The Soul Energy
Sacred Journeys. Soul Tales. Energy Healing
The Elixir: An Atlantean Tale
Shahan’s heart skipped a beat as the ground beneath her feet trembled. This has been happening since the last 12 days. She made her way quickly to the Elixir Temple. She was one among the 15 Shikas who were serving at the temple from a very young age. Kept in seclusion, and away from their families, they were all chosen on the basis of one fact – the spiritual heritage of their parents.
From the age of five till they reached puberty, they served as the revered Shikas, the attendants to the goddess at the Elixir Temple. The goddess was worshipped as a stone, which some said had come from the core of the earth, while others claimed it fell from the sky. The task of these young girls was to go in a chariot and fetch fresh spring water in their little golden pitchers and pour it in the gigantic golden vat, within which the stone was kept. No one else was allowed to touch the water. Every 21st day the tap of the vat was opened to empty out the pale yellow liquid, which had now become the elixir – a divine potion which could give longevity to the inhabitants of the land and ultimately immortality. It had to be earned of course, only those who had been recognised for their great moral principles, valour or philanthropy, had the right to it. The high priestess of the temple and the council decided whom it should be given.
As Shahan stood outside the temple, carrying her pitcher, she could see the high waves approaching from a distance. She was terrified and wondered if she should give some elixir to her parents. She wanted to discuss this with her younger sister who was also a Shika. Shahan never got an opportunity though. That very night a massive earthquake wiped out the island from the face of the earth.
The vat of elixir, waiting to be consumed by some illustrious Atlanteans, fell at the bottom of the ocean, spilling its contents amidst some creatures of the deep, like jellyfish, lobsters, turtles and clams, mutating their DNA forever. If you wonder why the Turritopsis dohrnii is an immortal jellyfish that can reverse its aging or how lobsters, clams and turtles have such a long life, the answer is a stone still lying inside a golden vat, somewhere on the ocean bed, lost to man forever.
Bonds Beyond Death
The heritage homestay by the sea was seldom occupied. Most guests who came here were either not able to cross the state borders before nightfall or had to make a halt due to an emergency. Johanpal, the owner, did not actually care much as long as enough guests kept trickling in to pay the salary for his staff. It was not easy for him to retain the employees of course, for the stretch of beach on which the solitary haveli (heritage mansion) stood, was believed to be haunted.
The haveli was his ancestral property. Johanpal could never understand why his great grandfather had decided to build this beautiful structure in this area more than 120 years ago. The seashore had been the site of a great battle once, between the Rajput soldiers and invading forces. Unfortunately, the cavalry of valiant Rajputs could not keep the marauding invaders away, and had been mercilessly slayed.
For as long as he had known, the beach was known to have seen strange sightings – while some people said they had seen flickering lights others claimed to have heard sounds of horse hooves. The last, he knew, was true. In the last 40 years, Johanpal had himself seen an unearthly vision a few times. On a full moon night, the sea shore had turned into a surreal site – he could see a team of horses, their silvery white bodies glistening, waiting on the shore, looking towards the sea. It was as if they were waiting for their masters, the brave soldiers who had lost their lives, to rise up from the waters, and unite with them again. Every time, he had seen the magnificent ghostly animals, it had left him with a feeling of strange sadness.
It was a full moon night again. Johanpal and his family were grieving the death of their beloved Pomeranian, who had died two days ago due to a sudden illness. They lovingly called her Queen, for she ruled the hearts of everyone in his family – his wife and two sons. For Johanpal, Queen was like his young daughter, and he was finding it extremely difficult to cope with the grief of losing her.
As he stood on the terrace looking towards the sea, after many years, he saw the horses again – waiting endlessly for their masters. Then suddenly, he could make out a little figure, darting from the seashore running fast towards his home. As it approached the building, he could unmistakably make out the little form of Queen. She stood below the terrace looking up at him, wagging her tail tirelessly as she always did. Then, in an instant, she was gone, and so did the horses.
Johanpal then realised that death had not snatched away Queen forever, she had probably appeared to make him understand that. As he climbed down the stairs to share with his family what he had seen, his heart had already started to heal.
