Beyond.

 In the southern part of India the practice of celebrating of ages 60, 70, 80, 90 and 100 :

Someone once asked me the Reason....

“Why do we celebrate ages like 60, 70, 80, 90, and 100 so grandly?

Are these numbers spiritual, or are they just cultural traditions?”

The answer lies in a powerful story from the Mahabharata—the story of King Yayati....

King Yayati lived life to the fullest—power, pleasures, success, everything. But when old age suddenly arrived, it shook him deeply. After deep reflection, he realized a profound truth:

“Pleasure has limits, but desire never ends.”

This single realization transformed his life. He accepted old age and explained that life has five inner turning points—not based on age, but on understanding.

Remarkably, these five turning points align with the traditional Indian milestones of 60, 70, 80, 90, and 100 years. Let us understand them in simple terms.

*60 – Shashti*

The mind shifts from accumulation to understanding

Around 60, something changes—not in the body, but in priorities.

The question “How much more can I get?” slowly fades, and

“What truly matters now?” takes its place.

Introspection begins.

Noise, applause, and external validation are no longer needed.

Clarity is what one seeks.

This is not decline—it is maturity catching up with ambition.

*70 – Bheemaratha Shanthi*

Peace feels more powerful than proving a point

In the 40s and 50s, we explain ourselves to the world.

At 70, a quiet shift occurs.

You no longer react instantly.

Arguments lose their attraction.

Preserving relationships matters more than winning debates.

One realizes:

Being peaceful is more valuable than being right.

That is why the 70th year is celebrated.

*80 – Sathabhishekam*

Your presence itself becomes healing

At 80, people don’t come seeking advice.

They come seeking something deeper—

the reassurance that life can be lived, processed, and understood.

At this age, your presence becomes a blessing.

Words are no longer necessary.

Your very being says:

“Everything was okay. Life finds its way.”

That is why 80 is considered sacred.

*90 – Navathi*

The ego quietly retires

At 90, something rare happens.

You no longer feel the urge to correct people.

You don’t cling to opinions.

Things are not taken personally.

You are not easily hurt.

Not because of weakness—

but because life has already shown you enough.

Petty matters no longer deserve your energy.

A gentle stillness settles in.

This humility is true spirituality.

*100 – Shatamanam*

Life moves beyond personal stories

Reaching 100 is not just about the number of years.

It is a state where the larger picture becomes visible.

You realize that many of the worries you carried were unnecessary.

The love you gave was what truly mattered.

And life was always being held by a mysterious, compassionate force.

At 100, a person becomes less of an individual

and more of a presence.

Our sages did not celebrate age.

They celebrated the inner transformation that comes with age.

•⁠ ⁠60 – Priorities shift

•⁠ ⁠70 – Peace becomes strength

•⁠ ⁠80 – Presence becomes healing

•⁠ ⁠90 – Ego dissolves quietly

•⁠ ⁠100 – Life reaches completion

Age is not deterioration.

Age is a filtration process—

through which wisdom, gentleness, and grace remain.

Growing older means life is becoming purer, wiser, and gentler.

Silence revered.

Beyond Imagination: Contemplating What Sita Must Have Endured

There are moments in the Ramayana where the heart pauses.

The story stops being a story.

It becomes silence.

One such moment arises when we think of Sita — not as a queen, not as an incarnation, not as an ideal — but as a woman who walked through unimaginable trials with grace that still humbles the world.

Can we truly imagine what she went through?

Perhaps not.

But we can sit in contemplation.

The Courage of Leaving Everything Behind

Sita was not forced into exile.

She chose it.

She left:

The palace of Ayodhya

Comfort and security

Servants and protection

A life of royal ease

For what?

For love.

When Rama was exiled, she did not debate, calculate, or hesitate. She simply said:

“Where you are, that is Ayodhya for me.”

This was not sacrifice born from helplessness.

This was devotion born from strength.

She walked into the forest knowing life would change forever.

And yet, she walked with joy.

How does a heart hold such courage?

