Category: sci-fi

Chapter 10: Grandfather’s Wish & His Spiritual Realization

Aryan and Meera were walking along the silent pathways of Lunar University, the gentle blue glow of Earth casting a surreal light over the lunar surface. The night was endless here, timeless. Yet, within Aryan’s mind, memories flowed like an unbroken stream, pulling him into the past.

He had received the news long ago—his grandfather had passed away on Earth. But he hadn’t been there. His training schedule had kept him here, on the Moon, unable to return in time. Even now, the thought gnawed at him, leaving a strange emptiness.

But was his grandfather truly gone?

The Spiritual Priest Who Walked His Own Path

Aryan was raised in a Vedic Brahmin family, yet he was a realized Tantric who had awakened both his Ajna Chakra, represented by bijmantra Sham of Sharma, and his Swadhishthan Chakra, represented by bijmantra Vam that seems aligning with the word Verma. For this reason, he embraced both surnames as his own. Moreover, he naturally mingled with people from all sections of society, breaking conventional barriers with ease.

“But he commonly used the surname Verma, as he had ascended to the Ajna Chakra through the Swadhishthan Chakra, rather than directly.”

Along with, Aryan’s grandfather had been a self-made Brahmarishi, much like Vishwamitra—not by birth, but through sheer self-effort and karma. He was a spiritual priest, performing yajnas and rituals, but unlike the orthodox elite, his heart always beat for the downtrodden.

“Krinvanto Vishvam Aryam,” he would often say. “Make the whole world noble. But how? By lifting those who are at the bottom first.”

Most of his yajmanas were the poor, the neglected, the socially discarded. But he never cared for status. To him, everyone was a soul on their journey, and he treated them with the same love and respect.

He never used emotional blackmail, something Aryan had seen in so many traditional families. Some elders manipulated their children, family, relatives, lovers and even other common people through guilt, but his grandfather never did. “Emotional blackmail, not just within families but even in public life, where those in higher positions manipulate and pressure those below them.” He didn’t impose his will—he simply guided, even sought guidance without any ego from whoever was available—poor or rich, elder or younger—valuing wisdom over status.

“Each person grows at their own pace,” he once told Aryan. “You don’t force a bud to bloom. You give it sunlight, water, and patience.”

And yet, he wasn’t a detached saint. He deeply valued family and was always present for them. He was selflessly dedicated to his family. But he had a unique balance—he embraced the modern world while never losing his ancient wisdom.

His First Journey to the Moon

Aryan smiled to himself as he recalled one more old memory.

His grandfather had once visited the Moon with his grandmother when Aryan was still a student here. It was a short trip, but an unforgettable one.

His grandmother, who had never even flown in an airplane, had been absolutely stunned during space travel.

“Hai Ram! We are floating!” she had gasped, gripping the seat tightly in the zero-gravity cabin of the space bus.

His grandfather, on the other hand, had been calm, fascinated, and deeply introspective.

“Look at this silence,” he had murmured, staring at the vast emptiness outside the window. “This is the peace that sages seek in deep meditation.”

For those few days, she had explored the lunar surface with him. His grandmother, always the traditional homemaker, was more worried about food than anything else.

“Beta, what do you even eat here? How do you digest this artificial food?”

His grandfather, however, had been intrigued by the Moonites—the ancient, breathless beings who lived here. He had spent hours observing their ways, meditating among them.

Why He Loved the Moon

During his longer stay at Lunar University initially during Aryan’s settling days, his grandfather had started feeling a strange connection to the Moon.

“I would love to settle here,” he had once told Aryan. “Maybe buy a small rice field and live in peace.”

Aryan had laughed. “Rice fields on the Moon? Grandfather, that’s impossible.”

But his grandfather had smiled. “The impossible is only what we haven’t yet understood.”

The Moon had a special kind of peace, a spiritual silence unlike anything found on Earth. It was also home to great karmayogis and spiritual seekers, beings who had transcended the cycle of breath.

His grandfather had always been fond of breathless practices—pranayama, deep meditation, kriya yoga. Perhaps that was why he resonated with the eternal non-breathers of the Moon.

Here, there were two kinds of Moonites:

  1. The Eternal Non-Breathers – They had transcended breath forever. They were like the limitless sky—unaffected by the cycle of life and death.
  2. The Subtle Breathers – They had stopped breathing, but the impression of breath still lingered in their subconscious. Even in silence, they were not fully free.

His grandfather had once told him:

“Even when breath stops, its memory remains. True liberation is beyond both breathing and non-breathing.”

Maybe that was why he loved the Moon so much—because it reflected his own spiritual journey.

A Man of Action, A True Karmayogi

Despite his spiritual depth, his grandfather was not a passive mystic. He believed in karma yoga—action with detachment. He never wasted time.

“One who never sits idle lives a hundred years,” he would often say, quoting the Vedas.

Yet, he did not reach a hundred. His body, weakened by years of austerity and self-neglect, had failed him. He never cared much about nutrition, rest, or personal comfort.

But in his passing, he left behind something greater than years—he left behind wisdom.

The Moonites and the Illusion of Separation

As Aryan strolled across the lunar landscape, a peculiar thought crossed his mind. The Moon had always been the land of the non-breathing moonites—eternal beings who existed beyond the realm of breath and survival instincts. They needed nothing, desired nothing, and were unaffected by space, time, or the conditions of any planet. Unlike the breathers, who required air and sustenance, these beings could live anywhere in the cosmos, yet they always chose the Moon as their home.

But things had changed. With the rise of artificial oxygen domes, breathing moonites had started appearing on the Moon. Technically, they weren’t true moonites—at least not in the traditional sense. They were visitors from planets rich in oxygen, where life depended on the constant rhythm of breath. Yet, drawn by the Moon’s mysticism and the wisdom of the non-breathing beings, they had begun to settle here, adapting to an existence that was foreign to their nature. However, later on many native moonites had also learned breathing from those settlers.

Of course, some non-breathing moonites, those with a deep craving for breath, and not getting a chance to learn from settlers would often embark on long journeys through space in their super-advanced vehicles, seeking out oxygen-rich worlds. No distance was too great for them, no star too far. They wandered across the cosmos, tasting the thrill of breath, only to return home—again and again—to the Moon, their eternal sanctuary.

And then there were those who had never breathed at all. Beings so deeply entrenched in their non-breathing state that they were completely beyond the pull of breath’s illusions. They were like the endless sky—undivided, unaffected. The breathers, in comparison, were like fleeting patterns in the clouds, appearing and disappearing, but never truly separate from the vastness that contained them.

“Just as the sky appears divided when seen through a grill, yet remains whole, so too is the illusion of separation among beings”, once his grandfather had told him.

Aryan chuckled to himself. If anyone else had been listening to his thoughts, they might have dismissed them as absurd. But here, on the Moon, where the boundaries between the material and the mystical blurred, such reflections felt completely natural.

His grandfather had always pondered these mysteries. And now, standing on this silent lunar plain, Aryan felt closer to those truths than ever before.

Meera’s Awakening

“Aryan?”

A gentle voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Meera was standing beside him, looking at him with concern.

“You’ve been lost in thought for a while,” she said.

Aryan exhaled slowly.

“I was just remembering Grandfather.”

Meera nodded. She had just woken from a strange dream—a dream where she had relived their past, their time on Earth, his grandfather’s visit to the Moon, his wisdom, his humor.

“I saw him,” she whispered. “Smiling at us. As if… he never left.”

Aryan turned to look at her, then at the endless lunar horizon.

Perhaps, in some way, his grandfather had never truly left.

Not on Earth. Not on the Moon.

But in the eternal silence that existed beyond both.

Wisdom Beyond Loss: Grandfather’s Journey from Struggle to Spiritual Riches

As Aryan shook off the remnants of his deep thoughts, he and Meera continued strolling through the serene lunar landscape near the university. The silver-hued terrain stretched endlessly under the soft glow of artificial domes, casting ethereal reflections on the smooth, cratered ground. A gentle hush prevailed, broken only by the rhythmic sound of their footsteps and the occasional distant hum of a passing lunar transport. Above them, the cosmos shimmered with a clarity unseen on Earth, each star appearing like a guiding beacon in the boundless void. The tranquility of the moon, untouched by the chaos of Earthly life, made it the perfect place for contemplation—a silent monastery in the vast temple of the universe.

