Masters
articles to be updated soon..
In layman's terms,
Guru simply means
one who removes darkness.
But the seeker must understand
— what is darkness?
What is light?
Because if this had truly been understood,
spirituality in today's Bhārata
wouldn't be in such a fragmented state.
Spirituality is that truth of Light which,
when realized,
transforms the seeker into
the Light of God Himself.
Such a one becomes a living Jyoti
— a Jyotirliṇga in human form.
What is the use of standing
before a Jyotirliṇga
if it doesn’t reveal to you
who you are?
What is your essence?
Why were you born?
What is your path?
A true seeker is haunted by these questions.
The Sat Guru — the True Guru
— reveals all of this in an instant.
The moment he or she meets you,
your veils begin to burn.
That is why the Sat Guru is more alive than any idol,
more intimate than any distant deity.
In Bhārata, we are blessed.
This land has not only given birth
to Gurus but to living Gods.
This sacred soil has produced seers
who are no different from the
very Gods they worshipped.
To the seeker, understand this:
you may read about Gods in Ślokas and Purāṇas,
but only the Upāsaka who has realized
their Iṣṭadevatā can actually
tell about the God.
God does not swiftly destroy
those evil minds
who tread the path of spirituality
only to violate Vidyā itself
— for such an act
is not mere ignorance,
it is a spiritual defilement.
And the karmaphala
for such a transgression
is far more severe than death,
for it strikes across births,
across inner worlds,
and far beyond what
the human mind can grasp.
One has no right to speak about God's consort,
His children, or even God Himself,
unless one has realized them.
It’s just like this
— I cannot speak about your mother,
her likes or dislikes,
or about your daughter’s interests
without truly knowing them.
If someone speaks without realization,
and you join in furthering their words,
you become part of the
sabhā of Hastinapur
— and for that,
you are equally accountable
to the karmic consequences.
Just one sabhā, one act of adharma — and the Mahābhārata was born.
Like parents who, without knowing why,
bring a soul onto this earthly plane—
only to realize,
at the moment of their death,
the piercing truth of life—
that very same pain will visit their child
when their own time comes.
No, not all become Pitṛs.
Many remain as Bhūtas.
That is the difference.
And so,
Bhagavān Ramana Maharshi
offered not a philosophy,
but a single flame:
“Who am I?”
Not a question of intellect,
but of inward fire.
It is not meant to be answered
—it is meant to dissolve
the one who asks.
When truly asked,
the “I” that clings,
that desires, that fears,
begins to fade.
And in its place…
not silence,
but That which the silence hides.
Ramana never spoke much
—not because
he didn’t know,
but because he knew
no words
would survive the Truth.
The Real must be
encountered in stillness,
where the ego cracks
open like a shell,
and the light that was
always there,
is seen… finally,
without a veil.
‘Pita’ or ‘Mata’ — Father or Mother
— are not mere biological labels.
These are deeply sacred terms.
Just giving birth does not earn
someone the right to be called a true parent.
A true janmadātā must show you
why you were born,
and what your birth is meant for.
Every Purāṇa echoes this
— even the Durga Saptashatī
holds this truth within its core.
The one who reveals your path
— who awakens your soul to its own journey
— that one alone is your true Pita, your true Mata.
Be it a Guru, a realized being,
or even the Devi herself
— such a presence becomes your very source,
your true origin.
Just as a father bears not only the responsibility of upbringing a child, but also, having brought the soul into this material world, it becomes entirely his duty to show the path forward — the path out of this plane of limited consciousness, which the child, by birth, had accepted as living reality.
Unless the father shows this path,
he cannot truly claim the sacred title of Pitṛ (ancestor).
In a similar way,
when a Guru gives dīkṣā to a seeker,
he accepts a sacred responsibility —
that the seeker at least realizes their own Self.
God-realization is not mandatory here.
But Self-realization is.
Because once the seeker realizes the truth of Self,
the Guru is also freed from his bond.
A Guru cannot simply hand out dīkṣā lightly —
for he becomes answerable to the entire lineage,
to the ṛṣi who revealed the mantra,
to the Devatā who watches silently.
Thus, the seeker must use deep discrimination when seeking initiation —
to choose carefully which boat to step into —
especially if the Guru does not appear clearly before their eyes.
The bond between a Guru and a seeker
is even more ancient than that between a father and a child.
For the Guru has been guiding the soul across lifetimes,
silently, invisibly —
until the seeker is ready to finally see.
That is the bond.
That is the sacred truth.
The human mind has always strived
to establish an identity for itself
— and in doing so,
even sacred scriptures have become
tools for egoic assertion.
