Tag: consciousness

bhayankara rasa in quantum world

In Nātya-Śāstra, Bhayānaka Rasa is not merely “fear” as an emotion felt by the self, but the Rasa that evokes fear in the audience or observer — it is fear-producing, not fear itself.

So, in quantum terms, it’s more like the creation of instability or resonance that induces tension in another system, rather than the contraction of one’s own system (which we earlier associated with Bhaya / Fear).

Bhayānaka Rasa — Fear-Producing / Dread-Creating

Quantum Resonance as Disturbance

In physics, interactions propagate through fields, and a particle or system in an excited or unstable high-energy state can influence nearby particles by inducing oscillations or disturbances through well-defined mechanisms such as electromagnetic coupling, even across a distance. This influence is governed by measurable laws and does not imply emotion or intention. By analogy, in human experience, intense inner states also spread through interaction rather than contact. A person overwhelmed by stress or rage may appear highly charged—his tension visible in the eyes, face, and posture. Without speaking or acting, this state can unsettle those nearby. In Indian aesthetics, the contracted, agitated condition within such a person is termed Bhayānaka Rasa. In observers, the resulting response is bhaya, or fear. Spiritually understood, this comparison is metaphorical: just as physical disturbances propagate through fields by interaction, psychological tension propagates through perception and awareness, without implying that human emotions follow quantum laws.

Quantum Tunneling as Threat Potential

In physics, a particle may sometimes appear in a region where classical reasoning says it should not exist, creating a sense of unpredictability. A similar reaction occurs in the human mind. Fear and horror often arise not from direct harm, but from the sudden appearance of the unknown. When a stranger enters one’s familiar territory from an unseen path or unexpected direction, the mind immediately imagines possible dangers—attack, theft, or loss—before any action has taken place. This anticipatory tension is recognized in Indian aesthetics as bhaya—the felt experience of fear arising from suspense and uncertainty. The source that generates or radiates this tension is termed Bhayānaka, the fear-producing rasa. Spiritually, this distinction reveals a subtle truth: events themselves do not create fear; fear arises when the mind receives and mirrors a Bhayānaka expression and becomes dual like it, projecting potential tragedy into the unknown. A Bhayānaka person is always dual and attached, and he is generally driven by the urge to snatch or take something from the potentially fearful person. A nondual and inwardly free person, who wishes nothing and is detached, has no reason to become Bhayānaka, since he does not want to snatch anything violently; likewise, no one will feel fear toward him, because there is no anticipation of loss through him. Sometimes, however, a nondual person, due to prolonged exposure to the powerful energy of a Bhayānaka person, may begin to turn dual like him and then start feeling bhaya after living for some time in his company. This indicates that nondual contemplation—through quantum darśana or similar insight—needs to be strengthened and accelerated to prevent such influence. It also means that a Bhayānaka person is not necessarily an enemy, but may act as a friend or even a guru, indirectly helping the seeker mature nondual contemplation and grow spiritually through challenge and contrast.

I gained much spiritual growth through this Bhayānaka-produced bhaya challenge. In a way, this challenge has hovered around me since my first breath. It taught me a bhaya-free life of nonduality and detachment instinctively. Many times, seeing my nondual weapon winning, the bhayānaka weapon was upgraded against me, and I again upgraded my defending nondual weapon. Thus, this tug of war always went on—sometimes the defensive nonduality weapon was stronger, and sometimes the attacking duality weapon. Many duality weapons were eventually upgraded into nonduality weapons by coating them with the armor and shield of ‘non’ matter, influenced by the effectiveness of non-duality. Some took a long time, some took less. Ultimately, the nonduality weapon wins, as it is the nearest to truth. Actually, this is the situation for everyone—fear of the environment, fear of animals, fear of elders, fear of teachers, and fear at every step. All of this exists to teach us, inspire us, and help us grow.

Wavefunction Collapse and Observer Effect

In physics, observation collapses many possibilities into a single outcome. A similar process operates in human experience. When uncertainty is present, the mind holds multiple possible futures, but the moment authority, threat, or high stakes enter—like a strict boss assigning one task with warning—those possibilities shrink into a single demanded outcome. Fear arises not from the task itself, but from the sudden narrowing of freedom. However, one can gain unbelievable power from nondual śarīra-vijñāna darśana or quantum darśana to counteract fear and still function fully under the command and rule of law. This is my personal experience, not merely a philosophy. Art and drama use the same principle: by restricting attention and delaying resolution, they generate tension and suspense. Spiritually, fear is understood as the mind’s reaction to constraint, while actually awareness remains untouched by the collapse of possibilities, just as happen in the quantum world.

Quantum Instability / Chaos

In physics, systems that operate at the edge of stability are highly sensitive to small perturbations; even minor disturbances can trigger noticeable changes when balance is fragile, as interactions propagate through fields by well-defined physical mechanisms. A similar pattern appears in human experience. Bhayānaka arises when an event, action, or presence signals potential instability—loss of control, unpredictability, or imbalance—before any actual harm occurs. This signal makes observers alert, anxious, and tense, not because danger is certain, but because uncertainty has been introduced. Fear (bhaya) in others is generated when the mind mirrors this perceived instability, borrowing disturbance through perception rather than through any literal transfer of force. The fear-producing state (Bhayānaka) exists in the source, while fear itself (bhaya) arises only in the observer who allows inner imbalance to form. If this mirroring does not occur, fear is not produced, even in the presence of apparent threat. From a nondual perspective, both the fear-producing and the fearful are understood as transient expressions of the same underlying reality, comparable to temporary oscillations within a single field. When this quantum darśana is stable, distinctions between threatening and threatened dissolve, and fear loses its apparent reality—not through suppression, but through understanding. Simply put, when the targeted person finds himself equally disturbed as the targeting person, he begins to balance himself, as no one wishes to become like someone who intends to harm him.

Bhayānaka Rasa and the Quantum Reflection of Consciousness

Human experience suggests that inner emotional states are often reflected outward, as if the world responds in kind. These patterns are also seen in the quantum world in a similar manner. Bhayankara Rasa or aggression, Fear, calm, or harmony perceived outside—or observed in the quantum world—frequently mirror corresponding movements within consciousness. From this perspective, it appears as though worldly objects and even quantum particles behave analogously to living beings—not literally possessing organs or chakras, but expressing corresponding qualities or tendencies, such as love–hate linked to the heart chakra or interaction and expression linked to the throat chakra. Just as human emotions are connected to subtle centers of awareness, or chakras, one may then ask why it should not be said, analogously, that quantum particles also possess a body and chakras like human beings, or that a quantum particle is, in itself, a complete human being.

