The divine.

A divine vessel — fragile in heart, powerful in mind, guided by senses — given by the Lord to cross the ocean of life.

We often take the body for granted, noticing it only when it aches, tires, or fails. Yet the sages saw it differently — as a sacred gift, a divine vehicle entrusted to us for the journey of life. Every organ carries wisdom, every sense serves a purpose, and every breath whispers gratitude. When viewed with reverence, the human body transforms from mere biology into a temple of experience, service, and spiritual awakening.

The Beautiful Body Given by the Lord — A Sacred Vessel for Life’s Journey

When we pause and look at ourselves with quiet wonder, the human body appears less like flesh and bone and more like a divine instrument. It is fragile yet resilient, limited yet miraculous, ordinary yet sacred. The sages often remind us that this body is not merely ours — it is given. A gift from the Lord, entrusted to us so we may walk the path of life, experience the world, grow in wisdom, and ultimately seek the Divine.

The Fragility of the Heart

The heart is soft — physically and symbolically. A tiny organ, yet it beats over a hundred thousand times a day without complaint. It is vulnerable to emotion, to love, to sorrow, to fear. A single word can make it soar or shatter.

Why would the Creator make the heart fragile?

Because compassion cannot live in a stone.

Kindness cannot grow in iron.

Love requires softness.

The fragile heart ensures we feel deeply. We are moved by suffering, touched by beauty, and stirred by devotion. Without this fragility, there would be no bhakti, no tears during prayer, no melting of the ego in surrender. The heart’s weakness is, in truth, its greatest strength — it keeps us human.

The Strength of the Mind

If the heart is soft, the mind is strong. The brain is the commander of the body, the seat of memory, reasoning, imagination, and discipline. It allows us to endure hardship, solve problems, and rise after falling.

Life is not a smooth path. It presents uncertainty, loss, change, and challenge. The Lord equips us with a powerful mind so we may navigate the storms of existence. When the heart trembles, the mind steadies. When emotions overflow, the intellect guides.

The scriptures often praise viveka — discrimination. The mind gives us the ability to choose dharma over impulse, patience over anger, wisdom over reaction. Thus the heart and mind form a divine balance: one feels, the other guides.

The Keenness of Sight

Our eyes are small windows through which the vast universe enters. With sight, we witness sunrise, sacred temples, smiling faces, holy scriptures, and the beauty of creation.

But sight is not only for seeing the world — it is for recognizing the divine in it.

When we see a hungry person, the eyes awaken compassion.

When we see nature, the eyes awaken gratitude.

When we see a deity, the eyes awaken devotion.

Darshan — the act of seeing the divine — is central to spiritual life. Through the eyes, the outer world becomes a gateway to the inner awakening.

The Selective Hearing of the Ears

The ears are remarkable guardians. They do not merely hear; they choose. Among thousands of sounds, the mind learns to listen only to what matters.

This is symbolic of spiritual life itself. The world is full of noise — gossip, distraction, fear, and endless chatter. Yet the seeker must learn selective hearing.

To hear wisdom.

To hear sacred names.

To hear truth.

To hear the silent voice within.

The Vedas themselves were preserved through shruti — that which is heard. Thus the ears are not only organs of sound but doors to knowledge and liberation.

The Hands That Serve

Our hands are instruments of action. They cook, write, comfort, build, protect, and pray. With folded palms we greet the Divine; with open palms we help others.

Service (seva) becomes possible only through these hands. They allow devotion to move from feeling into action.

The Feet That Walk the Path

Our feet carry us through the pilgrimage of life — to temples, to homes of loved ones, to places of duty, and through the countless steps of our daily responsibilities.

Every journey toward dharma begins with a step. Every pilgrimage, literal or spiritual, depends on the humble feet.

A Perfect Balance

What is most wondrous is the balance.

If the heart alone ruled, we would drown in emotion.

If the mind alone ruled, we would become cold and mechanical.

If senses alone ruled, we would be lost in distraction.

Instead, the Lord has woven a perfect harmony — softness and strength, feeling and reason, perception and restraint. The body is designed not for indulgence alone, but for experience, learning, service, and spiritual growth.

A Sacred Responsibility

This realization transforms how we view our body. It is not merely to be decorated, compared, or criticized. It is to be respected, cared for, and used wisely.

To eat with gratitude.

To speak with kindness.

