A Helpless Soul

  [3.1 & 3.2 reimagined] Hearing all this Arjuna felt that Krishna's words were ambiguous. He asked, "If we are all illusions and if that knowledge should guide our actions, why do you even ask me to fight this terrible war? Why should I act at all when I can choose to not fight? Wouldn't that spare me from the bad consequences that you speak off?" [3.4,3.5,3.6,3.7,3.8] Krishna replied, "Even an inaction, is not truly an inaction. It is an action of choice to not do more born from a desire. Actions cannot be stopped  by simply choosing to not act. There is no one who can remain without action even for a moment. Even your body cannot maintain itself without actions. Renouncing the actions that fulfills dharma doesnt bring about peace. Neither can a person learn that everything is an illusion by simple renunciation. Actions are what drives a person to the knowledge, not inactions. If you choose to not act physically while staying attached to your desires; you w...

I have been wondering what to write about for sometime, I have already put forth everything my mind has to offer till now. Rest of it is mere fragments with no real weight.  Since I have run out of ideas of what to talk about, I thought I will revisit Gita and re-interpret it in my own words. As mentioned in the past, I don't believe in gods, but I do find Gita to be a philosophical treasure trove. I am rewriting the story in my own terms, as I understand it, as it makes sense to me. I will be rephrasing the words as I see fit, remove god from the picture, will be removing the concept of Atman, as these seems outdated and doesnt seem to be based on what I see as real. Gita Chapter 1 and 2:  [re-imagined] The sun rose over Kurukshetra —the dreaded battlefield where kin would slay kin. Uncles, nephews, cousins, teachers, and students stood ready to spill each other’s blood for the throne of Hastinapura . On one side stood the Pandavas —fewer in number, but led by men of unwaveri...

  I’ve been grappling with lust for a few years now. To me, it brings nothing but suffering, so I’ve long wanted to kill it. But no matter how hard I try, it refuses to die. In my current life, there are three women who have stirred this desire in different ways. The first is someone I work with. I try to keep my distance, but somehow, I often find myself helping her. I don’t fantasize about her sexually, but there’s a deeper craving — to be seen, to matter in her eyes. That desire quietly humiliates me, unless I deliberately say no to her requests. The second is a married woman. We had a physical relationship before her marriage. While I don’t crave her sexually anymore, the embers remain. The real struggle comes when she reaches out — when she’s upset that I ignore her, or when she asks for favors. I often can’t say no. The third woman… I don’t want to talk about. That relationship was my greatest mistake — drenched in delusion and shame. I’ve cut all ties with her. I assume th...

This is my first post without an embedded video — because honestly, I don’t remember hearing anyone else talk about this exact idea. It was something my mother once said, and I’ve been thinking about it more deeply ever since. She told me, “All paths lead to the same destination.” I don’t know where she heard it from, but I’ve come to realize — it’s truer than she might’ve known. Hinduism is not one fixed doctrine. It’s a collection of philosophies — often contradicting each other — and that’s exactly what makes it profound. Advaita Vedanta says everything is one. There’s no difference between you, the world, or even God. All is Brahman — a formless, eternal energy. The world is illusion (Maya), and even the concept of a “self” is just Brahman looking at itself. Dvaita Vedanta disagrees completely. It says Brahman (God) and the soul are eternally distinct. You are not Him, and the world isn’t an illusion. God is real. You are real. And both are separate. Vishishtadvaita offers ...

  After writing so much about shame, guilt, detachment, and meditation, I kept thinking about Madalasa — a queen from ancient texts whose lullaby offered a kind of peace I haven’t reached, but would like to. The story below is how I imagine her. And maybe, how I want to be one day. I’m usually not a fan of songs tied to religion. But the song “Madalasa’s Lullaby” by Gaiea Sanskrit hit different. For the first time, I understood what the words meant — thanks to the translated lyrics and how beautifully she sang it. Since then, I’ve become a fan of both Gaiea and Queen Madalasa. Her words reflect a lot of what I’ve been trying to understand and write about in this blog. I think her way of seeing things has started to influence how I think, too. The story below is a mix of scripture and fiction. I’ve written it in a format that makes sense to me.

  There was a time — I was around ten — when I lived in this absurdly huge mansion. Three floors. White walls. Gold-colored taps. The lawn out front was so long, you couldn’t walk to the gate without getting tired. But that wasn’t the highlight of life back then. We had maids. A lot of them. Most wore short skirts and tight tops. They were always bending over, helping me with things. I remember sneaking glances, not even knowing what I was looking for — just that I wanted to see under their clothes, and I couldn’t stop trying. I didn’t know back then why my body reacted the way it did. I was embarrassed they might notice — but they never did. Lucky me. I stopped caring about toys. I just wanted to be in the hallway, near them. My mind was full of them. I knew it was weird. I didn’t care. There were other women, some of them looked familiar , like I’d known them before, like they weren’t supposed to look the way they did. One day, I climbed into my white limo. The driver turne...

  I’ve been thinking about how to deepen my “Three Layer Model of Right and Wrong.” Specifically, is there a way to apply it so that my choices are always right—not just situationally, but in a way that holds up under pressure, over time? To explore this, I decided to use a dilemma I’m currently facing: Should I quit my job? I’ve built a small retirement corpus that can generate a bare-minimum monthly income. I could survive on it, but just barely—it would mean cutting expenses down to the bone, with no surplus. Survival, yes. Comfort, no. Meanwhile, my job has turned toxic. I’ve spent nearly a decade at this company. Under the old management, the focus was on keeping the customer happy. Under the new regime, it’s about rigid process. That shift alone was jarring. Add to that my ADHD: it simply doesn’t tolerate imposed structure. I can get any job done—but not in the way they want it done. My brain doesn’t work that way. This friction has escalated. My manager once threatened to f...

  When I was a child, I was terrified of the dark. Not because of what I saw, but because I couldn’t see. The dark space between walls. Knowing someone or something could be there with me. a presence — watching, waiting, conspiring. It made me fear being alone, fear being with myself. I don’t remember where the idea came from — maybe it was one of art of living courses I had attended — but one night, I decided to challenge it. My family was awake in the living room. I quietly walked to my bedroom, turned off the lights, and stood there in the complete darkness. My heart was pounding.  I stayed by the door, just in case I had to make a quick escape. I raised my hand, snapped my fingers at the nothingness in front of me and said: “Do your worst.” As if I was calling it for a fight. I waited. Nothing happened. Then I stepped out, heart still thudding, but something in me shifted. Since that night, I’ve never truly feared the dark again. The fear still visits — the same feeling th...

I know this blog usually leans dark philosophy— but bear with me, I want to tell you a story. Once, an old man lived alone in a cabin. He was cursed: if he stepped outside, he’d die. He had many children and he would send his children  out into the world to explore and return with stories, objects, information. That’s how he learned about the world, from the safety of his confinement, from the love he has for his children. He gave them careful instructions: what to look for, how to behave, what to avoid. Often, they brought back telling stories with contradictions: flowers with thorns, honey surrounded by bees. Then one day, He told them he wanted it at any cost — the most beautiful thing in the world. The one who brought it back would be his favorite. The children, eager to please him, scattered in all directions. But their excitement didn’t last long. They returned in panic. One of them had been burned, head to toe. His younger brothers said they’d found a sleeping drago...