Fear, Polarity, and Kundalini Awakening

One may understand this symbolically: a single, unified soul appears to divide into two tendencies—attachment and aversion, attraction and repulsion, plus and minus. In a similar way, pure awareness manifests as particle–antiparticle pairs. The “plus” tendency slightly outweighs the “minus,” allowing the manifested world of humanity to continue and grow, just as matter dominates over antimatter in the observable universe. In this sense, the human being can be seen as a living expression of these polarities, sometimes acting as a particle, sometimes as its opposite. Even people can be categorized as plus, minus, or neutral, depending on which polarity predominates within them or whether both polarities have annihilated each other. After this apparent division, the soul experiences a loss of wholeness and naturally seeks to return to completeness. This movement often takes the form of growing sāttvikatā—an increasing refinement and purity of consciousness through worldliness with nondual awareness—whose extreme culmination is realized through Kundalini awakening and self-realization. actually awareness in spiritual context is always nondual awwareness. Actually, without a nondual attitude, awareness is simply differentiating worldly awareness, not spiritual or true or pure type one. Tantric traditions seek to accelerate this process within a single lifetime by consciously engaging with the so-called “minus” world through pañcamakāras, under discipline, awareness, and proper guidance. Used rightly, these act not as objects of attachment but as a recoil force, like rocket propellant, giving a powerful push toward transcendence. When attachment arises, however, the minus tendency overwhelms the plus, leading not to wholeness but to stagnation, as unresolved urges remain. It is simply a premature or raw wholeness that cannot provide liberation, as one has not yet reached the peak of worldliness through sattvikatā. In a similar way, the outer world does not collapse prematurely, but first reaches a peak stage of evolution, which is analogous to self-realization in the inner world. This stage may be understood symbolically as the enlightenment of Brahmā, after which its liberation occurs through the dissolution of the world, known as pralaya. This represents a mature annihilation of the plus and minus aspects of existence with each other. At the end of the world, one may symbolically imagine antiparticles appearing in balance, allowing particles and antiparticles to combine again and return to a state of initial void of complete pure awareness. Non-tantric spiritual paths also cultivate sāttvikatā, but often more slowly, lacking the intense friction generated by engagement with rājasic and tāmasic forces; thus awakening may unfold gradually, sometimes across many lifetimes. A comparable pattern is seen in physics, where particles and antiparticles are constantly produced together and annihilate each other. Antiparticles are not useless; their presence provides the conditions through which a small excess of particles persists, allowing the physical universe to expand and evolve. Symbolically, the continual creation and dissolution of lower tendencies like bhaya, bhayankara etc.—within oneself or observed in others—serve as a contrast and stimulus for higher growth, suggesting that those who embody negativity are not merely “bad,” but often become the very conditions that inspire others to be good, and the good to become even better. Those deeply attached to lower states may dissolve into repeated up–down cycles, while those inclined toward balance draw inspiration and momentum from this contrast, avoiding annihilation until reaching the peak of awakening and self-realization. In this way, fear (bhaya) and the fear-producing state (Bhayānaka) become meaningful forces within consciousness—not as final truths, but as dynamic tensions that propel awareness toward greater clarity and wholeness.

Bhayānaka Rasa: Surface Disturbance, Inner Stillness

Bhayānaka Rasa refers not to fear felt within oneself, but to the state or expression that produces fear in others. While bhaya is the personal contraction of the mind in response to perceived danger, Bhayānaka is the outward radiance of tension, suspense, or dread. It arises when an event, character, or atmosphere signals instability or threat, making the observer alert and uneasy even before anything harmful occurs. This rasa is widely employed in storytelling, drama, and art, where fear is deliberately evoked through uncertainty and anticipation. Yet from a nondual, quantum-aware perspective, both Bhayānaka and bhaya are understood as surface-level expressions only. Just as oscillations, fluctuations, and interactions continuously appear in the quantum world while the underlying field remains unaffected, outward expressions of fear may arise without disturbing inner stillness. One may therefore express or witness Bhayānaka or Bhaya outwardly—like an actor in a drama—while inwardly remaining calm, centered, and untouched, with disturbance confined only to the surface and not to the core of awareness just like wavy surface of inner calm ocean.

Like other negative worldly emotions, bhayānaka and bhaya tends to attach themselves to the remaining positivity within a person. When one becomes attached to fear or repeatedly identifies with it, this negativity (tāmasikatā) can overpower and even annihilate one’s accumulated sāttvikatā. Such attachment may lead to a kind of premature inner collapse, where growth toward wholeness is arrested. However, through detachment born of quantum darśana—the insight that all such states are transient surface expressions—fear can be neglected rather than resisted. In this detached stance, fear no longer binds; instead, it becomes a source of momentum. The presence of negativity then acts as a contrast that inspires the seeker to strengthen sāttvikatā further and further, until it reaches a level that can no longer be pulled back or annihilated by tāmasikatā. In this way, what once threatened dissolution functions like rocket propellant—providing thrust for irreversible inner ascent rather than drag or backward movement toward destruction.

Nonduality as the End of Fear: Freedom from Bhaya

Simply speaking, the best method to prevent bhaya is freedom from worldly attachments, or in other words, the cultivation of a nondual attitude. Fear exists because of the anticipation of losing something to which one is deeply attached. If there is nothing held tightly, and if everything is already accepted as lost, then there remains no anticipation of loss and, therefore, no bhaya. In this way, fear dissolves naturally. Human beings first become dual, and from this duality arise deep attachments to negativity or darkness, often rooted in unresolved and buried violent tendencies within. When such energy is projected outward, the person embodying it appears bhayānaka to others. This negativity may indeed cause loss or harm to a targeted person. Yet if the target is attached to possessions, identity, or outcomes, fear arises; if the target has already relinquished everything through nonduality-born detachment, fear cannot take hold, because there is nothing left to lose. When the bhayānaka individual sees that his fear-producing power fails against such inner freedom, he gradually loses faith in that weapon. Observing the victory of nondual detachment, he too may be drawn toward freedom, inspired by the one who remained untouched.

