⚠️ Read This With Caution
What you’re about to enter is not just another story about a temple; it is a journey into a place where caves breathe secrets and where reality itself blurs with the unseen.

🧵Read till the very end, because only then will you understand why Kamakhya is not just a temple but a living riddle of the Goddess herself. The Tantric Capital of India: Secrets of the Hidden Kamakhya Caves
In the shadows of Nilachal Hill, where the Brahmaputra hums with ancient chants, stands a temple older than memory. A place where the Maa is not worshipped as an idol, but as energy itself and where, beneath the stone steps, a labyrinth of secret caves hides the untold history of Tantra…

🧵When Bharat was starving, when mothers divided one roti into three, our Prime Minister Nehru mocked the nation with these words:
There is a food shortage because people are eating more.

⚠️ This is not just a remark; it is the naked truth of his rule. Read till the last, and you will see how his arrogance, incompetence, and fake secularism left Bharat hungry, divided, and weak. India in the early 1950s. A nation freshly independent but already on its knees. Fields lay barren, farmers struggled for seeds, queues for ration stretched endlessly. Hunger was everywhere. Instead of owning his failures, he mocked the hungry. Instead of building solutions, he blamed Indians for daring to eat.

This one remark wasn’t an accident; it was the mirror of his rule. Nehru’s arrogance and incompetence crippled Bharat, weakened Hindus, and planted the communal imbalance we suffer even today.

🔥 When the son of the so-called Mahatma himself abandoned his roots, it was not just a family’s wound; it was the mirror of a nation’s collapse.
There was a day when Gandhi’s own son stood before the world and said, “I am no longer Harilal, I am Abdullah".

🧵 Read this till the end, because this one story holds the warning of an entire civilization. There comes a moment in history when a people, blinded by borrowed ideas, begin to laugh at their own roots. When temples fall silent and foreign slogans echo louder than the voice of their ancestors. When leaders, intoxicated with the poison of “secularism,” preach weakness as virtue, and pride in Dharma is mocked as bigotry. And then, slowly, Dharma begins to die.
What follows is not just history, but a warning, a wound, and a mirror. It is the story of how forgetting our roots cost us blood, land, and millions of lives.

🧵 Shiva: The Living Deity, Not Just Vibration or Energy.
Some today say, “Shiva is just vibration, only energy, not a living Deity” But those who have tasted the nectar of our Puraṇas and Itihasas know otherwise.

Read it till the very end, for in this tale you will see why Bharat has always bowed before Shiva not as “just vibration or energy,” but as the Eternal Mahadev. Shiva is not an empty idea. He is not a mere abstraction.
He is Mahadev, who steps into history, drinking poison to save the universe, blessing both gods and demons, dancing with equal measure of fury and compassion.

Worshipped by Rama, revered by Arjuna, and honored by Ravaṇa alike, Shiva defies all categories, destroyer, protector, yogi, lover, ascetic, and dancer of cosmic rhythms.

But this is only the beginning. Keep reading….

🧵 Who truly belongs to this sacred land? What does it mean to be a child of Mother India?
Within these lines lie burning questions. It is not just an article, it is a mirror held before Bharat’s soul.

Read till the very last word, for the answers may shake you, stir you, and perhaps change the way you see this nation forever. Bharat, the land of our ancestors, the cradle of our gods, and the soil sanctified by the blood of countless heroes, today stands at a dangerous crossroad. For centuries we endured foreign invasions, slavery, and humiliation, not because our enemies were stronger, but because we ourselves were divided. Even now, seventy-five years after independence, the same question that haunted Savarkar a century ago refuses to leave us:

🧵 If you’re one of those who doubt the great contribution of Muslims to India’s independence, this thread is for you.
They fought valiantly, oh yes…not against the British. Their battles were waged against Hindus, their swords raised not for Bharat, but for Islam. Curious to see what that really looked like?
Read on, and prepare for your eyes to be opened, all the way to the last line. Some histories are written in ink, but others are carved in blood. From villages set ablaze to cities drowned in fear, the horrors that befell Hindus during the darkest days of India’s pre-partition are not just stories, they are scars on the soul of a nation. This is a journey into those nights of terror, where courage and suffering walked hand in hand, and where humanity itself was tested.

🧵On the mist-clad banks of the Brahmaputra, where hills guard secrets older than kingdoms, there stands a temple that holds a tale unlike any other in Assam.
This is the living heartbeat of a legend, the story of Hayagriva Madhava.
Read it till the end to discover the trail from celestial battlefields to the sacred stones of Monikut Hill… In an age when the oceans were young and the mountains still sang hymns to the sky, the asuras Madhu and Kaitabha, born from the earwax of Bhagwan Vishnu, grew drunk with power.
Through severe penance, they won a boon “None shall defeat you unless you wish to be defeated.”
Arrogant beyond measure, they stormed Brahma’s abode and stole from him the most sacred treasure, the Vedas, the very essence of creation.

