Aryan and Meera were walking along the silent pathways of Lunar University, the gentle blue glow of Earth casting a surreal light over the lunar surface. The night was endless here, timeless. Yet, within Aryan’s mind, memories flowed like an unbroken stream, pulling him into the past.
He had received the news long ago—his grandfather had passed away on Earth. But he hadn’t been there. His training schedule had kept him here, on the Moon, unable to return in time. Even now, the thought gnawed at him, leaving a strange emptiness.
But was his grandfather truly gone?
The Spiritual Priest Who Walked His Own Path
Aryan was raised in a Vedic Brahmin family, yet he was a realized Tantric who had awakened both his Ajna Chakra, represented by bijmantra Sham of Sharma, and his Swadhishthan Chakra, represented by bijmantra Vam that seems aligning with the word Verma. For this reason, he embraced both surnames as his own. Moreover, he naturally mingled with people from all sections of society, breaking conventional barriers with ease.
“But he commonly used the surname Verma, as he had ascended to the Ajna Chakra through the Swadhishthan Chakra, rather than directly.”
Along with, Aryan’s grandfather had been a self-made Brahmarishi, much like Vishwamitra—not by birth, but through sheer self-effort and karma. He was a spiritual priest, performing yajnas and rituals, but unlike the orthodox elite, his heart always beat for the downtrodden.
“Krinvanto Vishvam Aryam,” he would often say. “Make the whole world noble. But how? By lifting those who are at the bottom first.”
Most of his yajmanas were the poor, the neglected, the socially discarded. But he never cared for status. To him, everyone was a soul on their journey, and he treated them with the same love and respect.
He never used emotional blackmail, something Aryan had seen in so many traditional families. Some elders manipulated their children, family, relatives, lovers and even other common people through guilt, but his grandfather never did. “Emotional blackmail, not just within families but even in public life, where those in higher positions manipulate and pressure those below them.” He didn’t impose his will—he simply guided, even sought guidance without any ego from whoever was available—poor or rich, elder or younger—valuing wisdom over status.
“Each person grows at their own pace,” he once told Aryan. “You don’t force a bud to bloom. You give it sunlight, water, and patience.”
And yet, he wasn’t a detached saint. He deeply valued family and was always present for them. He was selflessly dedicated to his family. But he had a unique balance—he embraced the modern world while never losing his ancient wisdom.
His First Journey to the Moon
Aryan smiled to himself as he recalled one more old memory.
His grandfather had once visited the Moon with his grandmother when Aryan was still a student here. It was a short trip, but an unforgettable one.
His grandmother, who had never even flown in an airplane, had been absolutely stunned during space travel.
“Hai Ram! We are floating!” she had gasped, gripping the seat tightly in the zero-gravity cabin of the space bus.
His grandfather, on the other hand, had been calm, fascinated, and deeply introspective.
“Look at this silence,” he had murmured, staring at the vast emptiness outside the window. “This is the peace that sages seek in deep meditation.”
For those few days, she had explored the lunar surface with him. His grandmother, always the traditional homemaker, was more worried about food than anything else.
“Beta, what do you even eat here? How do you digest this artificial food?”
His grandfather, however, had been intrigued by the Moonites—the ancient, breathless beings who lived here. He had spent hours observing their ways, meditating among them.
Why He Loved the Moon
During his longer stay at Lunar University initially during Aryan’s settling days, his grandfather had started feeling a strange connection to the Moon.
“I would love to settle here,” he had once told Aryan. “Maybe buy a small rice field and live in peace.”
Aryan had laughed. “Rice fields on the Moon? Grandfather, that’s impossible.”
But his grandfather had smiled. “The impossible is only what we haven’t yet understood.”
The Moon had a special kind of peace, a spiritual silence unlike anything found on Earth. It was also home to great karmayogis and spiritual seekers, beings who had transcended the cycle of breath.
His grandfather had always been fond of breathless practices—pranayama, deep meditation, kriya yoga. Perhaps that was why he resonated with the eternal non-breathers of the Moon.
Here, there were two kinds of Moonites:
- The Eternal Non-Breathers – They had transcended breath forever. They were like the limitless sky—unaffected by the cycle of life and death.
- The Subtle Breathers – They had stopped breathing, but the impression of breath still lingered in their subconscious. Even in silence, they were not fully free.
His grandfather had once told him:
“Even when breath stops, its memory remains. True liberation is beyond both breathing and non-breathing.”
Maybe that was why he loved the Moon so much—because it reflected his own spiritual journey.
A Man of Action, A True Karmayogi
Despite his spiritual depth, his grandfather was not a passive mystic. He believed in karma yoga—action with detachment. He never wasted time.
“One who never sits idle lives a hundred years,” he would often say, quoting the Vedas.
Yet, he did not reach a hundred. His body, weakened by years of austerity and self-neglect, had failed him. He never cared much about nutrition, rest, or personal comfort.
But in his passing, he left behind something greater than years—he left behind wisdom.
The Moonites and the Illusion of Separation
As Aryan strolled across the lunar landscape, a peculiar thought crossed his mind. The Moon had always been the land of the non-breathing moonites—eternal beings who existed beyond the realm of breath and survival instincts. They needed nothing, desired nothing, and were unaffected by space, time, or the conditions of any planet. Unlike the breathers, who required air and sustenance, these beings could live anywhere in the cosmos, yet they always chose the Moon as their home.