Fear, Contraction, and the True Path of Expansion

One who is afraid makes others afraid. It is because his consciousness is contracted. He has not yet experienced the full expansion of consciousness to the ultimate limit of awakening and self-realization. Therefore, he fears that he will have to put in great effort again to expand his consciousness.

But one who has once awakened through self-realization does not worry about this contraction. He has already tasted the fully ripened fruit. Now he moves toward Nirvikalpa Samadhi — beyond words like contraction or expansion of consciousness — into pure void. For him, the journey becomes easier, because worldly expansion of consciousness can no longer lure him back.

The fearful person, however, tries to regain expansion of consciousness through the world. He believes it is possible only through outer means. So he attempts to snatch from others, and as a result, others become afraid of his behavior. Yet this is the wrong way to expand consciousness. Because of the guilt it creates, his consciousness contracts even more.

The correct way of expansion is to avoid harming others, or to cause minimal harm. Then consciousness rises easily and quickly toward awakening. From such a peaceful walker, no one feels fear — even though he may be expanding his consciousness far more than the aggressive walker.

Quantum Analogy of Fear and Cooperation

In quantum physics, when a quantum system collapses from a wave of possibilities into a fixed particle state, it becomes localized and rigid. If such a collapsed entity strongly interacts with other quantum entities, it can disturb their superposition as well. Through forceful interaction, it induces collapse in them. In simple terms, a collapsed quantum state can trigger collapse in nearby systems.

This is similar to fear spreading through interaction. One contracted system creates disturbance, and disturbance reduces coherence. When both systems are collapsed and localized, their behavior becomes more particle-like — rigid, defensive, and limited. In such a condition, the probability of returning to a broad wave-like superposition decreases, because repeated disturbance reinforces localization. In physics, this resembles increasing decoherence.

However, interaction does not always have to be violent or forceful. Quantum systems can also become coherent. When interaction is gentle and aligned, phase relationships synchronize. Instead of forcing collapse, the systems enter cooperative coherence. In such coherence, even a localized state can gradually regain wave-like characteristics through constructive interference.

In this analogy, cooperation corresponds to quantum coherence. Rather than collapsing each other through fear-driven disturbance, systems align and stabilize one another. The result is collective amplification instead of mutual contraction. Expansion then is not achieved by snatching energy, but by resonance.

Thus, in quantum terms, fear behaves like forced measurement causing collapse, while cooperation behaves like phase alignment creating coherence. In coherence, growth becomes shared rather than competitive.

Vrindavan Within: How Cows, Prana, and Self-Awareness Open the Door to Nirvikalpa Dhyana

Vrindavan Not as a Place but as an Inner Field of Self-Awareness

The understanding began very simply and very directly, not as philosophy but as lived seeing. Vrindavan appeared to me not merely as a sacred town associated with stories and devotion, but as a field of self-awareness inside. This inner Vrindavan is not created by imagination; it is discovered when awareness becomes calm, spacious, and naturally present. In this field, nothing is forced and nothing is rejected. It is a place of inner softness, where awareness rests in itself without struggle. The idea that Vrindavan exists within is not symbolic poetry alone; it reflects an actual experiential landscape that becomes available when attention settles into its own source.

Cows as the Senses and Grass as Subtle Bliss

Within this inner Vrindavan, cows reveal themselves as the senses. Senses are often treated as enemies or distractions, but here they appear gentle, habitual, and innocent, just like cows. They move toward nourishment naturally. The nourishment they seek, in a meditative inner state, is not gross pleasure but subtle, blissful, calm, and peaceful thoughts. These thoughts feel like grass—soft, tender, refined, and non-violent. Grass is nourishment that does not agitate; it sustains without intoxicating. When blissful and sattvic thoughts arise in meditation, they are like this grass, feeding the senses without disturbing awareness.

From Inner Grass to Outer Grain and Worldly Activity

Grass, however, does not remain grass forever. When it grows outward, when it matures and hardens, it becomes grain. Grain is useful, productive, and necessary, but it is denser and harder. In the same way, subtle inner bliss, when expressed outwardly, becomes worldly activity. The outer world is not wrong or inferior; it is simply condensed sensory awareness. What is soft and fluid inside becomes structured and solid outside. The gross world is like hard grain, while the inner field remains like living grass. This distinction is crucial: it shows that worldly life is not separate from inner awareness, only a different density of the same reality.

Cow Grazing as Calm Sensing Without Disturbance

When cows graze peacefully, they do not fight the grass nor cling to it anxiously. They simply eat. Similarly, when the senses function calmly, without craving or resistance, sensing continues but does not bind. This is the meaning of cows grazing in the inner Vrindavan. Sensing happens, but awareness remains untroubled. There is no suppression of the senses and no indulgence. There is only relaxed participation. In this state, life flows smoothly, and awareness remains intact.

When grain is shown and fed to cows, they struggle to get it, fight with each other, and eat it with craving and attachment. They appear disturbed and restless. This disturbance also affects the cowherd, because he now has to actively control them.

Similarly, in the outer world, the senses behave like furious animals rather than grazing cows. They no longer move calmly but rush toward objects with craving and competition. This agitates self-awareness as well, because it must struggle to restrain and manage the senses instead of resting naturally in witnessing

The Cowherd as Witnessing Self-Awareness

The most important presence in this inner scene is the cowherd. The cowherd does not graze, does not become the cows, and does not consume the grass. He watches, guides lightly, and remains free. This cowherd is witnessing self-awareness itself. It is not effortful observation and not mental vigilance. It is simple presence. When witnessing becomes strained or intentional, the inner Vrindavan turns into a field of discipline. When witnessing is natural, it becomes play, or līlā. Awareness simply remains aware.

Krishna as Self-Awareness Itself

At this point, Krishna appears not as a mythological figure. He may have been incarnated in the Dvāpara Yuga, as scriptural stories always carry double meanings—both internal and external. Yet here, Krishna is revealed as the very essence of self-awareness. He is not the mind, not a personality, and not an individual doer. He is the effortless center of attraction that awareness naturally has when it rests in itself. That is why Krishna never forces anything. He does not command the cows; they come on their own. Self-awareness does not push the senses inward; alignment happens naturally when conditions are right.