But how many truly know Sanskrit,
not just as a language,
but as the living current of the Rishis' consciousness?
Today, we find 'panditas' in every domain,
even self-proclaimed experts on platforms like YouTube.
But real understanding goes far beyond
language proficiency or scholarly interpretation.
Sanskrit expertise is commendable
— but without realization of the Self
and of God, even the most accurate
interpretation remains hollow.
True insight arises only when one has directly
realized what the Guru, or the Rishi,
was pointing toward.
Without that experience, all commentary becomes speculation.
This is the core issue today: interpretations abound,
but few speak from realization.
Among the rare ones is Adi Shankaracharya — a true Sat Guru.
Not just a scholar, but one who attained complete realization and only then composed and commented upon the scriptures.
He wrote in Sanskrit, yes — but he wrote from Truth.
And that changes everything.
But here lies the problem: because it was in Sanskrit,
Panditas — without a trace of Self-realization or God-realization
— began interpreting his words through intellect alone.
That’s where the distortion begins.
This is the ongoing crisis in spirituality:
the sacred becomes an academic subject,
and the living fire of realization is reduced to cold commentary.
Only one who has walked the path,
realized the Self and the Divine,
can grasp the spirit behind the Śāstra.
Otherwise, what was once a living revelation
becomes just another theory for debate
— and God, who is beyond even the subtlest thought,
gets dissected like an object.
And now, what of the path of Rudra?
How many genuinely know it?
What is Aghora?
Who is an Avadhūta?
These are not ideas or aesthetics;
they are living truths.
"Aghora" does not mean the macabre or bizarre.
It means that which is not ghora
— not dark, not deluded.
It is the path of clarity, directness, purification,
and the transcendence of all superficial dualities.
An Aghori is one who walks this path
— stripping away all external layers to return to the Divine.
An Avadhūta is beyond even this.
Not merely a renunciate or one who wears no clothes
— but one who has completely dissolved
any trace of identity with body, name, or role.
Such a being moves in perfect freedom,
guided only by the inner compass of realization,
untouched by the world’s definitions.
But that doesn't mean they reject Bhakti or devotion
— quite the opposite.
They have simply moved beyond external validation
and live solely by what they themselves have realized
through direct experience of God.
To know this path is not to mimic it.
To know this path is to burn in it.
To allow all that is false to fall away.
That is real Sādhanā.
This — is what it means to
walk the path not of the world,
but of Truth.
Remember this in your innermost being:
No matter which God, which Guru, which Siddha says whatever — all of it is ultimately useless,
unless you realize your own God, your own Truth.
Until then, everything remains second-hand, borrowed, imitated.
You may speak the scriptures, quote the masters, sit in temples or forests —
but unless the flame ignites within you,
you will die as a fake, an incomplete seeker —
and truthfully, you cannot even call yourself a seeker.
Because the path is not in following —
it is in burning.
When you attain God-realization,
something deep within you bows
— instinctively
— before every Guru.
Yes, every single one.
Because now you know
— what each one was trying to give.
What each one stood for.
And in your worship,
there will always be that unshakable remembrance
— of the Ādi Guru, Śiva.
The One who is everything
to Śrī Lakṣmīnārāyaṇa.
Without Śiva
— no Jñāna. no Bhakti.
And with this realization,
you will find yourself loving every God.
You will detest sectarianism, yes
— but you will love the Gods alone,
in their purity,
in their vastness,
in their eternal roles
in this cosmic play.
A Vital Truth for the Genuine Seeker
There is something a true seeker must deeply understand:
Your path must always be centered around your own Iṣṭa Devatā.
Your devotion, your sādhanā, your offering
— all must align toward that One
you are drawn to from the soul’s core.
But — and this is crucial
— the journey is incomplete without
the guidance of one of the Perfect Five Masters.
They are the final bridge.
The knot-breakers.
The ones who dissolve the last veil
between you and the Supreme.
At present, however,
none of the so-called gurus
in the visible world
— no “Sadguru,” no “Vishwaguru,”
no name, no fame
— are aligned with those Perfect Masters.
None are appointed,
none are blessed,
none are functioning from that Source.
Not one among them stands in the
position of that final grace.
So be sharp in discernment.
Do not mistake charisma or
knowledge for transmission.
Do not confuse crowd-followed names
with the unseen light of a Master
who walks only for God.
This path is not about finding comfort.
It is about finding the Truth.
And that Truth will lead you,
when you’re ready,
to the One who holds the last thread.
Until then
— walk only with your Iṣṭa Devatā.
Anchor there.
Wait there.
Burn there.
That is enough.