Meera looked intrigued. “Interesting,” she said. Then, without pause, she asked, “Didn’t your grandpa once renounce a government job offer?”

Aryan nodded. “Yes. He had proudly said, ‘I would rather employ servants than become one.’ He wasn’t against work, but he had a different idea of dignity. He wanted to live on his own terms.”

“But after the Mujayra Act, most of his land went to the cultivating laborers, right?”

“Yes, and that changed everything. With most of his land gone, he had to work hard just to sustain the family. Religious work and farming became his only sources of livelihood. Some saw that phase as his ‘strict era’ because he had to be tough to keep things running. But it wasn’t strictness—it was helplessness. I was too young then, so I don’t remember much of that struggle.”

Meera glanced at him thoughtfully. “But when you grew up, he was different?”

Aryan smiled. “Completely. By the time I was old enough to understand him, he had changed into someone almost ascetic. He had no complaints, no regrets—just a quiet wisdom. He would spend hours reading the Puranas to my great-grandmother.”

“She was very old, wasn’t she? Did she still understand those stories?”

“Oh, more than anyone else. She used to say, ‘No matter how old you get, the heart still longs for stories of gods and warriors. They remind us of who we are.’”

Meera’s lips curled into a smile. “And your grandfather? What did he say?”

“He believed he had gained far more than he had lost. He used to say, ‘What I lost in life is nothing compared to what I have gained through these scriptures.’ He thought everyone should read them—not just as stories, but as a way to understand life itself”. 

“He recognized that awakening within me and was overjoyed, seeing it as a fruition of the deep spiritual environment he had nurtured at home, mainly frequent reading and listening to puranas daily “.

“In the later part of his life, he also felt a sense of repentance for having lived under the constraints of higher orthodoxy, realizing that he had let go of many opportunities that could have helped him grow—mainly living away throughout the majority of his life from those Puranas and scriptures, which were full of insights that aid in all-round development. That’s why he once said to me during my university days, when I was among gruesome cosmic creatures, “Mix among and adapt to those you fear, while always keeping your vision fixed on your true nature.”

Meera nodded. “That explains why he was always so calm. Even when life wasn’t kind, he had something unshakable inside him.”

Aryan looked up at the endless sky of the moon, his mind still lingering in the past. “Yes,” he said softly. “That’s exactly why.”

Chapter 9 – Space Travel Between Earth & Moon

Since this time Aryan was traveling alone, he opted for public transport—a space bus—rather than taking his personal space car. It was impractical to carry an entire vehicle for just one person, not to mention uneconomical. The space bus, though not as private, was comfortable, efficient, and offered a quiet time to reflect.

However, when traveling with his family—Meera, Avni, and Ansh—every two to three months, they always preferred their own space car. The journey was not just about reaching Earth; it was an adventure in itself. They would take their time, stopping at various space hotels and floating restaurants to refresh themselves before continuing ahead.

Every two to three hours of continuous travel, they made a stop at one of their favorite space lounges—places that had become a part of their routine over time. There, they would sip on steaming cups of tea or coffee, enjoy snacks, or have a full meal, depending on the time of the journey. These brief halts were not just about food but also about relaxation and stretching out after the long hours of weightless travel.

The children always loved these breaks. Stepping into the artificial gravity gardens attached to these space hubs, they would run around, playing for a while, marveling at the way gravity could be adjusted to mimic Earth’s pull. Aryan and Meera would take slow strolls, enjoying the unique sight of gardens floating against the backdrop of deep space, the stars twinkling like diamonds beyond the protective domes.

Each stay lasted about an hour to an hour and a half, enough to refresh, recharge, and prepare for the next leg of the journey. For them, the journey wasn’t merely about getting from one planet to another—it was about cherishing the experience, savoring the moments of togetherness, and making memories that would last a lifetime.

Getting back to the second home

Aryan stepped off the space bus, his feet adjusting to the Moon’s artificial gravity field. He had just returned from one of his frequent visits to Earth—a journey that, despite its familiarity, always left him with mixed emotions.

The moment he stepped into the colony, a familiar voice called out.

“Back already?” Meera stood outside their living dome, arms crossed but a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Time flies when you’re running between two worlds,” Aryan said, setting down his travel case. His suit still carried traces of Earth’s air—a scent he had come to miss in the sterilized, processed environment of the Moon.

Before he could take another step, Ansh and Avni came running, their excitement bubbling over.

“What did you bring us?” Ansh asked eagerly, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Aryan chuckled and reached into his bag. For Ansh, he had picked up the latest holographic gaming console, something that had just launched on Earth. For Avni, a delicate bracelet containing real Earth flowers, preserved inside a transparent capsule—something she could wear as a piece of their home planet. Meera received something simple but cherished—a small vial of pure sandalwood oil, its fragrance carrying memories of her childhood.

As they stepped inside, Aryan sank into his chair with a content sigh. “Public transport was fine, but space buses aren’t as enjoyable as our trips together. It’s just transport—no fun, no adventure.”

Meera nodded, reminiscing. “It’s different when we travel as a family. Stopping at those space hotels, taking breaks at floating restaurants, drinking tea in orbital gardens… It’s not just about getting somewhere, it’s about the journey itself.”

Aryan smiled. “Exactly. When I’m alone, I just want to reach the Moon as fast as possible. But with you all, the journey becomes something else entirely.”

It was true. Every two to three months, when the whole family traveled to Earth, they took their personal space car instead of public transport. Those trips were filled with laughter, music, and the joy of making stops at uniquely designed space hotels and restaurants.

“Remember our last trip?” Avni piped up. “We stopped at that place with floating gardens and zero-gravity swings!”

Ansh grinned. “And that restaurant where food floated in mid-air until you caught it!”

Aryan laughed. “Yes! That place was something else. And remember how we used to take breaks every couple of hours? Stopping at our favorite restaurants, sipping tea while walking in their green parks… It’s those little things that make a journey memorable.”

Meera sighed. “I wish we had more time for such trips. Lately, everything seems to be changing too fast.”

Aryan followed her gaze out of the window. The Earth hung in the sky, its blue glow ever-present, but here on the Moon, a new world was forming. Something was shifting—both in their colony and in the hearts of those who had made the Moon their home.

The Rise of Worship on the Moon

The Moonites, breathless and selfless, had long served the earthly settlers without expecting anything in return. Their pure awareness and detached compassion made them different from humans. Yet, a silent but powerful force was driving them toward change—breathing.

Breathing was an external flashing chasm, a tempting transformation. Unlike the breathless state, which was eternal yet subtle, breathing had an undeniable charm—an immediate, transient pleasure. More and more Moonites were learning to breathe, drawn to the experience like moths to a flame. The problem was clear: if their numbers increased beyond control, the Moon’s resources would collapse before terraforming was complete.

A radical solution emerged—one that no one had anticipated. The settlers began worshipping the Moonites.

It started subtly. The colonists realized that if they saw the Moonites as pitiful beings, they would instinctively try to “help” them—teaching them to breathe, feeding them, integrating them into human society. But if they elevated them, if they considered them sacred, it would remove the idea of inferiority. The Moonites themselves would no longer feel “lesser.”

Thus began the Vedic Yuga on the Moon.

Temples were built. Elaborate idol worship started. Moonites, whose presence was once unnoticed, were now revered as divine entities. The settlers invited scholars from Earth—Vedic pundits who performed prana pratishtha on the idols, invoking breath within them through sacred rituals.

“Isn’t it ironic?” Meera had once laughed. “On Earth, humans pray to idols, breathing life into them through faith. And here, we are performing rituals for actual living beings who don’t breathe!”

Aryan saw the deeper wisdom behind this shift. It was a psychological and spiritual strategy. By treating Moonites as more than human rather than less, they subtly discouraged their desire to change. Even in a sense, it was true, for they were pure awareness. A Moonite, now revered as divine, had no reason to crave the ordinary pleasures of breath, food, and attachment.

