#sanatanadharma

The sun was low, painting the Yamunā’s waters gold, and the air smelled of fresh grass and fragrant kadamba flowers. The gopīs were laughing and talking, brushing the dust from their ghāghrās after the day’s tiring chores, when a new figure appeared among them. She was radiant, her every movement gentle and meek, every glance shy yet full of a hidden soul fire.

Krishna, in the form of a gopi, moved among them, his eyes twinkling with mischief. The gopīs felt a strange tug at their hearts, a mixture of delight and bewilderment. Something about this maiden was different…more luminous, more enchanting than any of them could describe. They whispered to each other, trying to guess her name, their voices soft with curiosity.

Krishna mimicked the gentle gestures of the gopīs, the sway of the ghāghrā, the tilt of the head, and yet there was an otherworldly grace that none of them could imitate. Every small movement; the brush of a hand, the lift of a foot, made the gopīs’ hearts flutter. Some giggled nervously, some felt a sudden shyness, and some could hardly contain the longing in their eyes.

“Who is she?” one gopi murmured, and in that question, Krishna delighted. He had hidden himself in plain sight, yet even in disguise, he could not hide the love and sweetness that radiated from his being.

The gopīs began to gather closer, enchanted by the new maiden. They admired her delicate movements, the gentle way she twirled a strand of her hair, the soft laugh that floated like the music of the Yamunā itself. “She moves as if the river itself dances with her,” one whispered. Another nodded, cheeks flushed, “And yet… there is something familiar. Something I cannot name.”

Krishna, in his playful disguise, let his eyes sparkle mischievously as he joined in their chatter. He mirrored their laughter, leaned in when they spoke, and even shyly accepted small compliments about his… or rather, her grace. Each interaction wove a web of joy, curiosity, and subtle longing. The gopīs were entranced, their hearts beating faster, their senses alight with delight at this mysterious companion.

Some tried to match her movements in dance, spinning and stepping lightly as she did, only to feel their feet falter and their hearts stir in inexplicable ways. Krishna’s subtle laughter rang out like a bell, though his disguise kept the source a secret. Every glance and gesture seemed to carry a divine tease, drawing the gopīs into a deeper, unspoken bhava.

As Surya’s golden light deepened into a warm evening glow, a hush fell over the grove. Among the gopīs appeared Radha, her presence luminous and soothing, yet her eyes quickened with a knowing anticipation. Krishna, sensing the moment, allowed the veil of illusion to shimmer and dissolve. Slowly, his true form emerged, radiant and dark, eyes sparkling with infinite love and mischief.

Radha’s gaze met his, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause. She smiled, a mixture of wonder and gentle reproach. “So it was you,” she said softly, her voice carrying the sweetness of a thousand songs. The gopīs gasped in awe, realization dawning upon them. The playful maiden who had enchanted their hearts all afternoon was none other than Krishna himself.

🦊 About Me: I’m Fox (22, transfemme, they/them, happily married). I'm a Fox therian rooted in Appalachian animism and deeply devoted to Sanatana Dharma as a Vishnu devotee. 🕉️🪷

🌀 The Blog: This page serves as a digital journal for my spiritual practice, Vaishnavism, alterhumanity, and love for nature. Expect a mix of serious reflections, devotional art, and daily thoughts. 🐚✨

The 27 lunar mansions are divided into three primary types: Deva (divine), Manushya (human), and Rakshasa (demonic). This division isn’t meant to moralize, but to describe the nature of the energy each nakshatra embodies. Among them, the Rakshasa nakshatras carry the most volatile and boundary-pushing qualities. These are the nakshatras that stir, disturb, seduce, and transform. They are not concerned with order—they exist to test limits, reveal power, and often provoke the hidden forces in others.

Rakshasas in the Vedic and Puranic texts are powerful beings, often portrayed as enemies of the gods or disturbers of cosmic harmony. But the stories also reveal something deeper: they are embodiments of forces that cannot be easily controlled—especially sexual, magical, and destructive forces. They are not just brute beings but are frequently portrayed as intensely learned in occult knowledge, adept in shapeshifting, and capable of wielding energies that gods themselves must confront.

Nine nakshatras are typically classified under the Rakshasa type: Krittika, Ashlesha, Magha, Chitra, Vishakha, Jyeshtha, Mula, Dhanishta, and Shatabhisha. These nakshatras are often ruled by Mars, Ketu, and Rahu—planets associated with raw desire, instability, transformation, seduction, and karmic upheaval. The deities linked to these nakshatras—kartikeya, the Nagas, Indra-Agni, Nirriti—speak to this darker or more intense nature. The qualities these nakshatras represent are not evil, but they are uncomfortable. They confront stagnation and test authenticity.

A significant theme in the lore around Rakshasas is sexuality—not as romantic idealism, but as a force of power and confrontation. Rakshasas often use sex as a weapon, a snare, or a ritualized tool to destabilize the righteous or gain energetic control. Ravana was not just a lustful king—he was a being whose desire itself disrupted the balance of worlds. Rakshasi women like Shurpanakha openly expressed sexual desire, an act punished with mutilation. These stories highlight the taboo nature of sexuality when it’s stripped of societal control, and how Rakshasa energy challenges the repression and moralization of these forces.

Rakshasas are also shapeshifters, and this quality runs deep in their mythos. They can alter form, gender, age, and appearance. Their ability to transform is both literal and symbolic—it points to their mastery of illusion, maya, and astral manipulation. In this, they share a common thread with beings in other traditions, such as succubi and incubi—sexual entities known to engage in intense dream encounters or astral unions with humans. Such beings offer ecstasies and pleasures far beyond the scope of ordinary human experience. Rakshasa qualities carry a similar force—seductive, penetrating, and often obsessive. The pleasure they represent is not for comfort but for initiation.

