interest

My interests are deeply rooted in the timeless wisdom of Sanatana Dharma and the quiet joy of learning through reflection. I am especially drawn to the Vedas, the Upanishads, the Ramayana, the Bhagavatam, and the lives of saints and devotees who have walked the path of bhakti before us.

I find great joy in listening to discourses, reading spiritual literature, and exploring the meaning behind traditions, rituals, and everyday cultural practices. Often, a small idea or story becomes the starting point for deeper contemplation, which naturally flows into writing. Writing helps me understand, remember, and share what I learn.

Devotional music and poetry also hold a special place in my heart. The beauty of kirtanas, stotras, and sacred names has a unique way of bringing philosophy into everyday life with sweetness and simplicity.

I am fascinated by the symbolism found in nature, food, festivals, temples, and daily customs, and how spiritual wisdom quietly weaves itself into ordinary living. I enjoy seeing how faith, gratitude, and devotion can be expressed in simple, joyful ways.

Above all, I am interested in the lifelong journey of learning, reflecting, and sharing. This blog is a small space where curiosity meets devotion, and where the ancient continues to speak gently to the present. 🌸

Miracle

When Compassion Reforms: The Story of Neem Karoli Baba and Khale Khan

Among the many living stories that continue to circulate in the devotional world, few are as gentle and transformative as the encounter between Neem Karoli Baba and a man known as Khale Khan.

It is not merely a story about a thief becoming good.

It is a meditation on how divine compassion works in the human world.

Saints Do Not See What We See 

Human society survives by labels.

Good and bad.

Honest and dishonest.

Respectable and dangerous.

We learn to protect ourselves by judging quickly.

But saints do not live in the world of labels.

They live in the world of souls.

Where we see behaviour, they see hunger.

Where we see wrongdoing, they see woundedness.

Where we see fear, they see God waiting to be remembered.

This difference is the heart of this story.

The Night of the Theft 

Khale Khan lived on the margins of society.

He was known as a thief. People feared him. Doors closed when he passed. Trust never followed him.

One night, he entered the ashram quietly.

Not as a seeker.

Not as a pilgrim.

He came to steal.

He took what he could — but this time he was caught and brought before Maharaj-ji.

The devotees expected justice.

Some expected anger.

Some expected punishment.

Instead, the saint spoke words that stunned everyone:

“Feed him first.”

Hunger Before Morality 

This is where the story becomes luminous.

Before asking why he stole, the saint asked whether he had eaten.

Food was brought.

Water was given.

He was treated as a guest — not as a criminal.

Only after the meal did the saint ask gently:

“Why do you steal?”

Khale Khan answered with raw honesty:

“I am hungry. I have no work. No one trusts me.”

There was no philosophy in the answer.

Only the plain truth of survival.

And Maharaj-ji replied simply:

“If you need something, ask here. Do not steal.”

No lecture.

No sermon.

No humiliation.

Only dignity.

The Moment That Breaks a Heart Open 

Punishment hardens a person.

Kindness disarms them.

That night, something shifted inside Khale Khan.

He had expected rejection.

He had prepared for shame.

Instead, he encountered respect.

And respect is a mirror that shows us who we can become.

He began returning to the ashram — not secretly, but openly.

Not as a thief, but as a helper.

Small tasks first.

Then service.

Then devotion.

The transformation was quiet, gradual, and real.

Love did what fear never could.

Why This Story Matters 

This incident contains a profound spiritual teaching.

Society often tries to correct behaviour.

Saints try to heal the heart.

Behaviour changes when the heart feels safe.

When a person feels unwanted, they fight the world.

When a person feels accepted, they begin to fight their own weaknesses.

The saint did not excuse theft.

He removed the hunger that fed it.

The Hidden Teaching 

This story is not only about Khale Khan.

It is about all of us.

Every human being carries some form of inner poverty:

Hunger for love Hunger for dignity Hunger for belonging Hunger for meaning 

Sometimes our mistakes are simply the language of unmet needs.

The saint responds to the need, not the mistake.

Divine Compassion in Action 

Scriptures describe the Divine as an ocean of compassion.

