🟠 Epics & Itihasa

Saturday, February 21, 2026

The First Intelligence

We stand today in admiration of Artificial Intelligence.

Machines that learn.

Programs that adapt.

Systems that respond instantly to changing data.

We marvel when algorithms adjust themselves.

We celebrate when technology predicts behavior.

We call it progress.

Yet, long before silicon chips and neural networks, there existed an intelligence far more intimate — and infinitely more ancient.

It begins in silence.

A newborn rests in its mother’s arms. No language has formed. No reasoning is conscious. And yet, a profound exchange begins.

Breast milk is not a static substance. It is not a fixed recipe poured out the same way each day. It is dynamic, responsive, alive.

Its composition shifts according to the baby’s needs. The concentration of fats, proteins, hormones, and immune cells varies. Milk produced in the early days after birth differs from milk weeks later. Even within a single feeding, the milk changes — beginning lighter and becoming richer as the nursing continues.

Studies have shown that in some mammals, the milk varies depending on whether the infant is male or female. In humans, milk contains hundreds of complex sugars that the baby cannot even digest — they exist solely to nourish beneficial bacteria in the infant’s gut, quietly shaping immunity and health for years to come.

When a baby falls ill, immune components in the milk rise significantly. White blood cells increase. Protective antibodies become more concentrated. It is as though the mother’s body senses distress and answers without being asked.

This is not mechanical.

It is relational.

A silent dialogue between two living beings.

The baby does not “request.”

The mother does not “calculate.”

Yet nourishment becomes precisely what is needed.

For nearly 200 million years, since the earliest mammals walked the earth, this system has been evolving — refining itself, adapting, perfecting.

And still we call our modern systems “intelligent.”

Artificial Intelligence processes data.

Maternal intelligence generates life.

AI adjusts outputs based on programmed rules.

The maternal body adjusts nourishment based on living signals.

AI can simulate empathy.

Motherhood embodies it.

Perhaps the greatest intelligence is not the one that predicts stock markets or writes code. Perhaps it is the intelligence that sustains vulnerability — that responds instantly to weakness, that anticipates growth, that nourishes without applause.

Before circuits, there was skin.

Before algorithms, there was attachment.

Before artificial networks, there was the sacred biological network between mother and child.

In our eagerness to build thinking machines, may we not overlook the wisdom already written into life itself.

The first food given to every human being is not merely nutrition.

It is adaptation.

It is protection.

It is communication.

It is love translated into biology.

And perhaps that is the highest form of intelligence — not artificial, not manufactured, but ancient, embodied, and quietly divine.

Friday, February 20, 2026

about blog.

Welcome 🌸
This blog is a small offering born out of devotion, curiosity and wonder at the vastness of Sanatana Dharma.
Many of the articles here are written after hearing a story, a discourse, a question, or a small spark of inspiration that stayed in the heart and asked to be explored more deeply. Writing becomes a way to understand, contemplate, and share.
Over time, the blog has grown into a spiritual library of reflections — covering scriptures, saints, rituals, symbolism and everyday devotion.
To help readers explore easily, the articles are organised into themed sections.
🟠 Epics & Itihasa Reflections
Stories and contemplations from the Ramayana and Mahabharata.
Here you will find:
Character reflections
Dharma dilemmas
Lessons from exile, duty and devotion
Symbolism hidden in epic narratives
🔵 Saints, Poets & Devotees
The lives and teachings of bhaktas who walked the path before us.
This section includes:
Bhakti saints and poet-saints
Inspiring devotee stories
Lesser-known spiritual personalities
Women saints and voices of devotion
🟣 Vedas, Upanishads & Philosophy
Gentle explorations of deep spiritual ideas.
Here we reflect on:
Vedic wisdom
Upanishadic concepts
Dharma, karma, maya and moksha
Spiritual psychology and life questions
🟢 Temples, Rituals & Traditions
Understanding the why behind what we practice.
Topics include:
Temple traditions and symbolism
Festivals and rituals
Samskaras and cultural practices
Sacred customs explained simply
🟡 Divine Personalities & Avatars
Essays dedicated to the many forms of the Divine.
You will find reflections on:
Sri Rama, Sri Krishna and Devi
Hanuman and other beloved forms
Symbolism of divine qualities and names
🌸 Devotional Literature & Songs
The sweetness of bhakti expressed through words and music.
This section includes:
Stotras and kirtanas
Sacred phrases and meanings
Reflections on devotional poetry
🌿 Nature, Symbolism & Sacred Culture
Seeing the sacred in everyday life and nature.
Here we explore:
Sacred plants, animals and food
Cultural symbolism
Spiritual meaning in daily life
⚪ Spiritual Living & Life Reflections
Quiet reflections connecting devotion with daily living.
These essays touch on:
Faith, gratitude and surrender
Joyful devotion
Simplicity and inner growth
🔴 Special Series — Ramayana Across Asia
A growing series exploring how the Ramayana travelled across cultures and countries, revealing the universal love for Sri Rama.
A Small Note from the Author 🌼
This blog is not an academic work, but a heartfelt journey of learning and sharing.
If even one article inspires reflection, devotion or curiosity, its purpose is fulfilled.
Thank you for being here.