The Flute as the Subtle Body and the Seven Chakras

Krishna’s flute reveals another layer of lived understanding. The flute is empty inside, just like the subtle body must be empty of egoic tension to function as an instrument. It is helped by nonduality. Its seven holes correspond to the seven chakras of the body. Without holes, there is no sound; without chakras, there is no expression. The body itself does nothing. It becomes music only when prana flows through it under the presence of awareness. This emptiness is not absence but readiness. Prana flows through different chakras, invoking different expressions and emotions. It is as if different sounds are emerging from the flute.

Playing the Flute as Natural Prana Flow

Krishna playing the flute is awareness breathing prana through the subtle body. This is not forceful pranayama and not controlled breathing. It is natural breath, unstrained and effortless. Awareness does not blow hard; it simply allows prana to pass. Because of this alignment, the sound produced is irresistibly harmonious. In yogic terms, when awareness and prana align, the entire system becomes coherent. When awareness and prana align means prana becomes so subtle that it is equal to void-like awareness. Its subtle music is so refined and harmonious that the senses, which are feeding on grain in the gross outer world, leave it and move toward inner Krishna playing the flute in inner Vrindavan, to graze again on grass. As the breath passes through the flute and becomes almost zero-like, even the grazing senses calm down so deeply that they themselves dissolve into void.

Cows Leaving Grass as Entry into Nirvikalpa

When the flute sounds with feeling of breathlessness, the cows leave even the grass and move toward Krishna. This moment carries the deepest yogic meaning. Grass itself represents subtle bliss and sattvic pleasure. When cows leave the grass, it means the senses abandon even refined enjoyment. They are not suppressed; they forget themselves. This forgetting is nirvikalpa. There is no object, no experiencer, no claim of bliss. Even the thought “I am experiencing bliss” disappears. There is only absorption.

Why Nirvikalpa Cannot Be Held

This state cannot be maintained by will. The moment a thought arises—“I am in nirvikalpa”—the absorption breaks, and the senses return to grazing. Awareness does not mind. Krishna keeps playing. Self-awareness does not cling to states. It allows coming and going. That is why nirvikalpa often lasts only moments, yet leaves deep understanding behind.

Direct Experience in Riverbeds and Flood Plains

These insights are not theoretical. Repeatedly, I sit near a riverbed spread across vast flood plains. The ground is covered with stones of varied sizes and shapes, naturally polished and layered like a welcoming carpet. The openness of the land, the silence of the space, and the slow rhythm of nature create a natural inner stillness. In these places, stray cattle often roam and graze freely.

The Presence of Cows and Effortless Nirvikalpa Dhyana

In these environments, nirvikalpa dhyana arises easily, without effort. This repeated experience reveals something important: cows grazing are not only symbolic representations of yogic processes; cows themselves have a direct effect on the mind. Their presence calms the nervous system. Their grounded, non-aggressive energy supports inner silence. The mind mirrors what it perceives. When awareness rests among beings who live without inner conflict, awareness recognizes itself more easily.

Sages composed scriptural stories in such a way that they carry both physical and symbolic meanings, though the symbolic meaning is primary. The physical layer is not accidental; it supports and strengthens the inner teaching. For example, if grazing alone were the message, other grazing animals could have been chosen. The cow was chosen specifically because of her physical qualities as well—her calmness, non-violence, nourishing nature, and her ability to transform rough grass into sustaining milk. These physical characteristics make the symbolic teaching visible and experiential, ensuring that the metaphor is not abstract but lived and understood through everyday life.

Nature, Animals, and the Support of Awareness

The river, the stones, the open plains, and the grazing cattle together create an environment where prana flows smoothly and awareness remains uncontracted. This shows that yogic realization is not only an inward practice but also a resonance with living nature. The outer landscape reflects and supports the inner landscape.

Vrindavan as Awareness at Play

Ultimately, Vrindavan reveals itself as awareness at play. Senses graze on subtle bliss without agitation. Worldly action emerges naturally from inner calm, just as grain emerges from grass. Prana flows like flute music through an empty body. The senses abandon even bliss when alignment deepens. Awareness remains the silent cowherd, untouched and free. When awareness breathes through emptiness, the senses dissolve into silence, and nirvikalpa appears effortlessly. This is not mythology, not imagination, and not borrowed doctrine. It is direct yogic physiology lived, seen, and expressed through the timeless language of Vrindavan.

Dancing Serpent: How Inner Energy Learns Direction and Transforms Life

The Forgotten Intelligence of Inner Energy

Every human being carries a living force inside, ancient, intelligent, and sensitive to every thought and emotion. It rises when the mind becomes clear, and it falls when the mind becomes restless. This force is not separate from life; it is life itself moving through the body and mind. Yet modern living has forgotten how to listen to it. We either suppress this energy out of fear or spill it unconsciously through exhaustion, desire, and distraction. The result is a life that feels busy but empty, active but unfulfilled.

Indian tradition symbolized this energy as the serpent, not because it is dangerous, but because it moves in waves, not lines. A serpent does not climb a ladder; it dances. It rises, pauses, coils, and rises again. In the same way, inner energy is not meant to move in one direction forever. It is meant to learn rhythm, balance, and direction. When this rhythm is lost, life feels like struggle. When it is restored, life becomes a flow.

Why Energy Needs Direction, Not Suppression

The greatest misunderstanding about inner energy is the belief that it must either be released or controlled. Both approaches fail. Suppression creates pressure, anxiety, and illness. Unconscious release creates weakness, dissatisfaction, and lack of purpose. Direction is the missing key. Energy that is guided does not need to be forced, and energy that is guided does not need to escape.

When energy moves downward without awareness, it becomes raw desire, endless activity, mental noise, and emotional instability. When energy moves upward without grounding, it becomes detachment, dryness, and disconnection from life. But when energy is allowed to move down and up in conscious rhythm, it nourishes the entire system. This is the true meaning of the Nagin Dance — not sexuality, not mysticism, but intelligent movement.

How Thought Controls the Rise and Fall of Energy

Energy follows thought more closely than breath. Lower thinking pulls energy downward. Higher thinking lifts it upward. When the mind is trapped in fear, anger, or desire, energy sinks into the lower centers of the body, fueling survival and reaction. When the mind touches clarity, meaning, or nonduality, energy rises naturally toward the brain and heart, creating peace and insight.

