When Buddhi Chooses Sleep: The Yogic Psychology of Gandhārī and Dhṛtarāṣṭra

A Moment in the Mahābhārata That Demands Deeper Seeing

In the Mahabharata, Gandhārī’s decision to cover her eyes for life so as to share the blindness of her husband Dhritarāṣṭra is often praised as the highest form of devotion. Yet when looked at quietly, without sentiment, this act does not remain simple. Something in it presses for a deeper reading. It feels less like sacrifice and more like a decisive inner posture—one that silently shapes destiny.

This is not a story about physical blindness alone. It is a story about consciousness, intelligence, and the subtle ways bondage continues even in the presence of love.

Jīva as Dhṛtarāṣṭra: Blindness Carried Forward

Dhṛtarāṣṭra represents the Jīva—the individual being shaped by past karma. His blindness is not accidental and not limited to the eyes. It symbolizes a long-standing incapacity to see clearly, to discriminate, to restrain desire and attachment. This blindness is carried forward from previous births as samskāra. In this birth, it simply expresses itself openly.

Nothing in the story suggests that this Jīva could not have been aided. Blindness here is not fate sealed forever; it is a condition awaiting either reinforcement or correction.

Gandhārī as New Buddhi in a Fresh Birth

Gandhārī represents Buddhi, the faculty of intelligence and discernment. She is not blind by nature. She enters this life with clear seeing, moral strength, and the capacity to guide. Before marriage, she stands close to what can be called samaṣṭi buddhi—intelligence that is still aligned with universal order rather than personal entanglement.

This is crucial: Buddhi arrives fresh in this birth. It is capable of seeing what the Jīva cannot.

The Warnings of Elders and Gurus

The elders and gurus advise Gandhārī clearly to keep her eyes open. This is not a social detail; it is symbolic. It represents śāstra, dharma, and higher wisdom reminding Buddhi of its responsibility. The message is simple: do not abandon discernment. Love does not require blindness. Partnership does not demand the sacrifice of intelligence.

At this moment, a real choice exists.

The Decisive Act: Buddhi Choosing Slumber

Gandhārī sees the blindness of the Jīva she is about to join. Instead of remaining awake and serving as a mirror, she chooses symmetry. She decides that if the Jīva cannot see, she too will not see. This is not ignorance and not compulsion. It is a conscious, emotionally motivated decision.

Here, Buddhi abandons its dharma of viveka. It chooses companionship over correction, harmony over awakening, loyalty over truth. Intelligence does not illuminate; it lies down beside blindness. It is like the Kundalinī snake coiled and Śakti sleeping in the Mūlādhāra chakra.

This is the silent turning point of the epic.

Why This Is Not Compassion in Yogic Psychology

In yoga, compassion never requires the dimming of intelligence. Buddhi exists to bring clarity to the Jīva, not to anesthetize it. When Buddhi voluntarily suspends its seeing, it does not become noble; it becomes dormant. By blindfolding herself, Gandhārī validates the Jīva’s blindness and removes the very friction that could have led to awakening.

This is love that prefers peace over truth—and therefore sustains bondage.

Why the Jīva Remains Unawakened

A Jīva does not awaken simply because Buddhi is present. Awakening happens only when Buddhi stays awake. In this pairing, Buddhi becomes a sedative rather than medicine. The Jīva remains blind not because help was absent, but because help chose not to function.

This is the deepest tragedy: intelligence was available, but it refused its role.

Later Power, Earlier Failure

Gandhārī later demonstrates immense tapas and spiritual power. Her curse after the war is devastating. Yet this power appears only after irreparable damage has occurred. If she had seen and acted early, things could have changed. Acting only at the end changed nothing. A blind Buddhi practicing yoga may acquire various powers and siddhis, but it does not attain awakening.

Blindness postpones responsibility. What is not corrected early returns later as destruction. Similarly, a blind Buddhi practicing yoga may acquire various powers and siddhis later in life, but it does not attain awakening.

A Pattern That Repeats Everywhere

This story is not confined to an ancient epic. It repeats wherever intelligence dims itself to preserve relationship, wherever clarity is sacrificed to avoid disturbance, wherever love fears awakening more than ignorance. In such moments, Buddhi chooses sleep, and Jīva continues as it is.

Awareness cannot be awakened by someone who refuses to see.

Final Understanding: How Bondage Continues Quietly

The Jīva was blind due to past karma.
The Buddhi was seeing in this birth.
But Buddhi chose sleep over sight, companionship over awakening.

Thus blindness continued—not by fate, not by ignorance, but by a conscious choice made in the name of love.

Liberation does not fail because light is absent.
It fails when intelligence willingly turns away from seeing.

Beyond Death and Liberation: Holding Consciousness Between Worlds

A Personal Reflection on Trishanku, Vishvamitra, Kundalini, and the Inner Guru

How Compassion, Ritual, and Inner Prayer Hold Consciousness Until Liberation Ripens

The Classical Story of Trishanku: The King Suspended Between Heaven and Earth

In the ancient tradition, King Trishanku of the Ikshvāku lineage desired to ascend to heaven in his physical body. When the royal priests refused to perform the rite, he approached the sage Viśvāmitra, whose tapas was unmatched. Through his austere power, Viśvāmitra attempted to send Trishanku to the celestial realms, provoking resistance from the gods. When the ascent was obstructed, Trishanku was left suspended between heaven and earth, neither accepted by the devas nor returned to the mortal world. Refusing to let him fall, Viśvāmitra established him in a unique state—neither fully liberated nor condemned—where he remained held by the force of the sage’s tapas.

Rethinking the Trishanku Story: Blessing, Not Punishment

I have often felt that the story of Vishvamitra and King Trishanku is misunderstood. Most readings stop at ego, rivalry, or defiance of the gods. But to me, it feels very different. It feels like a blessing, not a punishment. Vishvamitra did not abandon Trishanku halfway. He held him.

I feel Vishvamitra created an abode for Trishanku not out of anger, but out of compassion. However, it may be understood as a spiritual anger directed toward the devas for denying liberation to Trishanku. It was pure and positive—aimed at growth, and getting inspiration to do a great job, not rivalry. Trishanku was not ready for full liberation, yet he should not have fallen back. So Vishvamitra, through tapas, prayer, and sheer inner power, held him in between—high enough to be safe, steady enough to ripen. This suspension itself feels like grace. Liberation is not always immediate. Sometimes it is protection from regression.

Rituals for the Departed: Collective Tapas in Everyday Life

When I look at society today, I see the same intention expressed differently. People perform Bhagavatam kathas, shraddhas, yagyas, pindas, and tarpanas, prayers, rest in peace or RIP for their departed loved ones. These are not empty rituals. They are collective efforts to hold consciousness high enough so that it does not collapse back into unconscious karmic drift. Vishvamitra did this alone. Ordinary people do it together, repeatedly, across time.

Seen this way, Trishanku becomes an archetype. Not damned. Not liberated. But protected. Suspended with care.

When the Myth Became Personal: My Own Experience

This is not just philosophy for me. It touched my life directly.

Dream Visitations and the Call for Assistance

After the death of a close acquaintance, I experienced her presence repeatedly in dream visitations. These were not frightening. They were not dramatic. They felt like a seeking—an unspoken request for assistance in liberation. I did not try to command anything. I did not panic. I prayed.

Prayer, Kundalini, and the Meaning of Urging God

I prayed strongly. I urged kundalini for her peace, for her liberation, for forgiveness of acts that might be preventing liberation, for release from unresolved weight. For me, kundalini is representative of God—not as a personality, but as the deepest intelligence of integration. Urging kundalini is urging God. It is aligning intention with the highest coherence of consciousness. We may even call it a personified dhyāna-supporting chitra that often lingers during savikalpa dhyāna and, as it converges toward nirvikalpa dhyāna, enables a smooth and rapid transition.

I also urge liberation for all beings, twice daily, in my dhyana. I do this because liberation is not a limited resource. It is not like physical matter that gets exhausted by giving. It is like light. It can be wished for all, together, without loss. This understanding feels very clear to me.

Signs of Resolution: Clarity, Softening, and Residual Sadness

Over time, I noticed something important. The appearances in dreams became clearer. Calmer. More refined. Each interaction carried less confusion. There was a subtle sadness present—not fear, not agitation—but a gentle sorrow. It felt connected to not being perfectly cared for during illness and the dying phase. I did not try to fix this sadness. I simply allowed it. I know it will resolve one day on its own.

This clarity felt like confirmation—not in a grand mystical sense, but in a quiet, settling way. Something was integrating. Something was being completed.

Kundalini as Dhyana Chitra: The Inner Guru Clarified

I want to be clear about one thing. When I speak of kundalini here, I mean dhyana chitra. The inner meditative image. The inner guru. Not a voice. Not an external command. Not an authority that tells me what to do. It is orientation, not instruction. It does not demand action. It dissolves naturally in meditation.

Where Resolution Truly Happens

On careful observation, I see that nothing was resolved outside me. The resolution happened within. A tense relational field completed itself, which is why clarity increased and interactions became softer instead of more intense.

This reflects the true purpose of ancient rituals. They were meant as acts of love, not fear—support rather than rescue, holding rather than pulling. Their role was to stabilize awareness, reduce downward pull, and allow natural ripening to occur. It means these practices certainly work in this world, and they may also have effects beyond it, in the afterworld as well.

Yogic Understanding: Death as Pratyahara and Suspension

From a yogic perspective, death itself is forced pratyahara. The danger is regression into old samskaras. Holding practices—whether tapas, prayer, ritual, or remembrance—keep awareness above that collapse point or above throat chakra. Trishanku’s suspension mirrors this exactly.

Psychological Grounding: Grief, Holding, and Completion

From a psychological perspective, this is also healthy grief. Remembering without clinging. Caring without binding. Letting go without denial. Societies that abandon ritual often carry unresolved trauma because transitions are left unheld.

Responsibility Without Burden

One crucial truth remains central to me. I am not responsible for liberating anyone. I am responsible for not obstructing liberation with fear, guilt, or attachment. My prayers are permission, not intervention. Opening, not pushing.

Why Experiences Fade When Resolution Occurs

That is why these experiences naturally fade. Fewer visitations. Less emotional charge. More neutrality. Eventual quiet disappearance. Resolution softens. It does not escalate.

This is the role of the inner guru. Not to act. Not to control. But to allow completion to happen without force.

Returning to Trishanku: The Archetype of Compassionate Suspension

When I look back at Vishvamitra and Trishanku now, the story feels intimate, not mythic. One consciousness holding another until gravity loosens. One being refusing to let another fall, without pretending readiness that is not yet there.

Different methods. Same compassion.

Not a Conclusion, But a Resting Place

This blog is not a conclusion. It is a resting place. A suspension that does not need to hurry. Just as liberation itself does not hurry.

Nonduality on the Street: What Dogs Quietly Teach Us About Being Whole

Nonduality and Animal Behaviour: Understanding How Dogs Perceive Reality

Most conflicts between humans and animals do not arise because animals are violent or humans are weak. They arise because humans forget how animals perceive reality. Dogs, especially street dogs, do not respond to our words, beliefs, professions, or intentions in the way we imagine. They respond to state. They sense whether a being standing before them is internally divided or internally whole. This difference alone often decides whether a dog barks, chases, attacks, ignores, or quietly settles.

A dog does not encounter us as a psychological story. It encounters posture, breath, facial tension, rhythm of movement, and the invisible but very real coherence or incoherence of the nervous system. When a human lives in inner division—fear mixed with courage, friendliness mixed with suspicion, dominance mixed with anxiety—the body leaks signals. These signals create edges, and edges invite testing. Barking, circling, and chasing are not moral judgments; they are responses to fragmentation. When a human is internally unified, however, something entirely different is perceived. The body moves as one piece. The breath flows evenly. The face carries no agenda. To a dog, such a human does not appear as another competing individual. He appears as part of the environment.

Nonduality and the “Mountain Effect”: Why Coherence Dissolves Conflict

This is why the metaphor of “being one with the mountain” is not poetic exaggeration. When a person is inwardly undivided, the animal nervous system reads scale, not size. The human feels large, not because of muscle or dominance, but because there is no resistance to push against. Animals do not fight mountains, rivers, or weather. They adapt to them. In the same way, a coherent human presence often dissolves confrontation before it begins. The dog does not submit; it disengages. Dogs primarily challenge what they perceive as a threat to their territory. A nondual being makes the least claim on resources and shows minimal territorial behavior, which dogs instinctively respond to positively. In practical life, one must of course keep possessions in order to live, but inwardly one remains nondual—akin to being possessionless. A mountain may hold countless forms of natural wealth, yet inwardly it is almost possessionless. Actually, all healthy animals instinctively appreciate nonduality, because they are closest to it—though compulsively rather than by conscious choice.