To act with purpose.

To think with clarity.

To love with sincerity.

The body becomes a temple; life becomes a pilgrimage.

The Journey It Was Meant For

Ultimately, this beautiful body is a temporary gift. It accompanies us for a brief journey across the vast ocean of existence. Through it we laugh, cry, learn, love, and seek.

And if we use it well — with awareness, gratitude, and devotion — it becomes the very boat that helps us cross the ocean of life.

The Lord has given us the vessel.

The journey is ours to undertake.

Sanskrit Verse

देहो देवालयः प्रोक्तो जीवो देवः सनातनः ।

त्यजेदज्ञाननिर्माल्यं सोऽहं भावेन पूजयेत् ॥

Transliteration

Deho devalayaḥ prokto jīvo devaḥ sanātanaḥ

Tyajed ajñāna-nirmālyaṁ so'ham bhāvena pūjayet.

Meaning

“The body is said to be a temple; the indwelling soul is the eternal Divine.

Discard the garland of ignorance, and worship with the awareness — I am That.”

 

When Japan Animated the Ramayana – The Anime Journey of Lord Rama.”

Japanese anime Ramayana! And the story behind it is amazing.

The Japanese Ramayana Film 🇯🇵

Ramayana: The Legend of Prince Rama (1992)

This is a full anime film made through India–Japan collaboration.

Director: Yugo Sako (Japan)

Animation support: Nippon Animation

Many people think it is Ghibli because the art style feels similar to early Ghibli films.

Why Japan made a Ramayana movie

Yugo Sako visited India and was deeply moved by the Ramayana tradition.

He said he felt:

“This story belongs to the whole world.”

He wanted Japanese children to know Rama the way they know:

Momotaro

Princess Mononoke

Spirited Away characters

So he made an anime Ramayana.

Why many Indians never saw it

This is a fascinating story.

During the early 1990s, some political groups in India objected:

They felt: “Foreigners should not animate our sacred epic.”

So the film faced delays and limited release in India.

But internationally it became loved and respected.

Today it is considered a cult classic.

Why people connect it to Studio Ghibli

Look at the similarities:

Soft watercolor backgrounds

Gentle emotional storytelling

Nature-filled landscapes

Expressive eyes and faces

Spiritual atmosphere

It feels like the world of:

My Neighbor Totoro

Princess Mononoke

Castle in the Sky

Even though it is not Ghibli, it has that early 90s Japanese animation soul.

Why Japan loved the Ramayana

Japan already has similar storytelling themes:

Ramayana theme

Japanese parallel

Duty and honor

Bushido

Exile of hero

Samurai wanderer stories

Loyalty of Hanuman

Loyal warrior archetype

Battle of dharma vs adharma

Good vs evil folklore

So the Ramayana felt natural to Japanese storytelling.

Why this is beautiful culturally

Think of the journey:

India → Southeast Asia → Indonesia → Thailand → Cambodia → Japan → Anime.

The Ramayana literally travelled across Asia and became animation.

A piece of chocolate.

 Stories awe. To learn from! the giving. Indeed.

In 1933, in Paris, a baby girl was born into a loving Jewish family. Her name was Francine. At the time, there was nothing to suggest that her childhood would be devoured by history.

Seven years later, the world she knew vanished.

In 1940, her father, Robert, was captured by the Germans and sent to a prisoner-of-war camp in Austria. From behind barbed wire and watchtowers, he found a way to send a message home. It wasn’t sentimental. It wasn’t long.

It was urgent.

Run. Leave immediately. Don’t wait.

Francine’s mother, Marcelle, listened. In the summer of 1942, she took her nine-year-old daughter by the hand and fled toward the border, hoping speed might save them. It didn’t.

They were arrested.

Because Robert was a French POW, mother and child were spared immediate deportation. Instead, they were labeled “hostages”—a word that sounded almost merciful until you learned what it meant. Over the next two years, they were moved again and again through France’s transit camps: Poitiers. Drancy. Pithiviers. Beaune-la-Rolande. Each stop was colder, hungrier, closer to disappearance.

On May 4, 1944, that fragile protection ended.

They were ordered onto a train bound for Bergen-Belsen.

Each prisoner was allowed one small bag. Marcelle chose carefully. Hidden among the essentials were two pieces of chocolate—a luxury beyond measure, meant for moments when despair or starvation might otherwise win.