Jyotish & The Cosmic Balance

This transformation wasn’t just religious—it extended into the realm of celestial sciences.

Jyotish (Vedic astrology) flourished on the Moon. The settlers observed that reading celestial bodies in the morning expanded prana, mixing it with apana, binding individuals deeper into the cycles of karma and existence. Jyotish Shastra had always proclaimed that planetary alignments influenced destiny, and now, on the Moon, it was more evident than ever.

Modern astronomy, too, was evolving rapidly. The settlers studied not just the Moon and Earth but the entire cosmos, looking for greater truths hidden in the fabric of space. This obsession wasn’t without reason—understanding celestial mechanics was another way to control prana flow and balance the increasing presence of breathers.

Aryan found it both fascinating and ironic. The deeper humans went into space, the more they returned to the wisdom of the ancients. The more they sought the future, the more they rediscovered the past.

Exploitation & The Looming Revolt

Despite all these developments, one undeniable fact remained: Earth was exploiting the Moon at an alarming rate. The settlers took and took, never thinking of consequences.

The Moonites’ selflessness was not a lack of awareness. They weren’t ignorant of what was happening. Their detachment and desireless nature did not mean they had no instinct to preserve their existence.

Their patience was vast—far greater than that of any breathing beings. But patience had limits.

Aryan had seen it before in history. Societies that took too much without giving back always faced backlash. Colonization, resource extraction, oppression—these things had played out countless times on Earth. Now, history was repeating itself on the Moon.

While pondering these lingering thoughts for weeks, “A revolt will come one day,” Aryan whispered to himself as he boarded the spacecraft for his next visit to Earth. “Not today, not tomorrow. But one day.”

The journey back to Earth was smooth. Space travel had come a long way since the early days of lunar colonization. Ships now used gravitational slingshots and antimatter bursts to reduce travel time, making the trip in mere hours instead of days.

As Aryan settled into his seat, he found himself staring at Earth again, that ever-familiar blue sphere.

It was his home. Yet, the Moon had changed him. He no longer belonged entirely to Earth.

Would there come a day when he would look at Earth and feel like an outsider?

Would the Moonites ever look at humans and see them as intruders rather than guests?

He closed his eyes. The answers lay in the future. And the future was coming fast.

Chapter 8 – Ancestors on Earth & Nostalgia

Dr. Aryan Verma sat on the edge of his lunar home’s terrace, gazing at the brilliant blue Earth suspended in the sky. The sight never failed to stir something deep inside him—memories, emotions, attachments, everything that still connected him to his ancestors on Earth. His parents, his extended family, their voices, their traditions—everything still existed on that distant world, yet it all felt like a different lifetime.

He had spoken to them many times through holographic calls, had seen their wrinkled yet loving faces, heard their laughter, their concern for him, Meera, Avni, and Ansh. And yet, something was missing. They were still bound by time, while here on the Moon, time itself felt like an illusion. The tranquility was so vast, so immersive, that years felt like days. The more he lived here, the more he lost touch with the sense of linear time.

Meera joined him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “You’re thinking about them again, aren’t you?”

Aryan nodded, sighing. “I can’t help it. Time here moves so fast, Meera. Every time I talk to them, they seem older, frailer. But for me… it feels like just yesterday that we left Earth.”

Meera sat beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees. “They must feel the opposite. For them, we’ve been gone for years, and they must wonder how we have changed.”

Ansh, who had overheard them, walked up, curiosity in his young eyes. “Why don’t they come here, Papa? We have everything—oxygen domes, food, Moonites who help us.”

Aryan ruffled his son’s hair. “It’s not just about comfort, beta. It’s about belonging. They belong to Earth, just like we are slowly belonging here. The air, the soil, the memories—everything ties them to that world. And even if they came here, they wouldn’t feel at home.”

Avni, who had been quietly listening, added thoughtfully, “Maybe they are afraid. Afraid of losing what makes them feel human. The Moon… it’s peaceful, but it’s also unsettling. Too much silence. Too much stillness.”

Meera nodded. “Even I feel it sometimes. It’s like the whole Moon is in deep meditation, and we are intruding.”

The Rising Need for Oxygenated Domes

Their conversation was interrupted by a call from the lunar administration. Aryan picked up the communicator, and a familiar voice crackled through.

“Dr. Verma, we have a problem. More and more Moonites are starting to breathe. The oxygen demand is rising, and our dome expansion projects are behind schedule. We need immediate solutions before it gets out of hand.”

Aryan exchanged a worried glance with Meera before responding. “Understood. I’ll be there soon.”

The need for more oxygenated domes was becoming a serious issue. The Moonites, the native beings of this land, had always existed without the need for breathing. But as they interacted with humans, some of them had started learning this biological function.

At first, it was an astonishing discovery—breathless beings suddenly experiencing the sensation of inhaling and exhaling. But with breathing came hunger, thirst, exhaustion—sensations alien to their existence. This was why the lunar settlers had initially limited their direct contact with Moonites. Teaching them to breathe meant changing their very nature, and if too many of them learned, the consequences could be catastrophic.

Terraforming the Moon was still an ongoing plan, but until it was completed, resources were limited. If every Moonite became a breather, the entire colony could collapse under the strain.

The Silent Helpers

Despite this growing crisis, the Moonites had been incredibly helpful to earthly settlers. They had provided rare minerals, built roads, constructed homes, developed food systems, and even assisted in medical research.

But their help was different—it was not given with expectation or obligation. They served with an extreme level of selflessness, as if it was their very nature to do so.

One day, Aryan had asked a Moonite, “Why do you help us so much without asking for anything in return?”

The Moonite had simply replied, “We do not help. We do not give. It simply happens.”

Their selflessness was beyond human comprehension. They didn’t have hunger, desires, or any personal needs, which made their service purely instinctive—a manifestation of their pure awareness. They were completely satisfied with whatever they had, much like a true Karmayogi.

Yet, many settlers refused to see them as living beings.

“Advanced robots,” some argued. “They’re just like artificial humanoids on Earth. Either they evolved on their own or were created by some ancient alien civilization that later went extinct.”

Others, like Aryan, disagreed. “They’re not robots. They evolve, they learn, they feel—but in a way different from us. Their spirituality is untouched by corruption. They are alive, just breathless.”

Some colonists even believed the Moonites were the remnants of an old alien war—beings who had survived, while their creators perished. The theories varied, but none could deny one thing—the Moonites were changing.

The Dangerous Consequence of Breathing

As more Moonites learned to breathe, their minds began changing.

One day, a Moonite stumbled into Aryan’s lab, confusion evident in his usually calm eyes. “Doctor… something is wrong. There is… an emptiness inside me.”

Aryan studied him carefully. “What do you feel?”

The Moonite hesitated before answering. “Something inside… it needs to be filled.”

Aryan’s heart sank. “That’s called hunger.”

With hunger came the need for food. With food came the need for resources. And with limited resources came conflict.

The settlers had been so overwhelmed by the Moonites’ kindness that, in their gratitude, they had started teaching them how to breathe. But they hadn’t foreseen the consequences. If every Moonite started breathing, the Moon would soon face the same struggles as Earth—overpopulation, hunger, inequality, crime, wars.

Meera voiced what they were all thinking. “Are we corrupting them?”

Aryan exhaled heavily. “It’s not corruption. It’s evolution. But the question is—how do we control it before it destroys everything?”

A Looming Crisis

There was an irony in the situation. While some settlers were trying to learn the breathless way of life from the Moonites, many more Moonites were learning breathing from humans. The balance was tilting dangerously.

Avni, always perceptive, mused, “Maybe some things should never be taught.”

Ansh, still innocent, asked, “But they just want to be like us, right?”

Aryan looked at his son, then back at the Moonites working tirelessly in the distance. “Or maybe we should have wanted to be like them.”

He turned to Meera. “We have to find a way to preserve their nature while protecting ours. If we let things continue unchecked, the Moon will soon become another Earth, and all the purity of this place will be lost.”

Meera squeezed his hand. “Then we have to act fast, before history repeats itself.”