How Dogs Read the Human Face and Body

Dogs are highly sensitive face readers, but not in the emotional sense humans assume. They read movement, contrast, breath, and eye tension. Wide eyes, exposed sclera, projecting chin, forward breath, and sudden motion activate reflexive circuits, especially in abnormal or stressed dogs. A relaxed, upright head with the chin slightly tucked—not collapsed—soft eyes that are neither staring nor fearful, and a neutral, peripheral gaze communicate something very specific: awareness without challenge. This posture is not submission; it is protection without aggression. Children, especially, must be taught this, because most bites occur when fear and excitement amplify facial signals.

Limits of Nonduality: Rabies, Extreme Stress, and Reflex Behaviour

It is important to understand that nonduality is not a magic shield. It works well with normal, socially regulated dogs, particularly when encounters are individual and calm. It does not reliably work with rabid dogs, severely injured animals, starving animals, or highly aroused packs. Rabies damages inhibition. In such cases, subtle presence gives way to raw reflex. Calm behaviour reduces reactions as long as perception is intact. When perception collapses as in rabies, severe pain or hunger, reaction runs on reflex. Sometimes instinctive actions—creating distance, increasing physical silhouette, using barriers—can pause an attack, as in the experience of lifting a large boulder overhead during a rabid assault.The dog probably sensed my body as being huge, with my face partially shielded by it. This is why the technique of increasing apparent body size—such as holding a stick or a bag wide in front with both hands or becoming tall lifting both hands up—sometimes works. However, these actions should be done softly and calmly, with a nondual attitude and without fear, in a defensive—not attacking—sense. One should never attack, because we can almost never overpower a beast. That pause may save seconds. But only medicine saves lives. Washing wounds thoroughly and seeking vaccination and immunoglobulin is not optional. There is no spiritual immunity to rabies, and pretending otherwise costs lives.

Essential Safety Education for Children Around Dogs

Children should also be clearly advised never to pelt stones or sticks at dogs, never to pass close to a sleeping dog, and never to stare continuously into a dog’s eyes, as this is read as a challenge. Children can easily underestimate the strength of small-looking dogs, so they should be made aware that even smaller dogs possess hidden, inherent strength and can cause serious injury. They should not rush or run suddenly, because dogs often interpret such movement as an act of theft or escape. Instead, one should calmly walk back in a slow, reverse motion without turning the back, keeping the dog in peripheral view. Even while increasing distance, it is safer to remain partially oriented toward the dog, gazing sideways rather than fully away, because dogs sometimes approach silently from behind and may bite without barking. Facing the dog inhibits this and often repels further approach. Most importantly, children should avoid displaying fear, as dogs read facial expressions in a very direct, gross manner. These behaviors should not be acted or pretended; they must be genuine, because dogs can easily sense the difference between performance and real inner state. nearby elder people should be called for help, never to walk alone in dog prone areas. If an attack occurs despite all precautions, becoming passive by curling the body inward and protecting the head and neck does not usually encourage further aggression. Most dogs attack in response to movement, noise, and interaction, not from an intent to continue harm indefinitely. When these signals suddenly disappear, the feedback loop sustaining the attack often collapses, leading the dog to disengage once arousal drops. This approach does not guarantee safety in every situation—especially in cases involving packs, rabies, or extreme predatory states—but it can significantly reduce the severity of injury by protecting vital areas. Passivity here is not surrender, but the withdrawal of signals that fuel aggression, buying critical time until the animal disengages or help arrives.

Personal Experiences of Nonduality and Aggressive Dogs

Once, while I was in a state of full nonduality arising from śarīra-vijñāna darśana, I approached the door of a stranger’s house. Suddenly, a dog jumped toward me with intense anger—barking fiercely, teeth fully exposed in a way that felt genuinely dangerous. I remained standing as I was, without reacting outwardly, and slowly called the owner in a calm voice. The dog stopped right near my feet and began wagging its tail. In a similar incident some years earlier, within three years of my dream-state awakening, a dog tethered by a chain at a house broke free and charged toward me with comparable aggression, yet again stopped near my feet in the same manner. I had gone there to treat that dog and had treated him earlier as well, so perhaps some remembrance existed. More recently, during a phase of what I call quantum-darśana nonduality, I encountered a stray dog at a shopkeeper’s house. It jumped toward me with an intensity of aggression that is difficult to describe fully. I raised my hands calmly and, with a gentle smile, spoke softly—playing lightly, saying that I meant no harm, asking it to calm down. The dog stopped near my feet, allowed me to touch its body affectionately, and then walked away peacefully, sniffing the grass with curiosity. I do not know whether the dogs were responding with amazement to a sensed state of nonduality, or whether nonduality itself prevented the bites. Perhaps both explanations are partially true.

Pack Dynamics: Why Groups Behave Differently

Pack dynamics reveal another layer of reality. A single dog reads a human. A pack reads itself. Once arousal crosses a threshold, individual awareness collapses into collective rhythm. Even calm dogs may act against their own earlier disposition. This is why packs often target crowds rather than solitary, coherent individuals. Chaos mirrors chaos. Coherence has nowhere to land in noise. Leadership in packs functions only while the pack remains socially regulated. A socially intelligent leader can anchor calm and prevent escalation—but only before ignition. Once panic spreads, hierarchy dissolves and physics replaces psychology. This is true for dogs and humans alike.

Street Dog Leadership and Shared Territory: A Real Example

A lived street example illustrates this more clearly than theory. A patwari—a revenue employee—used to attend early-morning yoga classes at a temple. A stray pup settled with him first, drawn by routine, calmness, and predictability. The dog was physically cared for by his family and became part of that household’s daily management. Much later, another person entered the same street. Normally, a street dog would respond to a late entrant with suspicion, barking, or chase. Instead, the dog responded with amazement and closeness, without anger or testing. This was not because of association alone. It was because the newcomer did not enter as an intruder but as coherence. There was no territorial counter-pressure, no dominance, no fear. The dog sensed no edge.

Over time, two bonds coexisted naturally. One bond was logistical—food, shelter, routine, survival. The other was orientational—calm presence, non-interference, inward settlement. Dogs are capable of this maturity. They can eat in one place and orient emotionally to another. They attach inwardly not to who gives the most, but to who disturbs them the least. That is why some attachments feel quiet and deep rather than clingy or possessive.

In a later incident, when a territorial dog beneath a car triggered an alarm and other dogs began assembling, the street dog positioned itself near the coherent human, growled without charging, and faced the others. It did not bark hysterically. It did not attack. It held space. That single act communicated affiliation, legitimacy, and controlled authority. The pack dispersed—not out of submission, but because the situation was re-evaluated and arousal dropped below ignition threshold. In pack situations, dog-to-dog signals override human presence. Calm human behavior matters because it allows such leadership to function rather than amplifying chaos. A similar neighbourhood experience happened to me when I was at the peak of nonduality. The dog used to look at me with a sense of closeness mixed with amazement.

What Dogs Ultimately Teach About Nonduality

All of this carries an important lesson for children and society. Animals are not enemies. They do not understand our words, arguments, or moral self-images. They understand whether we are at war inside or at peace. Teaching children not to scream, stare, run suddenly, or invade animal space is not fear-based education; it is intelligence-based education. Most bites are preventable when perception replaces panic.

Dogs do not practice nonduality consciously. They never left it. They live without inner conflict. Humans leave that ground through excessive thought and return to it through coherence. When humans return, animals respond naturally—not as disciples, but as mirrors. Life stops pushing back, and the mind stops splitting. In that sense, dogs encourage nonduality not by instruction, but by rewarding wholeness with peace.

Conclusion: Nonduality as Practical Wisdom

Nonduality, then, is not a belief system. It is a way of being that reduces friction with life itself—including animals. Wisdom lies in holding presence, science, safety, and compassion together. Presence prevents many conflicts. Medicine saves lives. Education saves society.

Animals do not understand what we say.
They understand whether we are whole.

Chapter 36: shringar rasa in quantum world

From Binding Impulses to the Aesthetic Intelligence of the Cosmos

After traversing the Ariṣaḍvarga—the six binding movements of consciousness—and examining Bhaya Bhāva as a derivative emotional contraction, the inquiry now enters a subtler and more luminous territory: the realm of Rasas. Unlike the Arishadvargas, which bind awareness into survival-oriented patterns, Rasas represent the aesthetic flowering of consciousness, where emotion transforms from compulsion into expression. With spiritual or nondual understanding, the same energetic emotions that once appeared turbulent and binding are transformed into Rasas. What was earlier experienced as pressure, craving, or fear becomes blissful aesthetic movement. It is like a stormy sea that, without losing its depth or power, settles into calm, rhythmic waves. The energy remains the same; only its expression changes. Just as rasa or literally meant Juice is the abstract essence or distilled taste of a fruit, rasa is also the abstract essence of an emotion—the pure, refined experience felt when emotion is freed from personal story and fully savoured by consciousness.

Rasas arise only when emotion is accompanied by awareness. While all living beings experience bhāvas such as fear, anger, or affection, these remain immediate and instinctive. Rasa appears when the same emotional energy is consciously witnessed, understood, and inwardly tasted like juice of fruit rather than blindly acted out. This capacity for reflective awareness is most fully developed in the human being, which is why Rasas find their clearest expression in human art, devotion, and inner life. From a deeper nondual perspective, Rasas are not created by humans but are universal aesthetic movements of consciousness itself, with the human mind–body serving as the primary instrument through which they are consciously experienced. This is so because the cosmos is composed of quantum entities whose behavior resists classical separation and fixed identity. Their relational and nonlocal nature reflects a nondual pattern at the most fundamental level of reality. In this sense, contemporary quantum understanding resonates with nondual insight, allowing us to speak meaningfully of a quantum darśana.

Duality pushes emotion into immediate outward action, blurring its taste and leaving it crude—like an unripe fruit. Nonduality, by preventing reactive or vulgar expression, preserves the emotion within, allowing it to be slowly and fully tasted, like fruit juice savoured till the soul is satisfied. That is why it is said: “ras se tript ho gae”—fulfilled by rasa itself.

Among all Rasas, Śṛṅgāra stands first—not merely as love or attraction, but as the primordial impulse toward union, resonance, and beauty. Seen through a quantum lens, Śṛṅgāra reveals itself not as a human sentiment alone, but as a fundamental principle woven into the fabric of the universe itself.

Śṛṅgāra is often misunderstood as a refined form of desire, but its nature is fundamentally different from Kāma. Just as quantum attraction and quantum coherence are distinct, Kāma and Śṛṅgāra also operate at different levels. Kāma moves through attraction and seeks fulfillment, while Śṛṅgāra arises from resonance and harmony. It is the movement through which consciousness recognizes itself in another beautified or decorated form and is naturally drawn toward balance, beauty, and union. This is why Śṛṅgāra expresses itself not only in intimacy, but also in poetry, devotion, music, and art. Through this rasa, existence delights in its own expression. Seen through a quantum perspective, the same movement appears as the universe’s natural tendency toward relational coherence rather than isolated and separate existence.

With Śṛṅgāra Rasa, one naturally appears attractive to others, yet remains content within one’s own existence. This attraction does not arise from lack or desire, but from inner harmony. In being at ease with oneself, one also becomes a source of joy for others, as the same resonance that brings inner happiness gently spreads outward, creating happiness and ease in those who come into contact with it.

Classical literature and lived experience repeatedly show that Rasa is a spiritual art rather than mere emotion. In Kālidāsa’s Śākuntalam, Śakuntalā’s beauty does not arise from desire or seduction; her very presence creates harmony, calming nature and uplifting those around her. In the devotional songs of Mīrābāī, love for Kṛṣṇa is intense yet free of possession, where longing itself is joyful and complete. The Rādhā–Kṛṣṇa tradition portrays attraction without lack or anxiety, a union in which both remain fulfilled within themselves while overflowing with joy for one another. Bharata’s Nāṭyaśāstra further clarifies that when Rasa is properly evoked, even the spectator tastes emotion without personal craving or bondage. The same truth is visible in everyday life, where a person who is inwardly at peace often appears naturally attractive, content in their own existence, and quietly capable of making others feel lighter and happier. In all these cases, raw emotion is refined into conscious expression, revealing Rasa as the art through which awakened consciousness radiates harmony and joy.

In quantum physics, particles do not exist as independent entities in the classical sense. Through quantum entanglement, two particles that have once interacted cease to be separate systems altogether. Their states become inseparably correlated, responding as a single whole regardless of spatial separation. This phenomenon mirrors the very heart of Śṛṅgāra: union beyond distance, connection beyond causality. Just as entangled particles echo one another’s state instantaneously, lovers in Śṛṅgāra experience a shared vibration of consciousness, where individuality softens without being annihilated.

