of the most profound devotional declarations (10.32.22):

न पारयेऽहं निरवद्यसंयुजां

स्वसाधुकृत्यं विभुधायुषापि वः ।

Meaning:

“I am unable to repay your spotless love, even in the lifetime of the gods.”

Here, the Supreme confesses indebtedness.

The Bhagavatam overturns philosophy —

God is not merely worshipped.

He becomes bound by love.

5   The Govardhana Revelation

When Krishna lifts Govardhana Hill (10.25), it is not merely a miracle — it is theological revolution.

He shifts worship from distant ritual to immediate presence.

God is not far away in heaven.

He stands among cowherds, holding a mountain effortlessly like a child holds an umbrella.

6.  The Culmination — Uddhava Gita

Toward the end of the Tenth Canto, Krishna teaches Uddhava (often called the “Uddhava Gita”).

Here devotion matures into wisdom.

Love that began as sweetness ripens into detachment.

The Tenth Canto therefore is not sentimental — it is complete.

It spans from cradle to cosmic teaching.

Why the Tenth Canto Is Unique

Other scriptures declare:

God is omnipotent.

God is omniscient.

God is beyond birth.

But the Tenth Canto dares to say:

God steals butter.

God runs in fear of His mother.

God dances under moonlight.

God admits He cannot repay love.

And later poets like Jayadeva in the Gita Govinda drew deeply from these chapters — expanding especially the Rasa Leela into lyrical devotion.

You often contemplate how the Divine chooses to reveal itself — sometimes through temple architecture, sometimes through poetry, sometimes through silence.

The Tenth Canto shows something intimate:

The Infinite becomes accessible not through intellect — but through relationship.

To the fearful — He is protector.

To the scholar — He is truth.

To the devotee — He is beloved.

To Yashoda — He is son.

And perhaps that is why the sages placed this canto at the center of the Bhagavatam —

Because after all philosophy is exhausted,

Love remains.

The Tenth Canto is not merely narrative — it is theology in poetry, devotion in philosophy, and love in its purest expression.

7.The Prayer of the Devas Before Krishna’s Birth (10.2.26)

सत्यव्रतं सत्यपरं त्रिसत्यं

सत्यस्य योनिं निहितं च सत्ये ।

सत्यस्य सत्यं ऋतसत्यनेत्रं

सत्यात्मकं त्वां शरणं प्रपन्नाः ॥

“We take refuge in You — the vow of truth, the Supreme truth, the origin of truth, the truth behind all truths, whose vision is rooted in cosmic order.”

Before He becomes a child in Gokula, He is invoked as Absolute Truth.

The Bhagavatam first establishes transcendence — then introduces intimacy.

8. The Divine Birth Vision (10.3.9)

पीताम्बरं सान्द्रपयोदसौभगं

महर्हवैदूर्यकिरीटकुण्डलम् ॥

He appeared wearing yellow garments, dark like a raincloud, adorned with radiant crown and earrings.

The raincloud metaphor recurs throughout Krishna literature —

A cloud gives without asking.

It pours grace.

9. Yashoda Sees the Universe (10.8.37)

सा तत्र ददृशे विश्वं जगत्स्थास्नुचराचरम् 

Within His mouth she saw the entire universe — moving and unmoving beings.

The mother beholds cosmic infinity — yet chooses motherhood over metaphysics.

Bhakti does not dissolve relationship; it deepens it.

10. The Damodara Moment (10.9.20)

नायं सुखापो भगवान् देहिनां गोपिकासुतः

ज्ञानिनां चात्मभूतानां यथा भक्तिमतामिह ॥

This son of the gopi is not easily attained by ascetics or philosophers — but He is attained by devotees.

The Lord who eludes yogis is tied by a mother’s rope.

Love binds what austerity cannot.

11. The Flute Call (10.21.5)

बर्हापीडं नटवरवपुः कर्णयोः कर्णिकारं

बिभ्रद्वासः कनककपिशं वैजयन्तीं च मालाम् ।l

With peacock feather in His hair, dressed like a supreme dancer, wearing golden garments and forest garland, He enchants the world.