The Silence of the Forest Years

Fourteen years is a long time.

Years of:

Wandering forests

Living in huts

Sleeping on the ground

Facing unknown dangers

And yet, the Ramayana does not record her complaints.

This silence is not absence of pain.

It is the presence of strength.

We must pause here and ask:

How much quiet endurance does love contain?

The Terror of the Abduction

One moment changed everything.

A golden deer.

A cry for help.

A line drawn on the ground.

And then — Ravana.

Imagine the terror:

Torn away from Rama

Carried across the sky

Taken to a foreign land

Surrounded by enemies

The Ramayana tells the event.

But it does not describe the trembling of her heart.

How does one endure fear when hope is the only companion?

The Loneliness of Ashoka Vatika

This may be the most difficult part to contemplate.

Months in captivity.

Alone.

Threatened.

Tempted.

Pressured.

Surrounded by rakshasis.

Given a deadline to surrender.

Every day Ravana tried to break her resolve.

Every day she refused.

No army.

No protection.

No certainty of rescue.

Only faith.

She sat beneath a tree, holding Rama in her heart.

This is not merely patience.

This is spiritual heroism.

Waiting Without Knowing

We often speak of hope.

But Sita’s hope was different.

She did not know:

When Rama would come

If he was alive

If he knew where she was

If rescue would ever happen

Still she waited.

Day after day.

Month after month.

Hope without proof is one of the hardest forms of faith.

The Fire Ordeal

Rescued at last.

War ended.

Ravana defeated.

The world restored.

Surely now the suffering would end?

But destiny had one more test.

The Agni Pariksha.

Even today, this moment makes hearts tremble.

After everything she endured, she had to prove her purity before the world.

We struggle to understand this moment.

We wrestle with it.

We question it.

We ache over it.

Perhaps we are meant to.

Because Sita is not merely to be admired.

She is meant to be contemplated.

The Pain of Separation Again

Many believe her suffering ended in Ayodhya.

But the Ramayana continues.

Pregnant and alone, she was sent away to the forest once more.

No palace.

No husband.

No royal protection.

Only the earth and the sky as witnesses.

She raised Lava and Kusha in a hermitage, quietly, with dignity, without bitterness.

This phase of her life is not loud.

It is deeply, profoundly silent.

Why We Cannot Fully Imagine Sita

We try to measure her suffering.

But Sita is not meant to be measured.

She is meant to be revered.

She represents:

Strength without anger

Love without demand

Faith without proof

Dignity without recognition

Her life asks us not to judge her pain, but to bow before her resilience.

A Gentle Realization

Perhaps the question is not:

“What did Sita go through?”

Perhaps the real question is:

“How did she remain Sita through it all?”

Unbroken.

Unshaken.

Unbitter.

Unchanged in love.

A Contemplative Closing

When we think of Rama, we think of dharma.

When we think of Hanuman, we think of devotion.

When we think of Sita, we should think of endurance with grace.

Her story more hers than Rams whispers to every heart that struggles:

You may not control your trials.

But you can control your dignity within them.

And in that dignity lies divinity.

A Prayer at the Feet of Sita

O Janaki, daughter of the Earth,

You who walked through fire yet carried the fragrance of compassion,

Teach us the strength that does not shout.

When life becomes a forest,

And the path disappears into shadows,

Let your courage sit quietly in our hearts.

When fear arrives like a storm in the sky,

And hope feels far across the ocean,

Let us remember how you waited beneath the Ashoka tree.

Give us patience when answers delay.

Give us dignity when the world misunderstands.

Give us faith when proof does not exist.

Mother Sita,

You who chose love over comfort,

Faith over fear,

Grace over bitterness—

Help us carry our small sorrows

With a fraction of your serenity.

May our hearts learn to whisper your strength.

May our lives learn to reflect your purity.

May our struggles become gentle in your remembrance.

Jai Siya Ram. 

Listen.