Aryan nodded. The Moonites had prepared for their arrival for millions of years. They had welcomed them with open arms, with nothing but selflessness in their hearts. But now, humanity’s presence was altering them. The future was uncertain, and it was up to them to decide whether it would be one of harmony or disaster.

And for the first time, Aryan truly wondered—who was saving whom?

Chapter 7 – The Moon’s Animal University

(From the book “Journey Beyond Earth – A Veterinarian’s Life on the Moon”)

Dr. Aryan Verma stood before the towering gates of Lunar Animal University, the most prestigious veterinary school in the entire Milky Way. The sight of the massive, silver-etched insignia of the Moonites, glowing under the Earth’s faint blue light, sent a shiver through him. His heart pounded—not from fear, but from the weight of this moment.

This was no ordinary university. This was where the most brilliant minds—human, extraterrestrial, and beyond—competed for a coveted Veterinary Sciences of Cosmic Species degree. The Moonites, beings of pure awareness who had never breathed, had invited him here to prove himself.

Meera had been skeptical when Aryan first told her about this.
“The Moonites never needed a veterinarian before. Why now?” she had asked.
“Because they want to understand earthly life,” he had said. “And maybe because I want to understand something bigger too.”

Even now, standing at the threshold of this place, he wasn’t sure whether he was here to heal animals or to uncover the secrets of existence itself.

An Unseen Competition

Inside the university, the atmosphere was otherworldly. Unlike Earth, where medical schools reeked of antiseptic and stress, this place was silent, luminous, and pulsating with an unseen energy. There were no walls—just vast, open spaces that seemed to bend around thought itself.

Candidates from across the cosmos had gathered here. Some had six limbs, others spoke in vibrational hums, and a few had no physical forms at all. Yet, somehow, they were all here for the same purpose—to become a healer of interstellar life.

A low vibration filled the space as the Moonite instructors arrived. They weren’t made of flesh but of soft, translucent light, radiating a presence more felt than seen.

“Your first test begins now,” one of them announced, its voice entering not through the ears, but directly into Aryan’s consciousness.

A small, silver orb floated before him, slowly unfolding into an intricate holographic creature. It had the eyes of an owl, the spine of a serpent, and the paws of a wolf, all merged into one surreal form.

“Diagnose its ailment,” the Moonite said.

Aryan hesitated. On Earth, he relied on scans, observations, and experience. But this creature was unlike anything he had ever encountered. He reached out instinctively but felt nothing—only empty space.

“You will not find the answer through touch,” the Moonite said. “Feel its energy instead.”

Closing his eyes, Aryan took a slow breath. He let go of thought, letting his awareness expand beyond logic, beyond biology. Suddenly, he felt it—a faint disharmony in the creature’s pranic flow, a slight disturbance in its stillness.

“Its Prana and Apana are imbalanced,” Aryan whispered.

A moment of silence. Then, a gentle pulse of acknowledgment filled the space.

“Correct.”

He had passed the first test. But he could feel it—the real challenge was only beginning.

The Secret of the Moonites

Days turned into weeks, and Aryan became immersed in his studies. But one question haunted him—why did the Moonites, who had no breath and no duality of Prana and Apana, care about veterinary sciences?

One evening, as he sat with Meera and their children, Avni and Ansh, on the luminous sands of the Moon’s surface, he finally voiced his thoughts.

“Meera, something doesn’t add up. The Moonites don’t breathe, yet they want to understand breathing life. Why?”

Meera, ever the practical one, watched as Avni and Ansh chased floating orbs of soft light, their laughter ringing through the emptiness.

“Maybe they want to understand what makes Earthly life so restless,” she said. “You always talk about how Prana and Apana separate with breathing. Maybe they want to know why we suffer through it.”

Aryan nodded, deep in thought.

“Breathing churns pure awareness like milk,” he murmured. “Thoughts rise as glistening butter, and subconscious heaviness settles like lassi. That’s why we struggle—to turn it back into milk, to restore what was lost.”

Some call this butter Shakti and lassi Shiva, as butter rises to the top like refined energy, while lassi remains spread out and deep, holding everything within. Others see it the opposite way, with butter as Shiva, the still essence, and lassi as Shakti, ever dynamic and moving. In reality, both are just different expressions of the same truth—interwoven and inseparable.

Meera smiled and said, “So, in the end, whether you call butter Shiva or Shakti, or lassi Shiva or Shakti, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that without both, there’s no complete milk. Just like without both stillness and movement, the universe wouldn’t exist.”

Aryan nodded thoughtfully and said, “Exactly! Just like breath—inhale, exhale. Just like life—action, rest. Neither is complete without the other. Shiva and Shakti are not two separate things; they are the rhythm of existence itself.”

Meera turned to him, her eyes filled with quiet understanding.

“But the Moonites never breathed,” she said. “So they never lost that pure awareness.”

On hearing this, their son Ansh suddenly asked, “So, if Moonites don’t breathe, does that mean they never have to worry about bad breath?” The room fell silent for a moment—then, all at once, they burst into laughter.

However, the realization struck Aryan like lightning. That was why they could exist in eternal stillness—because they had never been churned by breath in the first place.

The Final Test: Merging Prana and Apana

As the final stage of his education, Aryan was called to the Chamber of Stillness, a place where no physical form could function. He stood in the endless expanse, where time and space lost their meaning.

A voice filled his awareness.

“To heal the cosmos, you must first heal yourself. Separate the churning of breath, and see what remains.”

Aryan sat down, closing his eyes. He felt his breath, moving in and out, up and down, splitting his awareness into duality—one rising, one falling. The cycle of suffering.

Then, something shifted.

He stopped focusing on breath itself and instead held both the expansion of consciousness and the grounded awareness of body at the same time.

Slowly, the two merged. Prana and Apana were no longer separate. They became one unified force, neither moving up nor down, neither rising nor falling.

In that instant, a deep stillness overcame him—a silence more profound than he had ever known. He felt himself dissolving, no longer just Aryan, just human, just earthly. He was something else, something vast, eternal.

He opened his eyes.

The Moonites stood before him, radiant and silent. But now, he could feel them—not as separate beings, but as expressions of the same stillness he had just touched.

“You understand now,” the Moonite said.

And he did.

For the first time, Aryan saw the truth—his journey wasn’t just about healing animals, planets, or species. It was about healing existence itself—by restoring the unity that had been lost through breath.

Returning to Earth, But Not as the Same Man

The day finally came for Aryan and his family to leave the Moon. As they prepared for their journey back, Avni tugged at his sleeve.

“Papa, will you still be a veterinarian when we go back?”

Aryan smiled, lifting her onto his shoulders.

“Yes, Avni. But I think I’ll be healing more than just animals now.”

As their spaceship ascended, the silver glow of the Moon faded into the vast blackness of space. Aryan closed his eyes one last time, feeling the silent presence of the Moonites within him.

They had never breathed.
And yet, in their presence, he had finally understood what it meant to be truly alive.

This journey was never just about science. It was a search for truth, for unity, for the stillness beneath all movement.

And now, as Dr. Aryan Verma returned to Earth, he carried with him something far greater than a degree—he carried the memory of what it felt like to touch the eternal.

The suspense unfolds now

As Aryan gazed into the endless expanse of the Moon’s everlasting landscape, lost in thought, Meera noticed his expression and smiled. “What’s on your mind?” she asked softly.

Aryan chuckled, leaning back. “Just imagining the future… and also remembering the past.”

Ansh’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “What kind of past, Papa?”

Aryan’s face softened. “The time when I first came to the Moon as a student. You know, I was selected for my veterinary degree at the prestigious Moon University through an intergalactic entrance exam. But adapting here wasn’t easy. Everything felt so strange—the energies, the food, the way of living.”

Avni leaned in, fascinated. “How did you manage?”

Aryan smiled. “Your great-grandfather. He traveled with me to help me settle in. He was a deeply spiritual man, and even he was amazed by the tranquility of this place. He used to say that the peace here was beyond anything he had ever experienced, even in deep meditation.”

Meera listened intently. “I never knew he visited the Moon.”

Aryan nodded. “He even wanted to stay here permanently. He dreamt of buying a home and a field of rice here. But back then, space travel wasn’t advanced enough. We used to travel by space buses, and private space vehicles weren’t available to common people.”

