Since this time Aryan was traveling alone, he opted for public transport—a space bus—rather than taking his personal space car. It was impractical to carry an entire vehicle for just one person, not to mention uneconomical. The space bus, though not as private, was comfortable, efficient, and offered a quiet time to reflect.
However, when traveling with his family—Meera, Avni, and Ansh—every two to three months, they always preferred their own space car. The journey was not just about reaching Earth; it was an adventure in itself. They would take their time, stopping at various space hotels and floating restaurants to refresh themselves before continuing ahead.
Every two to three hours of continuous travel, they made a stop at one of their favorite space lounges—places that had become a part of their routine over time. There, they would sip on steaming cups of tea or coffee, enjoy snacks, or have a full meal, depending on the time of the journey. These brief halts were not just about food but also about relaxation and stretching out after the long hours of weightless travel.
The children always loved these breaks. Stepping into the artificial gravity gardens attached to these space hubs, they would run around, playing for a while, marveling at the way gravity could be adjusted to mimic Earth’s pull. Aryan and Meera would take slow strolls, enjoying the unique sight of gardens floating against the backdrop of deep space, the stars twinkling like diamonds beyond the protective domes.
Each stay lasted about an hour to an hour and a half, enough to refresh, recharge, and prepare for the next leg of the journey. For them, the journey wasn’t merely about getting from one planet to another—it was about cherishing the experience, savoring the moments of togetherness, and making memories that would last a lifetime.
Getting back to the second home
Aryan stepped off the space bus, his feet adjusting to the Moon’s artificial gravity field. He had just returned from one of his frequent visits to Earth—a journey that, despite its familiarity, always left him with mixed emotions.
The moment he stepped into the colony, a familiar voice called out.
“Back already?” Meera stood outside their living dome, arms crossed but a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“Time flies when you’re running between two worlds,” Aryan said, setting down his travel case. His suit still carried traces of Earth’s air—a scent he had come to miss in the sterilized, processed environment of the Moon.
Before he could take another step, Ansh and Avni came running, their excitement bubbling over.
“What did you bring us?” Ansh asked eagerly, his eyes wide with anticipation.
Aryan chuckled and reached into his bag. For Ansh, he had picked up the latest holographic gaming console, something that had just launched on Earth. For Avni, a delicate bracelet containing real Earth flowers, preserved inside a transparent capsule—something she could wear as a piece of their home planet. Meera received something simple but cherished—a small vial of pure sandalwood oil, its fragrance carrying memories of her childhood.
As they stepped inside, Aryan sank into his chair with a content sigh. “Public transport was fine, but space buses aren’t as enjoyable as our trips together. It’s just transport—no fun, no adventure.”
Meera nodded, reminiscing. “It’s different when we travel as a family. Stopping at those space hotels, taking breaks at floating restaurants, drinking tea in orbital gardens… It’s not just about getting somewhere, it’s about the journey itself.”
Aryan smiled. “Exactly. When I’m alone, I just want to reach the Moon as fast as possible. But with you all, the journey becomes something else entirely.”
It was true. Every two to three months, when the whole family traveled to Earth, they took their personal space car instead of public transport. Those trips were filled with laughter, music, and the joy of making stops at uniquely designed space hotels and restaurants.
“Remember our last trip?” Avni piped up. “We stopped at that place with floating gardens and zero-gravity swings!”
Ansh grinned. “And that restaurant where food floated in mid-air until you caught it!”
Aryan laughed. “Yes! That place was something else. And remember how we used to take breaks every couple of hours? Stopping at our favorite restaurants, sipping tea while walking in their green parks… It’s those little things that make a journey memorable.”
Meera sighed. “I wish we had more time for such trips. Lately, everything seems to be changing too fast.”
Aryan followed her gaze out of the window. The Earth hung in the sky, its blue glow ever-present, but here on the Moon, a new world was forming. Something was shifting—both in their colony and in the hearts of those who had made the Moon their home.
