Spiritual(ism)
The noble Bharatha, that scion of the Raghu race, felt his soul throb with the thought: “Today I shall behold mine elder, my sovereign, my Rama, after the long tide of fourteen years.” The tidings of Rama’s victories stirred in him a bliss beyond earthly bounds, fulfilling the ancient wisdom of the sages—that whoso liveth…
When the sacred Panchami dawned upon the land, Rama, having fulfilled the span of fourteen years in exile, approached the venerable hermitage of sage Bharadwaja, a seer whose spiritual prowess spanned the three times—past, present, and future—and whose words bore the clarity and precision of truth itself, for his penance had refined him into a…
Then soared Pushpaka, the divine chariot of aerial grace, at the command of Rama, cutting the winds and climbing into the heavens, gliding over the blood-soaked grounds of Lanka, where war had thundered and destinies had been unmade. Rama, seated beside Sita with care and reverence in his voice, said—Behold, O wide-eyed Mythili, the island…
The noble son of King Dasaratha, Rama, dwelt in a state of serene joy, for he had accomplished what no mortal dared dream—to vanquish the mighty Ravana, sovereign of the rakshasas, and free the worlds from the clutch of dread and darkness. His beloved consort, Sita, daughter of Janaka, returned unharmed, her chastity untainted, her…
Rama, still and composed as the silent sky before dawn, stood as the lover of eternity, intent upon the divine speech of Brahma, the eternal Creator. The purpose of his birth, the weight of his life, and the arc of its fulfilment lay unveiled before him like a sacred flame revealing the path of dharma….
Struck was the daughter of Janaka—not by weapon or wound, but by the blow of unbearable words, falling in Rama’s camp as a thunderclap upon a cloudless sky. Her spirit reeled, not at suspicion, for she felt none in his heart, but at something more grievous—a storm of anger, compulsion, or sorrow, whose source she…
The son of Vāyu, with keen vision and a heart full of wisdom, beheld Rāma—the one of lotus-petal eyes, master of bow, tranquil like the moon in still waters—and, bowing low with folded hands, spoke with reverence. O Rāma! Thou hast begun what none dared, and by thy strength and resolve, thou hast fulfilled the…
In the bright stillness after Ravana’s fall, the skies echoed with the murmurs of the devas, rishis, gandharvas, danavas, and hosts beyond name. They did not gather in wonder to weigh Rama’s strength—for who could doubt that might which drew the bow of Shiva and walked the path of dharma with unswerving grace? Nay, their…
Mandodari, queen of the mighty, torn by grief and sorrow, stood beside the fallen titan, her voice choked with tears, her heart burning with loss. O valiant one! Thou who once adorned thyself with garlands of many hues and robed in silks finer than the breath of spring, who soared aloft in the Pushpaka chariot…
The noble utterance of Rama, that enmity ends with death, is a truth simple yet supreme, destined to echo through the corridors of time. Relationships born of this venomous seed of hatred persist through generations, laying the foundation for division and ruin among families, clans, and races. Yet in that one luminous truth lies the…