Ansh tilted his head. “But he couldn’t stay?”

Aryan’s expression grew distant. “No. After four or five years, he passed away on Earth, carrying his wish with him to another world. I couldn’t even come back to see him one last time because space travel was still limited back then.”

A heavy silence filled the room. Avni was the first to speak. “That must’ve been hard.”

Aryan sighed. “It was. But I’ve always felt that maybe, in some way, life gave me a chance to fulfill his wish. Later, when I was appointed as a veterinarian on the Moon, I knew it wasn’t just coincidence.”

Meera reached for his hand. “Maybe he’s watching, proud of what you’ve become.”

Aryan smiled faintly. “Maybe.” He took a deep breath and shifted his tone. “And then there’s the future… the way I used to dream about it back when I was a teenager.”

Ansh grinned. “What did you dream about?”

Aryan chuckled. “The usual things. Falling in love, marrying a beautiful girl, having smart and adorable children, traveling across the world, and enjoying life when I got a highly paid job.”

Avni smirked. “And what else?”

Aryan’s expression turned thoughtful. “More than just material success, I imagined having deep, love-filled conversations with my family… about life, about the balance between worldly achievements and spiritual wisdom.”

Meera raised an amused eyebrow. “Sounds like quite a dream.”

Aryan nodded. “It is. But dreams have a way of shaping reality, don’t they?”

A comfortable silence settled between them, as if, for a brief moment, they could all see the life he had envisioned—a future woven with love, purpose, and the endless possibilities of the cosmos.

This journey was never just about science. It was a search for truth, for unity, for the stillness beneath all movement.

Chapter 6 – Veterinarian on the Moon

Part 2: Life and Work as a Veterinarian on the Moon

Veterinarian on the Moon

As Aryan walked through the quiet corridors of the lunar habitat, his mind remained divided between two worlds—the Earth he had left behind and the Moon that now shaped his existence. The trade routes had been established, and life on the Moon was gradually settling into its rhythm. Yet, something kept gnawing at him—what was his true purpose here? Treating animals in space was undoubtedly a fascinating challenge, but the larger questions of existence, contemplation, and transformation were becoming equally important.

One thing that struck him deeply was how the Moon’s calm and undisturbed environment encouraged deep meditation. There was no daily chaos, no distractions, only the vast silence stretching endlessly beyond the domes. It was the perfect place to sink into the depths of contemplation. But then a thought arose—what would he even contemplate if he hadn’t first absorbed the images, memories, and emotions from Earth? The Moon felt like the second half of a movie, but could the second half even exist without the first? How could he ignore the role of Earth in shaping his spiritual path?

The moonites—those original inhabitants with large heads and an aura of tranquility—lived in a breathless state of pure prana. They were beyond the need for food, air, or water, existing in a state similar to Kevala Kumbhaka. Yet, something fascinating was happening. The influence of earthly colonists had started disturbing their stillness. Some of them, for the first time, were drawn to the practice of contemplating visible images—mainly of ancestors. It was as if the subtle chaos of Earth had reached even this meditative civilization, pulling them slightly away from their formless awareness into a more structured form of devotion. However, they had always contemplated their ancestors, but not out of compulsion or a need for growth. It was merely a way to receive a slight meditative stimulus, a gentle touch of form within their vast formless awareness. It means they used to oscillate between Nirvikalpa and Savikalpa Samadhi as a form of meditative play—shifting effortlessly between pure awareness and subtle form contemplation, not out of necessity but as a kind of spiritual amusement.

This shift fascinated Aryan. It made him realize that pure awareness, without any visible mark or symbol, could be directly contemplated—just as the moonites had done for eons. But when chaos arose, even the most subtle minds found comfort in visible symbols. It was as if they had momentarily forgotten their pure awareness, and contemplation of form was a way to regain that lost depth. It reminded him of the gods on Earth—silent and untouched, requiring neither food nor breath. Yet, when devotees offered prasad, water, or incense, the divine forms seemed to respond, becoming alive in their presence and bestowing blessings.

Amid these thoughts, Aryan found himself returning to his work. His task was unlike anything he had ever done on Earth. Treating animals in space came with unique challenges—gravity played tricks on their bodies, food digestion patterns changed, and even their biological clocks struggled to adapt. The livestock brought from Earth had initially faced severe difficulties. Cows produced less milk under reduced gravity, and birds struggled to fly in enclosed habitats. But Aryan, with his deep experience, adapted quickly. He experimented with customized diet plans, artificial gravity systems, and even subtle pranic healing techniques inspired by the moonites’ breath mastery.

On one day, a particular Moonite had been found weak, barely able to hold its form together. When Aryan was called in to help, he realized that it was not suffering from any disease—it was experiencing a kind of “pranic depletion,” something that had no equivalent in earthly medicine. With a carefully controlled approach, Aryan introduced a mild electromagnetic pulse, simulating Earth’s natural energy fields. The Moonite, which had been fading, slowly regained its form, pulsing gently as if breathing once more. It was a success, yet it left Aryan pondering—what did it mean to be alive? Were prana and awareness the true essence of existence?

While working among different types of peculiar and strange lunar creatures never seen and heard about on earth, one question haunted him: Why did life continue to push beings toward survival and reproduction? He had observed that when people or creatures found themselves dissatisfied with their own growth, they instinctively turned toward procreation—as if passing the baton to the next generation would ensure victory. But he knew nature had a higher demand. Instead of just multiplying endlessly, what if humanity learned to divert that energy toward inner transformation? The Moon, with its meditative aura, seemed to whisper this very lesson.

Aryan often reflected on the nature of prana itself. Prana down means death, prana up means life. But what about a state beyond both? If prana was neither up nor down, it meant neither life nor death—just pure awareness. The constant up-and-down movement of prana created the experience of life and death in cycles. When someone died, their prana did not completely vanish. It was said to exit through the lower chakras, meaning it still functioned but at an extremely low frequency—too subtle to produce conscious thoughts. That’s why the world felt dark and empty after death. But the subconscious mind, powered by this low-level prana, remained active. If it wasn’t dissolved through yogic samadhi before death, it carried forward into the next birth.

This made Aryan realize something profound. Prana is never truly absent—it only becomes unmanifested. And that’s why the Moon felt so meditative. The entire environment was pranaless—not in the sense of being dead, but in the sense of prana being undisturbed by agitated breathing beings. Whether it was the lifeless landscapes or the breathless moonites, all existed in a kind of silent equilibrium. In contrast, Earth was chaotic because prana was constantly being stirred, disturbed, and reshaped by the countless beings breathing upon it.

His thoughts deepened as he observed the subtle changes in the moonites. Many had begun interacting with the colonists and adopting their ways. The influence of earthly life had introduced new ideas—both good and bad. Was it inevitable? History had shown that civilizations untouched by outside forces remained pure but also stagnant. Could it be that a little chaos was necessary for evolution?

Aryan, though deeply introspective, did not let these thoughts interfere with his work. He had built a strong team—highly skilled and dedicated individuals who shared his holistic approach. Unlike Earth’s rigid professional culture, where only technical skills were valued, Aryan encouraged personal and spiritual growth as well. He gave his team full freedom to explore their potential, knowing that true excellence came from inner fulfillment, not just external discipline. In return, his workforce worked with full dedication, free from unnecessary resistance.

Meanwhile, lunar society functioned with an introverted and self-contained style. People rarely interfered with one another’s affairs, and unnecessary criticism was absent. Their nonviolent, silent, and contemplative culture reminded Aryan of ancient sages who withdrew from the world to seek the ultimate truth. But he also knew that withdrawal was not the complete answer. One had to experience life in order to transcend it.

Looking back at his own journey, he realized he had come to the Moon for many reasons—scientific, professional, and spiritual. But now, he saw the deeper significance. It was not just about treating animals in space or adapting to a new world. It was about learning from a civilization that had mastered stillness, while also recognizing that change was inevitable. Even the moonites, as timeless as they seemed, were beginning to shift under the influence of earthly life.

For Aryan, this meant one thing: Nothing remains untouched forever—not even the Moon.