Prabhavati: The Princess Who Fell in Love by Listening

In the vast ocean of Krishna lore, some stories shine like the sun—well known, widely celebrated. Others glow like the moon—gentle, romantic, and quietly luminous. The story of Princess Prabhavati belongs to the second kind.

It is a tale of love born from hearing, of devotion blooming in the house of an enemy, and of destiny that cannot be stopped by walls, distance, or opposition.

A Princess in the House of Krishna’s Enemy

Prabhavati was the daughter of the powerful asura king Vajranabha, a ruler who opposed Lord Krishna and the Yadavas. His palace was fortified with pride and hostility toward everything connected with Krishna.

Yet destiny often plants devotion in the most unexpected soil.

Just as Prahlada was born in the house of Hiranyakashipu, Prabhavati grew up in a palace that resisted Krishna — but her heart quietly leaned toward divine love.

Sometimes, the soul remembers what the world has forgotten.

Love Begins with Listening

One day, celestial visitors arrived at the palace and began narrating the glories of Krishna’s son Pradyumna.

They spoke of:

His radiant beauty

His bravery in battle

His gentle nature

His divine lineage

His identity as the rebirth of Kamadeva, the god of love

Prabhavati had never seen him.

Yet something stirred deep within her heart.

She listened again and again, drinking in every word. Slowly, quietly, without her realizing it, she fell in love.

This is a profound truth of Bhakti:

We first fall in love with the Divine by hearing about Him.

Before darshan comes shravanam — listening.

Before sight comes recognition of the heart.

The Love She Could Not Speak Aloud

But there was a painful reality.

Her father hated Krishna and his family.

How could she ever marry the son of her father’s enemy?

Love seemed impossible.

Yet divine love does not ask permission from circumstances.

Like Rukmini writing secretly to Krishna…

Like Andal dreaming of Lord Ranganatha…

Like Meera singing to Giridhari despite the world…

Prabhavati chose love.

The Swan Messenger

Unable to bear her silent longing, Prabhavati confided in her companions. With their help, a divine swan (hamsa) was sent as a messenger to Dwaraka.

The symbolism is beautiful.

In Indian tradition, the swan represents:

Purity

Wisdom

The soul’s ability to travel between worlds

The Guru who carries the message of love

The swan flew across kingdoms and oceans to deliver her message to Pradyumna.

Imagine the moment:

A prince receives a declaration of love from a princess he has never met.

Instead of doubt, he felt recognition.

Because divine love is always mutual.

Just as the devotee longs for the Lord, the Lord longs for the devotee.

The Secret Meeting

Pradyumna could not ignore her devotion. With mystic powers and courage, he secretly entered Vajranabha’s heavily guarded palace.

And at last, they met.

What began as love through hearing became love through darshan.

Their meeting completes the sacred journey of devotion:

Hearing

Remembering

Longing

Seeing

Union

It is the journey of every bhakta.

When Love Meets Resistance

Secrets cannot remain hidden forever.

When Vajranabha discovered their relationship, his anger knew no bounds. War broke out between his forces and Krishna’s family.

This battle represents something timeless:

Ego versus Love

Pride versus Destiny

Resistance versus Divine Will

Vajranabha was defeated.

And after the storm, peace remained.

The Wedding of Destiny

With obstacles removed, Pradyumna and Prabhavati were married with honor and celebration.

What began as:

Impossible love

Silent longing

Secret meetings

Ended as:

Dharma

Acceptance

Divine blessing

Love had transformed even an enemy’s palace into a sacred space.

The Spiritual Meaning of Prabhavati

This story is far more than romance.

It is a map of devotion.

Love begins by listening

Prabhavati fell in love by hearing Pradyumna’s qualities.

So too we fall in love with God by hearing His stories.

Devotion can bloom anywhere

Even in a world opposed to God, the heart can turn toward Him.

The soul longs for divine love

Prabhavati represents the jivatma (individual soul).

Pradyumna represents divine love.

Their union symbolizes the soul meeting the Divine after longing and courage.

Grace always carries our prayer

The swan is the Guru, the scripture, the divine messenger.

