Aasthy

 Contemplators of Bharat

A Living Paramparā of Wisdom, Inquiry and Realisation

Bharat’s intellectual and spiritual tradition was never confined to one discipline. Its great minds contemplated the Self, the universe, language, medicine, mathematics, society, ethics, beauty and the nature of reality.

Across thousands of years, they asked profound questions—and left behind ideas that continue to live.

The Ancient Seers & Philosophers

Yājñavalkya — explored the nature of Ātman and Brahman in the Upanishads.
Gārgī Vāchaknavī — a remarkable woman philosopher who fearlessly questioned the nature of ultimate reality.
Maitreyi — sought immortality through knowledge rather than possessions.
Kapila — associated with Sāṃkhya, one of India's oldest philosophical systems.
Mahāvīra — taught ahiṃsā, self-discipline and liberation through the Jain path.
Buddha — transformed the understanding of suffering, compassion and liberation.
Pāṇini — created an extraordinarily precise system of Sanskrit grammar.
Patañjali — systematised Yoga and profoundly influenced Indian thought on mind and consciousness.
Vyāsa — gave enduring form to the Mahābhārata and the vast intellectual world surrounding it.
Charaka — developed a sophisticated system of medicine centred on health, diagnosis and balance.
Sushruta — pioneered the systematic science of surgery.
Kauṭilya (Chanakya) — examined statecraft, economics, administration and political strategy.
Āryabhaṭṭa — transformed Indian astronomy and mathematics through remarkable numerical and astronomical insights.
Varāhamihira — brought together astronomy, mathematics, natural observation and astrology.
Brahmagupta — advanced mathematics, including important work involving zero and negative numbers.
Bhāskarācārya — carried Indian mathematics and astronomy to extraordinary heights.

Poets, Linguists & Masters of Expression

Kālidāsa — united poetry, nature, love and philosophy with unparalleled literary elegance.
Bhartrhari — contemplated language itself and its relationship with consciousness and reality.
Hemacandra — Jain polymath who mastered grammar, literature, philosophy and several branches of knowledge.
Viṣṇu Śarma — used stories and animals in the Pañcatantra to teach practical wisdom.
Thiruvalluvar — distilled an entire philosophy of ethical living into the 1,330 couplets of the Tirukkural.
Abhinavagupta — brought together philosophy, spirituality, aesthetics, poetry, music and the arts in Kashmir Śaivism.

Teachers of Vedānta & Bhakti

Ādi Śaṅkarācārya — articulated Advaita Vedānta and revitalised the philosophical unity of the Upanishadic vision.
Rāmānujācārya — taught Viśiṣṭādvaita and placed loving surrender and service to the Divine at the heart of spiritual life.
Madhvācārya — established Dvaita Vedānta and emphasised the eternal distinction between the individual soul and the Supreme.
Nimbārka — articulated a distinctive vision of the relationship between the individual, the world and the Divine.
Vallabhācārya — taught Śuddhādvaita and the path of loving grace and devotion.
Śrī Caitanya — made ecstatic devotion and the chanting of the Divine Name a powerful spiritual path.
Vedānta Deśika — combined profound philosophy, devotion, poetry and Sri Vaishnava theology.
Āṇḍāl — gave bhakti a timeless voice through the Tiruppāvai and Nācciyār Tirumoḻi.
Kabir — challenged religious divisions and pointed directly towards the Divine within.
Guru Nānak — taught remembrance of the Divine, honest living, equality and service.
Mirabai — transformed personal love for Krishna into some of India's most enduring devotional poetry.

Thinkers Who Carried the Vision Forward

Bodhidharma — traditionally associated with carrying an Indian contemplative tradition to China and the development of Chan Buddhism.
Basavanna — emphasised devotion, equality, ethical work and the dignity of the individual.
Swami Vivekananda — presented Vedānta and the ideal of service to the modern world.
Sri Aurobindo — envisioned the evolution of human consciousness and developed the philosophy of Integral Yoga.

And the Paramparā Continues

These were not merely scholars.

Some observed the stars.
Some studied the human body.
Some analysed language.
Some questioned reality.
Some sang to God.
Some studied society and governance.
Some sought liberation.

Yet beneath this astonishing diversity runs a common thread:

Bharat encouraged the human being not merely to believe—but to inquire, contemplate, experience and realise.