Bergen-Belsen was not a place of sudden death. It was worse. It was decay stretched over time. Hunger gnawed constantly. Disease spread unchecked. Corpses were stacked like discarded objects. Hope thinned by the day.

Francine was ten years old.

One day, in the middle of that nightmare, she noticed a woman lying apart from the others. Pregnant. Alone. In labor. So weak she could barely breathe, let alone survive childbirth. Francine reached into her pocket. She felt the chocolate.

It was her last piece. Her mother’s insurance against collapse. Something that might have meant one more day of survival. She hesitated. Then she gave it away. That single act—small, almost invisible—changed everything.

The sugar gave the woman enough strength. Enough energy to endure the pain. A baby girl was born in a place designed to erase life. Against all logic, both mother and child survived.

Weeks later, Allied troops liberated the camp.

Francine lived. Her mother lived. And somehow, unbelievably, they found Robert again. A family scarred beyond repair—but alive.

Time moved forward.

Francine grew up. She became a teacher. Then something more: a witness. She devoted her life to Holocaust education, traveling, speaking, refusing to allow memory to fade into abstraction.

Decades passed.

At a conference many years later, a woman stood up before speaking and said she needed to do something first.

“My name is Yvonne,” she said. “I’m a psychiatrist from Marseille.” She walked toward the audience.

“I’m looking for Francine Christophe.” Francine raised her hand. Yvonne placed something gently into it.

A piece of chocolate.

“I’m the baby,” she said quietly. For a moment, no one spoke. Because everyone understood: this was not coincidence. This was history closing a circle.

Fifty years earlier, a starving child had chosen compassion over self-preservation. That choice had grown into a life—a doctor who now helped others heal. A life that existed because kindness had appeared in the darkest possible place.

Francine Christophe is now in her nineties. She has children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. She still tells her story. Still insists on remembrance.

That piece of chocolate was never just food.

They tried to destroy empathy. They didn’t. They tried to erase human worth. They couldn’t. In a camp built to strip people of their souls, a ten-year-old girl proved that love can survive even there.

Some acts of kindness echo for generations.

This one echoed for fifty years—until it was returned, not as repayment, but as testimony.

Testimony that humanity endures. That memory matters. That even in hell, people can choose to be human.

Bhooloka Vaikuntham

 When Being in Srirangam Itself Becomes Darshan

Among the sacred places of India, Srirangam holds a unique title —

Bhooloka Vaikuntham

Vaikuntha on Earth.

Pilgrims go to many temples for darshan.

But the stalwarts of the Sri Vaishnava tradition say something astonishing about Srirangam:

“Even if you do not enter the sanctum, even if you do not see the Lord, merely being in Srirangam is enough.”

This is not poetic exaggeration.

It is a spiritual experience echoed by saints, acharyas and countless devotees across centuries.

Let us understand why.

The Temple That Is a Living City

Most temples have a town around them.

Srirangam is the reverse.

The entire town is the temple.

Seven massive concentric walls surround the sanctum — like the seven worlds encircling Vaikuntha. Streets are named as prakaras. Homes, shops, chanting halls, flower markets, goshalas, kitchens — all exist inside the sacred enclosure.

Here, life itself happens inside the temple’s embrace.

When you walk through Srirangam, you are not approaching the temple.

You are already inside it.

“The Air Itself is Sacred”

Many devotees describe the same feeling:

A quiet stillness.

A gentle slowing of thoughts.

An inexplicable sense of safety.

The Sri Vaishnava acharyas believed that continuous worship for over a thousand years has saturated the very atmosphere with nama, mantra and aradhana.

Imagine centuries of:

Vedic chanting

Divya Prabandham recitation

Temple bells

Festivals

Tears of devotion

Millions of folded hands

Can such vibrations disappear?

Or do they remain, like fragrance in the air?

The saints say they remain.

The Palace Analogy

A beautiful analogy is often given:

Entering the sanctum is like entering the king’s private chamber.

But the entire Srirangam is the palace of the Lord.

If you visit a king’s palace: Even the courtyard feels majestic.

Even the corridors feel special.

Even the outer gardens feel royal.

Similarly, devotees say:

Being anywhere in Srirangam is being in the Lord’s residence.

You are already in His presence.

The Experience of Effortless Peace

Many pilgrims report something striking: They don’t feel the urge to rush.

