Om Pūṣa-dantabhidē Namaḥ

In the Śrī Śiva Aṣṭottara Śatanāmāvali, one of the names is “Om Pūṣa-dantabhidē Namaḥ.” Pūṣa is a name of the Sun God. After all, it is the Sun who nourishes the entire world. Then why did Parameśwara break the teeth of such a nourisher like the Sun?

We all know the story from Daksha Yajña. When Satī Devi immolated herself in the sacrificial fire, Lord Shiva, assuming a fierce form as Vīrabhadra, destroyed the sacrifice and severed Daksha’s head. On that occasion, Vīrabhadra also punished the other gods who were present there. Since they silently witnessed adharma and injustice happening before their eyes and chose to remain indifferent—thinking, “They are big people; why should we interfere?”—they too had to undergo punishment. As part of that punishment, the Sun’s teeth were knocked out.

That is why, on Ratha Saptami or on other Sundays in the month of Māgha, when sweet rice (paramānnam) is prepared as an offering to the Sun God, it is cooked without any hard ingredients (not even cashew nuts).

The scripture says:

“Kartā kārayitā chaiva prērakaścha anumōdakaḥ
Sukṛtaṁ duṣkṛtaṁ chaiva chatvāraḥ samabhāginaḥ.”

When a good deed or a bad deed is performed, four people equally share its result: the one who does it, the one who causes it to be done, the one who instigates it, and the one who approves of it. Therefore, when a virtuous act is being performed, even if we cannot actively participate, at least rejoicing in it earns us merit. Similarly, when a sinful act is taking place, if we do not have the power to stop it, we should call upon those who can, or at least remove ourselves from that place. If we remain there as silent spectators, we too become participants in that punishment.

In the Mahābhārata, during Sri Krishna’s peace mission (Rāyabāra episode), the Lord warns Bhīṣma and Droṇa:

When pure truth and dharma are oppressed by sin and injustice, and those who are capable of preventing it choose to ignore it, the harm falls upon them. However, the Divine always stands ready to uphold truth and righteousness.

Though the elders knew that the Kauravas were on the side of adharma, they supported them and consequently suffered punishment. They clung to their personal duty (svadharma) while neglecting the higher duty of universal welfare (viśeṣa dharma). On the other hand, to uphold this higher dharma, Sri Krishna even set aside His personal vow of not wielding weapons and was prepared to launch the Sudarshana Chakra at Bhīṣma.

Truth never changes. But dharma varies according to time and place. Protecting one’s life and family may be one’s duty; yet, for the sake of the nation, a village may have to be sacrificed; for the sake of the village, a family; and for the sake of the family, even an individual. This is the subtlety of dharma.

However, if injustice and unrighteousness occur before our very eyes, and we justify the wrongdoer merely because he belongs to our family, caste, religion, language, or state—or at least refrain from condemning him—we too must share in the consequences.

Under the influence of Kali Yuga, narrow-minded identities have grown so strong in our country that society has reached a stage where even great souls of the past are insulted simply because they do not align with our present ideology. Like in the story of the wolf and the lamb—where the wolf says, “If not you, then your father or grandfather muddied my water,” and devours the lamb—today people justify punishing innocent individuals for injustices committed centuries ago by someone loosely connected through caste or religion.

But dharma has nothing to do with such superficial distinctions. In the Mahābhārata itself, both Kauravas and Pāṇḍavas belonged to the same nation, religion, caste, and even the same family. Yet one side became the embodiment of dharma and the other of adharma.

In this context, we should remember Martin Luther King Jr.’s words:

“The SILENCE of the good people is more DANGEROUS than the BRUTALITY of the bad people.”

If we cannot even verbally condemn the injustices happening around us, we too must bear the consequences.

Then the question arises: what is dharma? In Hindi, the word “dharma” is sometimes used to mean religion. But what true dharma is, the Mahābhārata itself explains:

“That which causes pain to you if done by others—
O noble one, do not do that to others.
Refraining from such actions
Is the highest among all paths of dharma.”