Śṛṅgāra Rasa as Quantum Coherence: A Lived Experience of Nondual Attraction

I once experienced a form of soul-level entanglement that endured for a long period and eventually culminated in a brief yet powerful glimpse of awakening during a dream state. The experience was overwhelming in its intensity, yet inwardly perfect. In retrospect, it felt like a pure expression of Śṛṅgāra Rasa. We knew nothing of each other’s address, family background, or detailed personality, even never mutually talked directly, yet there existed a profound and inexplicable attraction that clearly denied physical union. It resembled quantum coherence rather than classical attraction.

Even those emotionally close to me seemed repelled by her image, as if her presence occupied my entire mental space. For years, she appeared as a constant inner image, almost like a sustained mental samādhi. Yet this was not an attachment that pulled me away from life. I did not abandon others or chase her physically. On the contrary, there existed a strange inner force that counteracted physical attraction. Whereas physical attachment to one person often leads to neglect of others, this experience made me more attentive, more caring, and more present with those around me.

In this sense, her Śṛṅgāra Rasa felt deeply empowering. Rather than binding me to her, it turned my awareness inward, revealing my own nature and sense of self. Had the interaction been driven by pure Kāma, the result would likely have been the opposite—narrowing of attention, possessiveness, and emotional contraction. Instead, this rasa expanded awareness.

In much of classical and even contemporary literature oriented around Rasa, such a presence often becomes the central figure. My experience followed a similar pattern, with a depth and subtlety difficult to convey fully. To describe all its layers would require a separate book altogether. What is shared here is only a brief indication of the profound and transformative effects that Śṛṅgāra Rasa, when lived as coherence rather than desire, can have on human consciousness.

Rasa as Living Sādhanā: How Presence Alone Transformed Emotion into Spiritual Expression

Not only feminine Śṛṅgāra Rasa, but all other Rasas—including those traditionally associated with masculine expression—were lived and experienced by me at their highest intensity, fully and practically, without consciously studying any scripture or watching cinema for guidance with her indirect company. Later exposure to literature and art only enriched and clarified these lived experiences. I grew up, however, in an environment where classical and spiritual reading was natural within the family, and it is possible that this subtle atmosphere played a silent role in shaping the inner terrain.

What is most striking is that, through her presence alone, all raw emotions within me were gradually transformed into their corresponding Rasas. Fear, anger, longing, intensity—each was cleansed of its material distortions and compulsive tendencies, revealing its inherent nondual spiritual luminosity. It was as if emotional energy was being washed and refined, uncovering its true aesthetic and conscious form. The process felt similar to a quantum particle returning to its natural wave-form when no longer forcibly observed or interacted or outwardly acted—freed from distortion, it reveals its true nature. A similar process may occur in bliss-producing cinema, books, drama, and literature. The artists or characters involved are not objects of personal attachment, and we usually know little about their private lives. Even scenes in films or books are not viewed or read with personal attachment, as they are only semi-real. In this sense, we do not forcibly observe or localize them. This non-interfering distance allows emotions to remain in their wave-like form, preserving them as pure Rasa. When emotions are excessively localized through possession, expectation, or personal involvement, they collapse into raw emotional states. Rasa, in contrast, represents the natural and original form of emotion, while raw emotion arises from false localization and compulsive identification. At that time, cinema industry was booming, may be it had indirect effect on me.

She did not teach through words, doctrines, or instruction. She taught by presence alone. Without preaching, without guidance, without intention, she functioned as a living catalyst. In that sense, she became my guru—not through authority or philosophy, but through silent transmission. The detailed unfolding of this life journey, and how she came to occupy this central yet non-possessive role, is explored fully in the book She Who Became My Guru. What is shared here is only a brief glimpse into how Rasas, when awakened through presence rather than practice, can become a complete spiritual path in themselves.

Śṛṅgāra Rasa or Aesthetic impulse of harmony or beautification instinct as Quantum Coherence

Beyond entanglement lies quantum coherence, a condition in which multiple particles share a unified wave phase, allowing their effects to amplify rather than interfere destructively. The logic of my experience aligns not only with a quantum analogy but also with classical Indian aesthetic theory, particularly the Nāṭyaśāstra siddhānta. In Rasa theory, Bharata makes it clear that Rasa arises only when emotion is freed from personal possession and private gain. Mere entanglement—whether emotional or relational—tends to produce mirroring and closure, where one partner reflects the state of the other but the field remains narrow and self-contained. Such bonding often leads to isolation rather than collective harmony. Quantum coherence, by contrast, offers a more fitting analogy for Śṛṅgāra Rasa: it allows constructive interference, expansion, and amplification across a wider field. In my experience, the relationship was not confined to a closed dyad; alongside a loose entanglement, there existed a powerful coherence that naturally extended into the social sphere. This explains why the experience did not diminish social bonds but instead invited unexpected and generous social support. Had it been only a private, possessive connection between two individuals, such collective resonance would not have occurred. Both Rasa siddhānta and lived experience suggest the same principle: where emotion remains localized, it binds; where it becomes coherent and depersonalized, it expands and becomes shareable.

Coherence is not force; it is harmony. It is the physics of beauty itself. In Śṛṅgāra, this same coherence appears as emotional and energetic resonance, where two beings enhance one another’s vitality, creativity, and joy. Love, in this sense, is coherence within the field of awareness—a state where inner rhythms align and life begins to sing.

My relationship with sweetie was not merely a form of emotional or psychological entanglement, but closer to what may be understood as quantum coherence. It was not that only the two of us were connected; rather, through that coherence, a wider field seemed to open. Both of us felt naturally connected with society at large, and even when we were physically separated, that sense of connection appeared to extend further—to the community, the nation, and in a subtler way, to the wider world itself. In this sense, even a reader encountering these words from a distant corner of the globe becomes part of that extended field of resonance. Perhaps through the brief glimpse of awakening that arose from this coherence, the experience touched something vast, hinting at a connection that feels boundless, even cosmic, without losing its grounding in lived human experience.

Śṛṅgāra Rasa Explained Through Quantum Physics: Love, Beauty, Polarity, and Nondual Unity

The universe itself is born from an aesthetic act. Modern physics describes creation as emerging through spontaneous symmetry breaking—a perfect balance giving rise to polarity, form, and differentiation. Śṛṅgāra celebrates this very movement. Polarity is not opposition but invitation. Male and female, Shiva and Shakti, positive and negative charges exist not to negate one another, but to participate in a dynamic embrace that generates form, beauty, and experience. Beauty, therefore, is not sameness, but balanced difference held within unity.

Even attraction at the most fundamental level unfolds poetically. Electromagnetic interaction occurs through the exchange of photons, quanta of light that mediate attraction and repulsion between charged particles. Every bond in the universe is, quite literally, carried by light. In Śṛṅgāra, light appears as the glance, the touch, the silent recognition between beings. What physics names photon exchange, mysticism recognizes as the subtle transmission of consciousness from one heart to another. Repulsion follows a similar pattern. Hatred between individuals is often sustained through the exchange of toxic elements such as abusive words, hostile behavior, harmful actions, and negative thoughts. Likewise, the loving bond between father and mother is frequently reinforced through the shared exchange of their children; when such exchange diminishes, the bond may weaken. Conversely, hostility between parents seeking divorce is often maintained through repeated exchanges of legal notices, lawyer bills, accusations, hostile communication, and adversarial thoughts. In this sense, relationships—whether loving or hostile—do not persist in isolation; they are continuously reinforced through what is exchanged between the parties, mirroring the way interactions in the physical universe are sustained through mediating forces.

Seen in this light, Śṛṅgāra Rasa represents the most refined and conscious form of exchange. Unlike relationships sustained by material transactions or emotional bargaining, Śṛṅgāra operates through subtle, non-compulsive circulation—of presence, warmth, recognition, and shared meaning. Just as quantum coherence does not rely on repeated forceful exchanges to maintain interaction, Śṛṅgāra does not depend on constant gifts, demands, or emotional negotiations. Its bond remains alive through resonance rather than transaction. Where ordinary attraction must be continuously fed to survive, Śṛṅgāra sustains itself through harmony, allowing connection to persist without exhaustion. In this sense, Śṛṅgāra Rasa is the aesthetic and spiritual culmination of relational exchange, where interaction becomes effortless, non-binding, and quietly self-sustaining.

Śṛṅgāra Rasa and Kundalinī Meditation: The Power of Resonant Love in Awakening Consciousness

Śṛṅgāra Rasa plays the most important role in forming and sustaining a meditative Kundalinī image. Neither she nor I ever demanded anything from each other, yet a deep resonance arose naturally between us. This resonance did not remain confined to two individuals; it extended into the collective social field and unfolded on its own, without effort or intention. It is often said that the one who helps us the most is remembered the longest. Yet in this case, she offered no direct physical or mental help. The help came indirectly, through a constructive resonance generated by Śṛṅgāra Rasa itself. This subtle support far exceeded all other forms of physical or spiritual assistance I had known.

Because of this, her image became firmly and continuously imprinted in the mind, almost as an unbroken remembrance. That very image functioned as a living meditative form—one that nourished Kundalinī energy and supported its rise and awakening. All other forms of help tend to be limited, temporary, and dependent on external sources. The help received through resonant love, however, is limitless, enduring, and independent, because it arises from within oneself through resonance rather than being received from another person. Attractive love may provide partial support and produce a weak or short-lived meditative image, but resonant love born of Śṛṅgāra Rasa operates in the opposite way.

When beauty and adornment are expressed in a refined and dignified manner, they cleanse and illuminate the face, allowing it to be deeply and positively imprinted on the mind. If expressed vulgarly, the same process can lead to repulsion or destructive resonance. Physical love and Śṛṅgāra Rasa may appear to use similar routes of beautification at the surface level, but they differ completely in their mental and energetic implementation. This distinction reveals the supreme importance of Śṛṅgāra Rasa in meditation, where resonance—not possession—becomes the true source of awakening.

Thus, Śṛṅgāra Rasa is not an extra emotion, but the natural way life connects with itself. Where the Ariṣaḍvargas bind the mind through compulsion and Bhaya contracts awareness through fear, Śṛṅgāra gently opens and expands it. In meditation, this opening appears as a living image that nourishes Kundalinī energy without force or effort. At a wider level, the same principle operates throughout the universe, where beauty, resonance, and harmony hold things together—whether as human relationships, quantum interactions, waves of energy, or stars in motion. In Śṛṅgāra Rasa, consciousness no longer struggles to secure itself; it rests in fullness and quietly celebrates its own being.

Chapter 35: bhaya emotion in quantum world

The six fundamental emotional movements—Kāma, Krodha, Lobha, Moha, Mada, and Mātsarya—are not isolated states but root currents of consciousness. From these arise countless secondary and tertiary emotions, just as a single tree gives rise to many branches. Bhaya (fear), for example, does not exist independently; it emerges as a derivative expression when these primary forces remain unresolved or imbalanced. In the same way, the vast complexity of human emotional life can be traced back to varied combinations and distortions of these six foundational movements.

Fear arises when consciousness contracts from infinity into the illusion of separateness — and the quantum world offers perfect parallels for this contraction.

Bhaya (Fear) — Quantum Analogy

In human beings, fear is the vibration of insecurity that comes when we sense loss of control, separation from the whole, or threat to identity.
In the quantum world, this is mirrored by systems that resist uncertainty, collapse potential, or shield themselves from exposure to the infinite wave of possibilities.

Analogy 1 — Wavefunction Collapse (Fear of Uncertainty)

In the quantum domain, every particle exists as a probability wave — open, free, infinite in potential.
But the moment an observer measures it, the wave collapses into a single fixed state.
This collapse is the quantum reflection of fear — the system’s surrender of infinite possibility for the comfort of certainty.

Spiritual parallel: When fear arises, consciousness contracts from the infinite flow (“I can be anything”) to a limited self-image (“I must protect this”).
Just as observation kills superposition, fear kills freedom.