Here Krishna is not king, not warrior — but dancer.

Beauty itself becomes divine revelation.

12. The Beginning of Rasa (10.29.1)

भगवानपि ता रात्रिः शरदोत्फुल्लमल्लिकाः

वीक्ष्य रन्तुं मनश्चक्रे योगमायामुपाश्रितः ॥

Seeing the autumn night fragrant with jasmine, the Lord resolved to perform His divine sport under Yogamaya.

Divinity chooses timing.

The stillness of nature mirrors the stillness required in the heart.

13. Krishna’s Humility to the Gopis (10.32.22)

न पारयेऽहं निरवद्यसंयुजां

स्वसाधुकृत्यं विभुधायुषापि वः ।

“I cannot repay your spotless love, even in the lifetime of the gods.”

This may be the theological climax of the Bhagavatam —

The Supreme admits indebtedness.

Love becomes greater than power.

14.  A Final Insight — God Within All (10.14.55)

ज्ञाने प्रयासं उदपास्य नमन्त एव

जीवन्ति सन्मुखरितां भवदीयवार्ताम् ।

Abandoning intellectual pride, bow down and live by hearing the Lord’s glories.n

The Tenth Canto ultimately teaches surrender — not argument.

Present.

The Divine Instrument: A Gift We Have

We often look outward in search of miracles.

In temples of stone.

In towering mountains.

In distant galaxies.

Yet the greatest miracle is the one we inhabit.

This human body — so familiar that we forget to be astonished — is a divine instrument placed in our care.

It breathes without instruction.

It heals without rehearsal.

It grows from a single unseen cell into a being capable of love, sacrifice, thought, and devotion.

No craftsman assembles it piece by piece.

No engineer tightens its bolts.

It unfolds according to a wisdom embedded within it.

Ancient seers did not see the body as an accident of matter. They called it a sacred vehicle — a field in which experience, learning, karma, and awakening unfold.

The hands that serve.

The tongue that chants.

The ears that listen to wisdom.

The eyes that weep in compassion.

The heart that feels reverence.

Each faculty is part of an orchestra.

When tuned properly, this instrument produces harmony.

When neglected, it produces discord.

But the instrument itself remains a gift.

We may decorate it.

We may criticize it.

We may take it for granted.

Yet without it, there is no action, no service, no prayer, no offering.

Even the highest spiritual realization must first pass through this embodied existence.

The body is not merely flesh and bone.

It is intelligence beyond thought.

It is awareness housed in matter.

It is life entrusted to us.

We did not design it.

We cannot manufacture it.

We cannot fully comprehend it.

And yet we are allowed to inhabit it.

What greater gift could there be?

Perhaps the true question is not, “How powerful is this body?”

But, “How wisely am I using this instrument?”

If it is divine in origin, then its purpose cannot be trivial.

May these hands do good.

May this speech uplift.

May this mind seek clarity.

May this heart remain soft.

For this body is not owned.

It is given.

A divine instrument — briefly placed in our keeping — through which life sings its sacred song.

Present

This body is the present.

Not the past we remember.

Not the future we imagine.

But the living, breathing now.

Each heartbeat is a reminder.

Each breath is a gift unasked yet freely given.

We did not request this form.

We did not design its workings.

And yet here it is — placed in our hands like a sacred offering.

The body anchors us to the present moment.

It feels hunger, joy, fatigue, warmth, pain, tenderness.

It refuses to live in yesterday or tomorrow.

Through it, we touch the world.

Through it, we speak kindness.

Through it, we bow in gratitude.

What greater present could there be than this —

a divine instrument entrusted to us for a brief span of time?

To live consciously in it

is to honor the gift.

To use it wisely

is to return thanks.

And perhaps that is the deepest reverence —

not merely admiring the miracle,

but living responsibly within it.

The First Intelligence

We stand today in admiration of Artificial Intelligence.

Machines that learn.

Programs that adapt.

Systems that respond instantly to changing data.

We marvel when algorithms adjust themselves.

We celebrate when technology predicts behavior.

We call it progress.

Yet, long before silicon chips and neural networks, there existed an intelligence far more intimate — and infinitely more ancient.