The Mahābhārata declares that the greatest dharma is simply this: do not do to others what causes pain to you.

Even Lord Rama gave several opportunities for peace before waging war against Ravana, who abducted his wife. Likewise, the Pandavas offered many chances for reconciliation before fighting the Kauravas who usurped their kingdom and insulted Draupadi. Even during the war, they welcomed enemies who chose to join their side. After the war, they honored the fallen foes and performed proper rites to grant them noble afterlife.

But those who, driven by narrow caste or religious prejudices, unjustly harm others and insult great souls cannot escape punishment at the hands of Parameśwara—the supreme symbol of equality toward all beings. Likewise, those who directly or indirectly encourage such wrongdoing, or remain silent spectators, too will not escape consequences—their teeth, metaphorically, will also fall out. Not opposing injustice is in itself injustice too.

Makara Sankranti

Naresh: Happy Sankranti, brother!

Suresh: Same to you, Naresh! Do you know Sankranti actually comes every month? Today is one such Sankranti. The one we celebrate grandly is Makara Sankranti.

N: But what exactly does Sankranti mean, brother?

S: When the Sun—or any of the nine planets—moves from one zodiac sign to another, that transition is called Sankranti, Kranthi, or Karthe. Among these, the Sun is the most important for us. When He enters the zodiac sign Makara (Capricorn), the sacred period of Uttarayana begins. That’s why we celebrate this Makara Sankranti as such a major festival.
Now tell me, Naresh—where does the Makara (crocodile) appear in our Puranas?

N: Oh yes! In Gajendra Moksham, the elephant was caught by a crocodile, right?

S: Exactly. Actually, we call it Gajendra Moksham because Lord Vishnu saved the elephant from the crocodile. But think about it—the crocodile also attained liberation! It died at the hands of the Lord Himself, through His Sudarshana Chakra, and was freed from the cycle of birth altogether.

N: True. But when I think about it, something strikes me. Vishnu seems to show partiality towards the crocodile rather than the elephant! After all, the elephant is a jarayuja (born from the womb), while the crocodile is an andaja (born from an egg).

S: So what?

N: That’s exactly it! His vehicle Garuda is andaja. The serpent-bed Adi Sesha is andaja. And He even wears Makara Kundalas (crocodile-shaped earrings)!

S: That doesn’t mean anything. For Him all beings are equal. Samoham sarva-bhuteshu na me dveshyo ’sti na priyah — “I am equally present in all beings. I have no hatred toward anyone, nor special affection toward anyone.” That’s what the Lord Himself says in the Gita.

N: Okay, let’s agree. But then the same Lord says in Bhakti Yoga:
Yo mad-bhaktah sa me priyah,
Sa cha me priyah,
Bhaktimaan yah sa me priyah,
Bhaktimaan me priyo narah,
Bhaktah te ’tiva me priyah —
He says again and again: “My devotee is very dear to me!” Isn’t that partiality?

S: That’s the subtle point. Air is everywhere around us, but only when we stand under a fan do we feel it strongly, right? Similarly, the Supreme dwells everywhere equally. But bhaktānaṁ hṛdayāmbhoje viśeṣeṇa prakāśate — He shines especially in the lotus-like hearts of devotees.

To hold on to Him, you must first hold onto devotees.
That is exactly what the crocodile did. That is why it attained liberation.

N: But how? It harmed a devotee, didn’t it?

S: Think once more. Before the Lord arrived, the crocodile and the elephant fought for a thousand years. For the elephant, it was a life-and-death struggle, so it held on. But what need did the crocodile have? If it let go of that elephant, it could always find some other prey.
Just like the elephant, the crocodile probably had its own wife and children. Imagine how many times they might have come and said:

“Why are you so stubborn? For years you’ve been clinging to that elephant’s leg without food or sleep! Let it go and hunt something else!”

Yet the crocodile never gave up its grip.
Sri Babuji Maharaj often said: “Strong, unwavering grip—that is true vairagya (detachment).”

