Rimple Sanchla's Blog, page 12

Actions Taken by India Against Pakistan Since the Pahalgam Attack (April 22, 2025)

Following the deadly Pahalgam terror attack on April 22, 2025, which killed 26 civilians, mostly tourists, in Jammu and Kashmir, India has taken several strong measures against Pakistan, blaming it for supporting cross-border terrorism. Below is a clear, date-wise list of actions India has implemented, written in simple language for everyone to understand.

Action 1 (April 23, 2025): Suspended the Indus Waters Treaty. India announced it would no longer follow the 1960 water-sharing agreement with Pakistan, which governs the use of the Indus River system. This was a major step to pressure Pakistan.

Action 2 (April 23, 2025): Closed the Wagah-Attari border crossing. India shut down this key border point, stopping all movement of people and goods between the two countries.

Action 3 (April 23, 2025): Cancelled visas for Pakistani nationals. India revoked most visas issued to Pakistani citizens and ordered them to leave the country within days. Long-term visas for Hindu Pakistanis were exempted.

Action 4 (April 23, 2025): Expelled Pakistani military diplomats. India declared Pakistani military, naval, and air advisors at the Pakistani High Commission in New Delhi as “persona non grata,” forcing them to leave within a week.

Action 5 (April 23, 2025): Reduced diplomatic presence. India cut down its diplomatic staff in Pakistan and recalled diplomats from its missions there, while also ordering a reduction in Pakistan’s diplomatic staff in India to 30.

Action 6 (April 23, 2025): Cancelled SAARC visas for Pakistan. India stopped issuing visas under the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC) framework for Pakistani nationals, further limiting their travel.

Action 7 (April 24, 2025): Summoned Pakistan’s Charge d’Affaires. India called Pakistan’s top diplomat in Delhi to formally protest and handed over a note declaring Pakistani military diplomats unwelcome.

Action 8 (April 26, 2025): Banned 16 Pakistani YouTube channels. India blocked these channels for spreading provocative content and misinformation against India, its army, and security agencies after the attack.

Action 9 (April 30, 2025): Banned Pakistani airlines from Indian airspace. India issued a notice barring all Pakistani commercial and military aircraft from flying over its airspace, in response to Pakistan’s similar move against Indian carriers.

Action 10 (May 1, 2025): Closed the Attari-Wagah border crossing completely. After a week of heavy cross-border movement, India fully shut this border point, stopping all travel and trade.

Action 11 (May 2, 2025): Banned all imports from Pakistan. India halted all direct and indirect imports of goods from Pakistan, citing national security and public policy concerns. This stopped the already limited trade, with India’s imports from Pakistan being just $0.42 million from April to January 2024-25.

Action 12 (May 2, 2025): Sought global review of loans to Pakistan. India urged international agencies to reassess financial aid to Pakistan, calling it a “rogue state” due to its alleged role in the Pahalgam attack.

Impact of India’s Actions on Pakistan

The measures taken by India have significant consequences for Pakistan, affecting its economy, diplomacy, and daily life. Below are the impacts, listed crisply with their expected duration and approximate timeline.

Impact 1: Water scarcity due to suspension of the Indus Waters Treaty. Pakistan relies heavily on the Indus River system for agriculture and drinking water. This could lead to reduced water flow, affecting crops and livelihoods. (Long-term, impact seen in 6 months to 2 years)

Impact 2: Economic strain from trade and import bans. The ban on imports and closure of the Wagah-Attari border halts cross-border trade, though trade volume was already low. This affects local traders and businesses near the border. (Short-term, impact seen in 1-3 months)

Impact 3: Limited mobility due to visa cancellations and border closure. Pakistani nationals can no longer travel to India, disrupting family visits, medical trips, and business activities. Families with cross-border ties face challenges. (Short-term, impact seen in 1-2 months)

Impact 4: Diplomatic isolation. Expelling diplomats, reducing diplomatic presence, and seeking global review of loans weaken Pakistan’s international standing, making it harder to gain support on forums like the UN Security Council. (Long-term, impact seen in 1-3 years)

Impact 5: Air travel disruptions. Banning Pakistani airlines from Indian airspace forces longer flight routes, increasing costs for Pakistan’s airlines and passengers. (Short-term, impact seen in 1-6 months)

Impact 6: Increased domestic pressure. The perception of India’s strong response and Pakistan’s denial of involvement may fuel public frustration in Pakistan, putting pressure on its government to act or negotiate. (Short-term, impact seen in 2-4 months)

These actions and their impacts show India’s intent to pressure Pakistan economically, diplomatically, and socially while signaling a tough stance against terrorism. The situation remains tense, with global calls for de-escalation to prevent further conflict.

Whispers of Simplicity: Doesn’t matter! Just come as you are

In a world lit by the soft flicker of oil lamps, where electricity was a distant dream, Jaisi Ho Vaisi Hi Aa Jao from Gulzar in Conversation with Tagore emerges like a gentle breeze carrying the scent of earth and longing. Crafted by Gulzar, inspired by the poetic spirit of Rabindranath Tagore, this song is a delicate ode to love’s purest form—unadorned, unguarded, and utterly human. Sung with a tender lilt, it paints a rustic tableau of a woman preparing for her beloved, her heart caught between anticipation and the beauty of being herself. Its central theme is a celebration of authenticity, where love cherishes the soul over superficial adornments, set against a backdrop of village simplicity and nature’s embrace. This prose weaves the song’s poetry into a tapestry of emotions, inviting every reader to feel its warmth, its innocence, and its timeless grace.

A Rustic Canvas of Dreams

Imagine a village at dusk, where the sky blushes with the last hues of day, and the air hums with the rhythm of life untouched by modernity. The song opens with a whimsical prelude—a rustic man, a dihati, crossing a sunlit field, a bundle of jaggery atop his head. As the sun climbs, the jaggery melts, sweet droplets falling to his forehead, and he, in innocent wonder, licks them with his tongue, marveling at the poetry of Tagore that seems to have sweetened his simple world. This image sets the tone: a world where the ordinary becomes magical, where life’s small moments—melting jaggery, a buzzing bee—carry the weight of poetry. Gulzar’s words, infused with Tagore’s spirit, transform the mundane into a canvas of wonder, inviting us to see beauty in the unpolished.

The song shifts to a woman’s heart, poised at the hearth of her home, where a fire crackles and smoke stings her eyes. “Saanjhya puja ho jaye” (“Let the evening prayers be done”), she murmurs, her thoughts on her beloved, who is near, perhaps just beyond the horizon. The setting is humble—a clay hearth, a lamp’s trembling flame, the scent of earth after rain. Yet, it’s alive with emotion: the sting of smoke, the thrill of waiting, the quiet joy of knowing he’s coming. This is no grand stage but a village home, where love is woven into daily rituals, where anticipation is as sacred as prayer. The song’s beauty lies in its rootedness, its ability to make a simple hearth feel like a temple of longing.