From Yājñavalkya to Sri Aurobindo, from Gārgī to Āṇḍāl, from Pāṇini to Āryabhaṭṭa, from Charaka to Sushruta, from Thiruvalluvar to Rāmānujācārya—the conversation continues.

The Paramparā is not a museum.

It is a living stream of thought.

And perhaps the most beautiful invitation of all is this:

Contemplate. Question. Discover. Realise.
Then leave something wiser for those who come after you.

Gamanam Bhujangam

 WHEN GRACE TAKES WING

Garuda Gamanam & Hanumān Bhujangam

I looked at Garuda
and saw the Lord in flight.

Wings spread wide,
he does not fly for himself.
He carries Nārāyaṇa
wherever grace is needed.

The Lord sits upon his shoulders—
and suddenly
the distance between heaven and earth
does not seem so great.

Garuda does not ask,
“Who deserves His grace?”

He simply carries Him.

And I wondered—

Is that not grace?
The Lord comes closer
because someone is willing
to carry Him.

---

Then I looked at Hanumān.

No throne.
No crown.
No desire for himself.

Only folded hands,
Rāma's name upon his lips,
and a heart that knows
only one direction—

towards Rāma.

He crossed the ocean
because Rāma needed him.

He moved mountains
because Rāma's work
could not wait.

He stood before Sītā
carrying Rāma's message—

and in that little ring
was contained
an entire universe of hope.

Hanumān did not say,

“Look what I can do.”

He said,

“Tell me what Rāma wants.”

And strength appeared.

---

Garuda carries the Lord.

Hanumān carries the Lord's purpose.

Garuda brings the Lord
to the frightened devotee.

Hanumān brings the devotee
the Lord's assurance.

One flies with Him.

The other flies for Him.

One is the splendour
of divine service.

The other is the tenderness
of surrendered service.

Yet both teach me
the same secret.

---

I thought grace
was something I had to receive.

Garuda taught me:

Let the Lord come to you.

Hanumān taught me:

Let yourself become useful to Him.

And somewhere between
Garuda's mighty wings
and Hanumān's folded hands,

I finally understood—

Grace is not always
something that falls upon us.

Sometimes
grace takes wings.

Sometimes
grace takes the form of service.

Sometimes
the Lord comes to us.

Sometimes
He sends us towards Him.

---

O Garuda,

when I am afraid,
carry Him to me.

O Hanumān,

when I am lost,
carry me towards Him.

And when my little heart
can do neither,

teach me just one thing—

to remember His name
as you do,

to serve without asking,

and to trust without fear.

For I now know:

Where Garuda flies,
Nārāyaṇa is near.

Where Hanumān serves,
Rāma is present.

And wherever
the Lord's name is remembered
with a helpless heart—

there, surely,
His grace has already begun to fly.

Am i blessed to be here....

From His Feet to His Face — A Devotee's Journey to Narayana 

When I first stand before Sriman Narayana, I do not know how to look at Him.

I come as a novice devotee.

I know that He is the Lord. I know that I have come to worship Him. I know that I should offer flowers, bow my head and pray.

But beyond that, I am unsure.

My mind wanders. My prayers are imperfect. My devotion is still small.

So I begin where I feel least inadequate.

At His feet.

I place the flowers there.

I bow.

And I remain there for a while.

At His Feet 

The sacred feet of Narayana are the first thing my heart learns to trust.

I do not yet dare to look at the greatness of the One standing before me.

I simply look at His Tiruvadi.

They are beautiful, lotus-like, adorned with divine anklets.

But more than their beauty, I begin to understand what they mean.

They are refuge.

I do not have to be worthy before approaching them.

I do not have to know all the scriptures.

I do not have to have mastered my mind.

I only have to surrender.

The flowers I place at His feet seem suddenly to say more than my words can.

"I have come, Lord."

And perhaps that is enough.

Then My Eyes Rise 

Having surrendered at His feet, I slowly raise my eyes.

I see His legs.

They are strong and graceful, supporting the entire divine form.

I realise that the One whose feet I have approached is not merely a beautiful image.

He stands.

He supports.

He protects.

My little offering at His feet has brought me one step closer to understanding Him.

Then I see the radiant Pitambara, the golden-yellow garment surrounding His divine form.

The colour catches my eye.

The beauty draws me upward.

My devotion, which began as uncertainty, begins to become attention.