To attain devotion and knowledge, we must first possess this kind of powerful detachment.
That is exactly what this Makara Sankranti teaches us—develop the crocodile-like grip of firm detachment.

N: True, brother! Then tell me, what is the deeper meaning behind Lord Vishnu wearing Makara Kundalas?

S: Lord Vishnu’s birth star is Shravana, which falls under Makara Rashi. So they say He wears Makara Kundalas to symbolize both. But the deeper meaning is this:

“Sannyasya śravaṇaṁ kuryāt” — say the rishis.
When listening (śravaṇam), one must renounce all other distractions. Only with such detachment and firm attention will śravaṇam transform into contemplation (mananam) and then deep meditation (nididhyāsanam).

If you sit in satsang but keep watching people come and go, bite your nails, or get distracted, the teachings never enter your ears—nor your heart.

To convey this truth, the Lord adorns His ears with Makara Kundalas—symbolizing focused, unwavering listening born of detachment.

N: Thank you, brother! You beautifully explained how much firm resolve and detachment—like that of the Makara—are needed for devotion, knowledge, and for spiritual teachings to truly sink in.
Once again, wishes of Makara Sankranti to you and your family! Let us pray that our Guru grants all of us such divine detachment.

Proximity Without Experience

    

    Some disciples proudly proclaim that they are very close to their Gurudev—that they constantly enjoy the fortune of seeing him, touching him, and conversing with him. But as Gurudev himself once explained: if you keep water in one glass and sugar in another glass side by side for any number of days, will the sweetness of the sugar enter the water on its own? Likewise, if we do not truly absorb the Guru’s teachings, practice the path shown by him, and attain inner spiritual growth, then no matter how long we live in the Guru’s physical proximity, our inner vices and weaknesses will not disappear.

    Moreover, Gurus are physicians who cure the disease of worldly existence. A doctor keeps a severely ill patient in the hospital for a long time, sometimes even under constant ICU supervision. But a person with a minor ailment is examined for a few minutes, given medicine, and sent home. In the same way, a very dirty cloth has to remain longer in the washerman’s care to be properly cleaned.

    We also know that even those who attained nearness to God—such as salokya, samipya, and sarupya—fell away when they failed to attain Self-knowledge and overcome their inner traits. Jaya and Vijaya were not merely residents of Vaikuntha; they were gatekeepers of the Lord’s inner sanctum, enjoying intimate proximity (samipya) and even likeness (sarupya), possessing four arms like the Lord and bearing the conch, discus, and mace. Yet, unable to rid themselves of ego, they incurred a curse. As a result, over three births, all the evil tendencies hidden within them surfaced and were washed away. Only after becoming pure, like a thoroughly cleansed garment, did they regain the Lord’s presence.

    In their first birth, as Hiranyaksha, there is no mention of him being married or having a family—yet he was consumed by the desire to possess the entire earth. What would he do with it? For whom would he keep it? Nothing but baseless greed! Similarly, Hiranyakashipu, after receiving boons and conquering the gods, became so intoxicated with pride that he believed himself to be God. Such arrogance takes one so far astray that it leads to the utter loss of discernment—even to the extent of killing one’s own son who refuses to accept one’s views. To cleanse these traits of greed and arrogance, the Lord had to incarnate as Varaha and Narasimha.

    In the second birth, they became Ravana and Kumbhakarna. Ravana, despite having many wives, was never satisfied—his lust drove him to desire every woman he saw. Even after living for hundreds of thousands of years and having sons and grandsons, his craving did not diminish, eventually reaching such an extreme that he could not restrain himself even before the Divine Mother herself. Kumbhakarna, though fully aware of dharma, was bound by blind attachment to his brother. One striking fact is that all these demons were well-versed in dharma and were devotees of God in one form or another. Yet, lacking the spiritual strength to overcome even a single dominant weakness, they became instruments of destruction and ultimately perished themselves. To cleanse these tendencies of lust and delusion and bring them back to Himself, the divine couple Lakshmi–Narayana had to incarnate in human form and endure immense effort.