The Heart’s Gentle Plea

At its core, Jaisi Ho Vaisi Hi Aa Jao is a lover’s tender call, spoken through the voice of a man who sees beyond the surface. “Jaisi ho vaisi hi aa jao, singaar ko rehne do” (“Come as you are, let adornments be”). These words are a melody of acceptance, a vow that loves her essence, not her embellishments. The refrain is like a heartbeat, steady and warm, urging her to step forward without fear of imperfection. Her hair may be tousled, her maang (parting) uncombed, her blouse’s laces untied—“to bhi koi baat nahi” (“it doesn’t matter”). The simplicity of these lines is their power; they strip away the need for pretense, celebrating her as she is, raw and real.

The imagery is vivid, earthy, and alive. Her feet, kissed by dew-soaked soil, may falter, her anklet’s bells may fall—yet, he insists, it’s no matter. The village around them breathes with life: clouds gather in the sky, birds rise from the riverbank, their wings a chorus of freedom. Nature mirrors her heart—untamed, vibrant, unadorned. The singaar diya (lamp of adornment), lit in hope, flickers in the breeze, its flame trembling like her nervous anticipation. Gulzar’s poetry, inspired by Tagore, paints her not as a polished ideal but as a daughter of the earth, her beauty in her flaws, her grace in her unguarded moments.

The song’s tenderness deepens as it acknowledges her unspoken worries. “Kisko pata hai palkon tale, diya ka kaajal laga nahi” (“Who knows if kohl lines your eyes?”). Her lashes may lack kohl, her braid may miss its jasmine garland—“to chhodo” (“let it be”). These lines are a lover’s reassurance, a whisper that her imperfections are cherished, that her presence is enough. The absence of adornments—kohl, garlands, ribbons—becomes a symbol of her authenticity, a rejection of the world’s demand for polished perfection. In a time when women lit lamps to adorn themselves, this song redefines beauty, placing it in the heart’s quiet truth.

A Love Beyond the Mirror

The song’s central theme is a love that transcends appearances, rooted in the simplicity of rural life and the wisdom of Tagore’s philosophy. It speaks to a time before electricity, when lamps cast soft shadows and women adorned themselves with nature’s gifts—dewdrops, earth, the glow of anticipation. Yet, the beloved’s voice insists that these adornments are secondary; her true singaar is her soul, her courage to be herself. This is a love that doesn’t demand—she need not rush to perfect her appearance, need not hide her natural state. It’s a love that waits, patient and kind, like the river that flows beyond their village, steady in its course.

The poetry is playful yet profound, teasing her gently for her worries while lifting her up. The repetition of “to bhi koi baat nahi” (it doesn’t matter, just let the adornments be) is like a smile, a reassurance that her fears are small in the face of his devotion. The imagery of clouds, birds, and trembling lamps weaves nature into their story, suggesting that their love is as organic as the world around them. Gulzar’s words carry Tagore’s spirit—his belief in the beauty of the human spirit, unadorned and free. The song feels like a conversation across time, where Gulzar channels Tagore’s reverence for simplicity, crafting a love song that feels eternal.

The woman, though unnamed, is every woman—her heart racing as she prepares for her beloved, her hands pausing over unfinished tasks. She’s not a distant ideal but a living, breathing soul, her breath quickening as she imagines his arrival. The song invites us to see her—to feel the dew on her feet, the smoke in her eyes, the flutter of her heart. It’s a universal story, one that resonates with anyone who has ever felt the nervous joy of being seen, truly seen, by someone they love. The innocence lies in its purity—no trace of lust or possession, just a call to be authentic, to step into love as one is.

A Glow That Endures

The beauty of Jaisi Ho Vaisi Hi Aa Jao, singaar ko rehne do (Come just as you are, let the adornments be) is its ability to make the ordinary sacred. The village setting—its hearth, its river, its flickering lamps—becomes a stage for a love that needs no grandeur. The melody, soft and folk-like, feels like a lullaby, carrying the listener to a time when life was slower, when love was a quiet promise rather than a loud declaration. Gulzar’s lyrics, steeped in Tagore’s reverence for the human spirit, are simple yet profound, each word a brushstroke on a canvas of longing and acceptance.

The song’s playfulness sparkles in its gentle teasing—her worry over uncombed hair, his insistence that it doesn’t matter. Its lyrical grace lies in its imagery: dewy earth, trembling flames, birds taking flight. Its innocence is its heart—a love that cherishes flaws, that sees beauty in the undone, the unpolished. The cultural depth, rooted in a pre-electric era, reminds us of a time when adornments were simple, when love was a meeting of souls, not surfaces. Every listener can feel the woman’s anticipation, the man’s devotion, the village’s quiet pulse, as if we, too, are waiting by the hearth, lamp in hand.

The Fading Light of Today’s Songs

In contrast, today’s music often feels like a blaze—bright but fleeting, loud but hollow. Where Jaisi Ho Vaisi Hi Aa Jao glows with innocence, modern songs chase spectacle, trading depth for flash. Lyrics lean on excess—lust, materialism, fleeting thrills—reducing love to a transaction, beauty to a checklist of polished surfaces. Music videos flaunt skin and wealth, leaving no room for the heart’s quiet truths. Respect is often an afterthought, with women portrayed as objects, not souls, far from the reverence of this song’s beloved. The poetry of simplicity, the tenderness of acceptance, the grace of authenticity—these are drowned in beats that demand attention but offer little meaning. Innocence, once a lamp’s soft glow, is now a flicker, lost to a world that prizes gloss over grace. Songs like this are rare now, their light a reminder of what love can be when it dares to be simple.

This song is a whisper from a village dusk, a call to love without pretense, to find beauty in the undone. It lingers like the scent of earth after rain, inviting us to step forward, as we are, into the arms of those who see us truly. Its glow is eternal, a testament to the poetry of being human.

Sarla Mudgal Case: A Fight for Hindu Women’s Rights Against a System Designed to Hurt Hindus

The SMT Sarla Mudgal, President, Kalyani & Ors. vs. Union of India & Ors. case is a very important court case in India. It happened in 1995, and it shows the pain and suffering of Hindu women because of unfair laws and practices that came from British times, continued by the Congress government, and misused by some Muslims to hurt Hindus. This case is a big example of how Hindus have been betrayed for centuries by a system that doesn’t protect them. Let’s break this down in simple words so everyone can understand what happened, why Hindus suffered, and what the Supreme Court of India said about it.

What Was the Sarla Mudgal Case About?

This case started because many Hindu women were suffering. They went to the Supreme Court of India to ask for help. The Supreme Court is the highest court in India, and people can go there when they feel their rights are being taken away. The women who filed this case were:

Sarla Mudgal: She was the president of a group called “Kalyani,” which works to help women and poor families who are in trouble.Meena Mathur: A Hindu woman whose husband cheated her.Sunita Narula (also called Fathima): She was the second wife of Meena’s husband after he converted to Islam.Geeta Rani: Another Hindu woman whose husband also left her by converting to Islam.Sushmita Ghosh: Another woman with a similar story.

These women were all Hindu wives whose husbands did something very unfair. Their husbands were Hindus when they got married, but later, they converted to Islam just to marry another woman without divorcing their first Hindu wife. Why did they do this? Because under Hindu law, a man can only have one wife (this is called monogamy). But under Muslim personal law in India, a man is allowed to have up to four wives (this is called polygamy). So, these men used this loophole to cheat their Hindu wives.

How Did This Hurt Hindu Women?