In other temples, we hurry:

Stand in queue

Seek quick darshan

Move on

But in Srirangam, people simply sit.

On temple steps.

Near pillars.

Under mandapams.

On prakara streets.

They sit… and feel peaceful.

This is why elders say: “You don’t visit Srirangam. You rest in Srirangam.”

The Acharyas’ Assurance

Sri Vaishnava tradition holds Srirangam as the earthly abode of Lord Ranganatha, the reclining Vishnu who welcomes devotees with infinite compassion.

The acharyas repeatedly expressed a simple assurance:

If Vaikuntha is difficult to reach,

Srirangam is Vaikuntha that came down to us.

The Lord did not wait for devotees to reach Him.

He chose to live among them.

Darshan Beyond Sight

Usually we think darshan means seeing the deity.

But Srirangam teaches a subtler truth:

Darshan can also mean:

Feeling protected

Feeling quiet inside

Feeling held in divine presence

Sometimes the soul recognises what the eyes do not yet see.

A Gentle Closing Thought

Perhaps this is why devotees say:

Even if you do not enter the sanctum,

Even if you do not see the Lord,

Even if you simply walk the streets of Srirangam,

The heart slowly whispers:

“You are already in Vaikuntha.” 

Srirangam is called Bhooloka Vaikuntham.

But elders quietly add:

The same grace flows in Tirupati, Kanchipuram and Melkote.

Not because the temples are grand — but because the Lord lives there like a resident king.

Tirupati – The Mountain That Breathes “Govinda”

At Tirumala, devotees often say:

You feel the Lord long before you see Him.

The journey begins at the foothills.

The moment the hills appear, people spontaneously chant:

“Govinda! Govinda!”

Why?

Because Tirumala is not just a temple on a hill.

The entire hill is believed to be Adisesha himself, the divine serpent on whom Vishnu reclines.

Every stone, every tree, every step of the climb becomes sacred.

Many pilgrims say:

The mind becomes quieter on the ascent.

The air feels charged with devotion.

Even waiting in long queues feels bearable.

The belief is simple and powerful:

You are already in His abode the moment you reach the hills.

Kanchipuram – The City of a Thousand Temples

Kanchipuram is called “Nagareshu Kanchi” — the greatest among cities.

Here the divine presence is gentle and scholarly.

If Tirupati feels like devotion, Kanchi feels like wisdom and grace.

It is the city of:

Varadaraja Perumal

Kamakshi Devi

Ekambareswara

A rare meeting place of Vaishnavism and Shaivism.

Saints describe Kanchipuram as a place where:

Philosophy walked the streets

Acharyas taught under mandapams

Vedas were lived, not merely recited

People say the peace here is quiet and contemplative.

A stillness that encourages reflection.

Melkote – The Hill of Gentle Compassion

Melkote has a softer, more intimate feeling.

This is the land sanctified by Sri Ramanujacharya, who lived here for years and made it a centre of devotion.

The presiding Lord, Cheluvanarayana Swamy, is affectionately called “Selva Pillai” — the beloved child.

Melkote does not overwhelm.

It embraces.

Pilgrims often describe:

Silence

Simplicity

Warmth

It feels less like entering a grand palace and more like visiting the home of a loving elder.

One Beautiful Idea Behind All Four Places

Srirangam.

Tirupati.

Kanchipuram.

Melkote.

Different landscapes.

Different moods.

Different histories.

Yet one shared belief:

The Lord is not visiting these places.

He resides here.

And when a place becomes His residence,

the entire environment becomes sanctified.

The streets.

The air.

The silence.

The crowds.

Even the waiting.

Everything becomes part of darshan.

Perhaps this is why devotees say:

Some temples give darshan in a moment.

Some places give darshan through presence.

In these sacred towns, the heart slowly realises:

You came to spend time in His neighbourhood. 

Recently in Oct of 25 when we visited Nepal felt the same vibes there too. 

The Many Hearts of Rama.

Kamban – Tulsidas – Krittibas

How India Sang the Ramayana in Three Voices

There is only one Ramayana — yet there are hundreds.

This is not a contradiction. It is a miracle.

Valmiki gave the world the original epic of Dharma.

But India did something extraordinary: every region rewrote the Ramayana in its own emotional language. Each version is like a different raga played on the same divine theme.