🧵 They told us Bharat was patriarchal. They told us women here were silenced, hidden, and powerless. But what if I told you that’s a lie, a carefully crafted myth that covered up thousands of years of truth?
What if our real story is one where kingdoms rose and fell for a woman’s honor, where the goddess led armies when men failed, and where even the gods themselves were incomplete without the feminine?

Read this till the end; this is not a tale of oppression. This is a tale of forgetting, and it’s time we remember. Bharat Was Never Patriarchal - We Just Forgot Our Own Story
Long ago, in the heart of this land, there was no fight between “men’s world” and “women’s world.” Bharat’s soul saw them as one. The masculine was Purusha, the feminine was Prakriti, two halves of the same whole. Without one, the other could not even exist.
But somewhere in our long history, we wrapped ourselves in layers that were never ours. Some were forced on us. Some we adopted without thinking. And over time, we started forgetting who we really were.

🧵From Itihasa to Mythology: How We Were Taught to Laugh at Our Own Ancestors
They burned our temples, we rebuilt them. They looted our gold, but we earned it back. But when they stole our history and called it “mythology,” we did nothing. Instead we repeated the insult. We taught it to our children.
⚠️ If you have Sanatan in your veins, read this till the last line… and never again call your Itihasa a myth. The Time We Walked With Our Ancestors
There was a time in Bharat when the distance between history and faith was none at all, because our history was our faith, and our faith was our history.

A child in Ayodhya did not believe Ram was born there, he knew it. His grandfather had shown him the exact spot where the birth took place, the same way his grandfather had been shown.

🧵They didn’t just destroy idols, they tried to erase the very soul of civilizations.
From the Buddhas of Bamiyan to the burning ghats of Kashmir, from Sindh’s forgotten shrines to Bengal’s desecrated Durga Pandals, a war was waged not on people, but on their culture, their deities, and their history.

⚠️ This is more than history, it’s a warning.
Read it till the end not just with your eyes, but with your ancestor’s tears. Bamiyan: Where the Mountains Bled Stone
In the cold winds of Afghanistan’s Bamiyan Valley, nestled between the icy arms of the Hindu Kush, two colossal Buddhas once stood tall, carved lovingly into the cliffs by Buddhist monks over 1,500 years ago. Travelers from the Silk Route would stop in awe. Artists studied their finesse. Pilgrims whispered prayers at their feet.

🔥 The Lie That Burned a Faith: How Congress Tried to Brand Hindus as Terrorists.
This is the story of how the Congress Party nearly rewrote India’s spiritual identity by branding Hindus, the followers of Sanatan Dharma, as terrorists.
This isn’t just a story. It’s a wound on Bharat’s soul.
🧵Read till the end and never forget who lit the fire. When truth is silenced, the lie becomes history. Until one day, someone dares to speak.
They jailed Sadhus. They tortured soldiers. They called the oldest peace-loving faith a terror threat, all for votes. But in trying to wound their opponents, they slashed the soul of a civilization.

🧵 From Zorawar Singh to Betrayal, How Kashmir Was Lost Step by Step
They never told you this story in school. They never uttered his name when talking about Kashmir.
One man rode into the icy jaws of death to stitch Ladakh, Gilgit, and Kashmir into the very soul of Bharat.
Read till the last word, if you care about the Bharat.
Because the truth is not dead, it’s just been buried. Before India had a constitution, before Nehru made his UN speech, before the term "Kashmir issue" was even coined, there was one man whose sword had already secured the soul of Bharat’s north.
No foreigner gave us these lands.
They were earned by blood, by steel, by sacrifice.

He didn’t beg, he didn’t negotiate, he conquered. And then the politics of appeasement undid everything he had built. This is not just history. This is a funeral march for a forgotten hero, and a battle cry to reclaim what is ours.

🧵 We live in a time where temples are lit with lamps, but the fire of courage is fading in our hearts.
We sing bhajans to Ram, yet forget that he picked up a bow. We praise Krishna, yet ignore that he broke his own vow for Dharma. We chant Hanuman’s name, but forget that he burnt down Lanka.

This thread will shake your soul, challenge your silence, and awaken your warrior within.
Read it not with comfort, but with courage. The temple bell rang as dusk fell over the village. Children ran across the courtyard, elders folded hands before the deity, and the air was thick with incense and chants. A bhajan rose like a flame:
"Raghupati Raghav Raja Ram, Patit Pavan Sita Ram..."
But behind that soft, sacred rhythm… something was missing.
Outside, in the same land where Ram once walked and Krishna once preached, Dharma was bleeding.