Let’s understand this with a simple example. Imagine a man named Ravi, a Hindu, marries a Hindu woman named Priya. They have a happy family with two kids. Under Hindu law, Ravi cannot marry another woman unless he divorces Priya. But one day, Ravi meets another woman, Zoya, and wants to marry her. Instead of divorcing Priya, Ravi converts to Islam and becomes Rahim. Now, as a Muslim, he claims he can marry Zoya because Muslim law allows him to have four wives. He doesn’t care about Priya’s feelings or her rights. Priya is left alone, with no support, and her family is broken. This is exactly what happened to Meena Mathur, Geeta Rani, and Sushmita Ghosh in the Sarla Mudgal case.

Here’s how this caused pain for Hindu women:

Broken Families: These Hindu women were left alone by their husbands. For example, Meena Mathur had three children with her husband Jitender Mathur. In 1988, she found out Jitender had converted to Islam and married Sunita Narula (who became Fathima). Jitender didn’t care about Meena or their kids anymore. Meena’s family was shattered, and she had no one to support her.

No Legal Protection: Under Hindu law, a man cannot marry again without divorcing his first wife. But because Jitender became a Muslim, he claimed Hindu law didn’t apply to him anymore. Meena couldn’t go to court to stop him because the law was unclear. She felt helpless.

Emotional Pain: Imagine being married to someone for years, having kids together, and then one day, your husband says, “I’m converting to Islam so I can marry someone else.” This is what happened to these women. Geeta Rani’s husband, Pradeep Kumar, even beat her so badly that her jawbone broke. Then he ran away with another woman, Deepa, after converting to Islam. Geeta was left with pain, both physical and emotional.

Financial Struggle: These women were often left with no money. For example, Sunita Narula (Fathima) said that after Jitender went back to Hinduism under pressure from Meena, he stopped supporting Sunita and their child. Sunita was a Muslim now, but she had no protection under Muslim law because Jitender went back to being Hindu. Hindu women like Meena and Geeta also got no financial help from their husbands after they converted.

Poverty Due to a Broken Judicial System: The British left India with a judicial system where justice takes years, sometimes decades, to be served. For Hindu women like Meena and Geeta, this meant years of fighting in court to get their rights. They had to pay for lawyers, court fees, and other expenses, which drained their savings and wealth. While waiting for justice, they also had to work to feed themselves, raise their children, pay for their education, and manage all household expenses alone. Many sold their gold, jewelry, and even properties to afford these costs, but justice still didn’t come in time. This pushed Hindu households into poverty, adding another layer of pain and suffering. The British designed this slow system to keep Hindus weak, and Congress did nothing to fix it, letting Hindu women struggle even more.

This case shows the deep suffering of Hindu women. They were betrayed by their husbands, and the laws in India didn’t protect them properly. The laws were unfair because they allowed men to misuse religion to escape their responsibilities.

Note: This is how Congress Govt opened up the market for legal conversions and illegal conversions, gunpoint conversions were already happening.

How Did British Rule Create This Problem?

The root of this problem goes back to the British rule in India, which lasted from the 1700s to 1947. The British wanted to control India, and they knew Hindus were the majority. To weaken Hindus, they made laws that hurt Hindu families and favored Muslims. Here’s how they did it:

Divide and Rule Policy: The British wanted to keep Hindus and Muslims fighting so they wouldn’t unite against British rule. After the 1857 Revolt, where many Hindus fought against the British, the British decided to favor Muslims. They saw Muslims as allies because some Muslims didn’t fully support the revolt. This was the start of a British-Muslim alliance that hurt Hindus.

Unfair Laws: The British made laws that encouraged Hindus to convert to Islam or Christianity. For example:

Caste Disabilities Removal Act, 1850: If a Hindu converted to Islam or Christianity, they could still take their family’s property. This tempted many Hindus to convert, leaving their Hindu families poor.Special Marriage Act, 1872: This law allowed inter-religion marriages, often leading to conversions to Christianity. Muslims didn’t use this law much because they had their own Shariat laws, but Hindus were targeted.

Allowing Muslim Polygamy: The British let Muslims follow their personal laws, which allowed polygamy. But Hindus were forced to follow stricter laws. This created an unfair system where a Hindu man could convert to Islam to marry more women, but a Hindu woman had no way to stop him.

The British wanted to weaken Hindu society, and they succeeded by creating these laws. Hindu families were broken, and Hindu women suffered the most.

(Many film stars, businessmen and politicians also got converted to Islam to marry another woman without divorcing first wife. Not just common man). Dharmendra, Hema Malini, Mahesh Bhatt, Sharmila Tagore, etc all sound Hindu names but are actually converted to Islam.

How Did Congress Continue This Betrayal?

After India became independent in 1947, the Congress party, led by leaders like Jawaharlal Nehru and Mahatma Gandhi, ruled the country for many years. But instead of fixing the unfair laws made by the British, Congress made things worse for Hindus. Here’s how:

No Uniform Civil Code: The Indian Constitution (Article 44) says the government should make a Uniform Civil Code (UCC). This means one law for all religions—no separate laws for Hindus, Muslims, or Christians. A UCC would stop men from misusing Muslim laws to marry multiple women. But Congress never made this law. Nehru himself said in 1954, “The time is not ripe for a Uniform Civil Code.” Even after 41 years, by 1995 when the Sarla Mudgal case happened, Congress still didn’t act. They kept Muslim personal laws to please Muslim voters, but this hurt Hindu women like Meena and Geeta.

Note: (We need Uniform Civil Code for many reasons, this is just one of them)

Favoring Muslims Over Hindus: Congress continued the British policy of favoring Muslims. For example, in the Shah Bano case (1985), a Muslim woman named Shah Bano asked for maintenance money after her divorce. The Supreme Court said she should get it, but Congress passed a new law to cancel the court’s decision. This showed Congress cared more about Muslim votes than justice for women, whether Muslim or Hindu. Muslims came on streets to protest against giving maintenance money for Shah Bano. Why? Because in every Muslim house there will be 4 Shah Banos. Imagine how many women each man will have to pay for if every time a Muslim women went our constitutional courts instead of their Shariat law!

Ignoring Hindu Pain: Congress leaders knew Hindu women were suffering because of these loopholes, but they did nothing. They wanted to look “secular” (treating all religions equally), but in reality, they favored Muslims and Christians over Hindus. This left Hindu women like Meena Mathur and Geeta Rani with no protection.

Congress betrayed Hindus by not fixing the broken system. They let Hindu women suffer just to keep their political power.

Why Is This Anti-Muslim?

The Sarla Mudgal case also shows how Muslims misused their personal laws to hurt Hindus. Here’s why this case has an anti-Muslim angle:

Misusing Religion for Wrong Reasons: The husbands in this case, like Jitender Mathur and Pradeep Kumar, didn’t convert to Islam because they truly believed in it. They converted only to marry another woman. This was not about faith—it was about cheating their Hindu wives. They used Muslim law as a tool to escape Hindu law, which doesn’t allow a second marriage without divorce.

No Respect for Hindu Wives: These men didn’t care about the pain they caused their Hindu wives. For example, Jitender Mathur left Meena and their three children without any support. Pradeep Kumar beat Geeta Rani and then ran away with Deepa after converting to Islam. This shows a lack of respect for Hindu women and their rights.