And perhaps, in that truth, lay the greatest lesson of all.

Chapter 5: Space Economy & Trade

The Verma family had begun to settle into their new lunar home, embracing the unique rhythm of life on the Moon. The initial awe of low-gravity adventures and the serene, meditative environment had started to blend into their daily routine. Yet, amidst this adaptation, Dr. Aryan Verma found himself grappling with pangs of homesickness. The vast distance between the Moon and Earth felt insurmountable at times, and he often mused about the possibility of instantaneous teleportation, yearning for the comfort of his earthly belongings and the familiar embrace of home. The 12-hour spacecraft journey, though a marvel of modern technology, seemed too lengthy and exhausting to undertake frequently, making spontaneous visits to Earth an impractical dream.

This longing was further exacerbated by the whispers of some who viewed their relocation as a permanent exile, a one-way ticket away from the cradle of humanity. Aryan’s desire to debunk this notion, to prove that their move was not an abandonment but an expansion of horizons, weighed heavily on his mind.

In an attempt to bridge this emotional chasm, Aryan delved into understanding the intricate web of trade that connected the Moon to Earth. This exchange was not merely a transfer of goods but a lifeline that tethered the two celestial bodies in a symbiotic relationship. Earth supplied the Moon with essential commodities such as grains, vegetables, and milk—staples that were challenging to produce in the lunar environment. The Moon, in return, offered Earth’s industries a wealth of minerals, including lithium and gold, extracted from its regolith. This trade was not just about resources but a testament to human ingenuity and the relentless pursuit of progress.

Trade between Earth and the Moon felt like something out of ancient myths, where gods traveled between worlds with ease. Today, science had created its own magical ways to move goods across space. The Lunar Mass Driver worked like a giant slingshot, launching gold, lithium, and other minerals from the Moon toward Earth. It didn’t even need fuel—just magnetism and precision, much like a divine weapon hitting its target perfectly. Then came the Skyhook Stations, huge floating structures in space that caught these shipments mid-air and safely guided them down to Earth, just like Hanuman carrying the Sanjeevani herb from the mountains in mythological stories. For important goods that needed to arrive quickly, fusion-powered space shuttles—like the flying chariots of old legends—sped between the planets, reducing travel time to just a few hours. And in the most futuristic development, scientists were working on quantum teleportation, which seemed almost like the magic used by ancient sages, allowing objects to appear instantly in another place.
This new way of trading was not just about technology. It felt like a blend of science and ancient wisdom, where space travel was turning myths into reality, making life between Earth and the Moon more connected than ever. Gravity-defying transport had also started revolutionizing trade. Advanced anti-gravity carriers, inspired by ancient myths of celestial chariots, floated effortlessly between lunar domes and Earth-bound cargo ships. Using quantum levitation and electromagnetic propulsion, these silent gliders transported gold, lithium, and minerals from the Moon while returning with fresh produce, grains, and dairy from Earth. The seamless, fuel-free movement not only made trade faster but also preserved the lunar environment, proving that technology, when aligned with nature, could create a harmonious balance between worlds.

Although the Moonites had mastered the art of living purely on subtle prana, requiring nothing external for survival, they sometimes desired a slight taste of earthly chaos. Unlike the deep stillness of their lunar existence, Earth carried a different vibration—one of movement, emotion, and unpredictability. To invite a touch of this dynamic energy into their otherwise serene minds, they engaged in limited trade with Lunar Colonists. It wasn’t for survival, but for experience. A small intake of Eartherian food, scents, or artifacts was enough to stir a ripple of thought, breaking their deep mental silence just enough to interact with the colonists. This balance allowed them to maintain their wisdom while briefly tasting the restless curiosity of Earth, before dissolving once again into their vast ocean of tranquility. Thus, trade wasn’t just about material exchange—it was an exchange of energies. The Moonites offered their advanced knowledge, minerals, and rare elements, while the Lunar Colonists provided food, books, and art to stir the Moonites’ silent minds just a little—before they returned to their meditative stillness.

You can better understand their behavior through the analogy of gods. You might have heard the way divine idols functioned. Though they neither eat, drink, nor breathe, the moment prasad or food, water, and incense are offered with devotion, they seem to accept it, coming alive with divine presence and bestowing blessings upon their devotees. Similarly, the Moonites, though self-sustained on pure prana, would partake in earthly offerings—not out of necessity, but out of a willful choice. A slight exposure to Eartherian food, aromas, or artifacts stirred their deep stillness just enough to interact, much like deities responding to worship. Once their purpose was fulfilled, they effortlessly returned to their meditative silence, as if dissolving back into the cosmic vastness from which they emerged.

However, Aryan couldn’t ignore the irony that many on Earth clung to outdated practices in the name of honoring their ancestors, often at the expense of the environment and personal well-being. This resistance to change had hindered efforts to combat pressing issues like overpopulation, poverty, extremism, radicalism, war mongering, blind faith, global warming etc. Aryan reflected on how humanity’s attachment to tradition sometimes blinded them to necessary evolution, spiritual as well as material, a mindset that their move to the Moon symbolically challenged. Aryan knew well that it was more important to keep ancestors in the heart rather than attach them only to unnecessary and mortal material things.

The lunar society they had joined was markedly different. The inhabitants valued introspection and maintained a respectful distance, allowing each individual the space to explore their inner selves. This environment, devoid of unnecessary social intrusions, was a sanctuary for contemplation. The locals’ preference for solitude was not born out of disdain but a deep respect for personal boundaries and a collective understanding of the value of inner peace. This cultural trait was perhaps a defense mechanism, developed over time to protect themselves from past invasions by outsiders seeking the Moon’s rich resources, such as gold and lithium. Those attacks were mostly from neighbouring barren lands like jupiter and venus.

This societal structure suited Aryan perfectly. Freed from the constant buzz of social obligations, he found ample time to turn inward, to meditate and reflect—a practice that had always been a part of him but now found fertile ground to flourish. Contemplating on their past legendry ancestors was in the blood of people there. Along with, the Moon’s universal reputation as the abode of ancestors also called as pitru loka or chandra loka added a spiritual dimension to his contemplation. Lunar tantraic yoga was an unmatched gift given to moon by the ancestors. There were moments during his meditative practices when Aryan felt a profound connection to his lineage, as if the spirits of his forebears were present, guiding and comforting him. Call it awakening, samadhi, Guru visualization or meditative contemplation, experience doesn’t differ. This deepened his appreciation for the Moon’s cultural significance and the ancient belief that ancestors resided there.

His professional life also benefited from this tranquil environment. Leading a team of highly skilled and dedicated individuals, Aryan adopted a holistic approach to management. He encouraged his team to pursue personal and spiritual growth alongside their professional duties, understanding that a fulfilled individual contributes more meaningfully to the collective goal. This philosophy fostered a harmonious work environment where employees felt valued and motivated, resulting in exceptional productivity and innovation. This holistic approach was different from common earthly instinct where only professional growth is counted on floor neglecting the personal and spiritual growth.

The indigenous inhabitants of the Moon, a type of divine aliens, characterized by their large heads—a physical trait attributed to their advanced evolution—embodied the pinnacle of meditative practice. It seemed the lack of gravity had resulted in saving of their lot of body energy that had driven their exceptional brain growth. They had mastered spontaneous breath retention yoga, existing in a state akin to keval kumbhak or Samadhi, where breathing ceased naturally, and life was sustained by subtle prana. This profound control over their physiology contributed to their calm demeanor and deep spiritual presence. Their DNA had adapted to these practices over millennia, making such traits inherent from birth. Their tranquil and introspective nature served as a living testament to the possibilities of spiritual evolution, offering Aryan a glimpse into a state of being that transcended the physical limitations of the human form.

Immersed in this unique blend of technological advancement and spiritual depth, Aryan’s initial homesickness began to wane. He realized that their journey to the Moon was not an escape from Earth but an expansion into a new realm of possibilities—a chance to redefine their existence and contribute to a burgeoning society that harmoniously blended the material and the spiritual. The Moon had become more than a new home; it was a canvas upon which they could paint the next chapter of human evolution.