But how does that compassion look in daily life?

It looks like:

Feeding before judging Listening before correcting Accepting before advising 

The saint’s action becomes a living scripture.

The Real Miracle 

People often look for miracles in supernatural events.

But the real miracle here is greater:

A feared thief became a humble devotee.

Not through fear.

Not through punishment.

But through kindness.

This is the alchemy of compassion.

A Question for the Heart 

This story invites us to ask quietly:

Whom do we avoid too quickly?

Whom do we judge without knowing their hunger?

Where could kindness succeed where criticism fails?

The saint showed that sometimes the holiest act is not preaching —

it is offering a meal and a place to belong.

Punishment says: You are wrong.

Compassion says: You are mine.

And once a heart hears You are mine,

it begins to change on its own.

This is the silent miracle that saints bring into the world.

States 3.

 Bhartrhari: The Three Stages of Life Through Poetry

The poetry of Bhartrhari is not merely literature; it is a life lived, felt, broken, understood, and finally transcended. Few poets in world literature have left behind a body of work that mirrors the full arc of human experience so completely.

His three famous collections — Śṛṅgāra Śataka, Nīti Śataka, and Vairāgya Śataka — are not separate books. They are three stages of a soul’s journey.

They are the story of how a human being matures.

Love → Wisdom → Renunciation.

The First Stage: Falling in Love with Life

Śṛṅgāra Śataka — The Poetry of Attraction

Every life begins in fascination.

The world appears radiant.

People appear beautiful.

Emotions feel intense and real.

Bhartrhari’s love poems are tender and observant. They capture the tiny gestures that begin great attachments — a smile, a glance, a soft word. Love transforms perception itself. When the heart is touched, the entire world glows.

Yet even in these verses, a subtle truth peeks through: love brings both joy and restlessness. The beloved becomes heaven in union and hell in separation. The heart learns its first lesson — happiness tied to circumstances is fragile.

The poet has not yet renounced.

But the seeds of questioning have been planted.

The Second Stage: Understanding the World

Nīti Śataka — The Poetry of Wisdom

After fascination comes experience.

Life teaches:

Who stays and who leaves

What lasts and what fades

What is real and what is appearance

In this phase, Bhartrhari becomes practical and sharp. He speaks of friendship, character, knowledge, and human nature. He reminds us that learning is the greatest wealth, that company shapes destiny, and that adversity reveals truth.

This is the stage where illusions begin to thin.

The young lover becomes a thoughtful observer of society.

The heart is still engaged with the world — but now the eyes are open.

Here, Bhartrhari teaches a quiet but powerful truth:

Wisdom is born when experience meets reflection.

The Third Stage: Rising Above the World

Vairāgya Śataka — The Poetry of Awakening

Finally comes the most profound stage: disillusionment that becomes illumination.

Bhartrhari does not reject life out of bitterness. He renounces it after understanding it deeply. Having tasted pleasure, power, and attachment, he sees their limitations.

His famous insight echoes across centuries:

We believe we enjoy pleasures —

but slowly we discover that pleasures consume us.

Time does not pass; we pass.

Desire does not age; we age.

These are not pessimistic thoughts. They are liberating ones. When the illusion of permanence dissolves, the search for the eternal begins.

The restless lover becomes the contemplative sage.

The worldly king becomes the inward yogi.

The Hidden Unity of the Three Śatakas

It is tempting to see the three collections as separate moods. But they are deeply connected.

Śṛṅgāra without Nīti becomes obsession.

Nīti without Vairāgya becomes dry intellect.

Vairāgya without Śṛṅgāra becomes lifeless renunciation.

Bhartrhari shows that all three are necessary.

To renounce meaningfully, one must first love deeply.

To love wisely, one must understand life.

To understand life fully, one must eventually transcend it.

This is the rhythm of spiritual maturation.

Why Bhartrhari Speaks to Us Today

Modern life often moves fast but rarely moves deep.

We experience the first stage intensely — love, ambition, achievement.

We sometimes reach the second stage — learning and discernment.

But the third stage — reflection and detachment — often waits quietly in the background.