Peepal

The Peepal Tree: A Silent Rishi Among Trees

In the heart of many ancient Indian villages stood a Peepal tree — not merely as vegetation, but as presence. It was not planted for decoration. It was planted for remembrance.

The Peepal, or Ashvattha, is no ordinary tree in our sacred imagination. In the Bhagavad Gita (Chapter 15), Bhagavan Sri Krishna describes the cosmic tree:

“With roots above and branches below stands the eternal Ashvattha…”

What a startling image — roots above? Branches below? The Lord reverses our vision. The true root of existence is not in soil, but in the Supreme. The world we see is only the outward branching of an unseen divine origin.

Thus, the Peepal becomes a philosophical metaphor. To sit beneath it is to sit beneath a living Upanishad.

The Tree That Breathes Grace

Traditionally, elders would say that the Peepal releases life-giving breath even at night. Whether understood scientifically or symbolically, it has always been revered as a giver of prana.

And what is spirituality if not this — to breathe life into others?

A saint is like the Peepal. He stands quietly, yet many draw strength from him. He speaks little, yet many find clarity around him.

The Peepal teaches us that holiness is not noise. It is nourishment.

Witness to Time

A Peepal tree does not hurry. It lives for centuries. It has watched kingdoms rise and fall, temples built and rebuilt, generations born and gone.

When Gautama Buddha attained enlightenment under the Bodhi tree at Bodh Gaya, it was not accidental. The Peepal stands as a witness tree — a tree of awakening.

Awakening does not happen in chaos. It happens in stillness.

And the Peepal embodies stillness.

Its trunk is firm, unmoving. But its leaves tremble constantly, shimmering in the slightest breeze. What a paradox! Stability and sensitivity together.

Is this not the ideal spiritual life?

Be firm in conviction.

Be sensitive in heart.

Village Life and the Sacred Centre

In many villages, the Peepal stood at the centre — near the temple tank, beside a shrine, or at the crossroads. Elders gathered beneath it. Panchayats met there. Stories were told. Vedas were recited. Lamps were lit at dusk.

Women circumambulated it with prayers for family welfare. Children played around it. Travellers rested under it.

It was not fenced with exclusivity. It belonged to everyone.

The Peepal teaches us inclusiveness — it gives shade without discrimination.

The Symbol of Detachment

Its leaves are delicate and heart-shaped. They fall easily. And yet the tree does not grieve their fall.

It stands serene through seasons.

The name Ashvattha itself has been interpreted as “that which does not remain the same till tomorrow” — a reminder of impermanence.

Thus, the Peepal is also a teacher of detachment.

Life changes. People change. Situations change.

Hold your roots deep — but let your leaves go.

The Tree Growing From Ruins

Have we not seen Peepal saplings emerging from old temple walls, from cracks in stone, from abandoned structures?

Life asserts itself.

Even when civilisation forgets, the Peepal remembers.

It grows where no one plants it. It survives where others wither.

It whispers a message to the discouraged heart:

“You too can grow from your broken places.”

A Meditation Beneath the Peepal

If one sits quietly beneath it, something subtle happens. The play of light through trembling leaves feels like mantra in motion. The sound of rustling becomes japa. The breeze becomes a blessing.

It feels as though the tree is praying.