I am no longer merely praying.

I am looking.

The Divine Hands 

My eyes rise further.

I see His four arms.

And then I notice what they hold.

The Panchajanya, the conch.

The Sudarshana, the discus.

The Kaumodaki, the mace.

The Sharnga, the bow.

At first I see them as the weapons of a mighty Lord.

Then I understand something more.

These are the hands of the One who protects.

The Lord whose feet I approached in helplessness has the power to protect me.

And yet one of His hands is raised in assurance.

The hand that holds power can also offer comfort.

I begin to understand that surrender does not mean entering uncertainty.

It means placing oneself in the hands of the One who can protect.

The Chest of Sri 

My eyes rise still further.

I see the magnificent Tirumarbu, the divine chest.

There shines the Srivatsa.

The Kaustubha Mani rests upon Him.

And then I remember what I have been taught:

This is the eternal abode of Sri Mahalakshmi.

He is not merely Narayana.

He is Sriman Narayana.

Sri is with Him.

Grace is with Him.

Compassion is with Him.

Suddenly, my understanding of the feet changes.

I had come to the feet because I was unsure of myself.

Now I realise that the feet to which I surrendered belong to the One whose heart eternally holds Sri.

My surrender is not falling into the unknown.

It is placing myself before Sri and Narayana together.

His Face 

And then, almost without realising it, I look higher.

I see His neck, adorned with garlands and jewels.

I see the divine ornaments.

And finally I see His face.

For a moment, I forget my prayer.

I simply look.

The face is serene.

Radiant.

Beautiful.

And then I see His eyes.

His Eyes See Me 

They are large and lotus-like.

But now I no longer see them merely as beautiful eyes.

I begin to wonder:

Does He see me?

The thought changes everything.

The Lord who sees the entire universe is looking upon me.

He knows the prayer I could not put into words.

He knows the weaknesses I hide from everyone.

He knows the good I tried to do and the good I failed to do.

And yet His eyes do not turn away.

There is compassion in them.

There is patience.

There is acceptance.

For the first time I understand why the devotee can stand before the Lord and simply remain silent.

Sometimes words are unnecessary.

The Lord already knows.

The Smile 

And then I see His smile.

It is gentle.

Almost reassuring.

I remember the fear with which I first came to Him.

I had wondered whether I was worthy to stand before Him.

Now the smile seems to answer that question without words.

"Do not be afraid."

The Lord whom I thought I had come to worship begins to feel like the One who has been waiting for me.

The novice who came with flowers at His feet has slowly become the devotee who dares to look at His face.

The Tirunamam 

My eyes move to His forehead.

There shines the sacred Tirunamam.

The two white lines and the central red Sri Churnam once again remind me of Sri and Narayana.

Everything I have seen now begins to come together.

The feet are His refuge.

The hands are His protection.

The chest is the abode of Sri.

The eyes are compassion.

The face is assurance.

And the Tirunamam declares who He is.

I am no longer seeing separate features.

I am beginning to see Him.

And Finally — The Crown 

At last my eyes reach the crown.

The magnificent Kiritam shines above His head.

Only now do I understand its full meaning.

The One whose feet I approached in humility is the Lord of all worlds.

The One whose eyes looked upon me with tenderness is Sarveshvara.

The One whose smile gave me courage is the Supreme Being.

The One whose feet received my little flowers is the Lord of the universe.

And suddenly I realise something humbling.

I began at His feet because I was afraid to look at His greatness.

But by beginning at His feet, I discovered His greatness gradually.

I did not climb towards Him through my own knowledge.

I was lifted by devotion.

The Complete Form 

Now I step back.

For the first time I see the entire form of Sriman Narayana.

The crown.

The Tirunamam.

The compassionate eyes.

The serene face.

The garlands and jewels.

The sacred chest bearing Srivatsa and Kaustubha.

The four arms.

The conch, discus, mace and bow.

The radiant Pitambara.

The graceful legs.

And the sacred feet where I first placed my flowers.

Now the whole form is before me.

And something within me becomes quiet.

I realise that the journey was never really from the feet to the crown.

It was from uncertainty to trust.

From seeing a form to experiencing a presence.

From offering flowers to offering myself.

From knowing about Narayana to beginning to know Narayana.

The Humble Realisation 

Perhaps this is how devotion grows.

A beginner does not need to understand everything.

