(From the book “Journey Beyond Earth – A Veterinarian’s Life on the Moon”)
Dr. Aryan Verma stood before the towering gates of Lunar Animal University, the most prestigious veterinary school in the entire Milky Way. The sight of the massive, silver-etched insignia of the Moonites, glowing under the Earth’s faint blue light, sent a shiver through him. His heart pounded—not from fear, but from the weight of this moment.
This was no ordinary university. This was where the most brilliant minds—human, extraterrestrial, and beyond—competed for a coveted Veterinary Sciences of Cosmic Species degree. The Moonites, beings of pure awareness who had never breathed, had invited him here to prove himself.
Meera had been skeptical when Aryan first told her about this.
“The Moonites never needed a veterinarian before. Why now?” she had asked.
“Because they want to understand earthly life,” he had said. “And maybe because I want to understand something bigger too.”
Even now, standing at the threshold of this place, he wasn’t sure whether he was here to heal animals or to uncover the secrets of existence itself.
An Unseen Competition
Inside the university, the atmosphere was otherworldly. Unlike Earth, where medical schools reeked of antiseptic and stress, this place was silent, luminous, and pulsating with an unseen energy. There were no walls—just vast, open spaces that seemed to bend around thought itself.
Candidates from across the cosmos had gathered here. Some had six limbs, others spoke in vibrational hums, and a few had no physical forms at all. Yet, somehow, they were all here for the same purpose—to become a healer of interstellar life.
A low vibration filled the space as the Moonite instructors arrived. They weren’t made of flesh but of soft, translucent light, radiating a presence more felt than seen.
“Your first test begins now,” one of them announced, its voice entering not through the ears, but directly into Aryan’s consciousness.
A small, silver orb floated before him, slowly unfolding into an intricate holographic creature. It had the eyes of an owl, the spine of a serpent, and the paws of a wolf, all merged into one surreal form.
“Diagnose its ailment,” the Moonite said.
Aryan hesitated. On Earth, he relied on scans, observations, and experience. But this creature was unlike anything he had ever encountered. He reached out instinctively but felt nothing—only empty space.
“You will not find the answer through touch,” the Moonite said. “Feel its energy instead.”
Closing his eyes, Aryan took a slow breath. He let go of thought, letting his awareness expand beyond logic, beyond biology. Suddenly, he felt it—a faint disharmony in the creature’s pranic flow, a slight disturbance in its stillness.
“Its Prana and Apana are imbalanced,” Aryan whispered.
A moment of silence. Then, a gentle pulse of acknowledgment filled the space.
“Correct.”
He had passed the first test. But he could feel it—the real challenge was only beginning.
The Secret of the Moonites
Days turned into weeks, and Aryan became immersed in his studies. But one question haunted him—why did the Moonites, who had no breath and no duality of Prana and Apana, care about veterinary sciences?
One evening, as he sat with Meera and their children, Avni and Ansh, on the luminous sands of the Moon’s surface, he finally voiced his thoughts.
“Meera, something doesn’t add up. The Moonites don’t breathe, yet they want to understand breathing life. Why?”
Meera, ever the practical one, watched as Avni and Ansh chased floating orbs of soft light, their laughter ringing through the emptiness.
“Maybe they want to understand what makes Earthly life so restless,” she said. “You always talk about how Prana and Apana separate with breathing. Maybe they want to know why we suffer through it.”
Aryan nodded, deep in thought.
“Breathing churns pure awareness like milk,” he murmured. “Thoughts rise as glistening butter, and subconscious heaviness settles like lassi. That’s why we struggle—to turn it back into milk, to restore what was lost.”
Some call this butter Shakti and lassi Shiva, as butter rises to the top like refined energy, while lassi remains spread out and deep, holding everything within. Others see it the opposite way, with butter as Shiva, the still essence, and lassi as Shakti, ever dynamic and moving. In reality, both are just different expressions of the same truth—interwoven and inseparable.
Meera smiled and said, “So, in the end, whether you call butter Shiva or Shakti, or lassi Shiva or Shakti, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that without both, there’s no complete milk. Just like without both stillness and movement, the universe wouldn’t exist.”
Aryan nodded thoughtfully and said, “Exactly! Just like breath—inhale, exhale. Just like life—action, rest. Neither is complete without the other. Shiva and Shakti are not two separate things; they are the rhythm of existence itself.”
Meera turned to him, her eyes filled with quiet understanding.
“But the Moonites never breathed,” she said. “So they never lost that pure awareness.”
On hearing this, their son Ansh suddenly asked, “So, if Moonites don’t breathe, does that mean they never have to worry about bad breath?” The room fell silent for a moment—then, all at once, they burst into laughter.
However, the realization struck Aryan like lightning. That was why they could exist in eternal stillness—because they had never been churned by breath in the first place.