Eternal Play
The priest closed the doors that led to the inner sanctum of the temple, and went home. The silence of the night was only disturbed by the distant barking of street dogs.
The temple, one of the most famous in southern India, was known for its musical pillars. People from all over the world have come here through the ages to gaze in awe at the remarkable architectural feat of the ancient craftsmen who had created such a wonder – both for its beautiful sculptures and the musical notes the pillars produced.
What the thousands of worshippers who thronged here did not know was that often at night, the very premises became a playground for divine beings – it was among the favourite haunts of the Lord of Plays, Krishna, his consort Radha, and the many Gopis and Gopikas. From the sacred groves to the banks of Yamuna river, from mountainous valleys to his many temples, when the world slept, the celestial Gandharvas would tune in with the elements to create music for Krishna’s dance of divine love (Rasleela).
Beyond human perception – the cosmic play goes on endlessly. Sometimes a fortunate few would pick up the energy and their hearts would sing with an unknown joy. They are unaware of course that their soul has reconnected with an energy which is always present in the core of their being – eternal joy, eternal play.
The Hibiscus Garland
Praneja came from a family of priests, who took great pride in their vocation. Since five generations the eldest male member of her family had been the head priest of the temple sanctuary in the northern fringe of the forest near Rajgriha, the ancient capital of Magadha.
Every morning at the break of dawn she would go and collect flowers from the vast temple garden and create an exquisite garland for Goddess Kali, who was the presiding deity of the temple. As Praneja would look with great love and devotion in her heart at the beautiful dark visage of the mother goddess she would feel one with the deity.
She would often wonder if the supreme primordial energy was feminine, then why were women not allowed to be priests in the temple. Her job was only to make the beautiful garland of flowers, she was never allowed to place it on the idol – that privilege only the male head priest had.
One morning when Praneja returned to the temple after collecting exquisite red hibiscus flowers – the goddess’ favourite, she sat down to make the garland. Suddenly, she noticed a little girl standing next to her. Praneja had never seen the child before, so she asked, “Who are you and what are you doing here so early in the morning. The temple is yet to open for public.”
The girl held out her hand and exclaimed, “Such beautiful flowers, I love them. Please make a small garland for me.” Praneja tried to reason with her and said gently, “I can’t little one, this is only for Mother Kali.”
Hearing this, the little girl clutched Praneja’s hand and started pleading with tears in eyes. Praneja knew that soon her father would come and start the morning worship, he would not be pleased to see the garland was not yet ready. She had other work to do also like make the sandalwood paste and put together all the other things for the rituals. So, to make the child leave she quickly strung a few flowers together, made a little garland and placed it around the neck of the girl. “Now off you go, I have a lot of work to do before my father, the head priest comes,” she said, patting the girl. The child smiled and ran away, without saying any word or even thanking her.
Praneja sat down to finish all her work and soon her father arrived. As he started the rituals, he exclaimed, “What is this? Who has placed this garland on the idol of Mother Kali.”
Praneja was astounded, she had been so engrossed in her work that she did not realise that the small garland she had made for the child now adorned the neck of the goddess.
She knew now who the little girl was. Her heart filled with gratitude as she realised the goddess had come as a child to accept her garland and make her value the devotion that she had in her heart, and not just focus on the ritual of worship which only the men were allowed to do.
Goddess Kali, the manifestation of the supreme primordial energy, had herself appeared to make her understand a great truth.
The Blue Rose
There comes a holy and transparent time when every touch of beauty opens the heart to tears.
This is the time the Beloved of heaven is brought tenderly on earth. This is the time of the opening of the ROSE.
– Rumi
The evening sun was setting, the sky was covered in multiple hues of gold and red. The peaceful environment of the beautiful royal garden with its trees and plants sourced from all over the world, could not quieten the troubled mind of prince Shahzad.
A few days ago, his two elder brothers who had gone for a hunting expedition to the nearby forest were waylaid and killed by robbers. But Shahzad knew no robber had the courage to slaughter a royal hunting party, he was well aware who was behind the many strange deaths in the royal family in the last few months.
It had all started some months ago with the poisoning of the then crown prince, who was succeeded by his younger brother. Shahzad was certain that it was the current crown prince, who was removing all opposition to his succession by getting the princes in the family killed.