Among these, three stand like luminous pillars:

Kamban Ramayanam (Tamil)

Ramcharitmanas of Tulsidas (Awadhi/Hindi)

Krittivasi Ramayana (Bengali)

If Valmiki gave the Ramayana its soul, these poets gave it a heart in every home.

1. Kamban’s Ramayana – The Ramayana of Majesty and Poetry

If Valmiki is the original sun, Kamban is the golden sunrise.

Kamban (12th century Tamil Nadu) did not merely retell the story — he turned it into a symphony of poetry and divine grandeur.

Rama in Kamban’s world

Rama is:

Majestic

Heroic

Cosmic

Radiantly divine

Kamban constantly reminds us:

This is Vishnu walking the earth.

His verses are rich, layered, philosophical and emotionally powerful. Every scene becomes larger than life.

When Rama lifts Shiva’s bow, the moment feels cosmic.

When Hanuman leaps to Lanka, the universe seems to pause.

When Ravana falls, it feels like a titan collapsing.

The emotional tone

Kamban’s Ramayana is dominated by:

Veera rasa (heroism)

Adbhuta rasa (wonder)

Shringara rasa (divine love)

This is the Ramayana of:

Kings

Warriors

Gods

Grand destiny

It is the Ramayana of royal courts and temple halls.

2. Tulsidas’ Ramcharitmanas – The Ramayana of Bhakti

If Kamban gives us the royal Rama,

Tulsidas gives us the beloved Rama.

Tulsidas (16th century) wrote during the Bhakti movement when devotion became the path for ordinary people. His Ramayana is not an epic to admire — it is a scripture to live by.

Rama in Tulsidas’ world

Rama is:

The Supreme God

Compassion itself

The refuge of the humble

Tulsidas’ greatest transformation: He makes the Ramayana a spiritual path.

The Ramcharitmanas is not just a story; it is:

Sung in homes

Recited in temples

Heard in villages

Wept over by devotees

The emotional tone

Dominant rasa:

Bhakti (devotion)

Karuna (compassion)

In Tulsidas:

Even chanting “Ram” is liberation.

Hanuman becomes the ideal devotee.

The story becomes a path to salvation.

This is the Ramayana of kirtan, satsang and tears of devotion.

3. Krittibas’ Ramayana – The Ramayana of the Heart

If Tulsidas brings Rama to the temple,

Krittibas brings Rama into the home.

Krittibas Ojha (15th century Bengal) transformed the epic into something intimate, tender and deeply human.

Rama in Krittibas’ world

Rama is:

Loving

Emotional

Gentle

Accessible

He laughs, grieves, worries and feels like a member of the family.

This Ramayana feels as if the story is happening in the next village.

Sita becomes a Bengali grihalakshmi

Sita is portrayed like a traditional Bengali wife:

Modest

Shy

Graceful

Deeply emotional

She blushes. She gestures instead of speaking.

The epic enters the world of everyday family life.

Even Ravana becomes a devotee

The most astonishing transformation: Many demons fight Rama to attain liberation from him.

War becomes: Not good vs evil, but

God granting salvation to all souls.

This is the Ramayana of:

Folk songs

Village gatherings

Storytelling nights

It became the living Ramayana of Bengal.

4. Three Ramayanas — Three Rasas

Poet

Region

Rama’s Form

Emotional Tone

Kamban

Tamil Nadu

Majestic Divine King

Heroism & Wonder

Tulsidas

North India

Supreme God & Savior

Devotion & Compassion

Krittibas

Bengal

Beloved Family Lord

Emotion & Intimacy

Together they show something beautiful:

India did not change the story.

India changed the emotion through which Rama is loved.

5. One Rama, Infinite Love

Kamban teaches us to admire Rama.

Tulsidas teaches us to worship Rama.

Krittibas teaches us to love Rama.

This is the genius of Indian civilisation.

We did not ask: Which Ramayana is correct?

We asked: How many ways can the human heart love Rama?

And the answer was: Endless.

Valmiki gave the world the Ramayana.

Kamban crowned it.

Tulsidas sanctified it.

Krittibas humanised it.

And together they made Rama eternal in the hearts of millions.

The Many Faces of Rama Beyond India

If India sang the Ramayana in many languages,

Asia turned it into a civilisational bridge.