I was a fearful child—not violently bullied in the extreme sense, yet targeted enough for vulnerability to settle into my nervous system early. My physical weakness, later diagnosed as ankylosing spondylitis, had not yet surfaced as disease, but its genetic seed was present from birth, quietly keeping the body fragile; and fragility is noticed quickly, because the weak are always easier targets. It may also be that bullying is faced by everyone, but weaker individuals tend to panic more. At times fear would rise intensely, yet that very fear became the force that turned me inward toward spirituality, almost as a reflexive counter-movement—when identity weakens, fear weakens, and spirituality dissolves identity at its root—so what appeared as a curse became a blessing in disguise. Whenever I was established in a spiritual mode, fear simply could not touch me; it returned only in the worldly mode where identity reasserts itself, and this oscillation also hampered my worldly growth, because a fearful person cannot expand outwardly with confidence. In later school life, something unexpectedly protective occurred: I came into gentle, indirect company with girls, and bullish boys instinctively kept their distance; girls, cows, and the diseased are all traditionally considered weak, yet their company carried a peculiar fearlessness, the same unthreatened state I felt while grazing cows—an innocence untouched by social dominance. University life reversed this balance again; adolescent vulnerability was left unprotected, ragging in those days carried a ghostly brutality now largely controlled, and my weakness surfaced once more, though by then I had already entered a post-realisation phase—an awakening that had occurred momentarily in a dream state but left deep, lingering aftereffects. Empowered by that awakening and its fearlessness, I resisted and confronted what I would otherwise have endured silently, sometimes at the cost of my own life; once I was beaten severely, stripped to the last shred of dignity, and left broken, saved only by grace, yet throughout the episode I felt no fear at all. For nearly three years after that surge of awakening, my mind remained strangely conditioned—fear arose only when others narrated the seriousness of those events; otherwise I felt myself held by an invisible, divine handle, as though life itself had taken responsibility, and when I observed others trapped in their localized identities, I would momentarily return from the infinite to the finite and smile inwardly at the childlike seriousness with which they carried their fears. After about four years, something decisive crystallized: guided by an instinct that felt both divine and exact, I initiated a personal freedom-fighting movement based on a tit-for-tat principle—not out of aggression, but out of balance—and this erased even the last residual traces of fear, fitting wings simultaneously to my worldly and spiritual growth, a movement that has continued in quiet continuity till today. These oscillations between infinity and localization, between wave and particle, have accompanied me throughout life, and perhaps they must—for total transcendence may liberate inwardly, but some degree of localization remains necessary for functioning within the world.

Analogy 2 — Quantum Tunneling Barrier (Fear of Crossing the Unknown)

Electrons sometimes face an energy barrier they can cross only by tunneling — a process that defies classical logic.
A fearful system “hesitates” at the threshold, staying trapped in its potential well rather than tunneling through to freedom.
Likewise, fear in humans prevents transcendence beyond familiar boundaries.

Spiritual parallel: Enlightenment requires quantum tunneling of awareness — the courage to pass through the barrier of ego into the infinite. Fear keeps one oscillating inside the well of the known.

Many people are unable to begin their livelihood or entrepreneurial journey simply because of fear—fear of obstacles, fear of failure, fear of loss—and as a result remain unemployed or under-engaged throughout life. Obstacles are not accidental; they are necessary filters that test capacity, discipline, and intelligence, and they reward efficiency—without such filters, society cannot grow qualitatively. These barriers are meant to be crossed intact, not destroyed, just as a wall defines a meaningful passage rather than being removed altogether. To a fearful person, however, such obstacles appear impossible, because he is afraid of harm and of losing his fixed, conditioned identity while confronting them. When that rigid identity dissolves—along with the fears tied to it—and one becomes inwardly free, like a wave containing multiple possibilities rather than a single forced path, intelligence itself reveals a way forward that avoids collision altogether. Success, then, lies not in being uni-optional but in becoming multi-optional. In quantum physics, a particle restricted to a single path must strike a barrier to proceed, but by retaining its wave nature—by remaining open to multiple possibilities—it finds a way through without direct penetration, appearing almost miraculous. Great business leaders resemble such quantum entities: they do not entangle themselves in every detail of their enterprise, nor do they confront every obstacle head-on; instead, they operate with flexibility and strategic distance, allowing systems to function smoothly while preserving clarity, momentum, and inner freedom.

Analogy 3 — Quantum Entropy and Instability (Fear of Dissolution)

Particles and systems constantly try to maintain stability against entropy and decay.
This “clinging to form” mirrors the fear of death — a resistance to dissolution into the larger field.
But in truth, entropy is not destruction; it is reintegration into the quantum field — just as death is reintegration into consciousness.

Spiritual parallel: The enlightened one sees entropy as liberation; the fearful one sees it as loss.

In essence, fear (bhaya) is not merely an emotion but a fundamental contraction of consciousness. Just as a quantum wave collapses into a fixed particle when forced to choose prematurely, fear compresses infinite inner potential into a narrow, hesitant identity. This contraction creates resistance—resistance to uncertainty, to entropy, and to the natural flow of life—making even passable obstacles appear insurmountable. Spiritually, fear arises from the illusion of separateness, where the self is perceived as fragile, isolated, and threatened by the unknown. In this contracted state, one hesitates before action, clings to safety, and avoids passage, much like a particle that fears entering a barrier. When fear dissolves, the self expands again into its wave-like nature—fluid, multi-optional, and inwardly secure—allowing movement without collision and action without anxiety. Thus, fear is best understood not as danger itself, but as the inward withdrawal from one’s own infinite capacity.

How Twice-Daily Dhyāna Ripens Naturally into Samādhi in a Busy Modern Life

In today’s hurried world, extended meditation for many hours or days is simply not practical for most people. Life is full of responsibilities, work, family, and unavoidable mental engagement. Because of this, the idea that only long retreats or extreme practices can lead to Samādhi often feels unrealistic. What I have gradually understood through my own experience is that one hour of Dhyāna twice a day, done daily and sincerely, is a powerful and sufficient alternative.

This understanding did not come from theory alone, but from observing how my body, breath, attention, and awareness actually behave over time.

Morning Dhyāna and the Role of Preparation

In the morning, I do not jump directly into sitting. Before one hour of Dhyāna, I spend about one hour in prerequisite practices—yoga āsanas, prāṇāyāma, and spinal breathing. The purpose of this is not to chase energy experiences or force breath retention. It is simply to remove resistance.

Normally, there is some natural resistance in the system for blissful awareness or prāṇa to flow freely from bottom to top. Daily life, posture, emotions, and habitual tension all contribute to this friction. When I do āsanas and breathing practices, there is a mild, structured effort that loosens this resistance. It is not violent forcing, but it does gently push the system out of inertia.

Once this movement happens, the system seems to learn the pathway. For some hours afterward, awareness flows more easily on its own. During Dhyāna, breath often becomes extremely subtle or even halts naturally, without any intentional breath holding. This makes breathless Dhyāna happen effortlessly.

However, I have also observed that this “habit” of easy flow does not last forever. After daily activities or after about 24 hours, resistance slowly returns. This is not failure or regression—it is simply natural entropy. That is why refreshing the system every morning with yoga and prāṇāyāma is helpful. Just like bathing or brushing teeth, it is daily hygiene for awareness.

Over time, as practice matures, dependence on preparation may reduce by itself, but there is no need to force that conclusion.

Empty Stomach vs Light Food

I also noticed something subtle but important. Sometimes, when I meditate after eating fruit or a light meal, Dhyāna does not deepen as much. Other times, surprisingly, a light meal actually matures Dhyāna.

The reason became clear: digestion pulls attention and energy downward. On days when awareness is already very sharp or over-concentrated in the head, a light meal helps redistribute energy and soften excess intensity. On other days, especially when clarity is needed, an empty stomach allows awareness to gather more cleanly.

So food is not an enemy or a rule—it is a fine adjustment knob. The important thing is that I still sit for the full one hour regardless of depth or outcome.

Fixed One-Hour Sitting: The Real Training

Sitting for one full hour whether Dhyāna matures or not turned out to be crucial. This habit trains something deeper than concentration—it trains non-dependence on experience.

Some days Dhyāna deepens quickly. Some days it feels flat, dull, or neutral. Still, I sit. This teaches the system to stay without bargaining, without checking results. That kind of staying is what allows deeper states to appear naturally later.

Not every sitting is meant to be deep. Some sittings are meant to remove the need for depth.

Evening Dhyāna Before Sleep

In the evening, I again sit for one hour just before bed. This sitting has a different role. It is not for sharp clarity or effortful depth. It is for dissolution.

If sleep comes during evening sitting, that is not failure. It means the nervous system feels safe enough to let go. Awareness hovers at the edge of sleep, effort drops, and many subtle shifts happen below memory. Sometimes Dhyāna matures quietly; sometimes sleep takes over. Both outcomes are correct.

Morning practice gathers.
Evening practice dissolves.

Together, they bracket the entire day so that nothing accumulates.

Chakra Contemplation Without Forcing Breath

In Dhyāna itself, I found that chakra contemplation from top to bottom works best for me. This is not intense visualization and not breath control. It is simple contemplation—allowing awareness to rest at each level.

Because there is no forced breath retention, respiration sometimes halts on its own. This happens not by intention but because attention becomes continuous and relaxed. Breathlessness appears as a by-product, not a goal. This spontaneous breath-hold is transient and accompanied with blissful constriction on contemplated chakr.

Over time, the sense of moving through individual chakras sometimes disappears. Instead, all chakras feel connected like a single vertical string, with awareness resting on the whole axis at once rather than on a single point. This is a sign of integration, not a new technique.

Inclusion of Ajñā Chakra

When Ajñā is gently included—eyes closed, gaze naturally upward without strain—along with awareness of the whole vertical axis, or any specific activated chakra, Dhyāna often becomes thoughtless, breathless, and quietly blissful. Ajñā here is not a peak or target, but a stabilizer. Agya chakra is the real site of these spiritual qualities.

Nothing is forced. There is no staring, no tightening, no effort to hold the state. That is why it feels safe and complete.

Throat (Neck) Area Prominence

Recently, I noticed that prāṇa sometimes seems to rest more around the neck or throat area, with a blissful and breathless quality. This is not something I try to create. It appears naturally as tension releases at that junction between head, chest, and breath.

The important thing is not to cling to this sensation or localize attention there. It should be included but not emphasized. Over-attention can subtly stall integration.

Why This Practice Can Ripen into Samādhi

Through all of this, one understanding became clear:
Samādhi does not come from chasing depth or extending duration. It comes from familiarity and non-preference.

By sitting twice daily:

  • whether deep or shallow
  • whether alert or sleepy
  • whether blissful or neutral

awareness slowly learns to rest without conditions.

Extended hours of meditation may force surrender, but daily repetition teaches surrender. Teaching lasts longer.

In a modern life, one hour in the morning (with preparation) and one hour in the evening (with surrender) is not a compromise. It is a realistic, intelligent, and complete path.

Final Understanding

  • Preparation removes resistance; it does not push prāṇa.
  • Breathlessness in Dhyāna is natural when effort drops.
  • States come and go; the habit of sitting remains.
  • Integration matters more than intensity.
  • Samādhi will not announce itself—it will be recognized later, quietly.

The most important thing I have learned is this:

Use effort where effort belongs, and stop effort where it must end.

From there, practice ripens on its own.

Why Kundalini and Saṁskāras Do Not Operate in Animals the Way They Do in Humans

Saṁskāras can be understood as symbolic markings impressed upon a human being through consciously designed spiritual ceremonies. These are not casual social events; they are grand, emotionally charged occasions in which relatives, friends, elders, and the wider community gather with a single individual as the focal point. The person receiving the saṁskāra becomes the center of collective attention, intention, and emotion. This focused convergence is not accidental—it is deliberately structured to imprint deep emotional and psychological tendencies that shape the individual for life.

Such ceremonies generate powerful emotions within the recipient because humans are uniquely responsive to meaning, symbolism, and shared attention. When hundreds of minds momentarily align around one person with reverence, expectation, and intention, the effect is far stronger than ordinary cooperation or social interaction. Worldly cooperation is usually task-oriented and fragmented; saṁskāras, by contrast, are designed exclusively for emotional and inner imprinting. One individual becomes the sole beneficiary of the collective emotional field, making the imprint unusually strong and persistent.

Metaphorically, this process resembles quantum entanglement—not as a literal physical mechanism, but as a structural analogy. In quantum systems, particles that interact within a coherent environment exhibit correlated behavior even after separation. Similarly, during a saṁskāra, many minds temporarily converge within a highly focused symbolic space. The emotions, values, and intentions do not merely add up linearly; they become coherent. Once imprinted, these emotional correlations persist long after the ceremony ends, influencing the individual’s inner responses independent of physical proximity. This comparison does not claim scientific equivalence; it simply highlights a parallel principle: intense interaction under conditions of focus, coherence, and meaning creates unusually stable imprints.

Across a human lifetime, there are traditionally sixteen saṁskāras, each corresponding to key transitions—birth, learning, maturity, responsibility, and death. Together, they refine emotional depth, psychological structure, and spiritual receptivity. These imprints form a subtle emotional architecture within which higher processes, including Kundalini awakening, can later unfold. Saṁskāras are not merely cultural customs; they are intentional emotional technologies.