Something always carries the soul’s call to God.

A Quiet Truth from a Gentle Story

Prabhavati’s story whispers softly to the heart:

Love begins in listening.

Longing is sacred.

Courage is devotion.

Destiny favors the sincere.

And above all:

The heart recognizes its beloved long before the world approves of it.

Dream destiny.

 The Dream that Destiny Fulfilled

The Story of Princess Prabhavati and khanayas Grace

Among the many love stories woven into the Puranas, the tale of Princess Prabhavati (Usha) and Aniruddha shines with a special tenderness. It is not merely a romantic episode; saints lovingly narrate it as the story of how devotion begins in the heart before the mind understands.

The Princess with an Unknown Longing

Banasura, the mighty king and devoted follower of Lord Shiva, ruled with strength and pride. His palace was filled with grandeur, music and luxury. Yet within those golden walls lived his daughter Prabhavati, a princess who felt a quiet emptiness she could not explain.

She had everything — yet something was missing.

Then came the night that changed her life forever.

One night, in the stillness of sleep, she saw a radiant young prince:

Dark as the raincloud

Eyes overflowing with compassion

A smile that dissolved all fear

He stood before her as though he had always belonged to her life.

When she awoke, her heart trembled.

She had never seen him before… yet she knew with certainty:

“He is mine.”

From that day onward, food lost its taste, sleep lost its comfort, and laughter faded from her lips. Love had entered her life through a dream.

When the Heart Recognises Before the Mind

Her closest friend Chitralekha, an artist and yogini, saw the princess wasting away and asked gently:

“Tell me who he is.”

Prabhavati whispered,

“I do not know his name… but my soul knows him.”

Chitralekha began sketching portraits of princes, gods and warriors from every land. One after another she showed the drawings.

Each time Prabhavati shook her head.

“No… not him.”

At last Chitralekha drew the princes of Dwaraka. When she sketched Aniruddha, the grandson of Lord Krishna, Prabhavati gasped.

Tears filled her eyes.

“That is him. The one from my dream.”

In that moment destiny revealed its path.

Destiny Moves Quietly

Chitralekha was no ordinary friend. Through yogic powers she travelled invisibly to Dwaraka at night. There she found Aniruddha asleep and gently brought him to the princess’s chamber.

When he awoke and their eyes met, recognition blossomed instantly.

Love that began in a dream became reality.

For a while, the palace became a heaven hidden from the world.

But destiny rarely unfolds without trials.

The Storm Before the Blessing

The secret was discovered.

Banasura’s anger shook the palace.

“How dare anyone enter my kingdom unseen!”

Aniruddha was imprisoned. War became inevitable.

When the news reached Dwaraka, Lord Krishna did not come merely as a grandfather. He came as the protector of love, destiny and devotion.

A great cosmic battle followed:

Krishna and Balarama on one side

Banasura, supported by Lord Shiva, on the other

It was not a war of hatred but a divine play of destiny.

Krishna defeated Banasura yet spared his life, honouring his devotion to Shiva. In that moment Banasura understood — this was not an invasion.

This was God’s will.

He surrendered.

The Dream Comes True

With divine blessings, Aniruddha and Prabhavati were united in marriage.

The girl who had fallen in love in a dream was now living that dream as her destiny.

The Inner Meaning of the Story

Saints tell us this story is about far more than romance.

Prabhavati represents the human soul.

The dream represents the first awakening of devotion.

Before we:

learn scriptures

understand philosophy

perform rituals

There comes a mysterious longing.

A pull toward the Divine we cannot explain.

A love whose name we do not yet know.

The heart recognises God long before the mind understands Him.

Just as Prabhavati did not search the world for her beloved, the Lord arranges the path for every soul that truly longs for Him.

When longing becomes pure,

God Himself arranges destiny.

Every devotee experiences a moment like Prabhavati’s dream:

A sudden attraction to bhajans

A tear during a katha

A quiet pull toward the temple

A feeling of belonging in prayer

These are not coincidences.