Muslim Law Used to Harm Hindus: Muslim personal law in India allows a man to have four wives. While this might be okay for Muslims who follow their faith, it becomes a problem when Hindu men misuse it to cheat their wives. The Sarla Mudgal case shows how this law was used to hurt Hindu families, not to help Muslims practice their religion.

What Did the Supreme Court Say?

The Supreme Court heard the case in 1995, and the judges were Justice Kuldip Singh and Justice R.M. Sahai. They gave a very important judgment that supported Hindu women and tried to fix this unfair system. Here’s what they said, explained in simple words:

The Main Questions the Court Answered

The court had to answer two big questions:

Can a Hindu man convert to Islam and marry another woman without divorcing his Hindu wife?If he does this, is he breaking the law under Section 494 of the Indian Penal Code (IPC)?

Section 494 of the IPC is a law that says if a person marries again while their first spouse is still alive, they are committing a crime called bigamy. They can go to jail for up to seven years.

The Court’s Decision

The Supreme Court said:

The Second Marriage Is Invalid: A Hindu man cannot convert to Islam and marry another woman without divorcing his first Hindu wife. The second marriage is not legal. For example, Jitender Mathur’s marriage to Sunita Narula (Fathima) was not valid because he didn’t divorce Meena Mathur first.

The Husband Is Guilty of Bigamy: The court said that if a Hindu man does this, he is breaking the law under Section 494 of the IPC. So, men like Jitender Mathur and Pradeep Kumar were guilty of bigamy and could be punished.

Conversion Doesn’t End the First Marriage: Just because a man converts to Islam doesn’t mean his first Hindu marriage is over. The Hindu marriage can only end if there is a proper divorce under Hindu law. For example, Jitender was still married to Meena even after he became a Muslim.

Need for a Uniform Civil Code: The court said India needs a Uniform Civil Code (UCC) to stop these problems. A UCC would mean one law for everyone, so men can’t misuse Muslim laws to cheat their Hindu wives. The court was upset that Congress hadn’t made this law even after 41 years of independence.

Why This Was Good for Hindus

The Supreme Court’s decision was a big win for Hindu women:

Protection for Hindu Wives: The court said Hindu women like Meena and Geeta have rights. Their husbands can’t just convert to Islam and marry someone else. This gave Hindu women some safety and respect.

Stopping the Misuse of Religion: The court stopped men from misusing Islam to cheat their wives. This was a strong message that religion cannot be used to hurt others.

Pushing for Fair Laws: By asking for a Uniform Civil Code, the court told the government to make laws that treat everyone equally. This would stop the unfair treatment of Hindus that started with the British and continued under Congress.

The Supreme Court Judgment (Simplified)

Here’s a simplified version of what the Supreme Court wrote in its judgment:

Justice Kuldip Singh said: “The State shall try to make a uniform civil code for all citizens of India” (this is from Article 44 of the Constitution). This is important for national unity. Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru said in 1954 that the time wasn’t right for a UCC, but even after 41 years, the government hasn’t done anything. We hold that the second marriage of a Hindu husband after converting to Islam, without divorcing his first wife, is invalid. This second marriage breaks Section 494 of the IPC, and the husband is guilty of bigamy.

Justice R.M. Sahai said: This is a sensitive issue. We need to think about justice for everyone. A law should be made to stop people from misusing religion. For example, a rule can say that if someone changes their religion, they cannot marry again unless they divorce their first spouse. This rule should apply to everyone—Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Sikhs, Jains, or Buddhists.

The court’s judgment was clear: Hindu women deserve justice, and the system needs to change to protect them.

Note: This judgement of SC was given in the year 1995. Today we are at 2025. Even today after 30 years, UCC is still pending. Congress did nothing to change this in 41 years since independence and 19 years after this judgement. Then in 2014 Narendra Modi Government comes in power. It is working hard on passing the UCC but is facing many protests and problems from Congress, Muslims, many politicians and also entire Jihadis and Deep-State Eco-system. But we can be rest assured that it will be passed soon under PM Modi’s leadership. Congress did nothing for Hindus in 67 years, and not even after Supreme Court’s judgement.

How This Case Reflects the Pain of Hindus

The Sarla Mudgal case is like a mirror that shows the pain Hindus have faced for centuries. Here’s how:

Centuries of Betrayal: The British started this problem by making laws that hurt Hindus and favored Muslims. They wanted to weaken Hindus so they could control India easily. Congress continued this betrayal by not fixing these laws, even after independence. They cared more about votes than about Hindu women’s suffering.

Hindu Women as Victims: Hindu women like Meena, Geeta, and Sushmita are the biggest victims. They trusted their husbands, but their husbands used a loophole in Muslim law to abandon them. This broke their families, left them with no money, and caused them deep emotional pain.

Unfair System Against Hindus: The laws in India were unfair to Hindus. Hindu men were forced to follow strict rules (only one wife), but they could escape these rules by converting to Islam. Muslims had their own laws that allowed polygamy, and some misused this to hurt Hindus. Congress didn’t stop this because they wanted to look “secular,” but this hurt Hindus the most.

A Call for Justice: The Sarla Mudgal case shows that Hindus have been asking for fairness for a long time. The Supreme Court’s judgment was a small step toward justice, but it also showed how much more needs to be done. A Uniform Civil Code is still not in place, even in 2025, 30 years after this case.

Conclusion: Hindus Must Wake Up to the Truth

The Sarla Mudgal case is a loud wake-up call for Hindus. It shows how Hindus, especially Hindu women, have suffered because of a system that was designed to hurt them. The British created this system to divide and rule India. Congress continued it to keep their power, even if it meant betraying Hindus. Some people misused Muslim laws to cheat Hindu women, leaving them with broken families and no support. The Supreme Court tried to help by saying these second marriages are illegal and by asking for a Uniform Civil Code, but the government still hasn’t listened.

Hindus need to understand this truth and demand fairness. They need to push for a Uniform Civil Code so that everyone in India follows the same laws, and no one can misuse religion to hurt others. The pain of Meena Mathur, Geeta Rani, and Sushmita Ghosh is the pain of millions of Hindus. It’s time for Hindus to stand up and fight for their rights, so their families and traditions are protected from this centuries-long conspiracy.

Systematic Erasure of Hindus

Note: This is a follow-up article for (click link to read this article) The Systematic Erasure of Hindus: A Centuries-Long Conspiracy by British, Congress, Muslims, and Christians

Supreme Court Judgement Copy for reference.Sarla Mudgal Kalyani vs Union of India caseDownload

Whispers on the Village Path: The Soul of Kaun Disha Mein

The song Kaun Disha Mein Leke Chala Re Batuhiya from Nadiya Ke Paar (1982), sung by Jaspal Singh and Hemlata with Ravindra Jain’s soulful lyrics and folk melody, is a tender duet that captures the playful, innocent budding of a connection between Gunja and Chandan, the film’s protagonists. Set on a rustic village path, it weaves a story of two young hearts on a journey—literal and emotional—through teasing banter, shy glances, and heartfelt curiosity. Its beauty lies in its simplicity, its charm in the lighthearted push-and-pull of their growing bond, and its timelessness in celebrating love’s purity. Below, I weave the essence of each verse, highlighting the innocence, playfulness, lyrical grace, and cultural values that make this song a treasure.