He begins with one flower.

One bow.

One prayer.

One glance at the sacred feet.

And if he remains there long enough, something begins to happen.

The eyes rise.

The heart opens.

The mind becomes quiet.

The divine form gradually reveals itself.

And eventually the devotee understands:

The Lord was never waiting for a perfect devotee.

He was waiting for a surrendered heart.

The flowers I placed at His feet were small.

My prayer was imperfect.

My devotion was uncertain.

But He accepted them.

And in accepting them, He gave me something infinitely greater.

He allowed me to raise my eyes.

He allowed me to see His face.

He allowed me to behold His whole divine form.

And then I understand the deepest lesson of all:

The feet at which I began are the same feet to which my eyes return after seeing everything.

The crown reveals His sovereignty.

The face reveals His beauty.

The eyes reveal His compassion.

The chest reveals Sri.

The hands reveal His protection.

The whole form reveals His divinity.

But the feet remain my refuge.

So I fold my hands once again.

I do not ask for anything.

I simply offer the flowers of my heart.

And whisper:

"Narayana, I came to You unsure of myself.

You taught me to look at You.

And having seen You, I know where I belong.

At Your sacred feet."

Sriman Narayana — You are my refuge, my Lord, and my everything.

Final refuge.

 

Sriman Narayana — A Darshan from Crown to Sacred Feet

There are descriptions of the Lord that tell us who He is. There are others that allow us to feel as though we are standing before Him.

The traditional Kattiyams belong to the second kind.

They do not merely enumerate the ornaments, weapons and bodily features of Sriman Narayana. They gradually lead the eyes of the devotee over His divine form — from the crown upon His head to the sacred feet that offer refuge to every soul.

Just as Valmiki's description of Rama allows us to form a living picture of the prince of Ayodhya, these traditional descriptions allow us to behold Narayana through the eyes of devotion.

And as we move from one feature to another, physical beauty gradually becomes spiritual meaning.

The Crown — The Lord of All

At the very top is the resplendent Kiritam, the divine crown.

It is not merely an ornament. It proclaims His sovereignty.

He is Sarveshvara — the Lord of all.

The crown therefore gives us our first glimpse of His Aishvarya, His supreme majesty.

Yet this majestic Lord will soon reveal another quality that is equally central to Sri Vaishnava thought: His accessibility to His devotees.

The Tirunamam — Sriman Narayana

Below the crown shines the sacred Tirunamam upon His forehead.

The white lines and the central red Sri Churnam remind us that Narayana is never contemplated apart from Sri.

He is Sriman Narayana — the Lord eternally united with Sri Mahalakshmi.

Thus, even before we reach His eyes, His forehead has already revealed a profound truth.

The Supreme Lord is accompanied eternally by the Divine Mother, whose presence embodies compassion and grace.

The Eyes — Where Compassion Becomes Visible

And then come the eyes.

Large, beautiful and lotus-like, they are among the most captivating features of the divine face.

But their beauty is not merely physical.

These are the eyes of Daya — compassion.

The Lord sees every soul.

He sees our strengths and weaknesses, our understanding and our confusion, our efforts and our failures.

And yet His eyes do not turn away.

There is something deeply moving in the thought that the One who sees the entire universe can also see one individual soul with infinite tenderness.

The devotee does not merely look at the Lord's eyes.

The devotee longs to be seen by them.

The Divine Face — Tirumukham

From the eyes, our gaze rests upon the divine face.

The face of Narayana is radiant, serene and filled with grace.

The gentle smile upon His lips makes the Supreme Being approachable.

The crown tells us, "He is the Lord of the universe."

The eyes tell us, "He sees you."

And the smile seems to say, "Do not be afraid."

His lips are beautiful, but their significance goes beyond beauty.

From the divine mouth comes divine speech.

As Krishna, He gives us the Bhagavad Gita.

As Rama, His speech becomes the embodiment of truth and righteousness.

Thus the mouth of the Lord becomes the source of words that guide, console and transform.

The Neck, Garlands and Jewels

Moving downward, we see the graceful Tirukkazhuthu, adorned with necklaces, pearls, jewels and divine garlands.

Among them is the celebrated Vaijayanti Mala.

The many flowers brought together in one garland offer a beautiful image of creation itself — diversity held together in harmony.

The Lord does not become beautiful because He wears ornaments.