Few stories in human history have travelled as far, as gently and as lovingly as the Ramayana. Without armies, without conquest, without force — the story of Rama crossed oceans, mountains and cultures, carried only by traders, monks, poets and storytellers.

And wherever it went, something beautiful happened:

Each land adopted Rama as its own.

The result is a breathtaking cultural map of devotion stretching across Asia.

The journey through these lands where Rama still lives.

1. Thailand – Rama the Ideal King (Ramakien)

In Thailand, the Ramayana became the Ramakien — the “Glory of Rama”.

Here, Rama is not just a divine hero.

He becomes the model of kingship.

Thai kings even adopt the title “Rama”. The current dynasty is called the Chakri dynasty, whose kings are numbered Rama I, Rama II, Rama III… up to the present Rama X.

The Ramakien is painted on the walls of Bangkok’s Wat Phra Kaew temple, stretching across hundreds of panels — a visual epic of devotion.

Changes in the Thai version:

Hanuman becomes a charming, playful hero.

The story emphasises royal duty and political ethics.

The narrative celebrates loyalty to the king.

Here, the Ramayana became a mirror for governance and kingship.

2. Indonesia – Rama in the Land of Temples and Volcanoes

Indonesia, the world’s largest Muslim-majority nation, still preserves one of the most vibrant Ramayana traditions.

The story arrived over a thousand years ago and flourished during Hindu-Buddhist kingdoms.

The Indonesian version is called the Kakawin Ramayana.

At the Prambanan Temple in Java, the Ramayana is carved in stone, and every full-moon night the famous Ramayana Ballet is performed against the backdrop of ancient temples and volcanic hills.

Unique features:

Strong influence of Shaiva and Buddhist philosophy.

Emphasis on spiritual symbolism.

Elegant courtly aesthetics.

It is one of the most moving examples of cultural continuity:

Even after religious change, the story was never abandoned.

3. Cambodia – The Ramayana as Sacred Art (Reamker)

In Cambodia, the epic becomes the Reamker — “The Glory of Rama”.

Here, the Ramayana transforms into:

Temple carvings

Classical dance

Royal drama

The walls of Angkor Wat and other Khmer temples carry magnificent Ramayana reliefs.

Cambodian classical dance tells the story through:

Graceful hand gestures

Symbolic movement

Sacred theatre

The Reamker highlights:

Moral conflict

Loyalty

Cosmic balance

It feels mystical and symbolic — almost dreamlike.

4. Laos – The Ramayana as Buddhist Wisdom (Phra Lak Phra Lam)

In Laos, the Ramayana becomes Phra Lak Phra Lam.

Here something fascinating happens: Rama and Lakshmana are treated as Bodhisattva-like figures.

The story is reinterpreted through Buddhist philosophy:

Karma

Compassion

Moral righteousness

The epic becomes less about war and more about ethical living.

5. Myanmar – The Ramayana of Drama (Yama Zatdaw)

In Myanmar, the Ramayana becomes Yama Zatdaw.

This version lives mainly in:

Theatre

Dance

Puppetry

Traditional Burmese puppet theatre still stages the Ramayana.

The epic is vibrant, musical and theatrical — meant to be experienced by the whole community.

6. Malaysia – The Hikayat Seri Rama

In Malaysia, the Ramayana became the Hikayat Seri Rama.

Here the story adapted to an Islamic cultural environment and survived in folk storytelling and shadow puppetry.

Even with religious changes, Rama continued to be respected as a noble and virtuous hero.

This shows the story’s universal appeal beyond religion.

7. Nepal – The Ramayana of Janaki’s Land

Nepal, the land of Janakpur (Sita’s birthplace), holds deep emotional reverence for the epic.

The Nepali Ramayana emphasises:

Sita’s purity

Family values

Devotional living

Here, the story is intertwined with pilgrimage and living tradition.

8. Why the Ramayana Spread So Far

What allowed the Ramayana to cross borders so effortlessly?

Because it speaks of universal human ideals:

Duty

Love

Loyalty

Sacrifice

Righteous leadership

The victory of good over evil

Every culture saw its own values reflected in Rama.

The story was flexible, welcoming and adaptable — yet its moral core never changed.

9. A Civilisation Connected by a Story

Long before modern globalisation, the Ramayana created a cultural commonwealth across Asia.

From India to Indonesia…

From Thailand to Cambodia…

From Laos to Malaysia…

Different languages.