This does not mean lower energy is bad or higher energy is good. Both are necessary. Worldly life requires energy in the lower centers to work, digest, build, and act. Inner life requires energy in the upper centers to reflect, understand, and rest. Growth happens only when these two worlds communicate. Energy that never descends becomes stagnant. Energy that never rises becomes blind. Movement is life.

The Dance Between Worldliness and Awakening

Many people believe spirituality means leaving the world, but this is a misunderstanding. True awakening happens within the world, not away from it. The world feeds the serpent with raw experience, and awakening refines that experience into wisdom. The dance between action and silence is what creates maturity.

When energy is handled well, work becomes lighter, relationships become smoother, and creativity becomes effortless. The mind stops fighting life and starts cooperating with it. This is why the sages never taught escape. They taught right living. They knew that energy must be educated, not rejected.

Relationships as Energy Laboratories

Energy is most clearly seen in relationships. When two people interact without awareness, energy leaks through conflict, expectation, control, and emotional hunger. When awareness is present, energy circulates instead of spilling. The body relaxes, the breath slows, and connection becomes nourishing rather than draining.

This is why ethics, consent, and mutual growth are essential. Energy work without respect becomes manipulation. Energy work without freedom becomes harm. The serpent magnifies whatever is hidden, so if fear or dominance is present, it grows. If patience, clarity, and equality are present, the dance becomes healing.

Why Awakening Is Not a Dramatic Event

Many seekers chase mystical experiences, believing them to be awakening. But awakening is much simpler and much quieter. It is the moment energy learns direction. Bliss, visions, silence, and merging are aftereffects, not the goal. They come and go. What remains is stability, clarity, and balance.

A truly awakened person does not look special. They work better, listen better, love better, and suffer less. Their mind is steady, their body is responsive, and their relationships are cleaner. Awakening is not escape from humanity; it is perfection of humanity.

The Role of Daily Life in Sustaining Ascent

Energy cannot be held by meditation alone. It must be supported by daily habits. Sleep, food, movement, breath, work, and silence all shape its flow. When life is chaotic, energy becomes chaotic. When life is simple, energy becomes clear.

Integration is the difference between temporary experience and lasting transformation. When energy work becomes part of routine, the serpent no longer needs effort to rise. It rises by habit. The body remembers. The breath remembers. Life itself remembers.

From Serpent to Nectar: When Energy Becomes Nourishment

In the beginning, energy feels like a force to be controlled. Later, it feels like a companion. Finally, it becomes invisible. It turns into nectar. Life itself becomes nourishing. Even difficulty carries meaning. Even loss carries clarity. Even aging carries wisdom.

This is not excitement. It is steadiness. It is reliability. It is quiet joy that does not depend on conditions. The serpent has learned its dance, and the dance has become life.

Humanity Is the True Foundation of Spiritual Growth

Some people need nondual awareness to live well. Others need simple humanity without philosophy. Both are valid. What matters is direction. If energy is moving upward in intention, life grows. If energy is moving downward unconsciously, life contracts.

Humanity must never be sacrificed for awakening. Compassion, respect, patience, and kindness are not optional. They are signs of correct direction. Any path that destroys humanity is not spiritual, no matter how powerful it looks.

The Serpent Is Already Moving

You do not need to awaken energy. It is already awake. You only need to stop confusing it. When direction is learned, rhythm returns. When rhythm returns, life stops being a struggle and becomes a dance. The serpent has always been dancing inside you. This book (DANCING SERPENT: The Play of Inner Energies), and this understanding, simply teaches you how to notice it, respect it, and let it move without fear.

The Single Law of the Serpent: Always Up-Facing

The main point is simple: the serpent should always remain up-facing, no matter at which level or chakra it is present. It may rise or fall, it may move slowly or quickly, but its direction must remain upward. The level does not matter; the facing does. Even when energy descends for worldly work, digestion, action, or rest, it should still be oriented upward in intention. Only during moments of release or escape from the body does the serpent turn down-facing for a few moments, and even then it must be turned upward again as soon as possible. This timely turning is the key to balance and growth. Believe it or not, an up-facing nagin is the root of everything good and divine in human life, while a down-facing nagin becomes the root of confusion, decline, and suffering. Direction is destiny.

When energy dances consciously, life itself becomes art.

Upfacing Serpent and the Moment of Self-Realisation

The serpent that is upfacing symbolises an awakened Kundalini. Only one who is awake stands upright and faces growth, expansion, and light. A sleeping being naturally remains downfacing—inclined toward inertia, darkness, and loss. Orientation here is not physical but existential: awareness that turns upward seeks evolution; awareness that turns downward dissolves into unconsciousness. kundalini awakening is as simple as energy faing up, nothing mysterious.

The experience of full nonduality, where the sense of self merges completely with the meditation image and simultaneously expands in all directions, accompanied by overwhelming bliss and spontaneous expression for a few moments, is self-realisation. It is not imagination, trance, or emotional high. It is the direct outcome of a sustained Kundalini awakening, where energy, awareness, and identity dissolve into a single, indivisible reality—beyond observer and observed.

Kundalini Awakening: Simply Energy Facing Up

Kundalini awakening is nothing mysterious. It is simply energy facing upward. When energy turns upward, growth happens. When it turns downward, dissipation happens. There is no symbolism required beyond this basic orientation.

Upfacing energy expresses wakefulness, evolution, and integration. Downfacing energy expresses sleep, decay, and loss of awareness. Awakening is not an event, a vision, or a power—it is a directional shift of energy.

When this upward-facing energy is sustained, awareness naturally becomes steady, nondual, and self-luminous. Bliss, clarity, and self-realisation arise as consequences, not goals. Mysticism begins only when this simple fact is forgotten.

When Motion Reveals Nonduality: A Travel Darshan from Sky, Forest, and Ocean

A Journey That Was Not Just Travel

This was a family trip to coastal areas. We went by aeroplane, stayed near the sea, walked among coconut trees, and spent time watching waves. Outwardly, it looked like a normal vacation. Inwardly, something subtle unfolded. Nonduality became more visible — not through meditation, not through effort, but through motion.

I noticed that when the world moved fast, the sense of separation weakened. The faster and more total the movement, the more clearly nonduality revealed itself.