But things had changed. With the rise of artificial oxygen domes, breathing moonites had started appearing on the Moon. Technically, they weren’t true moonites—at least not in the traditional sense. They were visitors from planets rich in oxygen, where life depended on the constant rhythm of breath. Yet, drawn by the Moon’s mysticism and the wisdom of the non-breathing beings, they had begun to settle here, adapting to an existence that was foreign to their nature. However, later on many native moonites had also learned breathing from those settlers.
Of course, some non-breathing moonites, those with a deep craving for breath, and not getting a chance to learn from settlers would often embark on long journeys through space in their super-advanced vehicles, seeking out oxygen-rich worlds. No distance was too great for them, no star too far. They wandered across the cosmos, tasting the thrill of breath, only to return home—again and again—to the Moon, their eternal sanctuary.
And then there were those who had never breathed at all. Beings so deeply entrenched in their non-breathing state that they were completely beyond the pull of breath’s illusions. They were like the endless sky—undivided, unaffected. The breathers, in comparison, were like fleeting patterns in the clouds, appearing and disappearing, but never truly separate from the vastness that contained them.
“Just as the sky appears divided when seen through a grill, yet remains whole, so too is the illusion of separation among beings”, once his grandfather had told him.
Aryan chuckled to himself. If anyone else had been listening to his thoughts, they might have dismissed them as absurd. But here, on the Moon, where the boundaries between the material and the mystical blurred, such reflections felt completely natural.
His grandfather had always pondered these mysteries. And now, standing on this silent lunar plain, Aryan felt closer to those truths than ever before.
Meera’s Awakening
“Aryan?”
A gentle voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Meera was standing beside him, looking at him with concern.
“You’ve been lost in thought for a while,” she said.
Aryan exhaled slowly.
“I was just remembering Grandfather.”
Meera nodded. She had just woken from a strange dream—a dream where she had relived their past, their time on Earth, his grandfather’s visit to the Moon, his wisdom, his humor.
“I saw him,” she whispered. “Smiling at us. As if… he never left.”
Aryan turned to look at her, then at the endless lunar horizon.
Perhaps, in some way, his grandfather had never truly left.
Not on Earth. Not on the Moon.
But in the eternal silence that existed beyond both.
Wisdom Beyond Loss: Grandfather’s Journey from Struggle to Spiritual Riches
As Aryan shook off the remnants of his deep thoughts, he and Meera continued strolling through the serene lunar landscape near the university. The silver-hued terrain stretched endlessly under the soft glow of artificial domes, casting ethereal reflections on the smooth, cratered ground. A gentle hush prevailed, broken only by the rhythmic sound of their footsteps and the occasional distant hum of a passing lunar transport. Above them, the cosmos shimmered with a clarity unseen on Earth, each star appearing like a guiding beacon in the boundless void. The tranquility of the moon, untouched by the chaos of Earthly life, made it the perfect place for contemplation—a silent monastery in the vast temple of the universe.
Meera looked intrigued. “Interesting,” she said. Then, without pause, she asked, “Didn’t your grandpa once renounce a government job offer?”
Aryan nodded. “Yes. He had proudly said, ‘I would rather employ servants than become one.’ He wasn’t against work, but he had a different idea of dignity. He wanted to live on his own terms.”
“But after the Mujayra Act, most of his land went to the cultivating laborers, right?”
“Yes, and that changed everything. With most of his land gone, he had to work hard just to sustain the family. Religious work and farming became his only sources of livelihood. Some saw that phase as his ‘strict era’ because he had to be tough to keep things running. But it wasn’t strictness—it was helplessness. I was too young then, so I don’t remember much of that struggle.”
Meera glanced at him thoughtfully. “But when you grew up, he was different?”
Aryan smiled. “Completely. By the time I was old enough to understand him, he had changed into someone almost ascetic. He had no complaints, no regrets—just a quiet wisdom. He would spend hours reading the Puranas to my great-grandmother.”
“She was very old, wasn’t she? Did she still understand those stories?”
“Oh, more than anyone else. She used to say, ‘No matter how old you get, the heart still longs for stories of gods and warriors. They remind us of who we are.’”
Meera’s lips curled into a smile. “And your grandfather? What did he say?”
“He believed he had gained far more than he had lost. He used to say, ‘What I lost in life is nothing compared to what I have gained through these scriptures.’ He thought everyone should read them—not just as stories, but as a way to understand life itself”.
“He recognized that awakening within me and was overjoyed, seeing it as a fruition of the deep spiritual environment he had nurtured at home, mainly frequent reading and listening to puranas daily “.
“In the later part of his life, he also felt a sense of repentance for having lived under the constraints of higher orthodoxy, realizing that he had let go of many opportunities that could have helped him grow—mainly living away throughout the majority of his life from those Puranas and scriptures, which were full of insights that aid in all-round development. That’s why he once said to me during my university days, when I was among gruesome cosmic creatures, “Mix among and adapt to those you fear, while always keeping your vision fixed on your true nature.”
Meera nodded. “That explains why he was always so calm. Even when life wasn’t kind, he had something unshakable inside him.”
Aryan looked up at the endless sky of the moon, his mind still lingering in the past. “Yes,” he said softly. “That’s exactly why.”
Demystifying Kundalini 