Not every individual absorbs these imprints equally. Certain emotionally receptive people resonate more deeply than others. Their sensitivity allows emotions to adhere more strongly, creating bonds that often appear as love or devotion. This love is not merely relational or outward-facing; when it matures and turns inward, it becomes transformative. In yogic and tantric understanding, this inward-turning love can later express itself as Kundalini movement. What begins as emotional bonding gradually converts into inner energy. In this way, bhāva (emotion) evolves into bhakti (love or devotion), and bhakti further condenses into śakti (inner power).

This progression is logical within its own framework. Focused collective attention produces strong emotional imprinting; individual sensitivity determines depth of absorption; deep emotional imprinting gives rise to love; and inward-directed love becomes spiritual energy. Psychology explains the imprinting, neuroplasticity explains the durability, and spiritual traditions describe the energetic flowering.

Animals, however, do not participate in this process in the same way. They do not receive saṁskāras—not because life or awareness is absent in them, but because the necessary emotional and neurological infrastructure is undeveloped. Animals do have emotions, but these are largely immediate, survival-oriented, and unlayered. They lack the capacity to absorb, integrate, and symbolize the collective emotions of many minds simultaneously. Their brains are not designed to hold complex symbolic meaning, long-term emotional imprinting, or ritualized identity formation.

Moreover, animals are not placed at the center of intentional emotional convergence. No ceremony is designed to imprint values, identity, or transcendental orientation upon them. Without repeated, structured emotional imprinting across life stages, there is no stable inner architecture for love to refine itself inwardly and no latent reservoir from which Kundalini can later rise.

Thus, Kundalini and saṁskāras are not absent in animals due to inferiority, but due to difference in design. Human life is uniquely structured for emotional accumulation, symbolic meaning, and inward transformation. Saṁskāras provide the emotional soil, love becomes the living current, and Kundalini is the flowering that appears when conditions mature. Animals live in harmony with nature, but humans alone are given the tools to consciously transcend it.

Chapter 34: matsara in quantum world

Mātsarya (jealousy or envy) is the sixth primal vibration. If Mada gives birth to individuality—“I am special”—then Mātsarya arises when that individuality begins to compare itself with others and feels disturbed—“Why is someone else special?” In a cosmic sense, Mātsarya appears when awareness forgets its own uniqueness and starts measuring itself against another. In the language of wave physics, this is like two waves that could move in harmony but instead clash because of a difference in phase. Rather than strengthening each other, they interfere and weaken the overall pattern. Similarly, jealousy does not create growth; it distorts perception and reduces inner energy by turning natural diversity into unhealthy comparison.

MĀTSARYA (JEALOUSY / ENVY) — The Quantum Interference of Comparison

Quantum interference

Quantum interference offers a clear metaphor for Mātsarya (jealousy). In physics, when two waves overlap, they may strengthen each other if they are in harmony, or weaken each other if they are out of phase. In human life, jealousy arises when the ego stops moving in its own natural rhythm and begins comparing itself with others. This comparison creates inner conflict, just as destructive interference reduces the strength of a wave. Instead of allowing one’s energy to flow creatively, jealousy wastes it in resistance and rivalry. True harmony returns when a person aligns with their own nature and purpose, rather than competing with another’s path.

The Pauli Exclusion Principle

The Pauli Exclusion Principle offers a helpful metaphor for Mātsarya: even in quantum physics, no two electrons can occupy the same state at the same time. Each has its own place, and this natural rule preserves order and balance. In human life, jealousy similarly arises when one resents another for occupying a perceived throne—whether a position, role, or quality—that one desires. Nature, however, never repeats a state exactly; every being has a unique configuration, a distinct “quantum address.” Even if we accept that a form of healthy jealousy exists, the analogy still holds. Healthy jealousy does not forget its true nature; it does not collapse into obsession but transforms into healthy competition. Such competition may not grant an inaccessible position, yet it can still lead to growth—just as aiming for a star may at least take one to the moon. In the quantum realm, electrons may strive for the same state but always fail; yet this very striving does not destroy them, because they are not limited to a single state and never lose their wave nature. Maybe that hard effort toward a particular state makes them more capable of growing better in other diverse fields. If they were addicted to a state, they would collapse and perish—but they do not. In contrast, a human who forgets the Self may become so enamored with a position that consciousness collapses, leading to suffering or even destructive actions. Jealousy arises only when awareness forgets its inherent fullness and tries to become what it already is not meant to be.

laser light

The principle behind stimulated emission and laser light gives a powerful metaphor for Mātsarya. In physics, light becomes intense and focused only when many photons move together in the same phase; when they are out of phase, their energies cancel and the light weakens. In human life, cooperation and mutual appreciation allow individual talents to combine into collective brilliance. Jealousy, however, disrupts this inner alignment, scattering energy and reducing shared potential. Just as a laser is born from coherence, true harmony in society arises when awareness moves from envy to compassion and synchronization.

Quantum Tunneling (Barrier of Insecurity)

Quantum tunneling offers a subtle metaphor for Mātsarya. In physics, a particle can cross a barrier that appears impossible to overcome, not by force, but through probability and resonance. In human experience, envy creates inner barriers such as the belief, “I can never be that.” These barriers feel solid, yet they are largely imagined. When awareness recognizes that all expressions arise from the same universal field, these limits lose their rigidity. Jealousy then dissolves, not through rivalry or struggle, but through inner alignment and resonance that allow consciousness to pass effortlessly beyond insecurity. In other words, one may feel joy in another’s high status if the minds of both become attuned. This is like becoming enthroned without physically occupying the throne, or like crossing a wall without actually crossing it—similar to quantum tunneling.

In another sense, each quantum particle is inherently connected with the endless cosmos through quantum entanglement and related phenomena. So when an inferiority feeling arises—such as I am not far enough spread, not present in all lands of the Earth, not in space, and jealousy originates toward people living in faraway places—one can instead observe the quantum particles stationed everywhere around oneself. Though localized, they are still connected to everywhere and remain fully satisfied, thereby not experiencing jealousy of others.

In the same way, we too are both connected to and separated from faraway places at the same time. One dimension of the mind says that we are physically separated, while another dimension says that if we are experiencing those faraway places by becoming them ourselves, then how are they different from us? Giving more weight to the former dimension makes us jealous, whereas giving more weight to the latter dimension makes us cosmic and non-jealous, because who would feel jealousy toward oneself?

In this connected sense, if even one quantum particle mimics my entire life journey through endless cycles of births since the beginning, then every particle is mimicking me and is my exact photocopy, because all quantum particles are connected together through quantum entanglement. This scientifically proves quantum darshan. Actually, it does not perform any miracle. It produces and maintains a baseline non-duality, from where it becomes easier to launch higher meditation.

There is no need to deeply observe every object to see quantum particles within it. These particles are so minute that they are everywhere—even with closed eyes or in deep sleep.

A veterinarian’s dilemma

Being a veterinarian, I have to deal with different types of animals and cases. Recently, there was a cow whose jaw had been blasted away by an explosive substance kept in potatoes in fields meant for pigs. The case was untreatable. The owner requested euthanasia—meaning mercy killing by injection—so I had to perform it. Although the cow was still able to stand and breathe properly, I advised the owner to let the cow be down completely before euthanasia. However, he was aggrieved and tense due to the situation. Probably, the cow still had a strong will to live remaining.

That night, I saw an emotionless soul—dark, strange, and horrific type like a blackhole—accompanied by the faint image of a horned demon going deep inside a dark prison and attracting me, as if I was to meet it. It was humanoid, with deep eyes sunken into a dark absence. This was actually an outer form given by my mind to its soul form. Suddenly, my sleep broke. For a few days, dogs barked at me; stray cows and calves stared at me fearfully, and even my street pet dog looked at me strangely. Animals can sense hidden subtle emotions.

This soul was different from the human soul of a nearby acquaintance experienced by me, which was full of emotions and knowingness, although still in a dark form, as I have detailed earlier. But this soul was unknown, as one cannot easily connect deeply with animals, since they do not appear to show strong emotions. Yet they have their own individual identification and instinctive or rudimentry emotions, with their own varying sanskaras or hidden imprints on mind. They have only the saṁskāras of breathing, eating, and surviving—nothing beyond that, nothing truly knowledgeable. One more strange thing I noticed is that the soul form and the body form of an animal do not look very different. This may be because there is not much heavy expression in the animal’s body form, and therefore the soul form also does not appear strongly non-expressive means it is lacking sanskaras. In contrast, in human beings there is a sharp difference between the body form and the soul form. Since expression in the human body form is very high, the non-expression imprinted on soul as sanskaras in the soul form is also correspondingly high. That is why emphasis is placed on purifying saṁskāras only in human beings, and not in animals.

Saṁskāras are consciously designed spiritual ceremonies in which a human being becomes the central focus of collective attention, emotion, and intention. When many minds converge on one individual within a symbolic and meaningful setting, the resulting emotional imprint is far stronger than ordinary social interaction. Metaphorically similar to quantum entanglement, this focused coherence creates stable inner correlations that persist long after the ceremony ends. Emotionally receptive individuals absorb these imprints more deeply, allowing emotion to mature into love, and when such love turns inward, it can later express itself as Kundalini movement—where bhāva becomes bhakti and bhakti condenses into śakti. Animals do not undergo this process not due to lack of life, but because they lack the neurological and symbolic capacity to receive structured emotional imprinting through ritual; without repeated saṁskāras across life stages, there is no inner architecture for love to refine itself inwardly or for Kundalini to unfold.

That soul was not restless, so it was less aggrieved and less compressed, unlike the previous human soul. This was because it did not have strong emotional urges. I could not communicate with the animal’s soul, as animals naturally cannot speak. It appeared dull in nature. I could experience its soul form more than its body form. This was because I could connect directly with the soul—of course, only momentarily—but there was no means to connect through the body, as it was speechless and, moreover, hesitant to interact long enough for me to perceive or infer its inner form. However, none of this implies that violence toward animals is justified. On its going down, I felt the quantum darśana contemplation itself. Isn’t it that barbarian civilizations saw a death-like state in nature worship and in idol or personified-god worship, and therefore hated it the most? But the other side of the same coin is that death itself is the ultimate truth, also expressed as “Rām nām satya hai.”

The purpose of pointing this out is that I myself had become that animal soul for a moment while experiencing it, because nothing can be known without first becoming that thing oneself. I was fearing myself. Just as jealousy toward one’s own form is ignorance, similarly fear or unknowingness toward one’s own form is also ignorance. Actually, every emotion is ignorance. What emotion can one have toward oneself? It is better to say that every emotion of a human being belongs to oneself rather than saying absence of emotions. Running away from emotions is not healthy; rather, they should be felt in a truthful way. If emotions are absent or extremely weak, then what truly remains in a human that is more than an animal? Emotions are signs of life and instruments of growth—materially when they are experienced in their raw form, and both materially and spiritually when they are experienced properly, along with the awareness of non-duality.

Decoherence by Observation (Loss of Unity through Comparison)

Decoherence through observation provides a deep metaphor for Mātsarya. In quantum physics, observation breaks a state of superposition, collapsing many possible outcomes into a single, fixed result. In human life, constant comparison acts in the same way: it reduces vast inner potential to a narrow self-image such as “I am less.” How can the infinite feeling of Self remain together with the ‘I am less’ feeling at the same time? Through jealousy, awareness measures itself again and again, losing the sense of inner unity and openness. Liberation begins when this measuring stops, allowing consciousness to return to its natural state of wholeness, where many possibilities can exist without conflict or comparison. However, comparing ourselves with others is not wrong; the problem begins only when comparison breaks inner unity and openness. One can compare while remaining rooted in non-duality, just as the mind can observe without collapsing into identification. In quantum physics, strong measurement disturbs the wave nature, but subtle measurement allows knowing without collapse. Similarly, the mind has a non-duality trick: it can measure and compare without losing wholeness. When awareness remains a witness, comparison becomes functional, not divisive, and inner unity stays intact.