Aeroplane: Nonduality at High Speed

The aeroplane felt special. Not just because it was high, but because it was top in motion. When you sit inside a flying machine, your body is moving but you are not acting. Motion happens through you, not by you. The ground, clouds, distance, time — all flow together. Motionless non-living joins with the in motion living producing nonduality. Human considers motion as sign of life instinctively.

In this state, fixed reference points disappear. The mind cannot hold divisions. Living and non-living begin to mix. Metal, engine, sky, body, breath — everything moves as one system. This mixing itself produced nonduality.

I realized something important: motion is the primary quality of the living world. When non-living objects join a living motion-field, separation collapses. The aeroplane became a form of moving samadhi — a dynamic samadhi. It was not stillness, but total flow.

When I added quantum darshan to this perception — the understanding that at the deepest level there is no real separation between matter and life — nonduality reached near its peak.

Not the absolute peak, because motion still remains. But the highest possible nonduality within movement.

The second amazing movement of the plane is its upward rise, which feels like rising kundalini energy toward sahasrar. Sahasrar symbolically represents nonduality, bliss, and awakening, so this upward motion naturally evokes the same sense of expansion and release.

Coconut Trees: When Matter Looks Back at You

At the coast, coconut trees appeared intensely beautiful. But not because they had some special beauty different from other objects. Their beauty came from recognition.

Their shape is human-like:

  • the crown of leaves like a head
  • the long naked trunk like a body
  • the swaying like dancing
  • the rhythm like laughter and enjoyment

When wind moved them, they looked like they were communicating with each other. A group of coconut trees looked like a group of people talking, laughing, living.

This again was the same mixing of living and non-living worlds. Motion blurred the boundary.

When the thought arose that even at the quantum level they are not different from us, bliss amplified. Perception and understanding aligned. Separation dropped not only visually but ontologically.

It was not that trees became human. It was that human and tree revealed the same pattern of life.

Animal Perception: Entering the Forest Mind

At that moment I understood something else: animals perceive forests differently from humans.

Humans see objects.
Animals see patterns.

Animals read:

  • movement
  • rhythm
  • density
  • silence
  • vibration

To them, a forest is not a collection of things. It is a single living field. Wind, branches, birds, ground — all are messages. Animals are not in the forest. They are the forest sensing itself. Animals do not divide experience into “me” and “forest” just like human do. For them, there is no separate observer standing inside nature. Sensing simply happens as one continuous field of movement, smell, sound, and vibration. When something changes, the whole field responds together. That is why it feels as if the forest itself is sensing — because perception is not localized in a self, but distributed across the living field.

Animals have no benefit of objectify the world. They don’t work blindly nor they need to work so. Lack of hands and brain limits their working ability. So draining energy in objectifying world has no use for them instead it can divert energy from basic need of food and survival. So instinctively they follow sensational patterns to act and react quickly. Together, what’ll they loose natural bliss of nonduality when duality has no major worldly role to play for them. However, little duality is adopted even them as petty worldly roles also demand it but not extreme duality like human.

When I saw trees communicating, I briefly entered this animal mode of perception. But with a difference.

Animals live in nonduality, but they do not attain samadhi.

Why? Because samadhi requires awareness knowing itself. Animals are in the flow, but they do not reflect on the flow. Animals remain continuously in the flow of perception, because their attention is always responding outwardly to the environment. They cannot voluntarily slow the nervous system, pause the breath, or rest awareness in itself. They need to be always alert for survival. Humans, through calm sitting, slow pranayama, or natural stillness like keval kumbhak, can create a pause in the flow. In that pause, awareness reflects on itself. That reflection is samadhi — something animals live but cannot consciously realize. They live unity, but they do not know unity. That’s why it’s described everywhere in scriptures that animals act every way like a human act except only yoga and achieving brahman through it, so one must not waste his life in petty things without practicing yoga.

A constantly active karmayogi lives close to the natural flow of life, somewhat like animals do, where action happens without much inner division. This creates presence, grounding, and a weak sense of separation, but awareness remains outward-moving. However, unlike animals he does it with super intelligence that’s why he gets many benefits in worldly functioning. They realise they are doing karmayoga and instead of continuously being in nonduality flow helplessly like animals, they adopted it intentionally intermittently at will so they realise its real benefits and harness those for their worldly and spiritual development. I think what’s depicted each god and goddess with a companion animal is a metaphor for their nondual lifestyle. For awakening and samadhi to arise, such a person must intentionally rest, slow down, and allow attention to turn back on itself. Without this pause, even pure action cannot become realization. Yet this very life of flowing action becomes a great advantage later, because when the karmayogi finally sits in stillness, reflection happens easily and samadhi comes with less struggle.

Animals live in unity naturally, without thinking about it. Humans lose that unity, but can stop, look, and come back to it consciously. When a human returns to unity with awareness, that is samadhi.

I was perceiving like an animal and knowing it like a human — that knowing turned perception into darshan and amplified bliss.

Ocean: The Living Rhythm of Existence

The ocean felt alive. Not as a belief, but as an experience of resonance.

Waves came forward like a hug.
They went back like stepping away after a kiss — not to increase intimacy, but to prevent too much of it.

The continuous coming and going felt like human life itself:

  • approach and withdrawal
  • effort and rest
  • work and pause
  • earning and returning

The ocean was pure motion. No fixed form, no stable edge, no permanent boundary. My body, breath, and the waves moved together. Again, nonduality appeared through motion.

It was clear that the ocean was not literally hugging me, and trees were not literally dancing. This was not imagination or projection in a pathological sense. It was field perception — where meaning arises from rhythm and unity arises from shared movement.

Bliss did not come from the ocean. It came from dropping the burden of separation.

Motion as the Secret Teacher of Nonduality

Stillness is one door to nonduality. Motion is another — and often a more accessible one for worldly life.

When motion becomes total, separation cannot survive.

When matter moves like life, and life recognizes itself in matter, the world becomes a single body.

This is why:

  • travel opens awareness
  • forests heal
  • oceans calm
  • flight feels liberating

The nervous system relaxes because it stops dividing reality into inside and outside.

A Grounded Darshan for Daily Life

What happened on this journey was not escapism. I did not lose my body. I did not lose my family. I did not leave the world. The experience came, stayed, and left naturally.

This is important.

It shows that nonduality does not require renunciation. It can arise in movement, in travel, in family life, in nature, in ordinary moments.