A young cousin to the crown prince, Shahzad’s life was in danger as well. The path to the Mughal throne had always been steeped in blood, but there had never been so much blood spilled.
Shahzad had left his chamber to find some peace in his favourite corner of the royal garden near the marble baradari (pavilion), the spot which had a collection of the rare blue rose.
A nature lover, the prince was fascinated by this exotic flower, and had himself brought the blue rose saplings from Isfahan in Iran and planted them here. As he looked to admire their beauty for the umpteen time, he felt as if someone was watching him.
He glanced around but saw no one. Then he heard some music, it was so faint that the sound seemed to be coming from within his left ear. Startled, something made him look up.
He was astounded by what he saw – parallel to the dome above the baradari, floating in the air, were seven flowers. In each flower was sitting, what seemed like, a celestial being.
The five who were female, were all watching him, while one male was playing the mridangam (an ancient Indian percussion instrument) and the other who was wearing a green dance mask had cymbals in his hands. Then in a flash, they were gone.
Did his troubled mind imagine the breathtaking vision? Did he unknowingly fall asleep, and dreamt it all? Was it a trick of light reflected by the multicoloured mosaic on the dome? Shahzad had too many questions in his mind.
He returned to his chamber and knew he could not share what he saw and heard with anyone, but he felt a strange lightness of heart and happiness.
He picked up his quill and started writing, to express what he felt and could feel a wave of bliss wash over him. The outpouring was like a floodgate of words, and after sometime he was astonished that he had written a beautiful poem on The Blue Rose.
He realised the process of writing was making him connect to the inner core of his being, to a sacred and precious place, which he wanted to continue. Day and night he would sit and write beautiful verses, which gradually started getting noticed by other members of the royal household.
The crown prince, who took great pride in being a patron of arts, also heard of Shahzad’s writings, and started admiring what his young cousin wrote.
A few months passed, the killings in the royal family abated with the crown prince taking over as the emperor.
Shahzad was one of the very few who was spared – the vision had made a poet out of him and saved his life. He lived a long life as a celebrated poet whose work was admired for generations to come.
And, if you are wondering did those nature beings appear to him again, the answer is yes, a few times. Whenever he faced the most challenging moments in his life, they appeared in different forms in different ways, always taking his breath away, and reigniting in his heart the love for life and laughter.
Miracle of Life
I am a miracle. Born without any effort, I sustain the life of every being on earth. I touch the heart and soul of every man, plant and animal. I am life itself.
I am omniscient. Present everywhere, without me none can exist. Understand my greatness and my humility. Treat me with respect.
I am mantra. My rhythm takes a yogi to the state of consciousness. And gives a seeker, the vision of infinity. Every syllable born out of God’s word, across all religions, resonates with my being.
I am yoga. I give physical, mental and emotional well being. Delve into me deep every second to be blessed. You can only understand my magnificence in the depths, not the shallows.
I am the greatest teacher. The beginning of life on earth and also the end. You will know how ephemeral the world is the moment I cease to exist.
I AM BREATH. Be mindful of me always.
Mother of Oceans
She emerged from the ocean and walked up the path that she had always taken. The playful penguins and sea lions lazing on the shore were watching her. They knew that she was coming, they always knew, and were excited by the energy she brought to the barren sea shore. A baby penguin nudged her, she smiled and picked it up.
Her almost invisible feet glided through the pebbles as she went to sit on her favourite perch. A man would call it an outcrop made of sand, pebbles and salt, but in truth it was her throne. Beneath the surface that no mortal can ever see was a gigantic glistening shell. She had herself brought it from her womb many eons ago, from one of the deepest crevices where its pearl still lies.
She sat and surveyed her kingdom around her, and also beyond to everything that the waters of the world contained – from the birth of a tiny fish to every coral that died today; from a shipwreck a thousand years ago to man’s plundering of her wealth. She saw and wondered what to do – should she cover the remaining earth once again and bring everything into her fold ? Or, should she retreat and keep her treasures and her children of the waters safe in a haven that no man can ever reach ?