    In the third birth, as Shishupala, the dominant flaw was baseless jealousy—an inability to tolerate anyone else receiving what he could not. As Dantavakra, it was irrational anger. Driven by rage that Krishna had slain his friends, he rushed into battle without assessing his own strength or limitations. Compared to the earlier vices, these two traits were relatively easier for the Lord to cleanse.

    Thus, to eliminate each single flaw, they had to take separate births and live cursed lives for hundreds, thousands, and even millions of years. If such is the case, then what loss is there in us boasting about our greatness merely because we remain close to Gurudev, while making no effort whatsoever to change, despite harboring all these defects within ourselves? Unfortunately, such behavior even brings criticism upon the Guru. Normally, when someone stays long in a hospital or ICU, we feel compassion for them, not jealousy. But when Gurudev—the physician of samsara—keeps a deeply flawed soul close in order to reform him, the world wrongly attributes the disciple’s faults to the Guru and criticizes him. Even fellow disciples may think, “Isn’t this injustice? Though noble people are drifting away, Gurudev is embracing this wicked person so closely!”

    There is a vast difference between God’s incarnations taken to punish the wicked and protect the righteous, and the incarnation as Guru that comes to reform everyone equally. In the Guru-form, there is only transformation, never destruction. That demands extraordinary skill, patience, and endurance. It is easy to investigate a criminal and impose severe punishment, but how difficult it is to keep him under constant supervision, completely reform him, and send him back as a good human being! This is the immensely difficult task Gurudev accomplishes through his causeless compassion. Gurudev would say, “If even one person listens to my teaching, becomes transformed, and attains the supreme bliss that I constantly experience, then this incarnation of mine is fulfilled.”

    Yet he does not stop with just one. “I am a cashew nut from Kamarapukota(known for its indelible ink)—once I catch hold, I never let go,” he used to say. Thus, every soul that comes into his association must be transformed and uplifted; he cannot abandon them midway. But we, for our part, must understand this truth and sincerely strive to recognize and overcome our own defects. That alone is the highest service we can render to Gurudev. Merely staying close to him physically or managing his worldly affairs cannot be considered true service. The true purpose of proximity is to experience for ourselves the supreme nectar of Brahmananda that he constantly lives in.

The Mother's Gentle Smile

 

“With her gentle smile that shines like the cool rays of the moon, the Mother immerses the mind of her beloved consort, Lord Kameshwara(Mandasmita prabhāpūra majjatkāmēśa mānasā).”

Let us try to imagine why the Divine Mother smiles so, and what thoughts in Kameshwara’s mind might be the cause of her sweet laughter.

Perhaps the Lord, the Moon-crested one, was anxious: “She may be upset that I wear upon my head the Moon who was cursed by her father Daksha Prajapati.” To reassure him, the Mother might have smiled and said: “Swami! Even before you, I had adorned the crescent moon of the eighth night (ashtami) upon my forehead, shining beautifully(Aṣṭamī candra vibhrājadaḷikasthala śōbhitā). Not only that—I wear both the Sun and the Moon as earrings!(Tāṭaṅka yugaḷībhūta tapanōḍupa maṇḍalā)” And with that smile, his mind found peace.

Maybe the Ganga-bearing Lord worried: “She may resent me for bringing Ganga into my matted locks as a co-wife.” Then the Mother, smiling, might have said: “When half of your cosmic body itself is me, why would I ever be jealous of a tiny stream flowing in a corner of your hair?” And the Lord’s heart was soothed.