They are the soul remembering its Beloved.

And when that longing becomes sincere, the Lord begins to move the pieces of life — quietly, lovingly, perfectly.

Just as He did for Prabhavati. 

This hyd visit.

 Sometimes life interrupts us in ways we do not expect. Plans pause, routines dissolve, and the path we believed was firmly laid suddenly bends away from our feet. In those moments it feels as though we are being taken off the rails. Yet, in the language of faith, it may actually be a form of divine preparation.

God readies a soul long before the soul recognizes the call.

There are seasons when we are asked to step aside from what we are doing — not because our work lacked value, but because its season has quietly completed. What appears like delay may be training. What appears like disruption may be direction.

A calling rarely arrives when life is convenient. It arrives when the heart has been quietly prepared through unseen experiences, subtle lessons, and silent strengthening.

To step away is not to lose the path.

It is to trust that the path has widened.

Sometimes the rail must end so the horizon can begin. Sometimes it's to make you feel what you may have missed in your thinking. 

Accepting the direction for whatever it is though difficult is the only way. A silent prayer to say please God don't let my thoughts wander away from your feet.

The asking.

 Bhikṣām Dehi – The Soul’s Gentle Prayer

“Bhikṣām Dehi” — two simple Sanskrit words, soft as a whisper, yet vast as the sky in their meaning.

Literally, they mean “Give me alms.”

But spiritually, they mean “Fill my emptiness.”

In the ancient gurukula tradition, young students would walk from home to home with folded hands, humbly uttering these words. They were not beggars. They were seekers of knowledge. The act of asking for food was a sacred discipline — a quiet training of the heart to dissolve pride and cultivate gratitude. Every morsel received carried the warmth of society’s blessing and the reminder that life is sustained by the kindness of others.

Thus, “Bhikṣām Dehi” became more than a request. It became a practice in humility.

Yet the deepest meaning unfolds when the words turn toward the Divine.

When a devotee says Bhikṣām Dehi, the prayer changes form. The hands are still folded, but the request is no longer for food.

It becomes:

Give me devotion when my heart is dry.

Give me wisdom when my mind is restless.

Give me strength when life feels heavy.

Give me grace when my ego grows loud.

The soul stands before the Lord empty, acknowledging its incompleteness. And in that sacred emptiness lies the possibility of divine fullness.

The story of young Adi Shankaracharya beautifully illuminates this spirit. When he asked a poor woman for alms, she offered the only thing she possessed — a single gooseberry. Her gift was tiny, yet it was everything she had. Moved by her selfless generosity, Shankara prayed to Goddess Lakshmi, who showered her home with golden fruits. The lesson shines clearly: when giving is pure, the Divine responds with abundance.

In truth, every human heart whispers “Bhikṣām Dehi” in some form. We seek love, peace, meaning, belonging. We hunger for something beyond material nourishment — something that satisfies the silent spaces within.

To say Bhikṣām Dehi is to admit:

“I do not have everything. I need Your grace.”

And perhaps that is the most beautiful prayer of all.

For the Divine does not fill hands that are clenched with pride —

but those that open in humble surrender. 

Asking forgiveness.

 Pavitra Utsavam (or Pavitrotsavam) is a beautiful and deeply symbolic temple festival observed in many Hindu temples—especially Vaishnava temples like Tirupati, Srirangam, Kanchipuram, Melkote, etc.

It is often called the “Festival of Purification” of the temple.

Pavitra = sacred thread / purifier

Utsavam = festival

So Pavitra Utsavam literally means the festival of sacred purification threads.

It is performed as a spiritual “annual audit” of the temple rituals.

Why is Pavitra Utsavam performed?

In temples, daily rituals (nitya kainkaryam) are done every single day of the year:

Abhishekam

Alankaram

Archana

Naivedyam

Deepa aradhana

Festivals and processions

According to Agama Shastras, even with the greatest care:

A mantra may be mispronounced

A ritual step may be missed

A rule of purity may be unknowingly broken

A procedure may not be perfectly followed

Since the deity is treated as a living divine king, no mistake should accumulate over the year.