The Mother of all Oceans and seas has been as patient as Mother Earth, two sisters but one soul. Each waiting forever for the return to the original, though they know what is done can never be undone.
Existing only to give, greater and deeper than her form is her infinite love, infinite patience and infinite forbearance. She is both mother and daughter, the young and the old, forever renewing herself.
She walked back to the shore, with a sad smile on her lips. As a tear dropped from her eyes, she merged with it to become the ocean again.
The sea lions and penguins on the shore went quiet for a while, while all life forms in the oceans knew she was back home as they felt her spirit energizing them again.
Music of the Heart
Sanora was the only daughter of Radhabjai, a much respected mystic minstrel, who roamed around with his followers in the villages and mofussil towns in Bengal, singing songs in praise of God. The girl was an exceptional singer who had great devotion in her heart for the Blue God, Krishna, whose tales her family of wandering minstrels had sung for more than a hundred years. When she sang, the listeners were spellbound by the magical beauty of her voice.
There was only one big problem though – Sanora was a girl and according to family traditions, only the male members could sing in public. This story is almost 50 years ago, in the late 1960s, when things were different from the present-day India. So, the young girl was allowed to only sing for her family and people in her little village, who were also like family to them.
One day, Sanora accompanied her neighbours to a nearby town to watch the show of a famous wandering theatre company, which went from town to town with its troupe of performers. Her own family members did not go as they looked down upon such frivolous entertainment. There, during the intermission, a few people in the audience were encouraged to showcase their talent. Urged by her neighbours, she sang, and mesmerised the crowd.
The theatre company owner was so impressed by the girl that he went to meet Radhabjai, to allow Sanora to join his troupe. Radhabjai of course refused – he believed that his art was sacred, singing had to be in praise of God, not for anything else. He was a proud torchbearer of the traditional mystic minstrels who believed that their songs bridged the divide between man and God.
Circumstances however made Radhabjai relent a few years later. There were two consecutive years of severe famine in Bengal. Most villagers were going through tough times, they did not have enough for themselves, leave alone give money to wandering minstrels. Radhabjai’s family was almost on the brink of starvation when the theatre company owner approached him again to let his daughter sing for a big show in Calcutta. He felt he was selling his soul when he gave his daughter permission to leave home and perform in the city, but the money kept the kitchen fires burning and fed his large family.
Sanora’s performance at the show was so well received that she was offered a contract to sing with All India Radio. She acquired great popularity, but remained estranged from her father. Not a day passed that Radhabjai did not feel guilty for letting his daughter sing in public, songs that he believed tainted his sacred art and that of his forefathers. He never listened to the radio, nor did he allow one to be brought inside his home.
Then one day, while buying some essentials from the village market, he heard a familiar voice wafting out from the nearby barber’s shop. It was his daughter’s voice coming from the radio, singing a song about lost love.
Most people of pure heart are always able to hear messages from the divine with clarity. This happened with Radhabjai also. As Sanora’s mellifluous voice touched his soul, he knew that God wanted him to understand that all action performed from the heart is an offering to Him – one does not have to sing spiritual songs to maintain purity of the art.
The old man wept with joy as he realised his daughter’s singing was no less sacred than his. Thanking God for making him understand this great truth, he went home a happy and guilt-free man.
The Bridge Across
Dhania and Shanaja were sisters who were born two years apart. They were inseparable, more so as the younger one, Shanaja had the responsibility of taking care of her Dhania, who was a special child. They lived in their ancestral village with their parents, and it was a common sight to see the 12-year-old Shanaja holding the hands of her elder sister, guiding her everywhere.
The girls would go to school every day, for which they had to cross a long wooden bridge over a mountain river. Shanaja always led the way while Dhania would hold on to her hand as if her life depended on it. She was terrified of the intensity of the turbulent waters that flowed below them, but she knew that with her sister, she was always safe.
In the village school, Dhania was allowed to sit in Shanaja’s class. She was promoted each time with her sister on humanitarian grounds. Shanaja was the star pupil of the school, and after completing her high school in which she topped in the whole state, her parents sent her to the city for further studies. They knew it would be very difficult for Dhania, but they wanted their younger daughter to follow her dreams of becoming a scientist.