The same approach was present in my own life. Our school, mainly a senior secondary school, had a very healthy environment with a strong spirit of healthy competition, girls and boys cooperating with each other and not shying away from one another. The teachers were broad-minded, and when we saw other students learning new things, we did not feel jealousy toward them. Instead, we learned from them happily and in a friendly manner. Jealousy toward anyone essentially means not trying to learn from that person. It reflects an inner demand that the other should not rise above oneself, that he should either remain equal or be lowered. This indicates an unwillingness to compete, to take inspiration, or to grow. In this sense, jealousy stands in direct opposition to healthy competition. Our teachers inspired us by giving examples of great individuals and great nations in such a way that, instead of jealousy, inspiration naturally arose. Much depends on the manner of communication—whether it is received positively or negatively—and the spiritual, non-dual nature of the teachers likely played a significant role in shaping this attitude. Jealousy arises when one fears collapsing into another’s point of view, but when non-duality is maintained, one can temporarily collapse into another’s mindset without losing one’s infinite nature. This is well illustrated by quantum darshan, where quantum particles, even after collapse, do not lose their wave nature. In simple words, quantum particles are maintaining their wave nature too along with particle nature. This is called as Brahma remains lively liberated or jeevanmukta always. My home environment was also spiritual, and therefore I never became rigidly collapsed, even while observing, imitating, or learning from various successful people.

Why Self-Realisation Dissolves Jealousy and Transcends Worldly Success

Once in my life, I was in a fully self-realised state, or very close to it. During that time, people of my own status, and even those lower than me, were seen achieving far greater worldly success than I was. Yet I was not shaken at all. From my viewpoint, all those achievements appeared petty in comparison to self-realisation, although for them their physical achievements defined their status and spiritual things were petty for them. Their viewpoint was rooted in worldly matters, which is temporary, because matter itself is temporary. My viewpoint, however, was grounded in non-duality, which is the true and permanent essence of nature. In the end, such a viewpoint naturally wins.

Materialistic people do not become jealous of spirituality because they consider material nature superior to spiritual pursuit. This is a matter of perspective. If spirituality itself is weak, doubtful, or unsatisfying, then it can become jealous of material success, because it is not fulfilled within itself. Therefore, spirituality must be strong, effective, and practical in order to override jealousy completely. I have observed that whenever peace in my daily life begins to diminish, a subtle sense of jealousy can arise. Thus, maintaining a fully healthy and balanced lifestyle becomes the most effective way to combat jealousy. Money does not matter much here, it is the art of living that matters most.

Summary

This summary shows how Mātsarya (jealousy) appears whenever awareness forgets its own completeness and begins to compare itself with others. How can one who is fully self-realised be jealous of petty worldly things that are already lower than him? Self-realisation is also not something that, once attained, remains forever; it needs to be maintained through regular meditation. In essence, regular meditation is the key to everything. Like wave interference, comparison weakens inner energy instead of strengthening it. Like the Pauli exclusion principle, jealousy arises from the mistaken belief that only one person can occupy a valued place. The laser principle reminds us that harmony and cooperation amplify collective brilliance, while envy scatters it. Quantum tunneling reveals that insecurity is only an apparent barrier, which dissolves when awareness recognizes its shared source. Finally, decoherence through observation shows how constant self-measurement collapses vast inner potential into a limited self-image. Together, these metaphors point to one truth: jealousy fades when comparison ends and consciousness returns to its natural state of unity.

Thus Mātsarya is not mere social emotion; it’s the quantum disharmony born when the One forgets its own completeness and tries to measure itself through others’ oscillations.
It is the seed of competition, but also the path to coherence, if awareness learns resonance instead of rivalry.

Philosophical synthesis

In the grand pattern of cosmic emotions, each primal vibration serves a specific function in the unfolding of existence. Kāma initiates creation through attraction, Krodha corrects imbalance through explosive force, and Lobha preserves form by drawing energy inward. Moha bends perception, creating concealment and illusion, Mada gives rise to individuality and a sense of self. Mātsarya, however, marks a turning point where individuality slips into division. It represents a conflict of inner phases, where awareness begins to compare itself with another and experiences separation. Governed by Avidyā (ignorance), Mātsarya does not create or preserve; it divides, fragmenting unity into rivalry. Its resolution lies not in suppression, but in the recognition that all apparent differences arise within one undivided field of consciousness.

Transmutation of Martsya

The transmutation of Mātsarya shows how jealousy evolves as awareness matures. In its ignorant form, Mātsarya expresses itself as constant comparison and resentment, fragmenting inner peace and dividing one from others. When awareness grows, the same energy becomes aware Mātsarya, where one recognizes personal uniqueness without devaluing another’s path; comparison gives way to acceptance. In its enlightened form, Mātsarya fully dissolves into resonance, where individuality no longer competes but harmonizes with all beings. What once appeared as jealousy is transformed into collective harmony, allowing shared illumination rather than separation.

I first experienced jealousy toward others. Over time, as my self-awakening deepened, a sense of inner fulfillment arose within me. What began as jealousy—forcing me to prove my worth—gradually transformed into personal growth. In this way, jealousy was transmuted into self-development and a more shared, inclusive sense of existence.

The sixfold cosmic–quantum map presents the classical inner movements of consciousness as energetic and quantum correspondences. Kāma expresses itself as attraction, mirroring bonding or coupling at the quantum level, and when transcended, it reveals love and creative force. Krodha manifests as repulsion, comparable to charge repulsion, and when purified, becomes power and inner clarity. Lobha appears as an inward pull, analogous to gravitational accretion, and in its refined state supports nurturance and sustenance. Moha introduces curvature in awareness, reflected in wave–particle duality, which upon transcendence unfolds as playful, lucid awareness. Mada brings rotation into the field, symbolized by quantum spin and symmetry breaking, giving rise to a sense of divine identity. Mātsarya emerges as phase conflict, comparable to wave interference, and when fully integrated, resolves into resonant harmony, interference turning from destructive form to constructive one.

Chapter 33: mada in quantum world

Mada is the fifth primal vibration, arising when the natural sense of “I” becomes overly assertive and intoxicated with its own importance. Ahaṅkāra simply gives the feeling of existence — “I exist” — and Kartṛtva allows action by saying, “I act.” But when these healthy functions are misunderstood as personal greatness or absolute control, they turn into Mada. Mada is the state where the self forgets its limits and begins to feel, “I alone matter,” mistaking participation in action for superiority over all else.
Just as Kāma gives the desire to connect, Krodha gives the force to fight for what we feel is right, Lobha makes us want to keep things, and Moha clouds our understanding, Mada is the ego that tries to take ownership of all these actions. It is the inner voice that says, “This is mine. I did this. I deserve this.

In simple scientific terms, Mada is like the moment when a nearly uniform field develops an exaggerated imbalance. A small, functional asymmetry gives rise to direction, spin, and orientation, but when this imbalance becomes dominant, it defines everything around it as “up” and “down.” In the same way, ego (ahaṅkāra) gives the mind a personal point of view, allowing experience and action. Mada arises when this point of view becomes intoxicated with importance. Before ego, everything feels one and equal; after ego, there is “me” and “others.” When ego hardens into Mada, this difference turns into superiority, ownership, and blind self-assertion.

Quantum Spin Orientation

Growth requires the ability to move freely between “higher” and “lower” modes as situations demand. Even a person of higher understanding must sometimes act simply or humbly, just as a particle with spin must be able to flip when interaction requires it. A spin stuck permanently in the “up” state cannot respond properly in situations that demand a “down” orientation. In the same way, remaining fixed in pride blocks learning and growth. Letting go of this rigidity—coming down when needed—is the dissolution of Mada, and it is essential for maturity. Yet there are moments when an “up” mode is required for leadership or action. Expressing this without inner intoxication is a skill: outward firmness with inward awareness. Quantum particles adopt the spin state required for interaction without emotional attachment or superiority. Likewise, a mature mind can act with authority when needed while remaining inwardly balanced, flexible, and free from pride.

Symmetry Breaking

In physics, the universe began in a state of perfect symmetry where everything was equal and undivided. When this symmetry broke, different forces and particles emerged, giving rise to complexity. In the same way, the pure Self begins without boundaries, but eventually experiences a divide between “me” and “others.” This is the start of Mada, the feeling of being a distinct individual. At its healthy level, it is the natural joy of becoming unique — a playful expression of the divine. But when one forgets the original unity behind this individuality, pride turns into separation, and the ego loses its balance.

In the quantum world, some particles have greater influence and stronger interactions, while others play smaller roles. Each particle carries a different strength, and this natural difference in qualities contains the seed of pride at the level of individuality. Yet particles do not become intoxicated by their importance. Whether acting in a major or minor role, they remain balanced because they never lose their connection to the undivided whole, existing simultaneously as waves within a single field. Pride arises only when this unity is forgotten. For human beings, maintaining both individuality and unity at the same time is more difficult. However, through moments of relaxation and inner reflection, one can repeatedly return to the awareness of nonduality. Contemplative approaches such as quantum darshan help the mind remember this deeper unity, allowing action in the world without losing inner balance. Just as the entire creation, made up of quantum particles, can exhibit both particle and wave nature at the same time, similarly a human being can live in both dual and non-dual awareness together through their contemplation.

Quantum Measurement (Observer Effect)

In quantum physics, a system exists as many possibilities until an observation brings one possibility into experience. This is often described as the observer effect, where a wave of potential appears as a definite particle. It is as if the wave is asked, “Who are you?” and the reply comes, “I am this particular form.” The human ego behaves in a similar way. Through constant interaction with the world, the mind feels compelled to answer, “I am the one who acts, decides, and creates outcomes.” This repeated identification becomes the root of pride. Pride shows itself outwardly in action, but Mada forms inwardly in the mind as the belief of personal authorship, and this is more harmful. The deeper truth is that consciousness is only the witness, not the personal doer. Just as the wave remains as unchanged field while particles appear and interact within it, awareness allows experiences to arise without itself acting. Pride arises when this witnessing power is mistakenly claimed by the mind, as if the wave were to say, “I have become the separate particle and done all this.” In reality, the wave never becomes the particle; the particle only appears within the wave as a temporary expression, not as a true transformation. The wave itself remains unchanged. In the same way, the pure Self never becomes the mind or its experiences. Thoughts, actions, and identities merely appear in awareness like waves, even though they seem real and separate from awareness through illusion. Awareness itself does not claim these appearances as its own truth. Just as a wave does not claim to be the particle itself, the true Self does not identify with the mind. Confusion and pride (mada) arise only when the observing awareness forgets this distinction and begins to identify with its own instruments—thoughts, roles, achievements, and personality. The real question, then, is this: if the wave does not take ownership of the particle’s actions, why does the human Self take ownership of the mind’s movements?

Higgs Field and Mass Acquisition

In physics, particles gain mass when they interact with the Higgs field, which acts like a gentle cosmic resistance. This interaction slows them down and makes them feel like a “somebody” with weight and presence. Something similar happens in the human mind. As the ego repeatedly says, “This is mine,” or “I am important,” it gathers heaviness in the form of titles, achievements, roles, and possessions. This heaviness is Mada — consciousness taking on mass. In spiritual terms, enlightenment is the moment when this drag loosens, the ego-lightens, and the mind becomes free to move with the effortless speed and clarity of pure awareness again.

The heaviness carried by titles, responsibility, or authority is not given freely; it is earned by struggling with problems. Problems act like a dense field through which one must pass. In physics, the Higgs field gives particles mass, making them heavier, slower-moving, and more capable of meaningful interaction. In a similar way, the field of challenges and knowledge gives weight to the human mind. Those who create or manage these challenges—teachers, bosses, or gurus—are like Higgs bosons emerging from this heavy field of knowlege, experience and art. By imparting knowledge, discipline, and direction, they add weight to the mind, making it steadier, slower in reaction, and more grounded in action. Such a mind moves carefully rather than impulsively, becoming more practical, interactive, and result-oriented. This is not weakness but maturity. Just as heavier particles interact more strongly, a seasoned mind engages life more effectively. This is why the old saying holds true: slow and steady wins the race.

There is no doubt that inner “heaviness” or stature can give rise to Mada, but this does not mean that knowledgeable or high-level people should avoid interaction with those who are lighter, less educated, or socially lower placed. Without interaction, mutual growth is impossible. In the quantum world, heavy particles such as electrons interact freely and abundantly with light particles like photons. Photons, being fast and mobile, give motion and energy to electrons, while electrons provide structure and stability in return. Neither can create or sustain the world alone. In the same way, people of higher understanding receive movement, support, and practical assistance from those at lower levels, while offering guidance, stability, and meaningful company in return. If high-status individuals isolate themselves out of superiority-based Mada, or if so called lower-level individuals withdraw due to inferiority-based Mada, interaction breaks down and society cannot function. Quantum particles preserve their identity, yet they do not refuse interaction; their Mada is balanced and controlled. Humans, too, must learn this balance—maintaining individuality without isolation. Through the contemplation of quantum darshan, Mada can be kept in check, allowing cooperation, humility, and harmony while preserving one’s unique role in the larger whole.