It begins in silence.

A newborn rests in its mother’s arms. No language has formed. No reasoning is conscious. And yet, a profound exchange begins.

Breast milk is not a static substance. It is not a fixed recipe poured out the same way each day. It is dynamic, responsive, alive.

Its composition shifts according to the baby’s needs. The concentration of fats, proteins, hormones, and immune cells varies. Milk produced in the early days after birth differs from milk weeks later. Even within a single feeding, the milk changes — beginning lighter and becoming richer as the nursing continues.

Studies have shown that in some mammals, the milk varies depending on whether the infant is male or female. In humans, milk contains hundreds of complex sugars that the baby cannot even digest — they exist solely to nourish beneficial bacteria in the infant’s gut, quietly shaping immunity and health for years to come.

When a baby falls ill, immune components in the milk rise significantly. White blood cells increase. Protective antibodies become more concentrated. It is as though the mother’s body senses distress and answers without being asked.

This is not mechanical.

It is relational.

A silent dialogue between two living beings.

The baby does not “request.”

The mother does not “calculate.”

Yet nourishment becomes precisely what is needed.

For nearly 200 million years, since the earliest mammals walked the earth, this system has been evolving — refining itself, adapting, perfecting.

And still we call our modern systems “intelligent.”

Artificial Intelligence processes data.

Maternal intelligence generates life.

AI adjusts outputs based on programmed rules.

The maternal body adjusts nourishment based on living signals.

AI can simulate empathy.

Motherhood embodies it.

Perhaps the greatest intelligence is not the one that predicts stock markets or writes code. Perhaps it is the intelligence that sustains vulnerability — that responds instantly to weakness, that anticipates growth, that nourishes without applause.

Before circuits, there was skin.

Before algorithms, there was attachment.

Before artificial networks, there was the sacred biological network between mother and child.

In our eagerness to build thinking machines, may we not overlook the wisdom already written into life itself.

The first food given to every human being is not merely nutrition.

It is adaptation.

It is protection.

It is communication.

It is love translated into biology.

And perhaps that is the highest form of intelligence — not artificial, not manufactured, but ancient, embodied, and quietly divine.

about blog.

Welcome 🌸

This blog is a small offering born out of devotion, curiosity and wonder at the vastness of Sanatana Dharma.

Many of the articles here are written after hearing a story, a discourse, a question, or a small spark of inspiration that stayed in the heart and asked to be explored more deeply. Writing becomes a way to understand, contemplate, and share.

Over time, the blog has grown into a spiritual library of reflections — covering scriptures, saints, rituals, symbolism and everyday devotion.

To help readers explore easily, the articles are organised into themed sections.

🟠 Epics & Itihasa Reflections

Stories and contemplations from the Ramayana and Mahabharata.

Here you will find:

Character reflections

Dharma dilemmas

Lessons from exile, duty and devotion

Symbolism hidden in epic narratives

🔵 Saints, Poets & Devotees

The lives and teachings of bhaktas who walked the path before us.

This section includes:

Bhakti saints and poet-saints

Inspiring devotee stories

Lesser-known spiritual personalities

Women saints and voices of devotion

🟣 Vedas, Upanishads & Philosophy

Gentle explorations of deep spiritual ideas.

Here we reflect on:

Vedic wisdom

Upanishadic concepts

Dharma, karma, maya and moksha

Spiritual psychology and life questions

🟢 Temples, Rituals & Traditions

Understanding the why behind what we practice.

Topics include:

Temple traditions and symbolism

Festivals and rituals

Samskaras and cultural practices

Sacred customs explained simply

🟡 Divine Personalities & Avatars

Essays dedicated to the many forms of the Divine.

You will find reflections on:

Sri Rama, Sri Krishna and Devi

Hanuman and other beloved forms

Symbolism of divine qualities and names

🌸 Devotional Literature & Songs

The sweetness of bhakti expressed through words and music.

This section includes:

Stotras and kirtanas

Sacred phrases and meanings

Reflections on devotional poetry

🌿 Nature, Symbolism & Sacred Culture

Seeing the sacred in everyday life and nature.