Perhaps that is why our ancestors revered it — not as superstition, but as recognition. They recognised sanctity in nature.

The Peepal does not demand worship. It inspires it.

The Inner Ashvattha

Ultimately, the Peepal outside is a reflection of the tree within.

Our body is the trunk.

Our thoughts are the branches.

Our desires are the leaves.

Our karma is the spreading network.

But our true root is above — in the Divine.

The moment we forget that, we become entangled in our own branches.

The moment we remember, we become free.

The Peepal tree stands like a silent rishi — not writing scriptures, but embodying them.

It teaches:

Root yourself in the Eternal.

Stand steady through change.

Give freely.

Let go easily.

And become a shelter to others.

If every home had the spirit of a Peepal, the world itself would feel like a sacred village courtyard once again.

The Peepal (Ashvattha) in the Upanishads and Puranas

I. The Upanishadic Ashvattha – The Cosmic Tree

1. Katha Upanishad (2.3.1)

One of the earliest and most profound references appears here:

“Ūrdhva-mūlo’vak-śākha eṣo’śvatthaḥ sanātanaḥ”

“This eternal Ashvattha has its roots above and branches below.”

The Upanishad is not speaking of a botanical tree. It is describing Samsara — the cosmic order.

Roots above – The Supreme Brahman.

Branches below – The manifested universe.

Leaves – The Vedas.

Fruits – Experiences of karma.

The Peepal thus becomes a living diagram of metaphysics.

When you see its spreading canopy, you are invited to remember: This world is sustained by an unseen Divine Root.

2. Mundaka Upanishad (3.1.1)

This Upanishad gives another beautiful imagery:

“Two birds, inseparable companions, perch on the same tree…”

Here, the tree represents the body or the world.

One bird eats the fruit (the individual soul experiencing karma).

The other merely watches (the Supreme Self).

Though the tree is not named Ashvattha explicitly, traditional commentators often link this metaphor with the cosmic tree symbolism.

Thus, the Peepal also represents:

The field of experience.

The relationship between Jiva and Paramatma.

II. The Peepal in the Puranas

1. Padma Purana

The Padma Purana glorifies the Ashvattha tree extensively. It declares:

The Peepal is a form of Lord Vishnu.

Worshipping the Peepal grants merit equal to great yajnas.

Circumambulating it removes sins.

It is said:

“Among trees, I am the Ashvattha.”

This echoes Sri Krishna’s declaration in the Bhagavad Gita (10.26):

“Aśvatthaḥ sarva-vṛkṣāṇām” — “Among all trees, I am the Ashvattha.”

Thus the Peepal is not merely sacred — it is identified with the Lord Himself.

2. Skanda Purana

The Skanda Purana describes the Peepal as:

The seat of the Trimurti.

Roots — Brahma

Trunk — Vishnu

Leaves — Shiva

It advises devotees to perform pradakshina (circumambulation) of the tree, especially on Saturdays and Amavasya.

The symbolism is powerful:

Creation, preservation, and dissolution are present in one living organism.

3. Brahma Purana

The Brahma Purana mentions that planting and protecting a Peepal tree brings immense punya. It is regarded as a tree that sanctifies the land.

It states that deities reside in it, especially during certain sacred times.

III. Philosophical Depth of the Word “Ashvattha”

The word Ashvattha itself carries layered meaning:

“Shva” – tomorrow

“Stha” – to remain

“A-shvattha” – that which does not remain the same till tomorrow

Thus, the tree whose leaves are constantly trembling becomes a symbol of impermanence.

Yet paradoxically, it is called Sanatana (eternal) in the Upanishad.

What changes?

What remains?

The outer form changes.

The root remains.

This is Vedanta in botanical form.

IV. The Peepal as a Living Temple

In Puranic practice:

Women pray around the Peepal for family welfare.

Lamps are lit beneath it.

It is never casually cut.

It is worshipped as Vishnu or Narayana.

Why?

Because the ancients did not separate ecology from theology.

To protect the Peepal was to protect dharma.

To sit beneath it was to sit in satsanga.

V. The Inner Contemplation

When the Upanishad speaks of cutting down the cosmic Ashvattha with the “axe of detachment,” it is not instructing destruction of nature.

It is teaching:

Detach from identification with the branches (worldly entanglement).