Different religions.

Different customs.

Yet one story.

One hero.

One ideal.

Closing Reflection

India asked: How many ways can we love Rama?

Asia answered: How many cultures can adopt Rama?

The Ramayana is not just a book.

It is a shared civilisational memory of Asia.

And perhaps that is its greatest miracle:

A story that travelled without conquering,

yet conquered every heart it touched. 

https://naliyeram.blogspot.com/2026/02/when-japan-animated-ramayana-anime.html

The blessing.

 “Rakṣishyati iti viśvāsaḥ”

“Firm faith that He will protect.”

This is a precious and deeply symbolic image. the abhaya hasta of Sri Ranganatha – Namperumal of Srirangam, covered with the sacred ornament called “Hastābharaṇam / Hastam” (often lovingly called Hastam or Hamsam by devotees). The palm that blesses becomes the focus of meditation for many Sri Vaishnavas.

The Hand That Blesses – Namperumal’s Abhaya Hastam

In the crowded streets of Srirangam during a procession, thousands may stand shoulder to shoulder. Jewels sparkle, lamps flicker, conches roar, Vedic chants rise — and yet, the eyes of the devotee search for only one thing.

The raised palm of Namperumal.

Because in that palm lies the promise of refuge.

The Gesture of Fearlessness

The hand shown  is the Abhaya Mudra — the gesture that says:

“Do not fear.”

This is not merely symbolic reassurance. In Vaishnava theology, this hand is considered a divine vow.

The Lord is not blessing casually.

He is giving assurance of protection.

The Bhagavad Gita echoes this divine assurance:

“Mā śucaḥ — Do not grieve.” (Gita 18.66)

And the verse that Sri Vaishnavas hold closest:

“Aham tvā sarva pāpebhyo mokṣayiṣyāmi mā śucaḥ.”

“I shall liberate you from all sins. Do not fear.”

The raised palm is this verse made visible.

Why Devotees Look First at the Hand

During Srirangam processions, elders say:

“First see the hand. Then see the face.”

Why?

Because the hand represents dayā (compassion) before majesty.

Before the Lord asks anything of you,

He assures you that you are safe.

Swami Desika beautifully captures this spirit:

“The Lord’s hand rises faster than our fall.”

The Jeweled Palm – Why So Many Gems?

Look closely at the palm ornament.

It is covered in rubies, diamonds and precious stones arranged like a radiant yantra. This ornament is not mere decoration; it represents:

The auspicious marks of Vishnu’s palm

The Sun and Moon shining from His hands

The power to grant protection and prosperity

Tradition says the Lord’s palm bears divine symbols:

Chakra (discus)

Shankha (conch)

Lotus

Flag

When the Hastam ornament is placed, it signifies that all these blessings flow outward toward the devotee.

The Hand that Accepts Surrender

In Sri Vaishnava sampradaya, surrender (prapatti) is central.

When a devotee surrenders, they say:

“I hold Your feet.”

But the Acharyas gently correct this.

They say:

“It is not you who hold Him. It is He who lifts you.”

Pillai Lokacharya writes in Srivachana Bhushanam:

“The burden of protection belongs to Him, not to the soul.”

Thus the raised palm is the Lord saying:

“You are no longer carrying your life alone.”

The Palm as the Gateway to Grace

Many saints have sung about the Lord’s hands more than His crown.

Why?

A crown shows kingship.

A weapon shows power.

But a raised palm shows relationship.

Nammazhwar cries in the Tiruvaymozhi:

“Those hands that lifted Govardhana —

will they not lift me?”

And Andal sings with tender intimacy:

“Your hands that measured the worlds —

place them upon us.”

The same hand that holds Sudarshana Chakra becomes soft and open for the devotee.

The Psychological Beauty of Abhaya

Why does this gesture move the heart instantly?

Because fear is the deepest human emotion.

Fear of:

loss

failure

aging

death

uncertainty

And the Lord’s first message is not instruction, not judgement, not philosophy.

It is simply:

“Do not fear.”

This is why one glimpse of the Hastam can bring tears to the eyes of devotees in a crowded procession.

The Hand in Srirangam Tradition

Srirangam is called “Bhooloka Vaikuntham” — Heaven on Earth.

Here the Lord does not sit distant and inaccessible.

He comes out in the streets.

