Three together.

 भक्तिर्मे हृदि नित्यं स्यात् विवेको जागरूकवत्।

वैराग्यं दृढमस्तु स्यात् त्रयं मे जीवनाधनम्॥

Bhaktir me hṛdi nityaṁ syāt viveko jāgarūkavat |

Vairāgyaṁ dṛḍham astu syāt trayaṁ me jīvanādhanam ||

Meaning:

May Bhakti ever dwell in my heart.

May Viveka remain ever-awake within me.

May Vairāgya grow firm and steady.

May these three be the true wealth of my life.

Bhakti Walks With Her Sons

O Mother Bhakti,

radiant and ever-youthful,

why do Your eyes search the horizon

as though something is missing?

You are love itself —

the tremor in folded hands,

the tear that falls unannounced,

the whisper of the Divine Name

in the stillness before dawn.

Yet beside You

walk two silent figures —

Viveka and Vairāgya —

forgotten, frail,

leaning upon the staff of time.

O Mother, forgive us.

We sang Your name

but did not question our attachments.

We lit lamps

but did not remove inner darkness.

We wept in prayer

yet clung to what binds us.

Awaken within us,

O Viveka —

clear seeing that parts

the real from the fleeting,

like sunrise dissolving mist.

Whisper within us,

O Vairāgya —

gentle loosening of the knots

that tie the heart

to passing shadows.

Let devotion not be noise,

but depth.

Not frenzy,

but flame.

Let love be steady,

guided by wisdom,

softened by detachment.

May our worship

become understanding.

May our understanding

become freedom.

May our freedom

become surrender.

Then, O Mother Bhakti,

walk not alone.

Walk resplendent —

Your two sons strong at Your side,

and our hearts

Your TEMPLE.

Bhakti and Her Two Children: A Reflection for Our Times

In the sacred narrative of the Bhagavata Purana, especially in the celebrated Bhagavata Mahatmya, we encounter a striking allegory.

Bhakti Devi — devotion personified — wanders the earth. She is youthful, luminous, and filled with divine grace. Yet beside her walk her two sons, Jñāna (wisdom/Viveka) and Vairāgya (detachment), weak and aged.

Why this contrast?

The text records Bhakti’s own words:

अहं भक्तिरिति ख्याता इमे मे तनयौ मतौ।

ज्ञानवैराग्यनामानौ कालयोगेन जर्जरौ॥

“I am known as Bhakti, and these are my sons — Jñāna and Vairāgya.

Through the influence of time, they have become frail.”

This is not merely poetry. It is diagnosis.

The Timeless Youth of Bhakti

Bhakti never grows old. Devotion is the most natural impulse of the human heart. A child folds hands instinctively. A distressed mind calls out to something higher. The heart longs to surrender.

In every age, devotion reappears — fresh, vibrant, emotional, powerful.

Even in our modern world of artificial intelligence, complex systems, and endless information, devotion has not disappeared. If anything, the more external intelligence expands, the more the heart seeks anchoring.

But here lies the subtle danger.

Bhakti without Viveka becomes sentiment.

Bhakti without Vairāgya becomes attachment in disguise.

Viveka — The First Son

Viveka is discrimination — the ability to distinguish between:

The eternal and the temporary

The essential and the trivial

The Self and the non-Self

The Upanishadic spirit asks again and again:

What is that knowing which everything else becomes known?

Without Viveka, devotion can become blind following, ritual without understanding, emotion without grounding. It can even become fanaticism.

The Vedic seers never separated devotion from inquiry. True Bhakti does not fear questioning. It deepens because of it.

When Viveka awakens, we begin to see:

Wealth passes.

Fame fades.

The body changes.

Thoughts fluctuate.

But something within remains aware of all change.

That recognition is the beginning of wisdom.

Vairāgya — The Second Son

Vairāgya is often misunderstood as rejection of the world. It is not bitterness. It is clarity.

When we clearly see the transient nature of things, detachment arises naturally — not forced, not dramatic.

Vairāgya is freedom from compulsive clinging.

It does not mean we stop loving.

It means we stop binding.

In the modern age, attachment multiplies — to devices, opinions, identities, possessions, even to our own ideas. The mind becomes crowded.

Vairāgya creates inner space.

And only in that space can devotion breathe fully.

The Modern Parallel

Today, knowledge is abundant but wisdom is scarce. Information is instant, but insight is rare.

We can build machines that calculate faster than any human mind. Yet the question remains:

Can we build contentment?

Can we program peace?

Can we engineer surrender?

No technology can manufacture Bhakti.

And yet, Bhakti without Viveka may drift in confusion.

The allegory from the Bhagavata feels startlingly contemporary:

Devotion is alive.

But discrimination and detachment are weak.

The solution offered in the scripture is profound — listening to divine wisdom, contemplation, and constant remembrance revive Jñāna and Vairāgya. When the heart drinks the nectar of divine truth, clarity returns. Detachment strengthens.

The Inner Temple

In truth, Bhakti is not outside us. She resides in the heart.

Her sons live there too.

When we pause and reflect — Viveka awakens.

When we loosen our grip — Vairāgya rises.

When we surrender with understanding — Bhakti shines.

And then something remarkable happens:

Devotion becomes steady.

Wisdom becomes gentle.

Detachment becomes compassionate.

The three are not separate paths. They are one family.

Perhaps this is the message for our times:

Let devotion not be merely emotional.

Let wisdom not be merely intellectual.

Let detachment not be merely philosophical.

Let Bhakti walk holding the hands of Viveka and Vairāgya.

Then devotion becomes luminous — not fragile.

Then knowledge becomes warm — not dry.

Then detachment becomes loving — not cold.

And the seeker becomes whole.

न प्रेम विना शान्तिः, न विवेकं विना धृति:।

न वैराग्यं विना मुक्तिः — त्रयं ब्रह्मपथप्रदम्॥

Without devotion, no peace.

Without discrimination, no steadiness.

Without detachment, no liberation.

These three together open the path to the Eternal.