Rather, the ornaments become beautiful because they touch Him.

This is the spirit behind Alankaram in temple worship.

The devotee does not adorn the Lord because He needs adornment.

The devotee adorns Him because love seeks expression.

The Divine Chest — Tirumarbu

And then we reach the magnificent Tirumarbu — the divine chest of Narayana.

Here the description becomes deeply theological.

The Srivatsa shines upon His chest.

The Kaustubha Mani rests upon Him.

And, above all, this is the eternal abode of Sri Mahalakshmi.

He is therefore Sriman Narayana.

Sri is not separate from Him.

Compassion and grace are not external qualities added to the Supreme Being.

They are inseparable from Him.

The devotee therefore approaches not a distant and solitary Absolute, but Sri and Narayana together.

The Four Divine Arms

From the divine chest emerge His four magnificent arms.

These unmistakably reveal His divine form.

His hands bear the sacred emblems:

Panchajanya — the Conch.

Sudarshana — the Discus.

Kaumodaki — the Mace.

Sharnga — the Bow.

These are not merely weapons.

They reveal His power to protect dharma and to destroy forces that threaten righteousness.

Yet there is a beautiful paradox.

The same hands that hold mighty weapons are also the hands that bless and protect.

Power and tenderness exist together.

The Lord is powerful enough to protect the universe and compassionate enough to protect one helpless soul.

Pitambara — The Radiant Garment

Around His divine form is the resplendent Pitambara — the yellow garment traditionally associated with Narayana.

Against the dark and lustrous hue of His divine body, the golden-yellow garment creates an unforgettable vision.

The garment adds to the radiance of the Tirumeni, yet does not compete with it.

Everything about the Lord's appearance seems perfectly proportioned.

Nothing is excessive.

Nothing is lacking.

This is the beauty of the Divya Mangala Vigraha — the auspicious divine form.

The Divine Legs

As the eye travels further downward, we see His graceful and powerful legs.

They support the entire divine form, but for the devotee they carry a deeper significance.

They lead us towards the most sacred destination of all.

The Tiruvadi.

The Sacred Feet — Tiruvadi

At last we reach the divine feet of Narayana.

The feet are compared to beautiful lotuses — tender, auspicious and radiant.

They are adorned with divine anklets.

But their greatest significance is not their beauty.

It is their promise.

They are refuge.

The Sri Vaishnava does not merely admire the Lord's feet.

He seeks them.

This is the heart of Sharanagati and Prapatti — surrender.

After wandering through the countless experiences of samsara, the soul discovers that it has somewhere to rest.

At the Lord's feet there is no need to establish one's worth.

No need to demonstrate one's knowledge.

No need to claim one's achievements.

One simply surrenders.

The crown proclaims His sovereignty.

The eyes reveal His compassion.

The smile reveals His accessibility.

The chest reveals His inseparable union with Sri.

The hands reveal His protection.

The weapons reveal His power.

And the feet reveal His refuge.

Two Kattiyams — One Divine Vision

When the two Kattiyams are placed together, their differences are seen not as contradictions but as differences of emphasis.

One may dwell longer upon a particular ornament, weapon or bodily feature, while the other may move more quickly to the next.

One gives us detail.

The other gives us movement.

One helps us recognise the divine form.

The other helps us experience it.

Together they create a fuller vision of Sriman Narayana.

The journey begins with His crown and ends at His feet.

But something changes during that journey.

At first, we are simply looking at the Lord.

Then we begin to understand what we are seeing.

The crown becomes sovereignty.

The eyes become compassion.

The smile becomes assurance.

The chest becomes the eternal presence of Sri.

The hands become protection.

The weapons become divine power.

And the feet become our refuge.

Thus the Kattiyam is not merely a description of how Narayana looks.

It teaches us how to see Him.

The Journey of the Devotee's Eyes

Perhaps this is the deepest beauty of the entire description.

The eyes begin at the crown.

They travel across the divine face.

They rest upon the compassionate eyes.

They behold Sri upon His chest.

They marvel at the four arms and the divine weapons.

They pass over the radiant Pitambara.

And finally they reach the sacred feet.

The journey has been from majesty to intimacy, from beauty to meaning, from seeing to surrender.

And when the devotee finally reaches the Tiruvadi, the entire divine form is seen as one.