To be born under multiple Rakshasa nakshatras is to carry these very qualities. In my own chart, Saturn—is placed in Shatabhisha, a nakshatra known for secrecy, healing, and the intense probing of hidden systems. It is a domain of veiled knowledge, ruled by Rahu and presided over by Varuna, the cosmic enforcer of truth and unseen law. This makes my karmic approach and endurance saturated with subversive insight, detachment, and confrontation with collective shadows. My Moon is in Magha, placing my emotional core in the realm of ancestral pride, power, and the hunger for status and remembrance. Mars, my lagnesha, is in Ashlesha, a nakshatra ruled by serpents, known for its hypnotic charm and instinctual manipulation. My Mercury is vargottama in Chitra, ruled by Mars and Vishvakarma, the celestial architect. Chitra is seductive, visually oriented, and carries the Rakshasa trait of dazzling, refined presentation masking a deeper drive to shape, manipulate, and beautify reality. My Jupiter Atmakaraka and Rahu are both in Vishakha, which burns with obsession and the drive toward union—whether divine, erotic, or destructive.

Taken together, these placements reflect a Rakshasa-dominant chart. Not because they make one evil or monstrous, but because they anchor me in the qualities these nakshatras express: uncompromising, untamed, and transformative. These energies demand responsibility. They can’t be repressed without consequence, nor indulged recklessly without risk. But when recognized, respected, and skillfully directed, they offer a power that is direct. Rakshasa energy isn’t a curse—it’s a call to embrace the real, the raw, and the revelatory.

Interestingly, Rakshasas have also been symbolically linked to the figure of the clown—a connection that speaks volumes. In certain folkloric and esoteric circles, clowns are said to descend from or reflect Rakshasa-like beings. With their exaggerated features, garish colors, unnatural laughter, and chaotic presence, clowns embody a paradox: they entertain and terrify. Like Rakshasas, they manipulate reality, they play with masks, and they provoke a visceral reaction from deep within the subconscious. Their role is to disturb normalcy while delighting the crowd, much like how Rakshasa nakshatras disturb ordinary karmic rhythms to catalyze transformation. This explains why clowns, though meant to bring joy, are often the focus of unease, nightmares, or even phobias. Beneath the paint and the spectacle lies a powerful, shape-shifting force—just like the Rakshasa: one who dances at the edge of pleasure, fear, and revelation.

A monumental moment in the global recognition of Bharatiya heritage has unfolded at the heart of Western medical academia. The world's oldest and largest independent surgical institution, founded in 1505, has unveiled a magnificent 90-kilogram bronze statue of Maharishi Sushruta inside its prestigious Playfair Auditorium.

Alongside the unveiling, the institution released a comprehensive, evidence-based compendium evaluating ancient systems of medicine, reaffirming Sushruta's unparalleled contributions to surgical science. This historic recognition further strengthens his standing as the true pioneer and widely acknowledged "Father of Surgery" on the global stage.

These days my mind has often lingered on them, and maybe it is my mood swings but I find myself tearing up thinking about them a lot. When I think about them, I see them as lovers, a young couple in a loving marriage and then I remember the exiles and the doomed incidents. All for the welfare of us, their children.

Seeta’s second exile is a debated topic, people finding themselves blaming Rama for it. It is the same Rama who vanquished Ravana, the same Rama who wept and wept himself unconscious in agony of being separated from his wife. It is the same Rama who in grief had wandered asking trees and animals if they had seen Seeta, his deer-eyed wife, who is being accused of not trusting the wife he holds dearer than his own life.

Introspection finds people, it found me through them. No one doubts Seeta as they had done during that time, we point our fingers at Rama instead, do we not? How could he cast away his pious and devoted wife just because of some rumours and gossips?

Did Rama not take the accusations and blame on himself, and gave Seeta her well deserved respect and love that she is worthy of? I remember Krishna’s marriage to the sixteen thousand and one hundred captives of Narakasura. People condemn him for it, calling him a womaniser and what not. But the women were hailed as the junior queens of Dvaraka during that era, no one dared questioning their chastity. They too were Shri themselves.

Narayana can tolerate everything except for insults against Narayani, it is a well known fact.

Seeta was a woman of strength, merit and virtues. She was Shri, the supreme mother of the universe. Earth parted beneath her feet when she spoke, “If I have never thought about any other man than Shri Rama and if he knows it, then the earth may swallow me whole.”

She knew she was never unloved. Her husband had made a gold statue of her instead of taking a second wife for the ashwamedha yajna, he had denied heaven without her. The crown was never of importance to him, unless of course it meant that Seeta would become the queen- then Rama had accepted the crown and made her sit on the throne.

Let’s come to another of the main points here.

Ayodhya’s people were questioning the queen. As a subject, would you want your king to prefer his family more or the citizens of his kingdom? What Rama did was to maintain the stability of his kingdom. Furthermore, I can say for sure, had Rama ignored the people’s questions and turned a blind eye to it, today people would still be accusing and tearing down Janaki.

My point still stands. We accuse Rama today because they had accused Seeta yesterday. Rama did what he did so that the next day, people might blame him but never doubt Seeta.

Seeta and Rama deserved a lifetime of happiness, a love so great, no separation, no exile and no society could ever erase it.