Therefore, once a year temples perform Pavitra Utsavam to:

Atone for ritual omissions (dosha nivarana)

Re-sanctify the temple

Renew divine grace

Seek forgiveness from the Lord

It is like saying:

“O Lord, forgive whatever mistakes occurred in serving You.”

This humility is the heart of the festival 

Agama texts describe this as:

Sarva dosha parihara utsavam

(festival that removes all ritual defects)

It is considered essential for:

Temple spiritual health

Priestly discipline

Continuity of divine presence

Some temples even say:

Without Pavitra Utsavam, a year of worship is incomplete.

When is it performed?

Usually conducted once a year, often in:

Shravan month

Bhadrapada month

(depending on temple tradition)

It lasts 3 days in most temples.

How Pavitra Utsavam is conducted

The rituals are extremely systematic and beautiful.

Day 1 — Ankurarpanam & Sankalpam

(Invocation and preparation)

1. Ankurarpanam (Sowing seeds)

Seeds are ceremonially sown in pots.

Meaning:

Symbol of renewal

Fresh spiritual beginning

Growth of divine grace

It signifies:

“Let new purity sprout in the temple.”

2. Vishwaksena Puja

Lord Vishwaksena (commander of Vishnu’s army) is worshipped.

Why? Because he removes obstacles in temple rituals.

He is like the divine administrator of temple worship.

3. Raksha Bandhan (Protection ritual)

Sacred threads are tied to:

Temple pillars

Kalashas

Priests

This marks the start of the purification process.

Day 2 — Homams & Pavitra Preparation

(Main purification rituals)

Special fire rituals (Homams)

Several yajnas are performed:

Sudarshana homa

Vishnu homa

Purusha sukta homa

Sri Sukta homa

Fire represents:

Burning impurities

Transforming mistakes into merit

Priests chant:

Vedas

Divya Prabandham

Agama mantras

The atmosphere becomes intensely sacred.

Preparation of Pavitra Malas (Sacred garlands)

This is the most beautiful part.

Special garlands made of:

Cotton threads

Silk threads

Sometimes coloured threads

They are twisted into ring-shaped garlands called:

Pavitra malas

These represent:

Purity

Protection

Sacred correction of errors

Day 3 — The Grand Pavitra Samarpanam

(Offering the sacred threads to the Lord)

This is the highlight of the festival.

The Lord is decorated with pavitra garlands in layers.

Where are they placed?

On:

Crown

Neck

Arms

Chest

Weapons (chakra, shankha)

Consort deity

Utsava murti

Temple Vimana (tower)

Dwajasthambam (flag post)

Bali peetam

Temple doors and pillars

Even the temple itself is “decorated” with pavitras.

Meaning:

Not only the deity, the entire temple is purified.

Symbolism of Pavitra Garlands

The threads represent:

Mantras woven into form

Spiritual protection shield

Correction of ritual defects

It is believed that:

All mistakes of the past year get “absorbed” into these sacred threads.

Final Ceremony — Purnahuti & Kshama Prarthana

At the end:

Purnahuti (Final offering)

Final sacred offering into the fire.

Then priests perform: Kshama Prarthana — Prayer of forgiveness.

A deeply moving prayer:

“Whatever was done improperly,

Whatever was forgotten,

Whatever was done without devotion,

Please forgive us, O Lord.”

This humility is the soul of Pavitra Utsavam.

Spiritual significance for devotees

Devotees believe attending Pavitra Utsavam gives:

Removal of sins

Removal of obstacles

Blessings for family welfare

Renewal of spiritual life

It is said:

Witnessing Pavitra Utsavam equals attending many yajnas.

A beautiful way to understand it

If Brahmotsavam is the celebration of the Lord,

then Pavitra Utsavam is the apology offered to the Lord.

One celebrates His glory.

The other expresses loving humility.

Both together make temple worship complete.