The crown, the face, the eyes, the smile, the Srivatsa, the Kaustubha, the four arms, the conch, the discus, the mace, the bow, the Pitambara and the lotus feet are no longer separate features.

They have become one vision.

The Divya Mangala Vigraha of Sriman Narayana.

And perhaps, after beholding Him in this way, there is nothing more for the devotee to say than:

**"Narayana — You are everything.

I have nowhere else to go.

Your feet are my refuge."**

Her choice.

 Rukhmabai — The Woman Who Chose Her Own Life

There are rebellions that take place in streets and public squares.

And then there are rebellions that begin quietly — with a young woman simply saying:

“No.”

In 19th-century India, when a girl's life was largely decided by her family and society, Rukhmabai dared to say no to a marriage imposed upon her as a child.

Her courage would eventually become one of colonial India's most remarkable legal and social battles.

The Child Who Was Married

Rukhmabai was born in Bombay in 1864. She lost her father when she was very young. Her mother, Jayantibai, later married Dr. Sakharam Arjun, a progressive and educated man who encouraged Rukhmabai's education.

At the age of eleven, Rukhmabai was married to Dadaji Bhikaji.

Like many child marriages of that period, the marriage did not mean that the young couple immediately began living together. Rukhmabai continued her education and grew up in her mother's household.

As she became older, however, Dadaji demanded that she come and live with him as his wife.

Rukhmabai refused.

That refusal changed her life — and eventually challenged the assumptions of an entire society.

The Woman Who Said No

Dadaji took the matter to court, seeking an order requiring Rukhmabai to live with him.

Rukhmabai stood her ground.

She argued, in effect, that she had never freely chosen this marriage and that she should not be compelled to surrender her freedom because a marriage had been arranged for her when she was a child.

The case became a sensation.

Newspapers discussed it. Reformers supported Rukhmabai. Traditionalists criticised her. The question had suddenly become much larger than one marriage.

Could a woman be compelled to live with a husband she did not choose?

Could a child, married before she was capable of understanding marriage, later be forced to accept its consequences?

And most fundamentally:

Did a woman have the right to choose her own life?

The Threat of Prison

In 1887, the court ordered Rukhmabai to go and live with Dadaji.

She refused.

She faced the terrifying possibility of imprisonment rather than submit.

Think of that moment.

A young Indian woman, confronting the authority of the courts and the expectations of society, chose imprisonment rather than surrender.

Her courage attracted enormous attention.

The case became a symbol of the larger debate over child marriage, women's education, consent and the rights of women within marriage.

Eventually, in 1888, a settlement was reached and the marriage was ended.

Rukhmabai had won something more precious than a legal victory.

She had won the right to shape her own future.

But She Was Not Finished

Freedom was only the beginning.

Rukhmabai did not allow her difficult childhood to become the definition of her life.

She wanted to study medicine.

At a time when very few women in India could even imagine becoming doctors, she travelled to England in 1889.

There she studied at the London School of Medicine for Women.

It was another extraordinary act of determination.

The girl whose education had once been threatened by the expectations of marriage was now pursuing a profession that required years of study and discipline.

She qualified as a doctor and returned to India in 1895.

The Rebel Became a Healer

Rukhmabai worked as a physician, particularly serving women who often had little access to medical care.

She served in hospitals in Surat and Rajkot, and continued her medical work for many years.

There is something beautiful in this transformation.

The young Rukhmabai had fought for the right to decide what happened to her own body and her own life.

The doctor Rukhmabai then devoted her life to caring for the bodies and lives of other women.

Her rebellion had become service.

More Than a Court Case

Rukhmabai's importance does not lie only in the legal case.

Her life represented a much larger change taking place in India.

Women were beginning to question:

• Child marriage
• Denial of education
• Forced domestic roles
• Lack of consent within marriage
• The belief that a woman's destiny must be decided by others

Her case also contributed to the growing public debate that eventually led to legal reform concerning the age of consent in India.

But Rukhmabai herself was more than a symbol.

She was a person who had made a difficult choice — and then accepted the consequences of that choice with extraordinary determination.

The Courage to Say No

We often think of courage as the ability to fight.

Rukhmabai teaches us another meaning of courage.

Sometimes courage is the ability to refuse.

To stand alone.

To endure criticism.

To face authority.

To accept uncertainty.

And to say:

“This is my life. I must have a voice in deciding how I live it.”