Dhania would keep waiting for her sister to return home during her vacations. Those were the only time she smiled. Then one day, almost three years after Shanaja had left for the city, Dhania never woke up from her sleep. Her sister was devastated, and her pain made her focus stronger on pursuing her aim in life.
Almost two decades passed, Shanaja who was now a well-known scientist working for a leading research institute in Europe, met with a car accident resulting in a severe head injury. She was rushed to the hospital and was in coma for 21 long days. On the 22nd day, when she gained consciousness, she had an incredible experience to tell her family. She said all through the days she was in coma, she could feel her sister, Dhania, holding her hands crossing a long, almost never-ending bridge. She was never afraid as her sister was with her, guiding her. While in life, it was always Shanaja who held Dhania’s hand leading the way, at the threshold of death, she believed that her sister had led her back to life.
After she recovered, Shanaja went back to her ancestral village in India, and stayed there for many months. Every day she would spend a few hours at the bridge hoping to catch a glimpse of her sister. She never did, but by now she had understood how true bonds of love go beyond life and death.
The Sacred Grove
Rajanya was eight years old at that time when curiosity led her to walk into the patch of forest that people in her village regarded as the Sacred Grove. All children were forbidden to enter the grove, and nobody was allowed to bring back even a twig from there – what was of the grove remained in it. Often it would seem to Rajanya that she saw twinkling lights amidst the trees, and it was to find out more about this when one afternoon while her mother was sleeping, she sneaked out of her cottage and entered the grove. Soon enough she got lost and started crying.
Then she saw a little boy, even younger than her, sitting on the branch of a tree, watching her. He climbed down and asked her why she was crying.
Rajanya replied that she had got lost and wanted to go home. Listening to her answer, he started laughing and said, “How can you be lost? You are with me.” Rajanya did not understand his answer, but was very intrigued by the strange little boy. When he suggested she play with him, she agreed. She noticed that there was a big snake nearby with raised hood constantly watching them, but somehow she did not feel afraid.
Rajanya played all the games she knew with the boy, he taught her a few new ones too. After sometime she realised that it was night, strangely however, it was not dark inside the grove. A blue glow seemed to emanate from the boy while the peacock feather that was perched on his head shimmered like a luminous rainbow. She then saw a few more children emerging from different parts of the grove. Rajanya happily played with them and also danced to the music of flute played by the boy. She did not realise when she fell asleep, but in the morning she found herself lying on the ground a short distance away from the grove.
From that day onwards her parents kept a strict watch on her and never allowed her to enter the grove again. Years went by, there was not a day that passed when Rajanya did not want to go into the Sacred Grove to meet her friend again. Whenever she would think of the little boy, her heart would soar, and her feet on its own would dance to an unknown music.
As she grew up, her mother could no longer stop her from going to the Sacred Grove. She went there every day, but never saw the boy again. Almost 10 years had passed since the incident, when Rajanya’s family decided to relocate to the city. The last day, before leaving the village, Rajanya stepped into the grove again. As she was walking around with some sadness in her heart, she saw someone emerge from behind a tree – it was the little boy.
“My friend,” she exclaimed clasping his hands, so happy that tears flowed down her eyes.
“You have waited for me a long time, I see,” said the boy.
“Yes, I remember you every day. But why have you not grown, you are still so small ?” she said with astonishment, noticing that he looked the same as he had so many years ago.
He replied with a smile, “You see what you want to see.”
Still clutching his tiny hands, she asked, “I am going away, how will I ever find you again?”
The boy answered, “If you remember me, I’m always there.”
Unable to understand his mysterious answers, the young woman said, “I miss our wonderful playtime so much, if only it would continue forever. I wish I was a child again.”
The boy laughed mischievously, did a little twirl around her, and remarked, “Everything in this world is a play, so how can you lose the child inside you.”
Rajanya sat down on the trunk of a tree and watched mesmerised as the little boy kept prancing around, before suddenly disappearing.
The same evening Rajanya left with her family for the city. She had a long life with its own share of trials, but she lived each day with the wonderous amazement of a child and a deep-rooted happiness that never went away. Krishna, the Blue God, always remained her eternal playmate.