Bhartrhari invites us to pause and see the larger arc of existence.

His poetry whispers:

Enjoy the world, but do not lose yourself in it.

Learn from life, but do not become hardened by it.

Rise above attachment, but do not become cold to beauty.

The Journey Continues

Bhartrhari’s work ends in stillness, not sadness.

After love and wisdom comes peace.

His life and poetry reassure us that every stage of life has meaning — even disillusionment. In fact, disillusionment may be the doorway to truth.

For the soul that seeks,

love becomes wisdom,

and wisdom becomes freedom. 

Ayush

 Āyuṣ Homa (Ayush Homam) is a beautiful Vedic ritual performed for health, protection, and long life — especially for children and on birthdays. Its spirit is deeply compassionate: it is a prayer that life itself may be protected, nourished, and guided.

What does “Āyuṣ” mean?

Āyuṣ = Life span.

Not merely years lived, but a healthy, meaningful, protected life.

In the Vedic vision, life is sacred because it is the opportunity given by the Divine for:

Dharma (righteous living)

Learning

Service

Spiritual growth

So preserving life is considered a sacred responsibility.

Why perform Āyuṣ Homa?

The ritual is performed to pray for:

• Long life

• Good health

• Protection from disease

• Protection from unseen karmic obstacles

• Strong mind and vitality

• Divine blessings for the coming year

It is most commonly done:

On a child’s first birthday

Every birthday thereafter

After illness or health scares

When beginning a new phase of life

In many homes it is called the “birthday homam.”

The Deeper Vedic Idea Behind It

The Vedas see life as supported by three forces:

Prāṇa (life energy)

Karma (past actions)

Daiva (divine grace)

We cannot change past karma completely, but we can:

Reduce its intensity

Seek grace

Strengthen life energy

Āyuṣ Homa is meant to harmonize these three.

Why Especially for Children?

A newborn or young child is considered:

Spiritually pure

But physically and karmically vulnerable

The early years are believed to be sensitive to:

Health issues

Planetary influences (grahas)

Environmental changes

So the ritual becomes a protective shield prayer.

It is like saying: “Dear Lord, this life has just begun — please guard it.”

The Role of Fire 

Fire in Vedic tradition is the divine messenger.

Offerings placed in sacred fire are believed to reach:

The devas (cosmic forces)

The subtle layers of existence

The unseen dimensions influencing life

So the homa becomes a cosmic communication of prayer.

A birthday is not merely celebration.

In the Vedic view it is the start of a new life-cycle year.

Just like a new year begins with prayer, a new personal year begins with blessings.

Gratitude for the year completed

Protection for the year ahead

It turns celebration into sacred renewal.

The Psychological Beauty of the Ritual

Āyuṣ Homa also teaches a quiet truth:

We do not control life fully.

We plan, protect, and care —

but finally, life is grace.

This ritual instills humility and gratitude.

A Simple Way to Understand

Think of it as a spiritual birthday blessing:

A parent’s prayer

A family’s gratitude

A soul’s protection

A life offered back to the Divine

The Heart of Āyuṣ Homa

At its core, the prayer says:

“May this life be long.

May it be healthy.

May it be meaningful.

May it move towards the Divine.”

And what more beautiful birthday blessing can there be? 

Stillness.

 

“It is only the mind that is confused, contradictory, broken up that is unstable, neurotic, seeking, striving, struggling. So we come to a point where the mind is totally clear and therefore completely immovable. You understand? Immovable not in the sense of a mountain, but immovable in the sense that it is so completely, has no problem, no… all of that; therefore it is extraordinarily stable and therefore pliable. Right? Now such a mind is quiet. And you need to have a mind that’s absolutely silent—absolutely, not relatively. There is the silence when you go of an evening in the woods; there is great silence. All the birds have gone to bed; the wind, the whisper of the leaves have ended; there is great stillness. There is the outward stillness. And people observe that stillness and say ‘I must have that stillness,’ and therefore depend on the stillness of being alone—you understand? Being in solitude. That is not stillness. And there is the stillness created by thought. Which is, thought says, ‘I must be still, I must be quiet, I mustn’t chatter,’ and gradually it produces a stillness. But that is not it, because it is the result of thought operating on noise. Right? So we are talking of a stillness which is not dependent on anything. And it is only that quality of stillness, that absolute silence of the mind that can see that which is eternal, timeless, nameless. This is meditation.” J. Krishnamurti Excerpt from Talk 7, Saanen, 1979