But perhaps her greatest achievement came afterward.

She did not spend her life merely fighting the injustice she had experienced.

She built a new life.

She became educated.

She became a doctor.

She served women.

She turned a childhood imposed upon her into a life chosen by herself.

A Life She Chose

Rukhmabai was married at eleven.

But that marriage did not determine the woman she would become.

She chose education.

She chose medicine.

She chose service.

And, above all, she chose herself.

At a time when society expected obedience, she possessed the extraordinary courage to say No.

Then she possessed something even greater — the determination to turn that No into a meaningful Yes.

Yes to education.
Yes to independence.
Yes to medicine.
Yes to serving others.

Her rebellion did not end in a speech.

It ended in a medical degree — and in a life spent healing.

Rukhmabai — the woman who chose her own life.

Earth and sky

 “Varāhamihira — The Man Who Tried to Read the Earth and Sky Together.”

Varāhamihira (वराहमिहिर) was one of ancient India’s great astronomers, mathematicians, astrologers and scholars, who lived around the 6th century CE, probably around 505–587 CE.

He is particularly associated with Ujjain, which was an important centre of astronomy in ancient India.

What made him remarkable?

Varāhamihira brought together knowledge from several traditions—Indian, and also astronomical ideas that had come from the wider world—and organized them systematically.

His two most famous works are:

Pañca-Siddhāntikā — The Five Astronomical Treatises

A remarkable summary of the astronomical knowledge of his time. It discusses five earlier systems of astronomy, including the Sūrya Siddhānta and traditions associated with Greek astronomy.

Bṛhat Saṃhitā — The Great Compilation

This is much broader than astronomy. It is almost an encyclopaedia of 6th-century Indian knowledge—covering astronomy, weather, rainfall, earthquakes, architecture, agriculture, plants, gems, water-finding, omens, calendars and many other subjects.

He also wrote the Bṛhat Jātaka, an important work on Jyotiṣa (astrology).

An interesting connection

Varāhamihira was a contemporary of Āryabhaṭa's tradition and belonged to the remarkable period of Indian mathematical astronomy when scholars were trying to understand the movements of the Sun, Moon and planets mathematically.

One especially interesting thing about him is his openness to knowledge from different civilizations. His Pañca-Siddhāntikā preserves evidence of interaction between Indian and Greek astronomical traditions.

“Varāhamihira — The Man Who Tried to Read the Earth and Sky Together.”

His Bṛhat Saṃhitā makes him especially fascinating because he wasn't interested only in the heavens—he observed the Earth, its weather, water, plants, architecture and natural phenomena too.

Auspicious 3

 Āṇḍāl is different from Lakṣmī and Sarasvatī. Her own Tamil hymns are primarily devotional and do not give us a single formal “head-to-toe” portrait. For her, the beautiful Gōdā Stuti of Swami Vedānta Deśika and traditional iconography give us the visual description. Āṇḍāl is also described as the daughter of Periyāḻvār and as one whose devotion is wholly directed toward Śrī Raṅganātha. 

1. ĀṇḍĀḶ — Gōdā Devī

One especially beautiful verse from Gōdā Catuḥślokī says:

नित्याभूषा निगमशिरसां निस्समोत्तुङ्गवार्ता

कान्तो यस्याः कचलुलितैः कामुको माल्यरत्नैः ।

सूक्त्या यस्याः श्रुतिसुभगया सुप्रभाता धरित्री

सैषा देवी सकलजननी सिञ्चतां मामपाङ्गैः ॥

The emphasis here is not simply on physical beauty. Āṇḍāl's hair, garlands, words and loving glances are presented as sources of auspiciousness to the world. 

Stotra Ratna.

Word by word

नित्याभूषा — nityābhūṣā — the eternal ornament

निगमशिरसाम् — nigama-śirasām — of the crowns/head of the Vedas

कान्ता — kāntā — beautiful, beloved, radiant

कचलुलितैः — kaca-lulitaiḥ — with flowing, curling locks of hair

माल्यरत्नैः — mālya-ratnaiḥ — precious garlands

सूक्त्या — sūktyā — through her beautiful words

श्रुति-सुभगया — śruti-subhagayā — made beautiful and pleasing to hear

सुप्रभाता धरित्री — suprabhātā dharitrī — the earth awakens to a beautiful dawn

देवी — devī — the divine lady

सकलजननी — sakala-jananī — Mother of all

अपाङ्गैः — apāṅgaiḥ — by her sidelong glances

सिञ्चताम् — siñcatām — may she shower/bless

माम् — mām — me.