🧵 Have you ever wondered why you grew up knowing more about Akbar’s court than Raja Raja Chola’s kingdom? Why did Aurangzeb's cruelty become a footnote, while Shivaji’s courage became optional reading?
This article is not just history, it’s a rebellion.
Read it till the last word, and you’ll understand what they never wanted you to know. This isn’t just an academic failure. It’s a theft. A theft of your identity. A theft of the thousands of years when Bharat ruled itself with wisdom, valor, and dharma, long before a single Mughal set foot on our sacred soil.
This article is not just history, it’s a rebellion.
And once you know it, you’ll never look at India the same way again.

🧵 They said Gandhi’s Ahimsa would live forever.
But the man who shot him proved otherwise, not with a gun, but with how he died.
Nathuram Godse didn’t just k!ll Gandhi with bullets.
He shattered Gandhi’s idea of non-violence by walking to the gallows without fear, without apology, without a single plea for mercy.
⚠️ Read it till the end, Before They Erase It Forever. He didn’t flinch.
He didn’t beg.
He embraced death, to prove that courage doesn’t always wear khadi or preach peace.
They banned his words. They buried his truth.
But today, you’ll read the story they were too afraid to tell.

This isn’t just history, it’s the death of a myth.

🧵 4,078 days since a man once mocked for selling tea walked into Delhi with a vision in his eyes and determined to rewrite the story of Bharat.

This article is a timeline of transformation. A story of what India achieved when a single man backed by the will of 140 crore people refused to back down.

Read this with your chest out and your eyes open. Because history may forget manifestos, but it will remember who rebuilt Bharat in 4,078 days. It began with a hope. It became a habit. And now, it stands as history.
On July 25, 2025, Prime Minister Narendra Modi etched his name in golden letters into India’s political legacy becoming the second-longest serving Prime Minister in a uninterrupted term, surpassing even Indira Gandhi.

But this is not just a tale of numbers.

🧵 They say Gandhi was the Mahatma. But ask the thousands of Hindu and Sikh refugees who walked barefoot from burning Lahore… whose mothers were r@ped in Rawalpindi… whose fathers were butchered in front of their eyes in Multan… who begged for water on the streets of Delhi only to be told to leave a mosque because it was “sacred.”

Read till the end, not for history, but for truth.
For the voices that Gandhi never heard. This is the forgotten truth of refugees who had nothing but faith and even that was taken away.
While their temples were reduced to ashes in Pakistan, Gandhi was pleading in Delhi for the preservation of mosques.
While they slept under torn tarps in freezing nights, Gandhi asked them to vacate the only roofs they had because they were once used by Mu$lims.

🧵 What if you are told a man once slapped a goddess… and she smiled back?
✨ This is the soul-shaking story of Saint Bamakhepa and Maa Tara of Tarapith, a love that shattered logic, laughed at rituals, and danced through fire.

Read till the last word.
Because somewhere in this madness…you might just find the purest form of devotion you’ve ever known. Bamakhepa was born in 1837 in a quiet village called Atla, in West Bengal’s Birbhum district. From the moment he could walk, he rejected everything the world expected of him.

While other children played in the fields, he wandered to cremation grounds, fascinated by the smoke, the silence, and the ash. His eyes would light up near funeral pyres. And when people asked why, he said:

“Because this is where truth lives. This is where Maa lives.”

🧵 You’ve heard the tale: A fearless woman, India’s Iron Lady, defeats Pakistan and births a new nation.
But what if we told you the real hero was sidelined?

That the war wasn’t won in Delhi’s war rooms, but in the mind of a soldier who defied the Prime Minister herself?
This is not the story Congress wants you to remember.
Read till the end, and unmask the myth that still props up a dynasty. After the 1971 Bangladesh War, Congress had a story to tell. Not one of strategy, sacrifice, or the soldier’s courage but a story of a singular woman who, in their version, stood like a fortress in the face of geopolitical chaos.

That woman was Indira Gandhi.

🧵 When 6000 warriors slayed 57,000 mlechhas just to save the honor and sanctity of their Kuldevi, she did not remain stone, she rose as Shakti within them. 🔥

Read till the last word. This isn’t just history.
It’s legacy written in blood and bhakti. The sun rose over the dusty plains of Gidhaur in Bihar, casting its golden light upon the fort’s sandstone walls. In its shadow, bells rang out from a sacred shrine, a temple not of grandeur, but of eternal power.

It was the temple of the Kuldevi of the Tomar Rajputs. The mother they turned to before war, after birth, at death. She was their beginning, their end, and their dharma.

🧵They hacked off his legs for saying Bharat Mata Ki Jai, but he still walked into Parliament.
This is not fiction. This is the blood-soaked, spine-chilling, and awe-inspiring journey of Sadanandan Master Ji.
Read till the end, his story will shake you. 🌑 25 January 1994 – Kannur, Kerala
The sun had long set over the red soil of Kannur, a region infamous for its political k!llings, where ideology doesn’t just divide people, it draws borders in blood.
That night, C. Sadanandan, a soft-spoken schoolteacher and former CPI(M) supporter turned RSS swayamsevak, stepped down from a bus near his village of Perinchery.