And when He comes, the first thing He shows the world is:

His blessing hand.

Not His weapons.

Not His throne.

Not His glory.

His compassion.

The Secret Prayer of the Devotee

When devotees fold their hands before Namperumal’s raised palm, an unspoken dialogue happens:

Devotee: “I am afraid.”

Lord: “I know.”

Devotee: “I cannot manage life alone.”

Lord: “You were never meant to.”

The Eternal Promise

Ultimately, the Abhaya Hastam is the visual form of the greatest assurance in Vaishnavism:

“Rakṣishyati iti viśvāsaḥ”

“Firm faith that He will protect.”

That is why in Srirangam, amidst jewels and garlands and music,

the heart seeks only one sight:

The hand that blesses.

Sapta

The famous picture of seven white horses running toward the rising sun is not just decoration — it is a deeply symbolic spiritual reminder.

1. Origin — The Sun God’s Chariot

In the Vedas and Puranas, Surya (the Sun) rides a chariot driven by seven horses.

Rig Veda (1.50) praises Surya as the cosmic light riding a radiant chariot that moves the universe into activity each morning.

These horses are called:

“Sapta Ashva” — the Seven Horses of Time and Light

The Sun is not just a planet in Sanatana Dharma.

He represents:

Life force (Prana)

Time (Kala)

Intelligence (Buddhi)

Success and vitality (Tejas)

So the seven horses are the forces that pull life forward.

2. Why exactly Seven?

In Vedic thought, seven is the number of cosmic completeness.

The horses symbolize many sacred “sets of seven”:

(A) Seven Days of the Week

The Sun governs time.

The seven horses represent the seven days pulling the chariot of life forward.

This implies: Life must keep moving.

No stagnation.

(B) Seven Colours of Sunlight

White sunlight splits into seven colours (VIBGYOR).

The rishis intuitively understood this long before modern optics.

The horses symbolize:

Unity becoming diversity

Divine light becoming worldly experience

This is why the horses are always painted white —

white contains all colours.

(C) Seven Chakras in the Human Body

This is the most beautiful interpretation.

The Sun outside corresponds to the inner sun (Atman).

Seven horses = the seven chakras being pulled toward awakening.

They represent:

Stability

Creativity

Power

Love

Expression

Wisdom

Enlightenment

Thus the image silently says:

“Let your life move toward illumination.”

(D) Seven Vedic Metres (Sapta Chandas)

The Vedas are composed in seven primary poetic metres.

These metres are considered the rhythm of creation.

The Sun riding seven horses means:

The universe moves in cosmic rhythm.

3. Why the Horses Must Be Running

You will never see them standing still.

Running horses symbolize:

Progress

Momentum

Victory

Forward movement

In Indian symbolism, running horses = unstoppable success.

A stopped horse = stagnation.

A running horse = destiny in motion.

4. Why placed on the EAST wall?

This is where Vaastu Shastra enters.

East is the direction of:

Sunrise

Beginnings

Health

Growth

Opportunities

When you place the seven horses in the east, the symbolism becomes:

Every morning, success runs into your home with the rising sun.

It is a psychological and spiritual alignment with:

Optimism

New beginnings

Active energy (Rajas)

Vaastu says the east wall should contain symbols of movement and growth — never sadness, war, or stillness.

Seven horses perfectly match the energy of the East.

5. Why white horses specifically?

White represents:

Purity of intention

Clarity of mind

Honest success

Dharma-based prosperity

Black or coloured horses are never recommended for this image.

This picture is not about power or aggression.

It is about pure, righteous progress.

6. Why this became a household tradition

Over time, people noticed something subtle:

Seeing this image daily creates a subconscious reminder:

Move forward

Start early

Stay energetic

Think positively

Keep life in motion

It became a symbolic daily affirmation before the modern concept existed.

The Rishis understood the psychology of symbols deeply.

7. The deeper spiritual meaning

Ultimately the message is this:

Your life is a chariot.

Your soul is the Sun.

Your senses and energies are the horses.

The prayer hidden in this image is:

“May my life move steadily toward light.”

Simple Vaastu guidelines for the picture

If placed:

Horses must run into the house, not away.

Should be odd number (preferably 7).

Should not show a rider or battlefield.

Ideal place: East wall of living room or office.

This is why the seven horses are considered sacred.

They are not decoration — they are a symbol of light in motion.