Chapter 4: First Impressions of Lunar Life

The Verma family had finally settled into their new home on the Moon. The sterile yet sophisticated lunar habitat, a stark contrast to their old Earthly home, offered a strange mix of comfort and detachment. The walls of their residence were embedded with technology that simulated Earth-like conditions—adjustable atmospheric pressure, controlled temperature, and even a subtle magnetic field to mimic gravity’s effects on the body. Yet, no matter how advanced, it could never fully replicate the deep-rooted familiarity of home.

Avni leaned against the transparent dome wall, gazing at the vast lunar landscape. The ground stretched endlessly, a dusty silver under the artificial illumination of the colony. In the distance, vehicles moved smoothly on electromagnetic highways, floating silently toward research centers, residential sectors, and hydroponic farms.

“This place is like something out of a dream,” she murmured.

Ansh, meanwhile, was completely immersed in the joy of low gravity. He had spent the last hour experimenting with jumps, each one launching him higher than before. “I can’t believe this! I feel like a superhero!” he shouted mid-air before gently landing back on the floor.

Meera sighed. “You better not break anything. We haven’t even been here a full day.”

Aryan, sitting at the dining table with a steaming cup of synthetic chai, smiled. “Let him enjoy. This is the only place where falling won’t hurt him.”

Meera shook her head, still adjusting to this bizarre new life.

A World Unlike Earth

The first thing they noticed about lunar life was the peace. Unlike the chaotic urban landscapes of Earth, filled with honking vehicles, political debates, and the ceaseless noise of civilization, the Moon colony was eerily silent. Even the busiest streets of the settlement felt meditative in their quietness. The people here moved with a deliberate grace, not out of sluggishness but as if the very environment demanded mindfulness.

Meera exhaled deeply. “I don’t hear a single unnecessary sound. No rush, no interruptions. It’s strange.”

Aryan leaned back. “Maybe this is what Earth was supposed to be like before we filled it with distractions.”

Avni nodded. “I read somewhere that astronauts who went to space often felt a ‘cognitive shift.’ They saw Earth as this tiny, fragile ball floating in the void and suddenly all the things they once worried about seemed insignificant. Maybe people here feel that all the time.”

Aryan smiled. “It makes sense. People on Earth think we’ve traveled far, but aren’t they also constantly moving? The whole planet is spinning at 1600 km/h while orbiting the Sun at 107,000 km/h. They are space travelers too, but they don’t realize it.”

Meera exhaled, thinking of the people they had left behind. Their parents, still attached to their ancestral home, had refused to come. Their farm, their animals, their life’s work—everything was tied to Earth. Meera’s father had said, “We were born with soil under our feet. We will die with it under our feet. You go if you must, but don’t ask us to leave.”

It wasn’t just the older generation. Even Avni and Ansh had struggled with the move. Leaving friends, adjusting to a different education system, adapting to a new curriculum—it had been an emotional storm for them. No more spontaneous meetups, no more Earthly festivals celebrated in open fields, no more lazy evenings watching sunsets.

“Do you think we made the right choice?” Meera asked Aryan.

He took a slow sip of chai and thought before answering. “There was no perfect choice, Meera. We had to leave some things behind, but we’ve also left behind a world that never respected inner peace. No more corporate flattery, no more nonsensical office politics, no more meaningless social rituals. And let’s not forget—no more disrespect for nondual Sharirvigyan Darshan.”

Meera nodded. It was true. Earthly life had become a competition of status, power, and mind games. Here, in this silent lunar expanse, there was room to breathe, to think, to just be.

Technology vs. Natural Living

For all its advancements, the Moon colony had one major drawback—it lacked the raw, untamed beauty of Earth. Everything here was artificial: the temperature, the air, even the food. The colony had perfected the science of extracting nutrients from raw elements and delivering them in efficient, easy-to-consume meals.

But that efficiency came at a cost.

Ansh poked at his meal, unimpressed. “It doesn’t taste like home-cooked food.”

Meera sighed. “It has all the nutrients we need, but where’s the joy of eating?”

Aryan understood. “That’s the thing with super-advanced technology. It can replicate function, but it can’t replace experience.”

Avni, always the philosopher, added, “It’s like how people on Earth still loved vintage bikes and heritage hotels. Even when technology advances, some things—like food, real gravity, and natural landscapes—remain irreplaceable.”

Aryan nodded. “That’s why in yoga, grounding to the base chakra is tied to gravity. Without natural grounding, how can one push back and jump to the highest states? Even those who mastered anti-gravity technology preferred the natural feel of weight on their feet.”

Meera sighed. “Then why did we come here?”

Aryan smiled. “Because awareness is more valuable than comfort. Earth was a place of noise, but here, we can finally hear ourselves. And that is priceless.”

The Cosmic Perspective

That night, as they sat by the transparent dome wall, looking at the vast, star-filled sky, Aryan spoke.

“Leaving Earth was difficult, but isn’t life a series of departures? We leave childhood, we leave our homes, and eventually, we even leave our bodies. Every goodbye is a preparation for the final one. So why not embrace change while we still can?”

Meera, still watching the stars, whispered, “Do you think one day even space will feel small?”

Aryan smiled. “Perhaps. Just as Earth once felt vast, but now seems like a dot in space. Maybe one day, after we explore enough, we will realize that even space is limited—compared to the infinite vastness within.”

Avni listened quietly, absorbing every word. Ansh had dozed off, curled up against Meera, unaware of the deep cosmic thoughts being exchanged around him.

For the first time since their arrival, a deep, peaceful silence filled their hearts. They had left behind a world of chaos, but they had gained something far greater—a glimpse of the infinite.

And in that moment, they knew they had made the right choice.

Chapter 3: Moon Colony – A New Home

As Dr. Aryan Verma’s space car drifted past the final checkpoint of the space highway, the vast, silvery expanse of the Moon colony came into full view. The sight was breathtaking—an intricate network of interconnected domes glistening under the Sun’s distant glow, forming a self-sustaining ecosystem in the heart of the void. Unlike Earth, where the sky wrapped around life like a comforting blanket, here, there was only the endless black of space, dotted with distant stars—silent, still, and yet brimming with a strange aliveness.

The landing zone was a large circular platform, softly illuminated by embedded guiding lights. As the space car touched down with a gentle hum, Aryan took a deep breath. The air inside the colony was oxygen-rich and clean—manufactured to perfection, yet missing the raw scent of soil, trees, and life.

Settling Into Their New Home

Meera stepped out first, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. The residential buildings were unlike anything on Earth—sleek, minimalistic, and designed to withstand the Moon’s extreme conditions. Their home was a spacious dome-shaped unit, transparent from the top to give a panoramic view of space while shielding them from harmful radiation. Inside, everything was optimized for comfort—gravity regulators ensured normal movement, temperature control systems mimicked Earth’s warmth, and artificial gardens provided a sense of greenery.

Avni and Ansh rushed in, exploring every corner with excitement. “It’s so quiet,” Avni whispered, feeling the stark contrast from Earth’s chaotic, noisy environment. Even their voices felt different in the controlled atmosphere, softer, almost floating.

“True calmness is rare,” Aryan remarked, placing a reassuring hand on Meera’s shoulder. “Back on Earth, we were always surrounded by distractions—noise, competition, the constant molding of minds. Here, there’s space… in every sense.”

Memories of Earth & The Pain of Letting Go

Despite the futuristic marvel of their new home, a sense of longing lingered in the air. Aryan’s parents had refused to come along, unwilling to leave behind the ancestral home, the farmlands, and the animals they had nurtured for decades. “We belong to Earth,” his father had said firmly before they left. “Life is not just about comfort; it is about connection. The land, the trees, the animals—they are part of us.”

Aryan had respected their decision, but the pain was undeniable. He had grown up surrounded by fields, the sound of birds at dawn, the familiar scent of rain-soaked earth. And now, all of it was a quarter-million miles away, locked in memories.

The children, too, had struggled with the transition. Avni, despite her fascination with technology, had found it hard to leave behind her friends and adapt to a new education system that was starkly different from Earth’s. “It’s like starting over,” she had sighed. But she had chosen optional veterinary subjects, a way to stay connected with her father’s work and her childhood love for animals. Ansh, being younger, adapted more easily, but he too had moments of silent sadness.