Here we explore:

Sacred plants, animals and food

Cultural symbolism

Spiritual meaning in daily life

⚪ Spiritual Living & Life Reflections

Quiet reflections connecting devotion with daily living.

These essays touch on:

Faith, gratitude and surrender

Joyful devotion

Simplicity and inner growth

🔴 Special Series — Ramayana Across Asia

A growing series exploring how the Ramayana travelled across cultures and countries, revealing the universal love for Sri Rama.

A Small Note from the Author 🌼

This blog is not an academic work, but a heartfelt journey of learning and sharing.

If even one article inspires reflection, devotion or curiosity, its purpose is fulfilled.

Thank you for being here.

Peepal

The Peepal Tree: A Silent Rishi Among Trees

In the heart of many ancient Indian villages stood a Peepal tree — not merely as vegetation, but as presence. It was not planted for decoration. It was planted for remembrance.

The Peepal, or Ashvattha, is no ordinary tree in our sacred imagination. In the Bhagavad Gita (Chapter 15), Bhagavan Sri Krishna describes the cosmic tree:

“With roots above and branches below stands the eternal Ashvattha…”

What a startling image — roots above? Branches below? The Lord reverses our vision. The true root of existence is not in soil, but in the Supreme. The world we see is only the outward branching of an unseen divine origin.

Thus, the Peepal becomes a philosophical metaphor. To sit beneath it is to sit beneath a living Upanishad.

The Tree That Breathes Grace

Traditionally, elders would say that the Peepal releases life-giving breath even at night. Whether understood scientifically or symbolically, it has always been revered as a giver of prana.

And what is spirituality if not this — to breathe life into others?

A saint is like the Peepal. He stands quietly, yet many draw strength from him. He speaks little, yet many find clarity around him.

The Peepal teaches us that holiness is not noise. It is nourishment.

Witness to Time

A Peepal tree does not hurry. It lives for centuries. It has watched kingdoms rise and fall, temples built and rebuilt, generations born and gone.

When Gautama Buddha attained enlightenment under the Bodhi tree at Bodh Gaya, it was not accidental. The Peepal stands as a witness tree — a tree of awakening.

Awakening does not happen in chaos. It happens in stillness.

And the Peepal embodies stillness.

Its trunk is firm, unmoving. But its leaves tremble constantly, shimmering in the slightest breeze. What a paradox! Stability and sensitivity together.

Is this not the ideal spiritual life?

Be firm in conviction.

Be sensitive in heart.

Village Life and the Sacred Centre

In many villages, the Peepal stood at the centre — near the temple tank, beside a shrine, or at the crossroads. Elders gathered beneath it. Panchayats met there. Stories were told. Vedas were recited. Lamps were lit at dusk.

Women circumambulated it with prayers for family welfare. Children played around it. Travellers rested under it.

It was not fenced with exclusivity. It belonged to everyone.

The Peepal teaches us inclusiveness — it gives shade without discrimination.

The Symbol of Detachment

Its leaves are delicate and heart-shaped. They fall easily. And yet the tree does not grieve their fall.

It stands serene through seasons.

The name Ashvattha itself has been interpreted as “that which does not remain the same till tomorrow” — a reminder of impermanence.

Thus, the Peepal is also a teacher of detachment.

Life changes. People change. Situations change.

Hold your roots deep — but let your leaves go.

The Tree Growing From Ruins

Have we not seen Peepal saplings emerging from old temple walls, from cracks in stone, from abandoned structures?

Life asserts itself.

Even when civilisation forgets, the Peepal remembers.

It grows where no one plants it. It survives where others wither.

It whispers a message to the discouraged heart:

“You too can grow from your broken places.”

A Meditation Beneath the Peepal

If one sits quietly beneath it, something subtle happens. The play of light through trembling leaves feels like mantra in motion. The sound of rustling becomes japa. The breeze becomes a blessing.

It feels as though the tree is praying.

Perhaps that is why our ancestors revered it — not as superstition, but as recognition. They recognised sanctity in nature.

The Peepal does not demand worship. It inspires it.

The Inner Ashvattha

Ultimately, the Peepal outside is a reflection of the tree within.