The Final Test: Merging Prana and Apana
As the final stage of his education, Aryan was called to the Chamber of Stillness, a place where no physical form could function. He stood in the endless expanse, where time and space lost their meaning.
A voice filled his awareness.
“To heal the cosmos, you must first heal yourself. Separate the churning of breath, and see what remains.”
Aryan sat down, closing his eyes. He felt his breath, moving in and out, up and down, splitting his awareness into duality—one rising, one falling. The cycle of suffering.
Then, something shifted.
He stopped focusing on breath itself and instead held both the expansion of consciousness and the grounded awareness of body at the same time.
Slowly, the two merged. Prana and Apana were no longer separate. They became one unified force, neither moving up nor down, neither rising nor falling.
In that instant, a deep stillness overcame him—a silence more profound than he had ever known. He felt himself dissolving, no longer just Aryan, just human, just earthly. He was something else, something vast, eternal.
He opened his eyes.
The Moonites stood before him, radiant and silent. But now, he could feel them—not as separate beings, but as expressions of the same stillness he had just touched.
“You understand now,” the Moonite said.
And he did.
For the first time, Aryan saw the truth—his journey wasn’t just about healing animals, planets, or species. It was about healing existence itself—by restoring the unity that had been lost through breath.
Returning to Earth, But Not as the Same Man
The day finally came for Aryan and his family to leave the Moon. As they prepared for their journey back, Avni tugged at his sleeve.
“Papa, will you still be a veterinarian when we go back?”
Aryan smiled, lifting her onto his shoulders.
“Yes, Avni. But I think I’ll be healing more than just animals now.”
As their spaceship ascended, the silver glow of the Moon faded into the vast blackness of space. Aryan closed his eyes one last time, feeling the silent presence of the Moonites within him.
They had never breathed.
And yet, in their presence, he had finally understood what it meant to be truly alive.
This journey was never just about science. It was a search for truth, for unity, for the stillness beneath all movement.
And now, as Dr. Aryan Verma returned to Earth, he carried with him something far greater than a degree—he carried the memory of what it felt like to touch the eternal.
The suspense unfolds now
As Aryan gazed into the endless expanse of the Moon’s everlasting landscape, lost in thought, Meera noticed his expression and smiled. “What’s on your mind?” she asked softly.
Aryan chuckled, leaning back. “Just imagining the future… and also remembering the past.”
Ansh’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “What kind of past, Papa?”
Aryan’s face softened. “The time when I first came to the Moon as a student. You know, I was selected for my veterinary degree at the prestigious Moon University through an intergalactic entrance exam. But adapting here wasn’t easy. Everything felt so strange—the energies, the food, the way of living.”
Avni leaned in, fascinated. “How did you manage?”
Aryan smiled. “Your great-grandfather. He traveled with me to help me settle in. He was a deeply spiritual man, and even he was amazed by the tranquility of this place. He used to say that the peace here was beyond anything he had ever experienced, even in deep meditation.”
Meera listened intently. “I never knew he visited the Moon.”
Aryan nodded. “He even wanted to stay here permanently. He dreamt of buying a home and a field of rice here. But back then, space travel wasn’t advanced enough. We used to travel by space buses, and private space vehicles weren’t available to common people.”
Ansh tilted his head. “But he couldn’t stay?”
Aryan’s expression grew distant. “No. After four or five years, he passed away on Earth, carrying his wish with him to another world. I couldn’t even come back to see him one last time because space travel was still limited back then.”
A heavy silence filled the room. Avni was the first to speak. “That must’ve been hard.”
Aryan sighed. “It was. But I’ve always felt that maybe, in some way, life gave me a chance to fulfill his wish. Later, when I was appointed as a veterinarian on the Moon, I knew it wasn’t just coincidence.”
Meera reached for his hand. “Maybe he’s watching, proud of what you’ve become.”
Aryan smiled faintly. “Maybe.” He took a deep breath and shifted his tone. “And then there’s the future… the way I used to dream about it back when I was a teenager.”
Ansh grinned. “What did you dream about?”
Aryan chuckled. “The usual things. Falling in love, marrying a beautiful girl, having smart and adorable children, traveling across the world, and enjoying life when I got a highly paid job.”
Avni smirked. “And what else?”
Aryan’s expression turned thoughtful. “More than just material success, I imagined having deep, love-filled conversations with my family… about life, about the balance between worldly achievements and spiritual wisdom.”
Meera raised an amused eyebrow. “Sounds like quite a dream.”
Aryan nodded. “It is. But dreams have a way of shaping reality, don’t they?”
A comfortable silence settled between them, as if, for a brief moment, they could all see the life he had envisioned—a future woven with love, purpose, and the endless possibilities of the cosmos.
This journey was never just about science. It was a search for truth, for unity, for the stillness beneath all movement.
Demystifying Kundalini 