This is a mature nonduality — one that lives with life, not against it.

Closing Note: A Simple Truth

When motion becomes shared, the boundary between human and world softens, and existence feels like one continuous activity.

This is not philosophy.
This is travel.
This is perception.
This is lived darshan.

And this is how nonduality quietly reveals itself — not in caves, but between waves, trees, clouds, and family laughter.

Chapter 38: Karuṇa Rasa in the Quantum World

Compassion, Sorrow, and Empathy as Cosmic Sensitivity

Karuṇa Rasa, traditionally understood as the rasa of compassion, sorrow, and deep empathy, arises when consciousness becomes sensitive to suffering—both within oneself and in others. It is not mere emotional pain; rather, it is the refined vibration of empathy, born from the recognition that all beings share vulnerability, impermanence, and interconnectedness.

In human experience, Karuṇa manifests as a gentle yet powerful awareness: the capacity to feel another’s pain without resistance, avoidance, or judgment. It is sorrow infused with understanding, and compassion infused with clarity. When viewed through a quantum–cosmic lens, Karuṇa reveals itself not as weakness, but as a high degree of coherence and sensitivity within consciousness itself.

Quantum Entanglement and the Shared Field of Suffering

Compassion as Non-local Resonance

In the quantum world, entangled particles remain instantaneously connected, regardless of physical distance. A change in one is immediately reflected in the other. Karuṇa mirrors this phenomenon at the level of consciousness.

When compassion arises, one being feels the suffering of another without physical contact or personal involvement. The pain is not imagined; it is felt, as if consciousness itself were connected across different forms. Feeling is a deeper form of contact than imagination.

Spiritual parallel: Compassion is the recognition of inseparability. Just as entangled particles behave as a single system, Karuṇa reflects the emotional and existential entanglement of all beings within one field of awareness.

Compassion first requires entanglement. One must become entangled with another to truly develop compassion for them. And nondual wave nature is prerequisite to achieve entanglement. We feel only limited compassion for an unknown person because our waveform isn’t entangled with his waveform.

Pilgrimage Mathas as India’s Ancient Network for Spiritual Unity and Nondual Consciousness

Actually, pilgrimage centers like mathas were created to foster unity among otherwise isolated Indians, who belong to a vast range of cultures and languages. When people from different parts of the nation visited these temples, they experienced their non-dual, wave-like nature there. These waveforms, coming into contact with one another, became beautifully entangled, and from this arose compassion, followed by a sense of unity. However, when we realize the quantum truth that all particles are inherently entangled with one another, compassion naturally expands to include every being in the cosmos.

Compassion, Quantum Entanglement, and Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam: The Science of Feeling One with the World

Fast friends are deeply compassionate toward each other because they are tightly connected. People naturally feel more compassion for those who are closer to them; the greater the closeness, the greater the compassion. When a person becomes mentally disturbed by worldly stress and becomes localized into a particle-like, dual nature—losing their true non-dual, wave nature—they often lose this compassion, even toward those close to them. Similarly, when a quantum wave becomes decohered through interactions with the world and forgets its nondual wave nature, it loses its entanglement with other particles and no longer reflects their states. This shows that wave nature is essential for feeling connected with the cosmos, and this connection gives rise to all higher human qualities. The same truth is expressed in the Vedas as Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam—“the whole earth is one family.”

The Cosmic Screen: How Soul and Quantum Waves Arise from One Universal Background

The unbound nature of the human soul is connected with everything in the cosmos because it is rooted in the same background from which all things appear. Nothing is truly produced; everything is only expressed. One may imagine the cosmic background as a vast theatre screen on which the world is not created but merely shown as if created. In the same way, the wave nature of a quantum particle is connected to everything in nature because it arises from the same background of all physical existence.

Nondual Awareness, Quantum Entanglement, and Compassion: How Shared Wave Nature Creates Human Connection

Just as shared quantum waviness produces quantum entanglement, shared laughter and joy produces friendship and compassion. Wave nature of matter tends to become entangled with other matter. Similarly, the nondual nature of humans tends to feel and show compassion toward all others. For example when I used to be in an awakened nondual state, I could feel even distant happenings in advance, during sleep as realistic dreams or even while awake, reflected as a changed or disturbed mood.

Quantum Duality and Nondual Consciousness: The Forgotten Balance Behind Humanity’s Survival

It looks one of the deepest secrets of quantum science and its relationship with consciousness has been compressed into this short paragraph. The dual nature of the world is the signature of everything in the cosmos—both the unconscious, non-living realm and the conscious, living realm. Wave nature functions like the control unit or brain, while particle nature acts like the working unit or the rest of the body. Both operate together to move creation forward. If there were only wave nature, nothing would ever manifest. If there were only particle nature, the cosmos would become haphazard, uncontrolled, unregulated, and non-functional. Without entanglement, there would be no cosmic regulation; without superposition, there would be no choice; and without interference, there would be no refinement of character. Likewise, in the living human world, if there were only non-duality, no worldly evolution or growth would occur. If there were only duality, there would be overwhelming stress, inefficiency, poor quality of work, chaos, conflict, wars, and all other evils—enough to halt progress or even drive humanity toward extinction. There would be no mutual cooperation and thus no regulation of societies; no thinking beyond fixed parameters and therefore no discoveries or inventions; and no meaningful interaction, so no development of skills. Duality in the mind is like the particle nature of matter, while non-duality is like its wave nature—both must be present for the most balanced and humane outcomes. Just as all interactions in the quantum world arise from particle nature—and every interaction further reinforces particle expression—so too all emotions arise from the duality of the mind, and emotions in turn intensify that duality. The conscious entity that witnesses and feels interactions in the quantum world is called Brahman or the gods, yet it remains unaffected by those interactions. The conscious entity that experiences emotions in the human mind is called the soul, and it is deeply affected by them.
The force that keeps the gods unaffected by quantum interactions is the wave nature of the quantum world itself. It acts as a neutralizer of the disturbances created by interaction, because it is the opposite of particle fixation.
In the same way, the human mind can become god-like by adopting a wave-like, non-dual attitude while moving through particle-like worldly interactions. This is why non-dual traditions such as Sanātana Dharma, Buddhism, and Yoga arose at the very beginning of human civilization: to maintain this essential balance. Today, the non-dual dimension is being eroded, shifting the balance toward disorder, disaster, and a dying planet. The loss of non-duality is reflected in the loss of compassion, and the loss of compassion leads to selfishness, conflict, and war—endangering the entire human race.