Our body is the trunk.

Our thoughts are the branches.

Our desires are the leaves.

Our karma is the spreading network.

But our true root is above — in the Divine.

The moment we forget that, we become entangled in our own branches.

The moment we remember, we become free.

The Peepal tree stands like a silent rishi — not writing scriptures, but embodying them.

It teaches:

Root yourself in the Eternal.

Stand steady through change.

Give freely.

Let go easily.

And become a shelter to others.

If every home had the spirit of a Peepal, the world itself would feel like a sacred village courtyard once again.

The Peepal (Ashvattha) in the Upanishads and Puranas

I. The Upanishadic Ashvattha – The Cosmic Tree

1. Katha Upanishad (2.3.1)

One of the earliest and most profound references appears here:

“Ūrdhva-mūlo’vak-śākha eṣo’śvatthaḥ sanātanaḥ”

“This eternal Ashvattha has its roots above and branches below.”

The Upanishad is not speaking of a botanical tree. It is describing Samsara — the cosmic order.

Roots above – The Supreme Brahman.

Branches below – The manifested universe.

Leaves – The Vedas.

Fruits – Experiences of karma.

The Peepal thus becomes a living diagram of metaphysics.

When you see its spreading canopy, you are invited to remember: This world is sustained by an unseen Divine Root.

2. Mundaka Upanishad (3.1.1)

This Upanishad gives another beautiful imagery:

“Two birds, inseparable companions, perch on the same tree…”

Here, the tree represents the body or the world.

One bird eats the fruit (the individual soul experiencing karma).

The other merely watches (the Supreme Self).

Though the tree is not named Ashvattha explicitly, traditional commentators often link this metaphor with the cosmic tree symbolism.

Thus, the Peepal also represents:

The field of experience.

The relationship between Jiva and Paramatma.

II. The Peepal in the Puranas

1. Padma Purana

The Padma Purana glorifies the Ashvattha tree extensively. It declares:

The Peepal is a form of Lord Vishnu.

Worshipping the Peepal grants merit equal to great yajnas.

Circumambulating it removes sins.

It is said:

“Among trees, I am the Ashvattha.”

This echoes Sri Krishna’s declaration in the Bhagavad Gita (10.26):

“Aśvatthaḥ sarva-vṛkṣāṇām” — “Among all trees, I am the Ashvattha.”

Thus the Peepal is not merely sacred — it is identified with the Lord Himself.

2. Skanda Purana

The Skanda Purana describes the Peepal as:

The seat of the Trimurti.

Roots — Brahma

Trunk — Vishnu

Leaves — Shiva

It advises devotees to perform pradakshina (circumambulation) of the tree, especially on Saturdays and Amavasya.

The symbolism is powerful:

Creation, preservation, and dissolution are present in one living organism.

3. Brahma Purana

The Brahma Purana mentions that planting and protecting a Peepal tree brings immense punya. It is regarded as a tree that sanctifies the land.

It states that deities reside in it, especially during certain sacred times.

III. Philosophical Depth of the Word “Ashvattha”

The word Ashvattha itself carries layered meaning:

“Shva” – tomorrow

“Stha” – to remain

“A-shvattha” – that which does not remain the same till tomorrow

Thus, the tree whose leaves are constantly trembling becomes a symbol of impermanence.

Yet paradoxically, it is called Sanatana (eternal) in the Upanishad.

What changes?

What remains?

The outer form changes.

The root remains.

This is Vedanta in botanical form.

IV. The Peepal as a Living Temple

In Puranic practice:

Women pray around the Peepal for family welfare.

Lamps are lit beneath it.

It is never casually cut.

It is worshipped as Vishnu or Narayana.

Why?

Because the ancients did not separate ecology from theology.

To protect the Peepal was to protect dharma.

To sit beneath it was to sit in satsanga.

V. The Inner Contemplation

When the Upanishad speaks of cutting down the cosmic Ashvattha with the “axe of detachment,” it is not instructing destruction of nature.

It is teaching:

Detach from identification with the branches (worldly entanglement).

Seek the root (Brahman).

The outer Peepal invites us to meditate on the inner tree of consciousness.