Seek the root (Brahman).

The outer Peepal invites us to meditate on the inner tree of consciousness.

The Peepal tree stands in villages, temple courtyards, and roadside shrines — but its roots reach into the Upanishads and Puranas.

It is:

A metaphysical diagram (Katha Upanishad)

A field of duality (Mundaka Upanishad)

A form of Vishnu (Padma Purana)

A seat of the Trimurti (Skanda Purana)

A sanctifier of earth (Brahma Purana)

When we bow before it, we are not worshipping wood and leaves.

We are acknowledging the invisible root of existence.

And perhaps that is why its leaves never stay still — they seem to whisper:

“Remember your Source.”

barbarik Katu shyam

The Story of Barbarika

Barbarika was the son of Ghatotkacha and the grandson of Bhima, one of the Pandavas. Thus, he belonged to the Pandava lineage.

From childhood, Barbarika was extremely valiant and spiritually inclined. He performed severe penance and received three powerful arrows from Lord Shiva. These arrows were extraordinary:

One arrow could mark all targets he wished to destroy.

Another could mark what he wanted to protect.

The third arrow would destroy all marked targets and then return to his quiver.

Because of these three arrows, he was virtually invincible.

His Vow

Before the great war of Kurukshetra, Barbarika promised his mother that he would always support the weaker side in any battle.

When the war of Kurukshetra War was about to begin, Barbarika set out to participate.

His Encounter with Krishna

On the way, Lord Krishna (disguised as a Brahmin) stopped him and questioned him about his strength and intentions.

Barbarika explained the power of his three arrows. To test him, Krishna asked him to pierce all the leaves of a peepal tree with a single arrow.

Barbarika released one arrow. It pierced every leaf on the tree. Krishna secretly hid one leaf under his foot — but the arrow began circling around Krishna’s foot, ready to pierce the hidden leaf.

Krishna realized that if Barbarika entered the war:

He would first fight for the weaker side.

As soon as that side became stronger, he would switch.

Eventually, he alone would remain, and the war’s divine purpose would be defeated.

Krishna then asked Barbarika for daan (charity). Barbarika agreed.

Krishna asked for his head.

Without hesitation, Barbarika offered his head.

The Witness of the War

Moved by his devotion and sacrifice, Krishna granted him a boon:

Barbarika’s severed head would be placed on a hill to witness the entire Kurukshetra war.

After the war, when the Pandavas argued about who was responsible for victory, Krishna asked Barbarika’s head.

Barbarika replied:

"I saw only Krishna everywhere. His Sudarshana Chakra was destroying the warriors. All credit belongs to Him."

This teaches deep humility and surrender.

Spiritual Significance

Barbarika represents:

Absolute devotion

Readiness to sacrifice ego

Faith in divine will

The power of neutrality and dharma

In Rajasthan, he is worshipped as Khatu Shyam Ji, especially at the famous temple in Khatu Shyam Temple.

Thursday, February 19, 2026

3 A,s

 The term Dharma is far deeper and more comprehensive than the ordinary sense in which it is often used. While most words convey a single meaning or, at best, a few related meanings, Dharma embraces the very essence of a thing or a person. According to the sastras, Dharma is that intrinsic nature or defining characteristic by which an object or a person is truly known. It is this Dharma alone that elevates a person.

In a discourse, Sri Damodara Dikshitar explained that Dharma consists of three important aspects. These aspects together shape and preserve a person's true nature, guiding thought, word and deed in harmony with righteousness. Dharma, as explained by the shastra, unfolds through three essential and interrelated aspects, all of which are exclusive to human beings.

Atma guna: this refers to cultivating noble inner qualities that define a person's true character. Patience, straitforwardness, grace, compassion, truthfulness, and a natural inclination to help others all fall under the virtues of atma guna.

Anusthanam: anusthanam denotes the disciplined observance of practices and rituals prescribed in the shastras which includes also regulated food habits, daily duties, ordained rituals and observances. 

Aradhanam: aradhanam signifies reverence and worship. Paying due respects to once parents, showing devotion and obedience to gurus and worshiping God.

 External achievements, wealth, or status may bring temporary recognition, but only Dharma uplifts and sustains an individual in the long run, both in this world and beyond.





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.