Perhaps the Three-eyed Lord trembled: “She may be angry that I burned her nephew Manmatha, who was trying to unite us.” The Mother might have laughed softly: “That poor boy was foolish! He tried to unite us with desire when in truth, through tapas (penance), we were always one. You were already mine, for I am Svadhīna Vallabhā, the mistress of my own beloved. But don’t worry—I revived him with my power as Sanjīvanī, the medicine of life.(Hara nētrāgni sandagdha kāma san̄jīvanauṣādhiḥ)”

The Father of Ganesha might have been filled with sorrow: “In anger I cut off the head of the beautiful son she created and gave him an elephant’s head.” The Mother, smiling compassionately, may have said: “No matter what the head is, every mother sees her son as the most beautiful in the world!(Agajānana padmārkaṁ)”

Perhaps the Lord, the beloved of Vishnu’s sister, worried: “She may mock me that I once was enchanted by the woman’s form taken by Vishnu, though I already have such a beautiful wife at home.” The Mother may have smiled sweetly: “The beauty of even father of the god of love himself comes only from my glance.(Anaṅga janakāpāṅga vilōkana) How then you could escape being charmed by Vishnu?”

The Lord of the Cremation Grounds may have wondered: “She might be displeased that I roam all day in burial grounds, covering myself in ashes, while she awaits me at dusk adorned with ornaments.” The Mother may have laughed gently: “What are these delivery halls or cremation grounds to me? With every blink of my eye, worlds are created, sustained, and dissolved.(Unmēṣa nimiṣōtpanna vipanna bhuvanāvaḷi)”

The Blue-throated Lord may have thought: “She might scold me for suddenly vanishing, drinking deadly poison, and returning with a blackened throat.” The Mother may have smiled with courage: “Swami, whatever you drink, I have no fear, for I am Sarva-mangalā, the source of all auspiciousness. Moreover, I am the medicine that can cure even Rudra himself!(Śivā rudrasya bhēṣajī)”

The innocent Bholenath may have worried: “She may reproach me for granting the destructive boon to Bhasmasura that almost consumed me.” The Mother might have smiled comfortingly: “When you have a brother-in-law who is the very sustainer of life (Vishnu), why fear? Did not my brother come to your rescue?”

Perhaps the Lord thought: “Poor Nandi has served me always, but now she has a new lion as her vehicle—he might feel threatened.” The Mother may have laughed: “In creation, though beings are different, even natural enemies, within a family they learn to live in harmony. That is the lesson of our household for the world.”

The Lord, clothed in tiger-skin, might have thought: “She may question me, for she rides the very tiger whose hide I wear.” The Mother may have smiled: “All the skins, all the bodies, all the forms of this creation are but my play. I am the Kṣetra svarūpa(field), Kṣetreśī (the goddess of the field), and Kṣetrajña-pālinī (the protector of the knower of the field).”

The Lord of Dissolution may have feared: “My fierce Pralaya Tāṇḍava may destroy the cosmos too soon.” The Mother may have laughed: “Do not worry. I shall balance your dance of destruction with my Lasya dance of joy, turning dissolution into delight”, forgetting that she herself is a Layakari.

The fair Lord might have mused: “How strange that though I shine pure and white like crystal, I am wedded to this dark wife.” The Mother may have smiled knowingly: “Why only black? I am all colors. I am Kāli, I am Śyāmala, I am Gauri. From me, the threefold nature of prakṛti flows, and from my essence even your whiteness arises.”

The Serpent-adorned Lord may have fretted: “She may fear these hissing serpents I wear.” The Mother may have smiled lightly: “What are serpents to me? Even my brother Vishnu rests forever upon a serpent couch!”

At Kālivana Ashram, the Lord Ramalingeshwara may have joked: “See, half the day the devotees spend not in the Shivalaya but in the Ramalaya, still calling it Devi Navarātri.” The Mother may have laughed: “Every woman delights when her life’s festivals are celebrated in her parental home! And Swami, do not forget—every Friday in Śrāvaṇa, your sister Varalakṣmī Devi is worshipped in your very temples. This year, there was even an extra Friday!” And the Lord himself laughed in return: “Ah! So that is why Navarātri is longer by an extra day this year!”

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Thus, in the tender conversations of Parvati and Parameshwara, as they exchange gentle smiles that shine like moonlight, what more could anyone desire than to let life pass beneath their radiance?