The Peepal tree stands in villages, temple courtyards, and roadside shrines — but its roots reach into the Upanishads and Puranas.

It is:

A metaphysical diagram (Katha Upanishad)

A field of duality (Mundaka Upanishad)

A form of Vishnu (Padma Purana)

A seat of the Trimurti (Skanda Purana)

A sanctifier of earth (Brahma Purana)

When we bow before it, we are not worshipping wood and leaves.

We are acknowledging the invisible root of existence.

And perhaps that is why its leaves never stay still — they seem to whisper:

“Remember your Source.”

barbarik Katu shyam

The Story of Barbarika

Barbarika was the son of Ghatotkacha and the grandson of Bhima, one of the Pandavas. Thus, he belonged to the Pandava lineage.

From childhood, Barbarika was extremely valiant and spiritually inclined. He performed severe penance and received three powerful arrows from Lord Shiva. These arrows were extraordinary:

One arrow could mark all targets he wished to destroy.

Another could mark what he wanted to protect.

The third arrow would destroy all marked targets and then return to his quiver.

Because of these three arrows, he was virtually invincible.

His Vow

Before the great war of Kurukshetra, Barbarika promised his mother that he would always support the weaker side in any battle.

When the war of Kurukshetra War was about to begin, Barbarika set out to participate.

His Encounter with Krishna

On the way, Lord Krishna (disguised as a Brahmin) stopped him and questioned him about his strength and intentions.

Barbarika explained the power of his three arrows. To test him, Krishna asked him to pierce all the leaves of a peepal tree with a single arrow.

Barbarika released one arrow. It pierced every leaf on the tree. Krishna secretly hid one leaf under his foot — but the arrow began circling around Krishna’s foot, ready to pierce the hidden leaf.

Krishna realized that if Barbarika entered the war:

He would first fight for the weaker side.

As soon as that side became stronger, he would switch.

Eventually, he alone would remain, and the war’s divine purpose would be defeated.

Krishna then asked Barbarika for daan (charity). Barbarika agreed.

Krishna asked for his head.

Without hesitation, Barbarika offered his head.

The Witness of the War

Moved by his devotion and sacrifice, Krishna granted him a boon:

Barbarika’s severed head would be placed on a hill to witness the entire Kurukshetra war.

After the war, when the Pandavas argued about who was responsible for victory, Krishna asked Barbarika’s head.

Barbarika replied:

"I saw only Krishna everywhere. His Sudarshana Chakra was destroying the warriors. All credit belongs to Him."

This teaches deep humility and surrender.

Spiritual Significance

Barbarika represents:

Absolute devotion

Readiness to sacrifice ego

Faith in divine will

The power of neutrality and dharma

In Rajasthan, he is worshipped as Khatu Shyam Ji, especially at the famous temple in Khatu Shyam Temple.

3 A,s

 The term Dharma is far deeper and more comprehensive than the ordinary sense in which it is often used. While most words convey a single meaning or, at best, a few related meanings, Dharma embraces the very essence of a thing or a person. According to the sastras, Dharma is that intrinsic nature or defining characteristic by which an object or a person is truly known. It is this Dharma alone that elevates a person.

In a discourse, Sri Damodara Dikshitar explained that Dharma consists of three important aspects. These aspects together shape and preserve a person's true nature, guiding thought, word and deed in harmony with righteousness. Dharma, as explained by the shastra, unfolds through three essential and interrelated aspects, all of which are exclusive to human beings.

Atma guna: this refers to cultivating noble inner qualities that define a person's true character. Patience, straitforwardness, grace, compassion, truthfulness, and a natural inclination to help others all fall under the virtues of atma guna.

Anusthanam: anusthanam denotes the disciplined observance of practices and rituals prescribed in the shastras which includes also regulated food habits, daily duties, ordained rituals and observances. 

Aradhanam: aradhanam signifies reverence and worship. Paying due respects to once parents, showing devotion and obedience to gurus and worshiping God.

 External achievements, wealth, or status may bring temporary recognition, but only Dharma uplifts and sustains an individual in the long run, both in this world and beyond.