Singularity at the Center of a Black Hole

In physics, a black hole has a point at its center called the singularity, where density becomes infinite and all directions, distances, and perspectives collapse into a single point. Something similar happens in the human mind when ego becomes extreme. Everything is pulled into the center of “I, me, and mine,” creating a kind of spiritual singularity where no other viewpoint can exist. But when awareness cuts through this false center, the ego collapses, and the deeper truth emerges: Aham Brahmāsmi — “I am That.” The small, personal “I” dissolves, and the original, boundless Self becomes visible again.

A star symbolizes a simple and creative form of ahaṁkāra (ego). It increases its mass by gathering matter and energy, yet it does not forget the importance of others beyond itself. Whatever it collects, it uses meaningfully: it shines, radiates light like knowledge, and distributes energy outward. In doing so, it manufactures a wide variety of elements that later become resources for planets, enabling them to form, stabilize, and eventually support life. Thus, a star grows while simultaneously nourishing the universe. A black hole, in contrast, represents blind ego or mada. It recognizes only its own importance and denies the value of everything else. It keeps grabbing endlessly, absorbing matter and energy without transforming them into anything useful for the world. This behavior has a clear human parallel. Many people behave like stars—creating, sharing, beautifying, and contributing—and therefore shine meaningfully for a long time. But a few behave like black holes, endlessly accumulating wealth, land, and resources while giving nothing back to society. Vast plots remain unused with only bushes growing, no flowers, no gardens, no beauty to soothe the eyes. Buildings are raised only for display, heaps of bricks and sand piled up merely to show possession, while such people proudly claim they are generating employment in cement, sand, and brick industries. What they fail to see is how much future employment and life itself will be destroyed when the planet becomes unlivable due to pollution, carbon emissions, and environmental collapse. Large companies and corporations often behave in the same way: the harm caused by their pollutants, packaging waste, and emissions far exceeds the benefit of the material products they sell. This is like a black hole determined to erase signs of life around it. Today is a time when development must be fully sustainable and planet-friendly.

Practical nonduality

Only a few aware individuals live in practical nonduality, where every particle is treated as equal to oneself, and life is lived with full awareness and responsibility toward the planet. At today’s critical stage, theoretical nonduality alone is not sufficient. While it may deepen spirituality for an individual practitioner, it cannot ensure nonduality for future generations. If life itself does not survive on Earth, then nonduality has no ground to manifest upon. Therefore, nonduality must move from theory to lived, ecological, and collective responsibility.

I heard of a student from a yoga or philosophy-oriented university at New Delhi whose nondual awareness was so mature that he used to be often seen  speaking with everything as a friend—his comb, mirror, oil, soap, clothes, wall, doors, air, water, space, darkness, and light. This was not fantasy but an extreme form of lived nonduality. Such awareness does not arise from mathematical formulas or formal quantum physics education, yet it stands at a level even higher than them. Still, it is perfectly aligned with quantum truth. Scriptures have already declared that just as the mind is a wave arising on pure awareness, the external world is also a wave on the same pure awareness. The only difference is that mental waves are subtle and short-lived, while external waves are more frozen, denser, and longer-lasting—though they too dissolve one day. This is simple basic thinking based on experience, there’s nothing any science or quantum mechanics in it. If this is so, then nothing is truly separate, and everything is equal in essence. Everything can reflect and “communicate” with everything else because all are expressions of the same awareness. The same quantum particles that form the human body—where countless complex interactions occur every moment—exist everywhere in the cosmos. These interactions are often even much more advanced and intricate than visible human behavior as shown in the sharirvigyan darshan. This means that, along with contemplation of Quantum Darshan, there should also be a small, supportive contemplation of Sharir Vigyan Darshan to make it more effective. These lively interactions are very basic nature of the quantum world. This means that every quantum particle carries the full potential of life and consciousness or simply saying every particle expresses full human life. Therefore, seeing oneself in every particle is not merely poetic or philosophical; it is logically, scientifically, and spiritually consistent. True nonduality is not just a concept—it is the recognition and living of this universal wave-nature in everyday life. The intelligence that appears in large cosmic structures is naturally present within every quantum particle. Through this unique Quantum Darshan, we reveal the science behind ages long spiritual experience that all attributes of life are already inherent in each and every quantum particle. Through consistent development, quantum particles evolve to human being full of all emotions because they themselves have all those emotions.

Even modern scientists are speculating that quantum particles are nothing but space itself warped into spherical shapes. Ancient seers had already speculated this long ago on the basis of their direct experience. Just as they intuited the wave nature of the world, they also observed that, in pure awareness, the world appears much like the visual artifacts seen in the sky when one lies on the back with eyes partially closed, where the eyebrows create bubble-like patterns in the sky. In the same way, the world manifests in the sky of pure consciousness as bubbles or virtual artifacts appearing within awareness itself. Waves in the ocean mean that every wave and the ocean are the same and united; separation is only an illusion. Similarly, seeing the world as waves in pure consciousness means that everything in the world is nothing other than pure self-awareness itself. Perceiving anything other than the Self is merely an illusion.

Summary

This chapter uses ideas from quantum physics to explain Mada, the force of ego or pride. In nature, every system develops a center from which it relates to the rest of the world. A reference point is created to measure the entire outer world relative to it. Without a reference point, nothing can be measured. If there were no Earth as a reference point, how could we measure gravity, direction, or orientation? In the same way, Mada functions as a reference point that helps in measuring the world around it. However, by giving excessive importance to itself, it constantly tries to assert and grab more, often by downgrading or discouraging others—and this becomes harmful. Similarly, ego creates an inner center that defines identity and says, “I am this.” When symmetry breaks in the universe, distinct forms arise; in the same way, ego is born when the Self begins to experience separation from others. In quantum measurement, one possibility becomes fixed out of many, and ego mirrors this process by believing, “I am the doer; I make things happen.” As particles gain mass through interaction with the Higgs field, ego gains weight through roles, titles, possessions, and a sense of importance. In its extreme form, ego resembles a black hole, where everything collapses into “me,” leaving no space for other perspectives or shared reality. Seeing these parallels helps us understand how pride forms, how it strengthens over time, and how it can ultimately dissolve into deeper awareness.

Thus, Mada is the ego-force that defines individuality within the infinite field, but in a distorted form. While ego can be constructive and necessary for identity and function, Mada goes further by seeing itself as superior to others, and therefore turns negative in its effect.
Without ego there is no experience, but when ego hardens into Mada and grows excessive, it becomes bondage.

Philosophical Synthesis

In the larger cosmic design, each emotion represents a specific movement of energy and plays a unique role in creation. Kāma moves outward and gives rise to creation, reflecting the creative power of Brahma. Krodha explodes outward and clears what must be removed, echoing the destructive force of Rudra. Lobha pulls energy inward to preserve and protect, aligning with the sustaining nature of Vishnu. Moha bends and curves perception, hiding truth through the veiling power of Mahāmāyā. Mada, however, is rotational — it turns energy around the axis of the self, forming identity and self-assertion. This is the domain of Īśvara or Ahaṁkara-Shakti, the principle that gives every being its sense of “I.” Through these five movements, the universe expresses its creativity, balance, concealment, and individuality, weaving together the entire drama of existence.

Transmutation of Mada

Mada, or ego, evolves through different stages as awareness grows. In its ignorant form, it appears as arrogance and a sense of superiority, which only creates separation and inner loneliness. When a person becomes more conscious, Mada softens into aware ego, expressed as healthy confidence and a clear sense of individuality. This stage supports growth rather than blocking it. At the highest level, Mada transforms completely into enlightened identity, where the small personal “I” is replaced by the recognition of the universal Self — the state of Aham Brahmāsmi, “I am That.” Here, ego is not destroyed but expanded, merging seamlessly with the cosmic identity.

Quantum-Spiritual Quintet Summary

These five emotions can be understood as five different movements of energy within both the human mind and the cosmos. Kāma pulls energy together like the attraction between electrons and protons, and in its pure form becomes love and creation. Krodha pushes energy outward like repelling electrons, giving rise to strength and focused will when purified. Lobha gathers and holds energy, much like gravity gathering matter, and becomes care and preservation at its highest level. Moha bends and distorts perception, similar to the strange dual nature of waves and particles, yet in its refined form it reveals the playful movement of Māyā and deep awareness behind it. Mada turns energy around a center, just as spin and symmetry breaking define individuality in physics; when transformed, it becomes divine self-recognition — the sense of the universal Self shining through the individual. Together, these five form a complete map of human emotion and cosmic process.

Chapter 32: moha in quantum world

Moha — The Fog of Perception

Moha is the most subtle of the basic emotions. It does not pull us toward something like desire, does not push us away like anger, and does not make us cling to possessions like greed. Instead, Moha quietly bends our way of seeing. It covers the mind like a thin fog, not strong enough to scare or excite us, but enough to blur reality. This is the ordinary life of most people. They believe they are completely normal, but actually they are illusioned in a way that is imperceptible to them even to the majority of people observing them. They see everything as separate, including their own soul, and they assume this separation is real.

In their practical life, such people often appear more capable than those who are not illusioned. Because they experience everything as distinct, they develop stronger fight-or-flight responses, faster reflexes, and a quicker reaction to every stimulus. They can “ride” every situation according to their needs more efficiently. In fact, in the practical world, the illusioned may look non-illusioned, and the non-illusioned may appear confused.

A balanced approach, therefore, is to remain illusioned temporarily for effective worldly living, and to become non-illusioned during breaks from work and during relaxation, using practical non-dual philosophies like Sharirvigyan Darshan or Quantum Darshan. I used Sharirvigyan Darshan, because at that time Quantum Darshan had not yet been developed. It gave me a double benefit: it allowed me to live and act in the world efficiently and honorably, while also giving full mental relaxation—like liberation while still living.

After long practice, when the “air of fate” changed, I entered a more stable and naturally relaxed state. My non-illusionary contemplation reached its peak, and with the added support of Tantric Kundalini Yoga, I received a glimpse of awakening—like a cool breeze touching a feverish being.

Just as ordinary people feel separate from everything and therefore develop quick reactions, sharper reflexes, and practical efficiency, quantum particles also show a similar two-sided nature. In quantum physics, an electron behaves like a unified wave when it is not being observed, spread out without any clear boundary—calm, continuous, and inseparable from the space around it. This resembles a person resting in non-dual awareness, relaxed and undivided, where nothing is separate enough to be acted upon. But when the electron is observed, the wave collapses into a distinct particle at a definite location, just as a person mentally collapses into a separate “self” while dealing with the world. In this contracted state, the electron becomes useful for doing work in circuits and technologies, and the human being, seeing everything as separate, becomes efficient in action and problem-solving. Thus, both the mind and matter show the same principle: unity gives peace, and separation gives practical effectiveness. Life becomes an art when one learns to shift between these states—expansive like a wave when resting within consciousness, and focused like a particle when engaging with the world.

It is the very nature of moha (delusion) that makes one see the opposite of reality. Under its influence, the false appears true—just as living and acting as a separate self seems real to the world, even though separation does not exist. Likewise, living and acting from a non-dual understanding appears false to most people, while in fact it is the only real state. In the same way, the particle-like, dual expression of matter is treated as true in quantum science because it helps us perform the activities of the physical world, whereas the wave-like, unified state is dismissed as unreal simply because it does not react or participate in the world’s drama as strongly as particles do. If the quantum world itself were capable of thought, it might hold the same mistaken preference. It would admire its particle form as the “real” one simply because it can interact, collide, produce effects, and take part in the drama of physics, while it would overlook its own wave nature as vague, silent, and useless—never realizing that the wave is actually its true, fundamental state, and the particle is only a temporary appearance created for action. So too, a soul darkened by worldly impressions seems true, attractive, and trustworthy to the majority, and people embrace it gladly. But the clean soul of a yogi—cleansed of impressions and free from worldly conditioning—appears false, threatening, or even frightening to them. Such is the strange illusionary power of moha, which keeps beings bound to the world and prevents them from seeing liberation. The one who cuts through this invisible wall of illusion with the invisible sword of non-dual contemplation is the true courageous being.

Under Moha we start looking at life in pieces, unaware that every piece belongs to a larger whole. It is like watching the vast sea through a narrow window, and then believing that the small view is the entire ocean. In physics, there is a similar effect when space bends light, or when uncertainty hides the position of a particle, or when two particles stay connected even when far apart. When space bends light due to gravity (as predicted by Einstein’s General Relativity), distant stars and galaxies appear shifted or magnified, so we never see them where they truly are. When quantum uncertainty hides the position of a particle, it is because a particle does not actually exist at one fixed point until we measure it, and our measurement forces it to look like a sharply separate object. And when two particles stay connected even when far apart (quantum entanglement), they continue to behave as one system, showing that separation is only an appearance created by distance, not a fundamental reality. Moha creates this same kind of twist in awareness, where separation feels real and the underlying unity remains hidden.

