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'Tis the strut of a most fortunate man,
To find himself seated between the gods,
Flanked by the most powerful friends.
He is a true immortal,
Who lives only by Bhakti,
for all he knows is Shiva.
He has the diviner's touch,
Who by lighting the holy flame
Brings the ancient back to life.
A girl, a girl, in old Varanasi!
In the company of three Pavan Putras does she sit—
Not even Prabhu, who brings joy to all, was that lucky!
First, they praise Shakti.
Second, they invoke Rudra.
And third, they summon Courage.
For all three are the true movers of things!
The Unconquerable,
Yet see how they run to Her!
The Hardest to Approach,
Yet see how they run to Her!
They are their Mother's children.
At every turn, the gods.
This, a child knows best,
That magic of youth.
Here, among ancestral grounds,
Do we feel the full weight of our heritage
Calling us back to the beginning.
A spirit so vibrant that it begs the question: What is all the color in the world worth if it is without the sacred?
Relight the past. Regain the present. Reclaim the future.
Above is a Nat Geo submission by S. Gautam (yourshot.nationalgeographic.com/photos/9719571/). It only confirms for me that Nepali Hindu aesthetics are unrivaled.
Each handprint was made by a sacrifice, and for each sacrifice we must gain a hundred victories, or we will live in eternal shame.
O Narayana! They call your name endlessly!
Won't you show them your wide strides?
Or have they seen them and that's why they chant "Hari!"?
He who wins for his people, wins for the gods.
These heroes, from whence they came?
Their hearts stirred, hearing Shri Hari's name:
Vitthala! Vitthala! Vitthala!
No obstacle is too large
for the one who removes them.
No devotee is too small
for the one who protects them.
Utter, O Drum, your heavenly voice.
With triumph signal the coming!
As the thunder booms so shall you
Roar to all who have come: He is here!
A shrine is the hope of those who care.
She sits ancient,
and smiles a goddess.
What else could it be?
She wears Shakti for a crown!
To that darling of Shri Hari,
tended to by Muralidhara,
and cared for by Raghu's finest:
Infinite salutations, O Tulsi!
At immortal Lepakshi,
a girl basks in divinity.
Hers is the loudest prayer:
May Bhakti be everywhere.
This sisterhood of whispering into Nandi's ear,
is proof enough that Dharma is a family affair.
To have lived only Rama,
to have known only Rama,
to have loved only Rama.
Death may have taken the flesh
but immortality claimed the name.
That is the story of all our heroes,
made deathless by deed and fame.
"The sun may rise in the East, but he lives at Modhera."
—A Mehsani Proverb
These aren't jewels he wore
but ornaments he carried:
His jewels were living temples.
"Where is your Tanpura?" asked Tukaram.
"I brought the Three Worlds instead," replied Mirabai.
All else is temporary. Dharma is forever.
The light of a thousand suns in one flame,
At holy Yamuna's banks it burns,
Brighter and purer than all the fires of men.
He who worships the gods,
conquers those who do not.
He who wins, is dear to all.
He is the Vijeta, the gods' favorite.
"Blow, O wind, where my beloved tarries,
touch her first, and then me, too."
—Shri Rama
To our ancestors, who gave us today. May we return to them a greater tomorrow.
"It's not my first time here," said Narsinh.
"You've been here before?" asked Tukaram and Kanhopatra.
"Yes, whenever I'd chant Hari's name."
Tell us of the vision, Oracle, what do the gods say we must do? Speak, O goddess of ambrosial speech, what awaits the children of Bharat?
We vow to unite, rise, and win.
Look up, what do the omens say?

Shakti is coming.
Bala, Buddhi, Vidya. Bala comes first. All else follows.
May our aim be true. May our resolve be strong. May our faith be victorious.
Hope carrying hope carrying hope.
At sacred grounds,
in ancient Varanasi,
a man has faith,
and so he endures.
Newcomers from Kailash
come bearing good news:
Dharma, O men, will win.
Aside, O men!
Do you not see who come in full stride?
'Tis the jewels of Dasharath who come marching,
those treasures from Raghu's line.
*O mitwa! What's it say?*
"Bouta. Get. Ram. Ram. Up. In. Here. Real. Soon."
A sadhu once tried to capture the entire universe in one click. He succeeded.
To that one, effervescent, youthful: svaha!
To that one, messenger of the gods: svaha!
To that one, the heat within, our fire: svaha!
Who could they be,
these men draped in color?
They were the best
that Nandgaon could muster,
these Holi warriors.
A happy man you may know, but in Varanasi a happier man you will always find.
Not history, but eternity.
What did He say,
O dearest Nandi?
We go way back,
surely you can tell me.
Water your soul by immersing it in the divine. That is the path to real awakening.
Level 9,000? Child's play. He's at Level Morya. Even infinity is trivial compared to that.
Can you feel the colors? You may see them, but can you feel them? That's what the sacred is to life: beauty that goes straight to the soul.
Dharma calls. Come back home. Prepare to be blessed.
"They have nothing to fear,
Those whom Shakti holds dear."
–Ganapati Dada
The highest tradition. The greatest beauty. The firmest truth.
Darkness never stood a chance,
When Ganga gave Fire
To the world of men.
When I got into my first fight, my dad asked if I'd won. I didn't. Next time. He was just proud I'd finally learned how to make fists.
While the photo is of a grandfather and grandson, it reminded me of this. To the fathers who raise those who strive: satsang pranams!
To inherit the truth is to carry it forward.
Faith does not count the miles to a distant shrine.
O Glorious Kamakhya!
Your soldier has come!
To whom shall I bring ruin?
Who is that unfortunate soul,
That foeman who dares us?
Tell me of all that has happened, friend,
for I have been in a meditative state,
and know not of all that has transpired.
A man who has conquered himself has conquered everyone else.
To the beyond the beyond,
Before the beginning
And after the end,
Timeless reality: Pranam.
Into the infinite, where time is shamed by the beauty of the eternal and ceases to exist.
O swift Mushika,
give this to the Lord of Lords,
a prayer from my heart, tell Him:
"I will take on every challenge,
if only He be with me."
The wind whispers, the Fates weave.
Commit to inherit.
"What? It's Varanasi. Everyone here is a fan of Mahadev."

(true story: instagram.com/p/BR2KB0wlJjW/…)
Dharma, thy bow.
Dharma, thy arrow.
Dharma, thou art.
The light sought him out. He never asked for it, but it found him, in a cave of his own.
"As if Vishwakarma carved out poetry in stone," this the bards say of Jagat Shiromani.
They were the first
to answer Shri Gobind's call,
these Panj Pyare,
of unwavering faith and courage.
Friendship begins where doubt ends.
"This is for you new people. I only have one rule: Worship the gods, honor the ancestors."
"Before there was art,
there was a Hindu temple,"
thus spoke Vishwakarma.
Seeking Nandi's blessings;
prayers have been answered,
bringing only good tidings.
What we can learn from children at play,
Is that magic still lives even today.
You could have all the money in the world, but without a murti there is no real wealth. A murti is the greatest embellishment of Dharma.
When asked why he does what he does, he answered: "For the gods." This is the right mindset, the correct mindset, the proper mindset.
Confidence is an understatement for the one backed by the greatest.
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