Sanchaladvala Sannaddha Lambamana Shikhojvala

A Name from the Hanuman Ashtottara Shatanamavali

“Om Sanchaladvala Sannaddha Lambamana Shikhojvalaya Namah”

Sanchalat – moving swiftly,

Vala – with the tail,

Sannaddha – fully prepared,

Lambamana – resting upon,

Ujjvala – shining brightly,

Shikha – with a flame.

This name brings to mind the form of Hanuman standing ready to burn Lanka with the fire blazing at the tip of his tail.

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The Deeper Connection to Our Lives

This imagery also applies to us. Just like Hanuman’s tail is ever in motion, our mind too is constantly restless. Like monkeys leaping from branch to branch without pause, our mind too jumps from one thought to another, from one pursuit to the next.

Whenever we learn something new or achieve something, our mind flares up like the fire at the tip of Hanuman’s tail, eager to show our talent to everyone, yearning for praise and recognition.

But if we carefully observe Hanuman, despite his immense wisdom, mastery of the nine grammars, and possession of the eight siddhis, he always remained a humble servant at the feet of Sri Rama. He never acted without the Lord’s command. The world may blame him saying, “It was Hanuman who burned Lanka,” but even that was done only upon his Lord’s sanction.

Initially, Rama sent him merely to find Sita’s whereabouts. Having accomplished that, Hanuman learned through Trijata’s dream that the next part of his mission had already been decreed by the Lord himself — a vanara would destroy Ashokavana, slay countless rakshasas, set Lanka ablaze, and return. Thus, he understood his task.

Until then, Hanuman had remained in a subtle form, no larger than a kitten, hidden among the leaves. But upon realizing the divine plan, he assumed his fierce form and burned Lanka. Even then, he only did what the dream foretold — first, he devastated Ashokavana and killed many rakshasas. When Indrajit bound him and he was mocked in Ravana’s court, Hanuman did not retaliate, for that was not part of the divine command. Only when fire was set to his tail did he resume his mission and burn the city.

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Lessons for Us

This is what we must learn from Hanuman. However talented we may be, and however strongly our mind may urge us to display it, true greatness lies in surrender — in placing ourselves at the feet of the Lord who is the source of that talent, and acting only under His will.

Sri Mataji often recalls the words of Sri Babaji Maharaj:

“One should know everything, learn everything, but sit quietly as though one knows nothing. Use your talent only when required for service. Be like the spare tyre of a car — always ready, but never in front.”

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The Strength of Self-Respect

Another lesson we learn from Hanuman: most of us feel hurt or offended at the slightest slight. A word spoken, a glance cast, we immediately interpret as insult. But the truth is, one must first learn to respect oneself. When you hold self-respect, no one can demean you.

In Ravana’s court, though insulted and denied a seat, Hanuman was unperturbed. He created his own seat and sat higher than them all. This is what it means to honor yourself. Once you cultivate this, no one can truly humiliate you.

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Talent Under Control

Let us go deeper into the idea of controlling talent. If we ask, “What does a car need to move fast?” people will say: a powerful engine, a full tank, good tires. But suppose the brakes don’t work properly — can the driver go fast? No, he would drive timidly, always afraid. A car can move quickly and safely only when its brakes are reliable.

Life is the same. The greater the control, the higher we can ascend. Walking on flat ground is easy, but climbing a mountain requires each step to be deliberate and firm. One misstep leads only downward.

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Hanuman, Kali, and the Power of Humility

It is interesting to note that this Hanuman Ashtottara Shatanamavali is found in the text Kalika Rahasyam. Just as Hanuman, though infinitely powerful, always obeyed Rama, in the same way Kali Mata, embodiment of boundless power, surrendered at the feet of her Lord, Mahadeva.

When she was fierce with rage, destroying demons and terrifying the worlds, she calmed the very moment her foot touched Shiva’s body. She instantly transformed into the compassionate Mother, Bhavatarini, blessing the worlds.