The Sacred Lineage of Nondual Wisdom: From Parabrahman to the Sun and Humanity

Sanātana Dharma describes non-dual quantum darśan through an Upadeśa tradition that flows among the devatās and then to human beings. Nārāyaṇa, or Parabrahman, gave this teaching of non-duality to Brahmā; Brahmā passed it to the Sun-god; the Sun passed it to the Prajāpatis; the Prajāpatis passed it to Manu; and from Manu it reached humanity through various sages.

The Sun is the most visible expression of non-dual karma-yoga. It is the greatest worker and benefactor in the visible world. Everything we see on Earth—climate, rain, plants, animals, food, and all basic necessities—is sustained by the Sun, which gives without asking for anything in return. This is the mark of perfect non-duality. It means Sun is the most compassionate one in the entire cosmos. Then why not grow compassion with its worship. That’s why it’s also called as Surya Narayan.

Quantum Tunneling and the Courage of the Heart

Breaking Barriers Through Empathy

Quantum tunneling allows particles to cross energy barriers that classical physics would deem impossible. In the same way, compassion tunnels through psychological, social, and karmic barriers.

Karuṇa enables the heart to reach where logic, self-interest, or circumstance cannot. It allows love and assistance to flow even when obstacles appear overwhelming or insurmountable.

Spiritual insight: True empathy does not negotiate with fear or limitation. Like tunneling, it bypasses resistance and reaches directly into the core of suffering.

Quantum Tunneling of the Heart: How Two Distant Souls Became Entangled Without Physical Contact

Just reflecting on my own experience: sweetheart was a distant thing. There were so many obstructions in the path—obstructions at every step. Still, my wave crossed all obstacles and reached her wave to become entangled with it. Amazing. There was no physical contact in any form, yet the entanglement was so powerful that it defied every kind of physical contact. What is this, if not quantum tunneling? Through that feeling, profound compassion arose for each other.

Superposition and Emotional Wholeness

Holding Pain and Love Simultaneously

A quantum system exists in superposition, holding multiple states at once until observation collapses it into a single outcome. Karuṇa functions similarly within the human heart.

Compassion allows one to hold joy and sorrow, hope and despair, pain and love simultaneously, without collapsing into denial or depression. Rather than rejecting suffering, Karuṇa includes it within a larger field of understanding.

Spiritual parallel: Compassion is emotional superposition—an ability to remain whole while containing contradiction, uncertainty, and vulnerability.

Quantum Compassion: How Emotional Superposition Allows True Healing and Consolation

We often see people holding a double state of mind while consoling someone who is ill: they genuinely feel the person’s pain and suffering, and at the same time they also hold the sense of healing and recovery; if they felt only pain they would collapse into helplessness, and if they felt only optimism their words would sound cold and false, which shows that a kind of superposition is required for true compassion, something that psychology calls empathic attunement with emotional regulation and neuroscience explains through mirror neurons that let us feel another’s pain along with prefrontal circuits that hold a larger, healing perspective; because prolonged illness makes a person habituated to suffering, the patient feels only pain and not the possibility of cure, so a healthy consoler must carry that healing state for him, yet the patient will believe it only when he also feels that his pain is genuinely being shared, otherwise it seems like bluffing or empty formality.

Quantum Decoherence and the Transformation of Pain

From Suffering to Meaningful Action

When a quantum system interacts with its environment, it undergoes decoherence, transforming from pure wave-like potential into measurable outcomes. Likewise, sorrow and empathy, when allowed to interact with lived reality, transform raw pain into understanding, service, and action. Karuṇa does not remain abstract or sentimental. It channels suffering into awareness, and awareness into compassionate engagement with the world.

Think of a crying child. If the child is alone, the crying goes on and on. The pain stays raw and confused. Nothing changes. But when a mother comes, listens, and feels the child’s pain, something different happens. The crying slowly turns into calm, comfort, and maybe even a solution — food, rest, or a hug. Suffering by itself is like noise with no direction. But when someone meets that suffering with compassion, it gets a direction. It turns into understanding and then into action. So Karuṇā (compassion) is not just feeling sad for someone. It is feeling their pain and knowing how to help. That is how pain becomes wisdom, and sorrow becomes love in action. Wisdom in the sense of helping, just as the almighty pure consciousness helps all beings to live.

Compassion Beyond Nirvikalpa

The Voluntary Return to the World

Many realized yogis, having touched or stabilized nirvikalpa samādhi, have consciously abandoned continuous absorption—not out of ignorance, but out of Karuṇa. They willingly re-enter worldly expression to extend helping hands to the deprived and suffering.

This is akin to a quantum wave becoming decohered by the environment and manifesting as a particle. Pure transcendence collapses into form—not as bondage, but as compassionate choice.

Here, compassion becomes the bridge between absolute freedom and relative responsibility.

Karuṇa Rasa — Quantum–Spiritual Synthesis

Karuṇa (Compassion / Sorrow):
Quantum analogy — entanglement, superposition, and decoherence.
Spiritual essence — empathy, deep interconnectedness, egolessness, and the transformation of suffering into understanding and compassionate action.

Closing Reflection

Karuṇa is not sadness—it is sensitivity matured into wisdom. Compassion is not weakness; it is a state of awareness so clear and stable that it can feel the whole universe’s pain without collapsing — and from that clarity, helping naturally flows, just as pure consciousness supports life without effort. Help can arise only when the consoler does not collapse from his infinite natural awareness. If he collapses into the suffering, he becomes frustrated and withdraws, leaving the sufferer alone. Only a stable, spacious awareness can truly hold another’s pain and still offer support.

It means we need both high clarity and non-collapse together. Normally, in ordinary worldly situations, clarity and collapse appear as cause and effect — the more deeply we see pain, the more we tend to collapse into it. But in true compassion, clarity increases without collapse, allowing awareness to remain vast while still fully perceiving suffering. It means superposition must be continued with Karuna.

Karuṇā is a subtle inner discipline that keeps opposing poles together — deep sensitivity to suffering and unbroken inner stability.

Just as quantum systems show hidden unity behind separation, Karuṇā shows love behind suffering and quiet service behind silence.

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.

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.