And another verse beautifully connects her with the garland she offered to the Lord: the fragrance of the garland, touched by Gōdā, enhances her divine glory. 

Stotra Rathna

So for an Āṇḍāl picture, we should portray her as a young divine Tamil maiden, with her characteristic side-arranged hair, flowers, ornaments, garland and the parrot associated with her.

2. Śrī Lakṣmī

Here we have an exceptionally good textual description — Śrī Sūktam.

हिरण्यवर्णां हरिणीं सुवर्णरजतस्रजाम् ।

चन्द्रां हिरण्मयीं लक्ष्मीं जातवेदो म आवह ॥

Word by word

हिरण्यवर्णाम् — hiraṇya-varṇām — golden-hued

हरिणीम् — hariṇīm — graceful, radiant, deer-like

सुवर्ण-रजत-स्रजाम् — suvarṇa-rajata-srajām — adorned with garlands of gold and silver

चन्द्राम् — candrām — radiant and pleasing like the moon

हिरण्मयीम् — hiraṇmayīm — golden, filled with golden radiance

लक्ष्मीम् — lakṣmīm — Goddess Lakṣmī, embodiment of Śrī

आवह — āvaha — bring/invoke

जातवेदः — Jātavedaḥ — O Agni, knower of all.

Then comes an even more visual verse:

कां सोस्मितां हिरण्यप्राकारामार्द्रां ज्वलन्तीं

तृप्तां तर्पयन्तीं ।

पद्मे स्थितां पद्मवर्णां तामिहोपह्वये श्रियम् ॥

She is:

सोस्मिताम् — sa-smitām — smiling gently

हिरण्यप्राकाराम् — hiraṇya-prākārām — surrounded by golden radiance

आर्द्राम् — ārdrām — tender, compassionate

ज्वलन्तीम् — jvalantīm — shining brilliantly

तृप्ताम् — tṛptām — completely fulfilled

तर्पयन्तीम् — tarpayantīm — satisfying and nourishing others

पद्मे स्थिताम् — padme sthitām — seated upon a lotus

पद्मवर्णाम् — padma-varṇām — lotus-coloured

श्रियम् — śriyam — Śrī, Lakṣmī herself.

So the textual Lakṣmī is golden, luminous, moon-like, gently smiling, compassionate, lotus-associated, richly adorned and radiating auspiciousness.

3. Sarasvatī

Here the description is perhaps the clearest of all.

या कुन्देन्दुतुषारहारधवला

या शुभ्रवस्त्रावृता ।

या वीणावरदण्डमण्डितकरा

या श्वेतपद्मासना ॥

Word by word

या — yā — she who

कुन्द — kunda — jasmine flower

इन्दु — indu — moon

तुषार — tuṣāra — snow

हार — hāra — garland

धवला — dhavalā — brilliantly white

शुभ्र-वस्त्र-आवृता — śubhra-vastrāvṛtā — clothed in pure white garments

वीणा — vīṇā — the Vīṇā

वर-दण्ड — vara-daṇḍa — its beautiful/auspicious staff

मण्डित-करा — maṇḍita-karā — whose hands are adorned with it

श्वेत-पद्म-आसना — śveta-padmāsanā — seated upon a white lotus.

And the next verse adds:

दोर्भिर्युक्ता चतुर्भिः स्फटिकमणिमयीमक्षमालां दधाना ।

हस्तेनैकेन पद्मं सितमपि च शुकं पुस्तकं चापरेण ॥

She has four arms; a crystal-like rosary, a white lotus, a parrot and a book are described among the objects held in her hands. Her radiance is compared to jasmine, moonlight, conch and crystal. 

So the three pictures are wonderfully different

Āṇḍāl — the Divine Bride:

Flowers, garlands, beautiful hair, youthful grace, devotion and loving eyes turned toward her Lord.

Lakṣmī — Śrī:

Golden radiance, lotus, gentle smile, jewels, abundance and compassionate auspiciousness.

Sarasvatī — Vāgdevī:

Pure white, white garments, white lotus, Vīṇā, book, crystal rosary and the serene radiance of knowledge.

Bho yo bho yo namamya ham