The Song’s Soul: A Path of Playful Innocence

The song begins with Gunja’s soft, curious voice: “Kaun disha mein leke chala re batuhiya?” (“Which direction are you taking me, traveler?”). The question is a melody in itself, light and lilting, as if she’s half-wondering, half-teasing Chandan, her guide on this journey. Batuhiya, a tender rural term for a wayfarer, feels like a nickname, warm and familiar despite their new acquaintance. Repeated like a gentle refrain, it sets the stage for a journey not just across village paths but into each other’s hearts. The simplicity here is enchanting—no grand promises, just a girl’s curiosity about where this stranger, Chandan, is leading her.

Gunja’s plea, “E thehar thehar, yeh suhaani si dagar, zara dekhan de” (“Wait, this lovely path, let me see it”), is a burst of childlike wonder. The dagar (path) is suhaani—beautiful, alive with the charm of rural life—and she wants to pause, to soak in its magic. It’s as if the path mirrors her heart, alive with new feelings she’s just beginning to understand.

Chandan’s reply, “Kahin gaye jo thehar, din jayega guzar, gaadi haakan de” (“If you stop, the day will pass, keep moving”), is a gentle nudge, practical but laced with humor. Their exchange is a playful dance—her urging to linger, him teasing her to move on—like two friends tossing pebbles into a stream, each ripple a smile. The innocence shines in their light banter, free of any boldness, just pure, joyful connection.

Gunja sings, “Man bharmaaye naina baandhe yeh dagariya” (“This path bewilders my heart, binds my eyes”), her words painting a picture of enchantment. The dagariya (little path) isn’t just earth and dust; it’s a spell, weaving dreams in her soul, her eyes caught not just by the scenery but by Chandan’s presence. This line is lyrical poetry, simple yet profound, capturing the flutter of youth and attraction without a hint of impropriety. It’s the song’s magic—turning a walk into a moment of wonder, innocent and untouched.

Strangers Blossoming into Companions

The second verse deepens their bond: “Pehali baar hum nikale hain ghar se, kisi anjaane ke sang ho” (“For the first time, I’ve left home with a stranger”). Gunja’s voice carries a mix of thrill and shyness, as if stepping out with Chandan is an adventure, bold yet bashful in their rural world. Leaving home with an anjaana (stranger) is a leap, but the song keeps it pure, her courage wrapped in modesty.

Chandan responds, “Anjaane se pehchaan badhegi toh, mehak uthega tora ang ho” (“As familiarity grows, your being will bloom like fragrance”). His words are a gentle promise, mehak (fragrance) a poetic stand-in for the warmth of connection. Love here is subtle, like a flower opening to the sun, not loud or demanding.

Gunja teases back, “Mahak se tu kahin behak na jaana” (“Don’t let this fragrance lead you astray”), her tone playful, a mock warning to keep him in line.

Chandan retorts, “Na karana mohe tang ho, tang karne ka tose naata hai guzariya” (“Don’t trouble me, teasing is your habit, oh traveler”). His use of guzariya (passerby) mirrors her batuhiya, a playful echo that ties them closer. Their banter is the song’s heartbeat—light, flirtatious, yet chaste, like children chasing each other through fields. The innocence lies in their teasing, a game of words that builds trust without crossing boundaries, making every listener smile at its purity.

Names and the Warmth of Belonging

The third verse brings a tender intimacy of names and the warmth of growing closer. Gunja’s voice, soft and curious, begins: “Kitni door abhi, kitni door hai, yeh Chandan tora gaanv ho” (“How far is it, how far, Chandan, to your village?”). Her words are a gentle reach toward him, calling him by name—Chandan—a personal, almost shy gesture in their rural world. The village isn’t just a destination; it’s a dream, a quiet hope for a shared future, her heart wondering where this journey with him might lead. Her tone is playful yet earnest, like a breeze carrying a question she’s only beginning to understand. The innocence here is in her simplicity—she’s not demanding answers, just imagining a place tied to him, her curiosity as pure as a child’s.

Chandan responds, his voice warm with a hint of teasing: “Kitna apana lagane lage, jab koi bulaaye naam ho” (“How close it feels when someone calls your name”). These lines glow with the magic of recognition. In a village, a name is a bridge, a moment of belonging, and Chandan’s delight in saying “Gunja” is a quiet confession of affection. He’s noticing how her name on his lips feels like home, a subtle shift from strangers to something more. The playfulness lies in his gentle nudge—acknowledging the warmth of her name without boldness, keeping their bond light and respectful. This exchange captures the song’s lyrical grace: love isn’t declared; it’s woven into small, sacred acts like calling a name.

Gunja, ever the tease, counters: “Naam na leto kya kah ke bulaaye, kaise karaye kaam ho” (“If you don’t take my name, what will you call me—how will this work?”). Her words are a playful challenge, her tone mock-serious, as if daring him to find a substitute for her name. The line “Kaise karaye kaam ho” adds a touch of humor, suggesting that without her name, their connection might falter—a lighthearted jab that keeps the banter alive. Her teasing is innocent, a way to draw him closer without crossing the boundaries of their modest world.

Chandan rises to the challenge, his voice brimming with charm: “Saathi, mitwa ya anaari kaho goriya” (“Call you friend, beloved, or clumsy one, fair lady”). This cascade of endearments—saathi (companion), mitwa (dear friend), anaari (clumsy) — is a poetic bouquet, each word a playful nod to their growing bond. Goriya (fair one) adds a folksy sweetness, grounding their flirtation in the rustic warmth of their village. His response is a masterstroke of teasing, respectful yet mischievous, painting him as a suitor who woos with wit, not dominance. The innocence shines in how their attraction dances through words, never heavy or forward, like sunlight flickering through leaves.

The verse closes with Chandan’s practical yet playful refrain: “Kahin gaye jo thehar, din jayega guzar, gaadi haakan de” (“If you stop, the day will pass, keep moving”), urging the journey forward, followed by Gunja’s lingering question, “Kaun disha mein leke chala re batuhiya?” (“Which direction are you taking me, traveler?”). Their voices intertwine, her curiosity and his guidance a perfect balance, reflecting the song’s core value: a shared path, walked with trust and joy.

Youth, Promises, and Sacred Bonds

The final verse deepens their connection, weaving longing, tradition, and the fleeting beauty of youth. Chandan’s voice breaks the silence: “E Gunja, us din tori sakhiyaan, karti thi kya baat ho” (“Oh Gunja, what were your friends saying that day?”). His use of her name is intimate, a soft caress, and his question is coy, as if he’s caught whispers of her friends’ matchmaking. The playfulness here is subtle—he’s probing, teasing her about rumors of affection, his tone warm with curiosity. In their village, such gossip is a spark, a sign that their bond is noticed, and Chandan’s question carries the weight of hope.

Gunja answers, her voice shy yet steady: “Kehti thi tore saath chalan ko, aa gaye hum tore saath ho” (“They said to walk with you, and here I am with you”). Her words are a quiet vow, her presence beside him proof of her choice. There’s no grand declaration, just the simplicity of being there, a promise in her footsteps. The innocence lies in her restraint—she doesn’t confess love outright but lets her actions speak, a reflection of rural values where commitment grows slowly, with respect. Her tone carries a hint of pride, as if she’s delighted to have followed her friends’ nudge, her heart alight with the adventure of being with Chandan.