We often seek silence—through solitude, through effort, through quieting the chatter of thought. We go to the woods, sit alone, or tell ourselves to be still. But is the stillness we cultivate truly silence, or simply another product of the mind's striving? Krishnamurti suggests that any silence produced by thought—by discipline, by withdrawal, by dependence on external conditions—is not silence at all. He points to a different quality of stillness, one that arises only when the mind is no longer confused, no longer seeking, no longer in conflict with itself. Such a mind, he says, is extraordinarily stable and therefore pliable. What happens when the mind is no longer pursuing stillness, but is itself utterly quiet? And what, if anything, can such silence reveal? When you trust that God will guide your life as best possible and have full faith in him thought will still you can just notice how things fall in place like a jigsaw puzzle. The magic is so soothing, life a joy to live.

Day 6.

Why Our Ancestors Named a Child Only After Six Days of Birth

Modern life often moves fast. A child is born, photographs are shared instantly, and the name is sometimes decided even before the baby arrives. Yet, in traditional Hindu households, elders insisted that the baby should be named only after six days — sometimes on the 10th, 11th, or 12th day.

At first glance, this may look like a ritual with no obvious explanation. But when we gently look beneath the surface, we discover a beautiful blend of health, psychology, spirituality, astronomy, and compassion. What appears to be a simple custom is actually a carefully designed system of wisdom.

The First Days: A Sacred Threshold

In traditional thought, birth was not considered a sudden event but a gradual arrival into the physical world.

A newborn was believed to have just crossed from the unseen realm into earthly life. The baby’s body, breath, senses, and mind were still stabilising. Life was beginning, but it had not yet fully settled.

For this reason, elders avoided rushing the child into social identity. Naming gives identity. Identity gives social existence. So the family waited until the child was firmly anchored in life before formally welcoming them into society.

The waiting period symbolised a quiet prayer:

“Let the child settle, let life stabilise, and then let us celebrate.”

Ancient Medical Wisdom Hidden in Tradition

Our ancestors were excellent observers of nature and life. Long before modern medicine, they had noticed a pattern: the first week after birth is the most fragile period of human life.

Even today, doctors say the first 5–7 days are critical for:

Breathing stability

Feeding patterns

Body temperature regulation

Immune system adjustment

In earlier times, when medical care was limited, this period required extreme care and isolation.

The naming ceremony naturally brings visitors, celebrations, and gatherings. Delaying the ceremony protected both:

the newborn’s delicate immunity

the mother’s recovery

Thus, what appears as ritual was actually public health wisdom disguised as culture.

The Sixth Night and the Poetry of Destiny

The sixth night after birth holds special significance in many traditions. It was believed that on this night, the child’s destiny begins to unfold.

Families traditionally:

kept a lamp lit

offered prayers

spent the night in quiet reverence

This night symbolised the poetic idea that the story of the child’s life had begun to be written.

Only after destiny begins to unfold does the child receive a name.

The symbolism is deeply moving:

Before destiny is written, we do not name.

After destiny awakens, we give identity.

A Name Is Not Just a Label

In our tradition, a name is never chosen casually.

A name is:

a vibration

a blessing

a lifelong mantra

Traditionally, elders calculated:

the birth star (nakshatra)

planetary positions

auspicious syllables aligned with cosmic sound patterns

This process required time and careful thought. The name was chosen so that every time it was spoken, it would harmonise with the child’s life path.

Waiting ensured that the name was consciously chosen, not impulsively given.

Silent Care for the Mother

Another quiet layer of wisdom lies in the care of the mother.

Childbirth is one of the most intense physical and emotional experiences in life. The first few days allow the mother to:

rest and heal

bond deeply with the baby

establish feeding and sleep routines

regain emotional strength

Only after this recovery period does the celebration take place. The ceremony becomes a joyful milestone rather than a burden.

