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.

प्रभाव

 Prabhava  – Meaning and Reflection

The Sanskrit word Prabhava is rich with layered meaning. It comes from the root “bhū” (to be, to become) with the prefix “pra” (forward, intense, before). Together, Prabhava conveys ideas such as origin, source, power, influence, radiance, and divine potency. It can refer both to the beginning of something and the force that sustains and shapes it.

The idea of Prabhava

In everyday usage, Prabhava can mean influence or effect—the unseen power by which a person, event, or divine force changes the world around it. In spiritual literature, however, the word becomes deeper: it points to the creative energy from which everything emerges.

In this sense, Prabhava is not merely the start of creation; it is the living energy behind creation. It is the spark that turns silence into sound, stillness into movement, and possibility into reality.

A short reflection

Every sunrise is Prabhava.

Every good thought that arises in the heart is Prabhava.

Every act of kindness that spreads beyond its moment is Prabhava.

When we look at the world through this lens, we realize that life itself is a continuous unfolding of divine influence. The seed becoming a tree, the child becoming wise, the mind becoming peaceful through prayer—each is an expression of Prabhava.

Inner meaning

Spiritually, Prabhava reminds us that we are not isolated beings. We are connected to a vast source of strength and inspiration. When we act with sincerity, compassion, and devotion, we become instruments of that divine influence. Our words gain warmth, our actions gain meaning, and our presence begins to uplift others.

Conclusion

Prabhava is the gentle reminder that every beginning carries sacred power. The smallest spark can become a lamp, the smallest prayer can become peace, and the smallest act of goodness can become a wave of transformation.

To remember Prabhava is to remember that the divine source is always flowing through life—and through us.

Exile.

Why Exile? Understanding Kaikeyi’s Mind Through the Tradition of Vanavāsa

Among all moments in the Ramayana, one decision still startles the heart:

Kaikeyi asking King Dasaratha to send Rama to the forest for fourteen years.

Why the forest?

Why exile?

How could such a thought arise?

To understand Kaikeyi, we must understand a forgotten truth of ancient India:

Exile to the forest was not an unusual punishment. It was an established dharmic practice.

The Meaning of the Forest in Ancient India

Today we think of the forest as danger and isolation.

But in ancient Bharat, the forest meant something very different.

The forest was:

• the land of sages

• the place of austerity

• the space of purification

• the realm outside politics and power

Going to the forest meant stepping away from worldly ambition and entering a life of tapas.

So exile was not merely punishment — it was removal from power combined with spiritual discipline.

This tradition appears repeatedly across our epics and Puranas.

Exile of the Pandavas — The Closest Parallel

The strongest example comes from the Mahabharata.

After losing the game of dice, the Pandavas were sentenced to:

• 12 years in the forest

• 1 year in disguise

Notice the similarity with Rama’s exile.

This was not accidental. It shows that royal exile was an accepted political solution.

Why exile and not imprisonment?

Because imprisoning or killing royal heirs could cause civil war.

Exile removed them peacefully from power.

The Pandavas’ exile, like Rama’s, became a period of:

• spiritual growth

• gathering allies

• inner transformation

The forest became the training ground of destiny.

King Nala — Exile as Personal Purification

Another example comes from the story of King Nala.

After losing his kingdom due to fate and gambling, Nala wandered in the forest separated from his queen Damayanti.

His exile was not ordered by a court — it was the result of destiny and karma.

Yet the pattern remains:

Loss of kingdom → Forest wandering → Inner transformation → Return.

The forest was seen as a place where a fallen king could regain himself before regaining his throne.

The Voluntary Exile of the Rishis

Many sages chose forest life willingly.

The stage of Vanaprastha (retirement to the forest) was part of the ideal human life.

Even kings eventually left their palaces and moved to forests in old age.

Why?

Because the forest symbolized detachment from ego and power.

So when Kaikeyi asked for exile, she was choosing a known path — not inventing cruelty.

Exile as a Political Solution

Ancient monarchies had a delicate problem:

How do you remove a rightful prince without violence?

A prince could not be: • imprisoned

• publicly humiliated

• executed

Any such act would divide the kingdom.

The safest solution was exile.

Exile ensured: • peace in the kingdom

• no bloodshed

• no rebellion

• smooth transfer of power

Seen in this light, Kaikeyi’s demand becomes politically logical — though emotionally heartbreaking.

Why Fourteen Years?

The duration itself is revealing.

Fourteen years is long enough for:

• a new king to establish authority

• the public to accept new leadership

• emotional attachment to the former heir to fade

Kaikeyi’s fear was simple:

“If Rama remains in Ayodhya, people will always want him as king.”

She did not wish Rama dead.

She wanted Bharata’s rule to become unquestioned.

So she chose the longest exile that still allowed Rama to return alive.

This was political strategy born from maternal fear.

How Did Such a Thought Arise in Kaikeyi?

This is the most human part of the story.

Kaikeyi loved Rama deeply.

Scriptures tell us Rama loved Kaikeyi more than his own mother.

But then Manthara awakened fear:

• After Rama’s coronation, Kaushalya becomes queen mother

• Bharata will live under Rama’s shadow

• Kaikeyi’s influence will fade

Fear changes perception.

Love becomes insecurity.

Care becomes possessiveness.

Protection becomes control.

Kaikeyi did not become evil.

She became afraid.

And fear searches for the strongest solution.

The Forest as Political Isolation

Sending Rama to the forest ensured he would:

• stay away from royal politics

• not gather supporters

• not build alliances

• not threaten Bharata’s throne

It was the ancient equivalent of removing someone from public life.

The Divine Dimension

On the human level, this was politics and fear.

On the divine level, this exile was necessary for the world.

Because only through exile could Rama:

• meet the sages of the forests

• protect the rishis from demons

• meet Hanuman

• meet Sugriva

• reach Lanka

• destroy Ravana

Without Kaikeyi’s demand, the Ramayana as we know it would never unfold.

Kaikeyi became the instrument of destiny.

This is why Rama never blamed her.

To Rama, exile was not punishment — it was purpose.

The Tragedy of Kaikeyi

Kaikeyi wanted security for her son.

But destiny turned the result upside down.

• Bharata refused the throne

• Kaikeyi became history’s most misunderstood mother

• She lived with lifelong remorse

Her story teaches a timeless truth:

Actions born from fear often destroy what we were trying to protect.

A Final Contemplation

Exile appears again and again in our epics.

Rama.

Pandavas.

Nala.

Even sages voluntarily embraced it.

The forest in our tradition is not merely wilderness.

It is the place where destiny reshapes heroes.

And perhaps that is the deepest secret of Kaikeyi’s decision:

She sent Rama to the forest thinking she was removing him from destiny.

But in truth, she was sending him towards it.