The Rise of Worship on the Moon
The Moonites, breathless and selfless, had long served the earthly settlers without expecting anything in return. Their pure awareness and detached compassion made them different from humans. Yet, a silent but powerful force was driving them toward change—breathing.
Breathing was an external flashing chasm, a tempting transformation. Unlike the breathless state, which was eternal yet subtle, breathing had an undeniable charm—an immediate, transient pleasure. More and more Moonites were learning to breathe, drawn to the experience like moths to a flame. The problem was clear: if their numbers increased beyond control, the Moon’s resources would collapse before terraforming was complete.
A radical solution emerged—one that no one had anticipated. The settlers began worshipping the Moonites.
It started subtly. The colonists realized that if they saw the Moonites as pitiful beings, they would instinctively try to “help” them—teaching them to breathe, feeding them, integrating them into human society. But if they elevated them, if they considered them sacred, it would remove the idea of inferiority. The Moonites themselves would no longer feel “lesser.”
Thus began the Vedic Yuga on the Moon.
Temples were built. Elaborate idol worship started. Moonites, whose presence was once unnoticed, were now revered as divine entities. The settlers invited scholars from Earth—Vedic pundits who performed prana pratishtha on the idols, invoking breath within them through sacred rituals.
“Isn’t it ironic?” Meera had once laughed. “On Earth, humans pray to idols, breathing life into them through faith. And here, we are performing rituals for actual living beings who don’t breathe!”
Aryan saw the deeper wisdom behind this shift. It was a psychological and spiritual strategy. By treating Moonites as more than human rather than less, they subtly discouraged their desire to change. Even in a sense, it was true, for they were pure awareness. A Moonite, now revered as divine, had no reason to crave the ordinary pleasures of breath, food, and attachment.
Jyotish & The Cosmic Balance
This transformation wasn’t just religious—it extended into the realm of celestial sciences.
Jyotish (Vedic astrology) flourished on the Moon. The settlers observed that reading celestial bodies in the morning expanded prana, mixing it with apana, binding individuals deeper into the cycles of karma and existence. Jyotish Shastra had always proclaimed that planetary alignments influenced destiny, and now, on the Moon, it was more evident than ever.
Modern astronomy, too, was evolving rapidly. The settlers studied not just the Moon and Earth but the entire cosmos, looking for greater truths hidden in the fabric of space. This obsession wasn’t without reason—understanding celestial mechanics was another way to control prana flow and balance the increasing presence of breathers.
Aryan found it both fascinating and ironic. The deeper humans went into space, the more they returned to the wisdom of the ancients. The more they sought the future, the more they rediscovered the past.
Exploitation & The Looming Revolt
Despite all these developments, one undeniable fact remained: Earth was exploiting the Moon at an alarming rate. The settlers took and took, never thinking of consequences.
The Moonites’ selflessness was not a lack of awareness. They weren’t ignorant of what was happening. Their detachment and desireless nature did not mean they had no instinct to preserve their existence.
Their patience was vast—far greater than that of any breathing beings. But patience had limits.
Aryan had seen it before in history. Societies that took too much without giving back always faced backlash. Colonization, resource extraction, oppression—these things had played out countless times on Earth. Now, history was repeating itself on the Moon.
While pondering these lingering thoughts for weeks, “A revolt will come one day,” Aryan whispered to himself as he boarded the spacecraft for his next visit to Earth. “Not today, not tomorrow. But one day.”
The journey back to Earth was smooth. Space travel had come a long way since the early days of lunar colonization. Ships now used gravitational slingshots and antimatter bursts to reduce travel time, making the trip in mere hours instead of days.
As Aryan settled into his seat, he found himself staring at Earth again, that ever-familiar blue sphere.
It was his home. Yet, the Moon had changed him. He no longer belonged entirely to Earth.
Would there come a day when he would look at Earth and feel like an outsider?
Would the Moonites ever look at humans and see them as intruders rather than guests?
He closed his eyes. The answers lay in the future. And the future was coming fast.
Demystifying Kundalini 