Chandan’s voice turns reflective: “Saath adhoora tab tak jab tak, poore na ho phere saat ho” (“Our companionship is incomplete until the seven rounds are taken”). These lines anchor the song in tradition, referencing the phere saat (seven wedding vows) of a Hindu marriage. His words are a reminder of their world’s values—love is sacred, requiring patience and ritual, not haste or impulse. Yet, there’s tenderness in his tone, as if he’s dreaming of that future with her, his respect for her evident in his restraint. This moment is the song’s moral heart, celebrating a love that waits, pure and honorable.

Gunja responds, her voice tinged with bittersweet joy: “Ab hi to humari hai baali re umariya” (“This is the time of our youthful age”). The phrase baali umariya (youthful age) is a poetic sigh, acknowledging that their youth is fleeting, making this moment of carefree connection precious. Her words are a gentle plea to cherish now, to savor the lightness of their journey before life’s responsibilities settle in. The innocence here is profound—her awareness of time’s passage doesn’t dim her joy but deepens it, like a flower blooming under a setting sun.

The song circles back to its refrain—Gunja’s “E thehar thehar, yeh suhaani si dagar, zara dekhan de” (“Wait, this lovely path, let me see it”) and “Kaun disha mein leke chala re batuhiya?”—leaving their story open, a path stretching toward hope. Her voice, paired with Chandan’s earlier urging to move forward, creates a harmony of pause and progress, a testament to their shared journey.

The Song’s Timeless Charm

Kaun Disha Mein Leke Chala is a treasure because it captures the heart’s quietest hopes with the lightest touch. Its innocence is its crown—Gunja and Chandan’s attraction is a whisper, not a shout, expressed through teasing glances and poetic words, never bold or improper. The playfulness is like village laughter, bubbling up in their banter, each jab a step closer to trust. The lyrical grace lies in its folk simplicity—dagariya, mehak, batuhiya—words that paint a world of dusty trails, open skies, and shy smiles. Their teasing is equal, respectful, a dance where both lead and follow, lifting each other’s spirits.

The rural setting is the song’s canvas—the dagariya a stage for their story, alive with the charm of youth and discovery. The song’s values—trust, patience, mutual respect—reflect a culture where love grows slowly, rooted in shared moments. Its folk melody, with its gentle rhythm and traditional instruments, feels like a breeze through fields, soothing and eternal. The childlike wonder—pausing to admire a path, delighting in a name—makes it universal, a reminder that love begins in small, pure joys.

The Fading Innocence of Today’s Music

In contrast, today’s music often feels like a storm, drowning – loud, hollow, and fleeting. Where Kaun Disha Mein sings of innocence, modern songs chase instant thrills, trading depth for noise. Lyrics glorify excess—lust, greed, intoxication—reducing love to transactions, bodies to spectacles, and respect to afterthoughts. Music videos flaunt nudity and materialism, leaving no room for imagination or heart. The warmth of teasing, the patience of connection, the poetry of a shared path—these are drowned in brash beats and crude words. Women are often disrespected, portrayed as objects, not equals, far from the mutual playfulness of Gunja and Chandan. Innocence, once a melody, is now a whisper, lost to a culture that mistakes boldness for meaning. Songs like Kaun Disha Mein are rare now, glowing with a purity that modern music rarely dares to dream.

This song is a memory of when love was a journey, not a race—a path where two hearts could tease, dream, and grow, hand in hand, under a village sky. Its beauty lies in what it holds back—space for hope, for wonder, for a love yet to bloom.

Paper Boats in the Rain: A Song of Lost Childhood

Monsoons of Memory

The song Ye Daulat Bhi Le Lo, sung with soul-stirring grace by Jagjit Singh and Chitra Singh, is a timeless ghazal that weaves a tapestry of nostalgia, longing, and the irreplaceable beauty of childhood. Written by Sudarshan Faakir, its verses are a poetic lament for the lost innocence of youth, a yearning for the simplicity and joy that no wealth or fame can replace. Each verse is a delicate brushstroke, painting memories so vivid they tug at the heart, evoking a universal ache for a time when life was unburdened by the complexities of adulthood. Below, I unravel the song verse by verse, exploring its lyrical beauty, deep meaning, and the people and moments it longs for, in a simple, poetic, and flowy manner.

ये दौलत भी ले लो ये शोहरत भी ले लो
भले छीन लो मुझ से मेरी जवानी
मगर मुझ को लौटा दो बचपन का सावन
वो काग़ज़ की कश्ती वो बारिश का पानी

Translation: Take my wealth, take my fame,
Take even my youth, let it wane.
But give me back my childhood’s monsoon,
The paper boats, the rain’s gentle tune.

Beauty and Meaning:

The first verse sets the tone of the song, a poignant barter with fate. The speaker is willing to surrender everything society deems valuable—riches, recognition, even the vigor of youth—for the fleeting, priceless moments of childhood. The imagery of “बचपन का सावन” (childhood’s monsoon) evokes a season of abundance, joy, and renewal, while “काग़ज़ की कश्ती” (paper boats) and “बारिश का पानी” (rainwater) are universal symbols of innocent play. These simple acts—folding a paper boat and watching it sail in a rain-soaked puddle—carry a purity that adult achievements cannot rival. The refrain is a cry from the heart, longing for a time when happiness was effortless, untainted by ambition or loss. Jagjit and Chitra Singh’s voices, tender yet heavy with yearning, make this plea feel like a whispered prayer, resonating with anyone who has ever missed the child they once were.

मोहल्ले की सब से पुरानी निशानी
वो बुढ़िया जिसे बच्चे कहते थे नानी
वो नानी की बातों में परियों का डेरा
वो चेहरे की झुर्रियों में सदियों का फेरा
भुलाए नहीं भूल सकता है कोई
वो छोटी सी रातें वो लम्बी कहानी

Translation: The neighborhood’s oldest trace,
That old woman we called Grandma with grace.
Her tales held a world of fairies’ delight,
Her wrinkles wove centuries in the night.
No one can forget, though they try as they might,
Those short nights, those stories that stretched till light.

Beauty and Meaning: This verse is a tender ode to the grandmotherly figure, a universal symbol of love and storytelling. The “बुढ़िया” (old woman) is not just a person but a monument of the past, the “पुरानी निशानी” (oldest trace) of a neighborhood alive with memories. She is the keeper of magic, her stories of fairies (“परियों का डेरा”) transporting children to enchanted realms. The wrinkles on her face are not mere lines but a map of time, carrying “सदियों का फेरा” (the cycle of centuries), suggesting wisdom and endurance. The verse captures the intimacy of childhood nights, when time seemed endless, and a single story could stretch into eternity. The longing here is for that unconditional love, the safety of a grandmother’s lap, and the wonder of tales that made the world feel vast yet secure. The Singhs’ voices, soft and evocative, cradle these lines like a lullaby, making the listener ache for those lost evenings.