Our ancestors always protected the mother gently through tradition.

The Symbolism of the Number Six

In Indian philosophy, numbers often carry symbolic meaning. The number six represents completion of physical establishment.

Six directions:

North

South

East

West

Above

Below

After six days, the child is symbolically considered established in all directions of earthly existence.

Only then does society formally welcome the child into the world.

The Naming Ceremony: A Sacred Welcome

The naming ceremony (Namakarana) is one of the traditional life sanctification rituals. It marks the moment when the child becomes:

part of the family lineage

part of the community

part of society’s shared story

Until then, the child belongs primarily to the mother and divine protection.

After naming, the child belongs to the wider human family.

The Deeper Essence

This beautiful custom weaves together many layers of wisdom:

Dimension

Meaning

Health

Protect the fragile newborn

Emotional

Allow bonding and recovery

Astrological

Align the name with destiny

Spiritual

Honour the beginning of life’s journey

Symbolic

Welcome the child after stability

What looks like a simple delay is actually a profound expression of compassion and insight.

Our ancestors did not rush life.

They allowed life to unfold — gently, reverently, and thoughtfully.

And perhaps, hidden within this tradition is a reminder for all of us:

The most meaningful beginnings are never rushed.

Silent knower.

 The Story of Jada Bharata – The Silent Knower

The story of Jada Bharata, found in the Bhagavata Purana, is one of the most profound spiritual journeys in Indian tradition. It teaches how attachment binds the soul—and how true wisdom shines in silence.

First Birth – King Bharata

Long ago, there lived a great emperor named King Bharata, son of Rishabha. He ruled with righteousness and devotion. So noble was he that the land of India came to be called Bharata Varsha after him.

After ruling wisely, the king renounced his kingdom to pursue spiritual realization. He went to the forest, meditated, and worshipped God sincerely. His life was nearing liberation.

But destiny had a subtle test waiting.

One day he found a baby deer whose mother had died. Out of compassion, the king began caring for the fawn. Slowly, affection turned into attachment. His meditation weakened. His mind constantly worried about the deer.

At the moment of death, his last thought was of the deer.

And according to the law of karma, one becomes what one thinks of at death.

Second Birth – The Deer

King Bharata was reborn as a deer.

However, due to his past spiritual practices, he retained memory of his previous life. As a deer, he realized the danger of attachment. He stayed near sages and quietly lived his life until death, determined not to fall again.

Third Birth – Jada Bharata

He was reborn once more—this time as the son of a pious Brahmin. Now fully awakened, he decided to avoid all worldly attachment.

He behaved like a dull, silent, foolish person so that society would leave him alone. Because of this, people called him Jada Bharata (“Jada” = inert, dull).

He spoke little, showed no interest in wealth, status, or relationships. But inside, he was a realized soul—fully established in divine awareness.

The Encounter with King Rahugana

One day, soldiers forced Jada Bharata to carry the palanquin of King Rahugana. While walking, Jada Bharata carefully avoided stepping on ants and insects. Because of this, the palanquin shook.

The king became angry and insulted him.

At that moment, the silent sage spoke—revealing profound spiritual wisdom.

He explained:

The body carries the palanquin, not the Self.

The king and the servant are roles of the body, not the soul.

The soul is eternal, untouched by pride or insult.

The king was stunned. He fell at Jada Bharata’s feet and asked for guidance.

Thus the “fool” revealed himself as a great knower of truth.

The Spiritual Message

The life of Jada Bharata teaches three timeless truths:

1. Attachment can bind even the spiritual seeker

Even compassion must be balanced with detachment.

2. Spiritual progress is never lost

Even after rebirth, sincere effort continues.

3. True wisdom is silent and humble

The realized soul does not seek recognition.

A Reflection

Jada Bharata walked the world unnoticed, yet he was free.

He spoke rarely, yet his words awakened kings.

He owned nothing, yet he possessed eternal peace.

His life whispers a gentle truth:

Liberation is not far away—it begins when attachment ends.