Thus, infinite power clothed in childlike humility — this union of qualities is embodied in our Gurudev, Sri Hanumat Kali Vara Prasada Babaji Maharaj.

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The Final Teaching — Humility Above All

What we must learn first from such masters is humility. Talent is not anyone’s personal possession. In every field we see it: highly talented people leave the stage of life when their time is done, yet the field continues. Someone else takes their place.

Talent is nothing but the manifestation of the supreme Brahman shining through different beings. The day we recognize this, pride will leave us, and humility will shine forth as our natural ornament.

Yoga-Kṣemaṁ

Bhagavad Gita 9-22

“Ananyāś cintayanto māṁ ye janāḥ paryupāsate
teṣāṁ nityābhiyuktānāṁ yoga-kṣemaṁ vahāmyaham”

“Those who, without any other thought, constantly meditate upon Me and worship Me with single-minded devotion — I take responsibility for their yoga (gains) and kṣema (protection).”

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We often use the word “yogakṣemamulu” (plural) in Telugu. Let us see what exactly yoga and kṣema mean.

• Yoga means union or attainment. When something new comes to us, which we did not previously have, it is called yoga. For example, when we say a man has “dhanayoga” (fortune of wealth) or “rājayoga” (fortune of authority), it means that wealth or power, which he did not have earlier, has now come to him. On the other hand, when something we eagerly waited for slips away in the last moment, we say, “That yoga was not destined for me.”

• Kṣema means that which we already possess remains safely with us, without being lost or stolen. When someone sets out on a long journey, we bless them saying, “Go safely and return with gain.” This means — may you not lose the wealth, ornaments, or even the limbs of your body (kṣema), and if possible, may you achieve what you set out for, or even gain more than what you had (lābha). So, yoga and kṣema are two separate ideas in worldly usage.

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Recently, during a satsang at Sri Kāleevana Ashram, Hyderabad branch, Sri Mataji discussed this Gita verse and asked:
“Yoga and Kṣema are two, aren’t they? Then why did Bhagavan use the singular word yoga-kṣemam, instead of the dual yoga-kṣemau?”

She explained that what Bhagavan gives is not two different things — but yoga inseparably united with kṣema. A gain that is permanent and never lost. That alone is true yoga-kṣema.

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If we think deeply, the truth becomes clear.

• Everything that newly comes into our life (yoga) will one day leave us.

• We have seen wealthy men suddenly become poor, and students forget their lessons if they don’t revise.

• Even life itself: on one day we are born, and on another day we disappear.

So, in this world, yoga and kṣema are separate — what comes will eventually go.

But what is yoga that comes with kṣema — something that, once attained, never leaves us?
It is only the eternal truth of our own Self, the Ātma-tattva.

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Bhagavad Gita 15-6 says:
“That abode of Mine, where neither sun, nor moon, nor fire shines — once reaching it, there is no return. That is My supreme abode.”

That alone is our real state.
Everything else — house, possessions, body — is temporary. When prāṇa (life-breath) leaves, even our body is placed outside the house. So, all things of this world are perishable.

But once we attain true knowledge (jñāna), it never departs.

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Examples from Gurudev’s teachings:

• Once hair has turned white, it cannot become black again — its original nature is white, black was only a covering.

• Once a fruit has ripened, it cannot become raw again.

• A seed can sprout only while it is raw; once roasted, it loses that power forever.

Similarly, when our karmic seeds are burned in the fire of knowledge, they can never sprout again.

Thus, one who has attained jñāna never falls back into ignorance. This is the true yoga-kṣema.

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The difference between an ignorant man’s birth and a jñānī’s birth:

• The ignorant one is bound to take birth according to his karma, whether he wishes or not.

• The jñānī has no such bondage. Even if he takes birth by God’s will for the welfare of the world, it is not bondage.

Like a man fallen into a pit and another who climbs into the pit only to pull him out — both are inside, but with a huge difference. Similarly, for the jñānī, birth is an avatāra (descent by choice), not helpless bondage.