कड़ी धूप में अपने घर से निकलना
वो चिड़ियाँ वो बुलबुल वो तितली पकड़ना
वो गुड़िया की शादी में लड़ना झगड़ना
वो झूलों से गिरना वो गिर के सँभलना
वो पीतल के छल्लों के प्यारे से तोहफ़े
वो टूटी हुई चूड़ियों की निशानी

Translation: Stepping out in the scorching sun’s blaze,
Chasing sparrows, bulbuls, butterflies in a daze.
Fighting, bickering at a doll’s wedding play,
Falling from swings, then rising anyway.
Those brass rings, treasures so dear,
Those broken bangles, keepsakes we revere.

Beauty and Meaning: This verse is a vibrant collage of childhood’s carefree adventures. The act of “कड़ी धूप में अपने घर से निकलना” (stepping out in the harsh sun) reflects the fearless spontaneity of children, undeterred by discomfort. Chasing birds and butterflies symbolizes a child’s curiosity, a desire to grasp the fleeting beauty of the world. The “गुड़िया की शादी” (doll’s wedding) evokes playful rituals, where children mimic adult traditions with earnestness and occasional squabbles, a microcosm of innocence. Falling from swings and getting back up mirrors the resilience of youth, a metaphor for a time when setbacks were temporary. The “पीतल के छल्ले” (brass rings) and “टूटी हुई चूड़ियाँ” (broken bangles) are humble treasures, cherished not for their worth but for the memories they hold. The verse longs for a life unburdened by adult responsibilities, where joy was found in the smallest things. The Singhs’ rendition, with its gentle ebb and flow, feels like a breeze carrying these memories back to life.

कभी रेत के ऊँचे टीलों पे जाना
घरौंदे बनाना बना के मिटाना
वो मा’सूम चाहत की तस्वीर अपनी
वो ख़्वाबों-ख़यालों की जागीर अपनी
न दुनिया का ग़म था न रिश्तों का बंधन
बड़ी ख़ूबसूरत थी वो ज़िंदगानी

Translation: Climbing high on dunes of sand,
Building castles, then breaking them by hand.
That innocent longing, a picture so pure,
Those dreams and fancies, a kingdom secure.
No worldly sorrows, no ties that bind,
How beautiful was that life, so kind.

Beauty and Meaning: The final verse is a wistful reflection on the boundless imagination of childhood. Building and destroying sandcastles (“घरौंदे बनाना बना के मिटाना”) captures the transient yet joyful creativity of youth, where the act of creation was enough, and destruction held no regret. These acts reflect “मा’सूम चाहत” (innocent longing), a desire untainted by greed or permanence. The “ख़्वाबों-ख़यालों की जागीर” (kingdom of dreams and thoughts) is a child’s mind, a realm where anything is possible. The verse mourns a time free from “दुनिया का ग़म” (worldly sorrows) and “रिश्तों का बंधन” (the bonds of relationships), when life was a canvas of freedom and wonder. The closing line, “बड़ी ख़ूबसूरत थी वो ज़िंदगानी” (how beautiful was that life), is a quiet sigh, a recognition that no adult achievement can rival that simplicity. Jagjit and Chitra Singh’s voices, layered with melancholy and reverence, make this verse feel like a farewell to a paradise lost.

The People and Moments Longed For:

The song is a love letter to childhood itself, but it also longs for specific figures and moments that defined it:

The Grandmother (Nani): She represents unconditional love, wisdom, and the magic of storytelling. The longing for her is a yearning for comfort, security, and the belief in a world where fairies exist.The Playmates and Neighborhood: The children who fought over doll weddings or chased butterflies together symbolize camaraderie and shared joy. The neighborhood is a lost community, a place where every corner held a memory.The Self of Childhood: Above all, the song longs for the child within—the one who found joy in paper boats, brass rings, and sandcastles, unburdened by the weight of adult life.The Deeper Meaning:

At its core, Ye Daulat Bhi Le Lo is a meditation on what truly matters. It challenges the societal obsession with wealth and fame, suggesting that the true treasures of life are the fleeting, intangible moments of childhood. The song speaks to the universal human experience of growing up and losing touch with innocence, yet it also offers solace by immortalizing those memories in verse. It reminds us that while we cannot return to the past, we can carry its beauty in our hearts, finding joy in remembering.

The Beauty of Jagjit and Chitra Singh’s Rendition:

The ghazal’s emotional depth is amplified by Jagjit and Chitra Singh’s soulful delivery. Jagjit’s voice, rich with longing, feels like a man reminiscing under a moonlit sky, while Chitra’s softer, wistful tone adds a layer of tenderness, like a mother recalling her child’s laughter. Their interplay mirrors the song’s duality—grief for what’s lost and gratitude for what was. The minimalistic instrumentation, typical of their ghazals, lets the words and emotions shine, making each verse feel like a memory whispered directly to the listener.

In its simplicity and universality, Ye Daulat Bhi Le Lo is a gem that transcends time, inviting us to pause, remember, and cherish the child within us all.

The Divine Light of Adi Shankaracharya: A Journey of Wisdom and Unity

In the heart of ancient India, where rivers whispered sacred hymns and mountains stood as silent sages, a luminous soul was born to illuminate the path of truth. Adi Shankaracharya, the divine philosopher, saint, and poet, emerged as a beacon of wisdom, uniting the scattered threads of Hindu thought into a tapestry of eternal unity. His life, a celestial melody, resonates through time, guiding seekers toward the infinite. From his humble beginnings to his final breath, Shankaracharya’s journey was a pilgrimage of the soul, weaving devotion, knowledge, and unity across the land. This is his story—flowing like the sacred Ganga, divine as the morning sun, and beautiful as the lotus in bloom.

A Star is Born: The Childhood of Shankaracharya

In the serene village of Kalady, nestled along the Periyar River in Kerala, around 788 CE, a divine child was born to a devout Brahmin couple, Shivaguru and Aryamba. Named Shankara, meaning “bestower of auspiciousness,” the boy was a gift from Lord Shiva himself, granted after years of fervent prayers. From his earliest days, Shankara’s brilliance shone like the rising sun, his eyes sparkling with a wisdom far beyond his years.

A Prodigy’s Beginnings: By age three, Shankara recited Vedic hymns with flawless precision, astonishing the village elders. His mother, Aryamba, nurtured his spiritual curiosity, while his father, Shivaguru, introduced him to the scriptures.The Call of Destiny: At five, tragedy struck when Shivaguru passed away. Yet, young Shankara’s resolve grew stronger. He performed his father’s last rites with grace, displaying maturity that moved all who witnessed it.A Sacred Vow: By eight, Shankara felt the pull of renunciation. With his mother’s reluctant blessing, he took sannyasa (monastic vows), promising to dedicate his life to the pursuit of truth.

As a young sannyasi, Shankara’s heart sang of the divine, his mind sharp as a diamond, cutting through illusion. His journey was about to unfold, a sacred pilgrimage that would transform the spiritual landscape of India.

The Quest for Truth: Meeting the Guru

With a heart full of devotion and a mind seeking the ultimate truth, Shankara wandered north to the banks of the Narmada River. There, in a cave at Omkareshwar, he met his guru, Govinda Bhagavatpada, a sage steeped in the wisdom of Advaita (non-dualism).

