My strongest impression as a child is my dad, who — come what may, rain or sun, death or birth — would be at the Shiva temple by 5 or 6 in the morning. That was the day's frame. Up at four. Off to the temple. The day began only after.
I don't remember a single morning he skipped it.
Nair Uncle, who could read the nakshatras
Right after my tenth class and twelfth class, during my college days, my family got introduced to someone we called Nair Uncle. But Nair Uncle was Parashara himself. What I mean is — through his eyes, he could see the twenty-seven nakshatras across a person's body. He didn't need birth details to know the chart. He looked at you and the astrology was clear.
He could only answer a question if you asked one. He was not supposed to take money for what he did. He could not call his guru for the welfare of his own family — but he could call his guru for the people he met. Talking about his guru is a story for another day.
The teenager who drove him around
I was not born spiritual. More than hanging out outside doing nothing, my teenage memory is of coming back from engineering college around 4:30 in the afternoon and driving Nair Uncle to the temple, to the ashram. The car was the excuse. I think I was more interested in driving than in spirituality. But the car kept putting me beside him, and that's where it took root.
We visited the Ramakrishna ashram. The Vivekananda ashram. Temples. Walking with him, listening to stories. Eventually I also became his translator — though, of course, I never fully understood the things being said.
Wash your ass with the left, eat with the right, pray with both
This is the line of his that stayed with me. He used to say it as a small instruction for everyday life: you wash your ass with the left hand, you eat your food with the right hand, but we pray together — with both.
We can change the good and bad around us by changing what we hold inside. I grew up with that. Alongside it, we also had the ancient Theyyam tradition that I used to be part of — a tantric thread running alongside the Vedantic one. Both, in the same childhood.
After Vivekananda, the Art of Living year
Right after engineering, I was a big fan of Vivekananda — thanks to Nair Uncle, who had pointed me at the eighth volume. It just dawned on me that I should spend some time with a master who was alive. I came across Sri Sri Ravi Shankar Ji. As soon as I was done with my exams I said: I have to figure out who he is.
I landed at the Bangalore ashram. The Art of Living International — a small ashram then; it has since grown across the world. I worked in the admin team. About a year and a half. Then I came back and joined the industry. But the practice — pranayama, the quiet daily things — kept me sane through everything else.
Aksharji, and the five thousand on yoga day
As life moved, the connection thinned, and then it came back to me through Aksharji of Akshar Yoga, Bangalore. This was when my son was around one or two years old. One of my fondest memories from those years is organising an International Yoga Day for five thousand people alongside Aksharji. My son was on stage. A proud moment.
Through Aksharji I came to know about Kulantakpeet. From then I have been associated with Kulantakpeet.
The line of Jyotish, the line of now
On one side, in some shape or form, a spiritual saint or a guru has always been in my life. Am I spiritual? Do I do every practice the shastras prescribe? I'm still figuring out what works for me. Lately I have also begun a journey with Vedic astrology — Jyotish, as we call it — with Vikram Devatha.
My brothers, and Prakash Anna's mother
This journey would not be complete without my brothers. My elder brother has been a Krishna bhakta for as long as I remember. The guru temple, the devi temple, Tirupati pretty much every month, without fail. He even tried a small startup once for spiritual seekers wanting temple darshan. He has told me a couple of times, "Come back, let's build this together." I don't know if that will happen.
My other brother is equally spiritual — but a karma yogi. The work itself is his sadhana.
And then there is Prakash Anna — my spiritual elder brother, who was very kind in guiding me through my teenage years. He gave us the place to stay. His mother was one of the reasons Sripriya and I are together — she said we were connected from a past life and asked Nair Uncle to check the astrology match. Both of them said the same thing.
A foreigner in an Indian body
I am deeply moved by the mountains. I am equally moved by the land. As I have come closer to Auroville and to Sri Aurobindo and the Mother, the four energies — Maheshwari, Mahakali, Mahalakshmi, Mahasaraswati — have moved into how I see life. Jagannath, Subhadra and Balaram have found space in our home. They are with us.
When I look back, I cannot find a moment in my life when spirituality wasn't present in some degree, some shape, some form. Even if I wished to let go of that identity, it has not been possible.
The impression I have of myself is this: I feel like a foreigner in an Indian body, in awe of the Indian Vedic system I was born into. I am still trying to understand this ancient wisdom. There are practices that are dear to me. Practices I have only heard about. Practices I would like to try. But living a balanced life — being a gṛhastha, a householder — is its own daily negotiation. The swing between worlds is not easy.
I keep walking.