Space – Beyond Existence & Non-Existence

Sitting in their new home, gazing out at the infinite blackness beyond, Aryan spoke to Meera about a realization that had struck him deeply. “People think we are traveling in space, as if this journey is something extraordinary. But they don’t realize they, too, are constantly moving in space—whether on Earth or beyond. Mass is just an illusion; at its core, everything is energy. The only real travel is the one happening within.”

Meera nodded, absorbing his words. In a way, space itself was like the state before creation—neither existent nor non-existent, yet undeniably present. This awareness was comforting. Just as the Moon had become their new home, this journey beyond material attachment was a step closer to something deeper.

The Pluto Transfer – A Fateful Turn

Aryan had almost been transferred to Pluto before the Moon assignment. Given his ankylosing spondylitis, he had canceled the transfer at the last moment—Pluto’s extreme cold would have worsened his condition. Interestingly, without his direct involvement, his reassignment had been adjusted to the Moon instead. Perhaps fate had played its part.

“But you know,” Aryan mused, “once you cross a certain distance from your old habitat, it doesn’t matter where you go. The mind lets go of attachment equally, whether it’s the Moon or Pluto.”

Meera smiled. “Then maybe the real home isn’t a place—it’s what we carry within.”

Technology vs. Naturalness – The Balance of Evolution

Despite the incredible advancements of space civilization, Aryan had observed something curious—most people still preferred natural experiences over artificial alternatives. Technology had advanced to a point where one could extract anything from the void and dissolve anything back into it by manipulating virtual particles. Even food could be directly injected into the bloodstream, bypassing the need to eat. Yet, people still preferred eating meals the traditional way. How to get joy of food taste without eating it.

“Naturalness has a separate joy,” Aryan said, watching a nearby gravity-regulated sports field where children played under artificial moonlight. “Just like grounding in yoga is only possible due to gravity. If one levitates endlessly, one can never touch the peak—one remains floating, never truly arriving.”

Meera agreed. “It’s the same with life. Too much ease takes away the challenge that fuels growth. Maybe that’s why, despite all the chaos on Earth, it still holds a special place in people’s hearts.”

Embracing the Silence for Inner Transformation

As Aryan lay back, staring at the stars, he reflected on the past and the journey ahead. Earth had been a whirlwind—rushed schedules, mindless social games, the suffocating need to conform. But here, there was stillness. And in stillness, there was space to evolve.

The chaos of the past had not been in vain. It had taught him to value peace, to use calmness as an opportunity—not for idleness, but for inner transformation.

The Moon was no utopia, nor was it an escape. It was simply the next step—a chance to move beyond the illusions of existence and non-existence, to touch something deeper, something timeless.

And so, their new life on the Moon had begun.

Chapter 2: Leaving the Old World Behind – A Veterinarian’s Journey Through the Cosmic Highway

The Earth was shrinking behind them, a glowing blue pearl fading into the vast darkness. Dr. Aryan Verma adjusted the trajectory of his personal space car, merging onto the Interstellar Highway—a network of metallic lanes stretching between planets, guiding travelers like illuminated veins through the void. The hum of the vehicle’s propulsion system resonated through the cabin as Meera, Avni, and Ansh settled in for the long ride.

But not everyone had come along.

His parents had refused to leave Earth, firmly rooted in their ancestral home, a place where generations had lived and died, where their cattle roamed freely, and where the smell of fresh hay and wet soil was more comforting than the promise of technological advancement.

“Aryan, we belong here,” his father had said, leaning against the old wooden gate of their dairy farm, watching the family spaceship being readied for departure. “Who will care for our cows, our goats, the soil that has given us everything?”

His mother, usually quiet, had echoed the sentiment. “The Moon may have oxygen domes, but will it have the warmth of a monsoon rain? Will you ever feel the same joy watching a newborn calf take its first steps on that sterile ground?”

Aryan had no answers. The Moon’s biosphere colonies had advanced veterinary facilities, research labs, and even artificial pastures, but they would never hold the same soul as Earth’s natural ecosystems. He had spent his entire life tending to animals—not just as a profession, but as a bond, a responsibility. Leaving behind the family farm meant severing that connection.

Even the clinic he built with his own hands, where he had treated everything from injured stray dogs to prized racing horses, now stood in the past. It had been a place where he fought against the commercialized, profit-driven aspects of veterinary science, choosing instead to focus on healing with compassion. The bureaucracy, the pharmaceutical dominance, the constant pressure to conform to standardized treatments rather than holistic care—all of it had drained him. But leaving was no easy relief.

Children’s Struggles: Education, Friendships, and Loss

Avni, in her final year of college, had spent her last days on Earth researching lunar education systems. “Baba, their veterinary courses are different. The entire study structure focuses on genetically modified animals and bio-engineered species. What if I can’t adapt for. Actually she was fond of keeping these as choice subjects for her father being in the veterinary field?”

Ansh had been more emotional, clinging to his favorite rescue dog, Bruno, on the morning of departure. “Can’t we take him with us?” he had begged. The quarantine restrictions on interplanetary animal transport had made it impossible. Aryan had promised Bruno would be well cared for at the family farm, but that didn’t make it easier.

The separation from relatives, school friends, and even the rhythm of Earth’s natural seasons weighed on them. Festivals would now be celebrated in a simulated dome, where the air smelled recycled and the trees were artificial. No more running through open fields, no more cool evening breezes carrying the scent of blooming flowers.

But despite the pain of leaving, there was a strange relief.

Escaping the Chaos of Earth

As Aryan maneuvered through the orbital checkpoints, a sense of liberation washed over him. Earth had become suffocating—not because of its natural beauty, but because of the people, the systems, the mind games.

The work environment had grown more about politics than healing, where flattery mattered more than skill.

The corporate dominance over veterinary medicine had forced him into uncomfortable compromises, pushing treatments based on profit rather than genuine care.

His non-dualistic approach to Sharir Vigyan Darshan, which integrated the animal body with its spiritual existence, had been ridiculed as unscientific nonsense.

The constant pressure to conform, the invasive mind-molding culture, and the lack of respect for personal boundaries had become unbearable.

On the Moon, he hoped for solitude, focus, and a pure connection to his work—a place where he could study the deeper consciousness of animals without interference, without being forced into a commercialized framework of medicine.

Meera, watching him, sensed his unspoken thoughts. “Feeling lighter already?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Yes,” he admitted. “At least up here, no one will try to twist my mind or question my beliefs every day.”

She squeezed his hand gently. “We’re not escaping. We’re just moving toward something better.”

The Space Highway: A New Kind of Travel

The Interstellar Highway was busier than expected.

Massive cargo freighters carried supplies to lunar colonies, while passenger ships transported workers, researchers, and families like theirs. They passed a floating restaurant-station, where holographic menus advertised everything from Earth-grown wheat pancakes to synthetic meat delicacies.

Meera chuckled as Ansh eagerly pressed his face against the window. “Even in space, humans can’t resist setting up highway diners.”

A few hours into the journey, they hit an unexpected traffic jam. A freight drone had malfunctioned, blocking one of the orbital lanes. The space cops hovered around, rerouting smaller vehicles.

“Looks like traffic jams are universal,” Aryan muttered.

As they waited, Avni scrolled through her lunar school handbook. “Baba, they have an advanced animal genetics research center in Luna Colony-5. You might find it interesting.”

Aryan nodded, intrigued. Perhaps the Moon wouldn’t be as lifeless as he feared.

Approaching the Moon: A Final Look Back

As they neared the Moon’s orbit, Aryan glanced at the rearview screen.

Earth was now a distant sphere, glowing softly in the darkness. It was beautiful yet unreachable, a place they had once called home but could never fully return to.

His father’s words echoed in his mind. “You may reach the Moon, Aryan, but my soul is rooted in this Earth.”

But his soul belonged wherever the animals were, wherever he could practice his dharma without chains, wherever he could be himself without fighting against the noise of the world.

And right now, that place was the Moon.

Their new life was about to begin.