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Attaining such yoga-kṣema:

Bhagavan instructs —
“Abandon all other distractions, and keep your mind steadily engaged in constant remembrance, meditation, and inquiry upon Me alone.”

Once we attain such Brahmī-sthiti (state of Brahman), our mind will never again be enslaved by worldly delusion.

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Bhagavad Gita 2-72:
“This is the state of being established in Brahman, O Arjuna. Once attained, there is no delusion. Abiding in this state even at the final moment, one attains Brahman-nirvāṇa.”

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✅ So, the promise of Krishna — “Yoga-kṣemam vahāmyaham” — is not about temporary worldly gains or protections, but about the eternal gain of self-knowledge that is never lost.

Live in Present

 

In the image here Lord Sri Krishna and Satyabhama are seen battling the demon Narakasura, we can observe that Satyabhama is shooting three arrows at Narakasura. The symbolism in this scene is profound:

• The first arrow has already pierced Narakasura’s body, wounding him.

• The second arrow is mid-air, on its way to the target.

• The third arrow is still in Satyabhama’s hand, poised for release.

Let’s explore what each of these arrows represents:

The First Arrow – Symbol of the Past

Since the first arrow has already struck its target, it is now irreversible. No one can undo it. It symbolizes the past, which is already gone. What has happened cannot be changed — it is history.

The Second Arrow – Symbol of the Future

The second arrow is already in motion, heading toward its target. If it's a mystical weapon, it might be withdrawn before impact, or perhaps a divine force or a powerful wind might divert it. But for ordinary humans, it is impossible to change its course. This arrow represents the future — partially determined, yet still unfolding. The future can only be changed by great souls or through divine will, not by ordinary human effort.

The Third Arrow – Symbol of the Present

The third arrow is still in Satyabhama’s hand. She has full control over when, how, and at whom it should be released. This is the present moment. It is completely in our hands — how we act, how we think, how we respond. Whether we use it wisely or squander it, the responsibility lies entirely with us.

Mind Wandering Between Past and Future

Despite having control over the present, our minds often wander into the past or the future. Even while performing tasks, our thoughts drift — reminiscing about past events or worrying about what’s to come. We feel guilt over what we failed to do in the past, but what good is it? The past cannot be changed, no matter how much we dwell on it. This is known as "building a dam across water that has already flowed" — we can only divert future waters, not those that are gone. All we can do is learn from the past and apply those lessons in the present.

Wasting the Present with Daydreams

Focusing on future imaginations while ignoring the task at hand serves no purpose. Take a student preparing for exams — if he concentrates on studying the lesson in front of him, he will pass the exam and have a bright future. But if he daydreams about future success — a good job, marriage, house, car — while pretending to study, he wastes the present. He fails the exam, and all those dreams collapse.

Misguided Dependence on Destiny

Some people are so obsessed with astrology or predictions by elders that they become paralyzed, letting the present slip away. If someone sees clouds and refuses to fill the pot at their feet, when will they quench their thirst? If a great soul has blessed you, saying you will achieve greatness in the future, you must still make effort in the present — climb step by step. If you lazily rely on blessings alone without action, how will you ever succeed?

Sri Krishna: The Witness Beyond Time

In this depiction, Sri Krishna is radiantly present — the divine observer of all three arrows and Satyabhama’s actions. He is the one who knows the truth behind the past (Narakasura being the son of Bhudevi, Satyabhama's original form), and the future consequences of Satyabhama’s present actions. Still, he remains detached, a witness.

The State of Enlightened Beings

Great souls, who have realized the three dimensions of time — past, present, and future — remain unshaken even when they see what is to come. With clarity, they fulfill their present duties without emotional turmoil. That is the state we must aspire to. Whether in worldly affairs or spiritual practices, we must live in the present moment with complete awareness. By anchoring our mind in the present and not letting it drift into the past or future, we can build a golden future.

The wise ones always teach:

“Live this moment as if it’s all you have — assume there is no next moment. Turn obstacles into opportunities.”