MOHA (DELUSION) — The Quantum Veil of Perception and Maya

Wave–Particle Duality (Moha and Perception)

In quantum physics, light and matter can appear both as waves and as particles, and what we see depends entirely on how we choose to observe them. In the same way, under Moha (delusion), we look at life through a narrow lens and mistake that limited view for the whole truth. We cling to a small fragment and call it reality, just as a particle appears separate only because its deeper wave nature is hidden from our sight. Moha begins when the observer becomes attached to what it sees and forgets that it is only a witness. This is the subtle play of Māyā, where visible forms distract us from the vast, formless reality that lies behind them. On seeing the collapsed world with attachment, he himself gets collapsed from his true nature. While witnessing, the world keeps him neutral, and he can maintain his wholeness without collapsing. With a little additional help from non-dual Darshanas, this witnessing becomes stable, allowing him to live in the world without being swallowed by it.

The Human Uncertainty Principle: When Science Unlocks the Secret Identity of the Soul

Just as there is an uncertainty principle in quantum science, there is an uncertainty-like principle in human behaviour as well. Just as we cannot know the exact position and momentum of a quantum particle at the same time, we also cannot perceive the worldly nature and the spiritual nature of a human being together. The moment we focus on someone’s worldly achievements, their non-dual contemplation disappears from our attention. Deep within, we rarely trust their inner spiritual insight; at best, we nod outwardly in polite agreement. And when we start seeing a person’s spiritual nature, their worldly milestones fade from our awareness or are easily dismissed. This happens because both natures appear to contradict each other. Yet, just as quantum particles seem to adopt a mysterious trick, keeping their wave-nature intact even while working as particles through their inherent non-dual unity, a human being too can live in the world efficiently while still preserving an inner state of non-dual awareness.

A clear example of this is my own life. After my recent awakening, when I went to the university, I was completely calm and content with my work, achievements, and gains. Most others around me were the opposite—constantly craving, constantly wanting to grow and acquire more. It was not that I had rejected these things; I simply had no cravings. I followed the university guidelines and culture steadily and with detachment. But they looked at me as if I had come from some unknown planet of an unknown galaxy—far beyond Mars or any visible universe. Few ones even suspected the genuineness of my earlier studies or thought my certificates might be fake. Some assumed that I was not growing along the officers’ path but along the path of ordinary employees, because they expected intense worldliness in a future officer. Some were even willing to verify them, simply because they saw a sage-like simplicity in me. What should have brought positive recognition turned into the opposite. Although it was not very obvious outwardly, I had developed a certain mind-reading sensitivity because of the inner cleansing that came with awakening.

Another example is my recent deep dhyana during the Bhagavatam sessions—three hours daily for seven days, completely spontaneous. I became the centre of curiosity. I was normal, relaxed, and fully aware of worldly life alongside the meditative life, but with an inherent spiritual attitude. They, on the other hand, were confused, disturbed, agitated, unsatisfied, and unstable—constantly craving this or that. Regarding me, their eyes sometimes turned white, indifferent, with a strange, ghost-like gaze, almost scared, as if a monkey had entered a human assembly. This is the power of moha: it makes the sky appear like the earth, and the earth appear like the sky. I mention all this only as experiential illustration, not as criticism of anyone. I am writing what I personally felt deep inside; others may not have felt it the same way. Someones were admiring or even looking like revering me, but that too was an illusion. A person is admired only when he has achieved something special—not when he remains in his simple, ordinary state. I had settled into my own basic form, having achieved nothing and even letting go of the small accomplishments I once had. In truth, it was those people who deserved admiration, because each of them had achieved something meaningful—some had property, some had a family, some had rank, and some had honour. Yet what was happening was completely the opposite. The truly admirable ones were admiring someone who was not admirable at all. This is the funniest nature of moha. People who had achieved so many things were calling a man who had achieved nothing as someone who had achieved something great, while they considered themselves as if they had achieved nothing at all. Ordinary looks special, and the special looks ordinary. A truly mind-bending confusion.

Just as one cannot be seen as both a sage and a materialist at the same time, similarly one cannot act in both ways simultaneously. When someone is in the sage-mode, he naturally steps out of the worldly mode, and vice versa. But through Karma Yoga and Quantum Darshan, it becomes possible to express both — to see both natures together and to act with both natures together. Just as the quantum world carries the paradox of being both a wave and a particle, with the right understanding both states can be ‘measured’ or expressed at once. Perhaps science has not yet reached this subtle insight or any physical trick. That is why the Uncertainty Principle appears as a cornerstone in physical science, but not in the science of the mind.

Moha is also described by many as blind love, and that is true, because blind love or attachment produces moha, although blind love is cause while moha or illusion is the effect. It is blind love for the body and the world that creates this illusion. It can be prevented through non-dual darshanas and the right attitude. When Lord Vishnu took the form of a beautiful woman to take the nectar from the demons, the demons became attached to her form. Under the influence of moha, her deceptive words appeared right to them, while the correct advice of their own guru appeared wrong. This story perfectly illustrates the power of moha: it destroys decision power, makes one support the side of the dearly-loved—even when it is wrong—and prevents one from supporting the side of those disliked or opposed—even when that side is completely right.

Quantum Superposition (Schrödinger’s Cat)

In quantum physics, a system can remain in many possible states at the same time until it is observed. It is neither this nor that, yet it holds every possibility within it. In the same way, the mind in Moha (delusion) keeps floating between opposites — love and fear, gain and loss, right and wrong — without recognizing the unity beneath them. This state of confusion is like consciousness stuck in its own choices, unable to settle into what is real. Moha becomes the uncertainty of awareness itself, where truth is present but never allowed to fully emerge.

Quantum Entanglement and the Illusion of Separateness

In quantum science, two particles can remain connected even when they are far apart, responding to each other instantly in ways that ordinary logic cannot explain. In human life, Moha (delusion) creates a similar misunderstanding. It makes us believe that each person is a separate being, moving alone in the world, while in truth we stay linked through a deeper field of consciousness. Just as entangled particles appear many but share one hidden state, life too is a single reality expressing itself through countless forms. Moha covers this unity with the appearance of multiplicity, while entanglement quietly reveals that the “many” is only a reflection of the “one.”

From Delusion to Illusion: The Shift Brought by Quantum Darshan

Delusion is a deep-seated illusion that does not go away easily. Quantum darshan can help greatly in dissolving it. Although quantum darshan does not remove illusion completely, it uproots the deep delusion and brings it down to the level of a temporary illusion. Delusion is the state in which, even when a person is resting or away from worldly interactions, the false perception continues to grip the mind. But when it is reduced to the level of illusion, the person may still experience wrong perceptions during active worldly engagement, yet the moment they relax or become still, the illusion evaporates and a natural bliss arises. This change does not happen on its own; it happens through nondual philosophies like quantum darshan, which is simple, effortless, and purely mental in its approach, requiring no rituals or formalities. Other religious practices also help, but without such inner effort, illusion keeps deepening and eventually hardens into a permanent delusion that becomes difficult to dissolve within a single lifetime. Making illusion drop to zero even during worldly interactions is the next step, which happens through advanced yoga practices that are instinctively initiated once the simple nondual vision matures over time.

Gravitational Lensing and the Curvature of Perception

In the physical universe, very massive objects such as black holes can bend the path of light, making distant objects appear distorted or misplaced. This phenomenon is called gravitational lensing. Something similar happens within us. When egoic attachment becomes heavy and dense, it bends the light of awareness, causing truth to look twisted or incomplete. Moha (delusion) works like the gravity of ego, pulling perception out of its natural clarity and creating mirages where reality should be. Enlightenment is nothing dramatic — it is simply the moment when awareness travels straight again, without being curved by attachment.

Quantum Decoherence and the Collapse of Inner Clarity

In quantum physics, a system can hold many possibilities at once, but when it interacts too much with its surroundings, it loses this pure state and settles into one visible form. This process is called decoherence. Something similar happens to human awareness. When consciousness becomes overly involved with the noise of the world, it begins to collapse into narrow identities: “I am this body,” “this position,” “this fear,” or “this desire.” Moha (delusion) is simply this loss of inner coherence, where awareness gets tangled in matter and thought until it forgets its deeper nature. What was once wide and open becomes limited, like a wave forced to behave as a single particle.

Summary — Moha Through the Lens of Quantum Physics

Across different areas of quantum science, we find echoes of Moha, the delusion that distorts perception. Wave–particle duality shows how identity can appear confused when a part is mistaken for the whole. Quantum superposition reflects the mind caught in unresolved choices, unable to see what is real beneath its fantasies. It is like a thoughtless mind, yet filled with the noise of all possibilities. This state of seeming thoughtlessness is not the true silence of liberation; in fact, it is even more noisy and binding than thoughts themselves, because all hidden potentials must first emerge in the light of witnessing before they can dissolve. Just as specific thoughts arise from this field of potential—rather than all possible thoughts—because the memory of previous thoughts is stored within it, in the same way, probability-wave potentials in nature collapse into specific outcomes that favour the growth of creation. They do not collapse into contradictory or random outcomes, perhaps because the universe carries the memory of previous formations. This is why Einstein said that God does not play dice. Previous formations guide new formations, and no one knows when this process of creation and formation first began, for it is a timeless and eternal unfolding, as described in the scriptures.

Entanglement reveals that separateness is only an illusion, just as consciousness remains one despite appearing as many individuals. Gravitational lensing mirrors how ego bends awareness and warps truth, making reality look twisted from its natural form. And quantum decoherence illustrates how clarity collapses when awareness becomes entangled with worldly noise, fixing itself to roles, fears, and bodily identity. However, worldly noise can be cut only with worldly noise that has been sharpened by quantum darshan, just as an iron sword with a diamond fixed on its edge can easily cut through another iron sword. Together, these phenomena remind us that Moha is not the absence of truth — it is truth seen through a distorted lens.

Moha is the enchanting dance of Māyā, without which the cosmic play (Līlā) cannot exist.
It veils truth so that the soul can experience the joy of rediscovering it.

Philosophical Synthesis

In the rhythm of existence, every primal emotion moves energy in a particular direction and performs a cosmic task. Kāma draws the flow of energy toward creation, allowing union and birth to unfold, like Brahma shaping the world into being. Krodha turns the same energy toward destruction, not as violence but as correction and purification, echoing Rudra’s fierce clarity that clears what no longer serves life. Lobha gathers and preserves, holding resources together so existence can continue, much like Vishnu sustaining the universe. Moha, however, is the energy that turns toward illusion. It does not create, destroy, or preserve, but gently hides reality beneath layers of enchantment. This is the play of Mahāmāyā, the great veiling power — often symbolized through the Mohinī aspect of Vishnu — where truth is not eliminated but covered, inviting consciousness to rediscover it.

Transmutation of Moha

Moha does not disappear all at once; it evolves through stages of understanding. In its first form, Ignorant Moha, a person is completely caught in attachment and confusion, mistaking appearances for reality. This stage leads to endless illusion, where life is driven by false identity and unexamined desires. As awareness grows, Moha becomes Aware Moha. Here the illusion is still present, but one begins to observe it rather than be ruled by it. It is like the effect of quantum darshan. This shift marks the beginning of awakening. Finally, Moha reaches a mature state called Enlightened Moha. In this stage, the world’s appearances are recognized as a playful display, not a trap. One lives freely within the same world, untouched by its deceptions. This is Jīvanmukti, liberation while still living — where illusion is no longer a prison, but a conscious, joyful play of existence.

Quantum Summary of the Four Primal Emotions

The four primal emotions can be understood as movements of energy that echo patterns found in quantum and cosmic behavior. Kāma flows as attraction, like the bond between electron and proton, drawing elements together to create something new; in its transcended form, this becomes love and creative expression. Krodha moves as repulsion, similar to the force that keeps electrons apart, pushing away what is harmful or false; when refined, it becomes the will to purify and protect truth. The same happened to me when I became annoyed with someone nearby. I found it better to redirect that annoyance into ignorance at the very start, which led to a slight stabilisation of my deeper dhyana and the bliss arising from it. The annoyance, having done its work, could no longer be found anywhere and eventually transformed into love and respect for that person. Lobha pulls energy into accumulation, just as gravity gathers matter into stars, planets, or even black holes; when transformed, this same impulse becomes care, preservation, and nurturing just as life supporting stars do. Moha, unlike the others, does not push or pull—it bends perception itself, much like wave–particle duality or the distortion of light through gravitational lensing. When awakened, this distortion becomes playful awareness, the realization of Māyā as a creative display rather than a trap. Together, these emotions form a spectrum where raw energy, once misunderstood, can mature into wisdom.