The Guru’s Grace: Under Govinda’s guidance, Shankara mastered the Upanishads, Bhagavad Gita, and Brahma Sutras. His guru recognized him as a divine incarnation, destined to revive the eternal truths of Sanatana Dharma.The Spark of Advaita: Govinda taught Shankara the essence of Advaita Vedanta—that the individual soul (Atman) and the universal consciousness (Brahman) are one. This truth became the cornerstone of Shankara’s philosophy.

In the stillness of the cave, Shankara composed his first verses, his words flowing like a river of light:

आत्मा त्वं गिरिजा मतिः सहचराः प्राणाः शरीरं गृहम्
पूजा ते विषयोपभोगरचना निद्रा समाधिस्थितिः

Atma tvam girija matih sahacharah pranah shariram griham
Puja te vishayopabhogarachana nidra samadhisthitih)

Translation: You are the Self, O Goddess, the mind is your companion, the senses are your attendants, the body is your home. Worship is the enjoyment of sense objects, and sleep is the state of samadhi.

Meaning: In this verse from Saundarya Lahari, Shankara reveals the divine unity underlying all existence, where every aspect of life is an offering to the Supreme.

These verses, radiant with insight, marked the beginning of Shankara’s mission to awaken humanity to the truth of oneness.

Walking the Land: Uniting a Nation

At sixteen, Shankara set forth on a divine mission to revive Hinduism, which had fragmented under the weight of ritualism and competing philosophies. Barefoot, with only a staff and a heart full of love for Brahman, he walked across India, from the snow-capped Himalayas to the southern shores of Kanyakumari, uniting Hindus through the power of wisdom and devotion.

The Digvijaya Yatra: Shankara’s Digvijaya (spiritual conquest) was a journey of love, not war. He engaged in debates with scholars of every sect—Buddhists, Jains, Mimamsakas, and others—winning hearts with his logic and compassion.Establishing Unity: He founded four mathas (monasteries) in the four corners of India—Sringeri (South), Dwaraka (West), Puri (East), and Badrinath (North)—to preserve and propagate Advaita Vedanta. These mathas became beacons of spiritual learning, uniting diverse Hindu traditions.Reviving Temples and Rituals: Shankara rekindled devotion by reorganizing temple worship and composing hymns to deities like Shiva, Vishnu, and Shakti, showing that all paths lead to the same truth.

His footsteps sanctified the land, his words healed divisions, and his presence reminded all that beneath the diversity of names and forms lies the one eternal Brahman.

The Ocean of His Works: A Legacy of Light

Shankaracharya’s genius flowed through his writings, which remain a treasure trove of spiritual wisdom. His works, composed in lucid Sanskrit, are accessible yet profound, guiding both the scholar and the layman toward liberation. Let us explore his contributions, categorized for clarity, each a petal in the lotus of his legacy. His writings are more than 300 in numbers, here will cover just a few.

Stotras: Hymns of Divine Love

Shankaracharya’s stotras (devotional hymns) are rivers of bhakti, merging the heart’s devotion with the mind’s clarity. Sung in temples and homes, they awaken love for the divine.

Saundarya Lahari: A hymn to Goddess Shakti, blending devotion with tantric mysticism. Its 100 verses describe her beauty and power, guiding devotees to spiritual awakening.

Shivananda Lahari: A soul-stirring ode to Lord Shiva, expressing the ecstasy of surrender to the divine.

Bhaja Govindam: A simple yet profound call to seek God and renounce worldly attachments. Its opening verse urges:

भज गोविन्दं भज गोविन्दं गोविन्दं भक्तिमान्
(Bhaja Govindam Bhaja Govindam Govindam Bhaktiman)

Translation: Worship Govinda, worship Govinda, O devotee of Govinda!
Meaning: Shankara reminds us that true refuge lies in devotion to the divine, not in fleeting worldly pursuits.

Other Gems: Hymns like Dakshinamurti Stotra (to the silent teacher Shiva) and Annapurna Stotra (to the Goddess of nourishment) continue to inspire millions.

Commentaries: Illuminating the Scriptures

Shankara’s bhashyas (commentaries) on the Prasthanatrayi—the Upanishads, Bhagavad Gita, and Brahma Sutras—are his intellectual masterpieces, clarifying the path of Advaita.

Upanishad Bhashyas: His commentaries on the ten principal Upanishads (e.g., Chandogya, Brihadaranyaka, Mundaka) unravel the mysteries of the Self and Brahman, making complex truths accessible.

Bhagavad Gita Bhashya: Shankara’s commentary on the Gita balances karma (action), bhakti (devotion), and jnana (knowledge), showing their unity in the quest for liberation.

Brahma Sutra Bhashya: This monumental work systematizes Advaita philosophy, refuting rival schools and establishing the non-dual nature of reality. A key verse he explains:

ब्रह्म सत्यं जगन्मिथ्या जीवो ब्रह्मैव नापरः
(Brahma satyam jaganmithya jivo brahmaiva naparah)

Translation: Brahman is real, the world is illusory, and the individual soul is none other than Brahman.
Meaning: This encapsulates Advaita’s core teaching—only Brahman exists, and all else is a transient appearance.

Independent Works: Pearls of Wisdom

Shankara’s prakarana granthas (introductory texts) distill Advaita’s essence for beginners, each a stepping stone to self-realization.

Atmabodha: A concise treatise on self-knowledge, comparing the Self to a lamp that shines eternally.

आत्मबोधोऽहम् आत्मबोधोऽहम् नाहं देहो न मनो न बुद्धिः
(Atmabodho’ham atmabodho’ham naham deho na mano na buddhih)

Translation: I am self-knowledge, I am self-knowledge; I am not the body, mind, or intellect.
Meaning: Shankara guides us to identify with the eternal Self, beyond physical and mental limitations.

Vivekachudamani: A poetic masterpiece, it distinguishes the real (Brahman) from the unreal (world), urging discernment and meditation.

Upadesasahasri: A thousand teachings on the nature of the Self, blending logic and mysticism.

Other Works: Texts like Tattvabodha and Aparokshanubhuti offer clear, step-by-step guidance to liberation.

Through these works, Shankara built a bridge between the human and the divine, his words a ladder to the infinite.

The Final Ascent: His Last Breath

By his early thirties, Shankaracharya had accomplished what seemed impossible—uniting a nation, reviving a faith, and leaving a legacy that would endure for millennia. His final days are shrouded in divine mystery, with legends painting a picture of transcendence.

The Kedarnath Legend: It is said that at 32, Shankara ascended to the snowy peaks of Kedarnath in the Himalayas. There, in the presence of Lord Shiva, he merged into the eternal Brahman, his physical form dissolving into light.A Life Complete: Having fulfilled his divine mission, Shankara left behind a united Hindu tradition, a philosophy of oneness, and a treasure of writings that continue to guide humanity.

As he departed, it was as if the stars themselves wept, yet his light remained, eternal and unchanging, guiding countless souls toward truth.

His Divine Legacy: A Light That Never Fades

Adi Shankaracharya’s life was a symphony of devotion, wisdom, and unity. He walked the length and breadth of India, not as a conqueror, but as a lover of truth, stitching together a fractured faith with the thread of Advaita. His teachings remind us that we are not separate, not bound by the illusions of the world, but one with the infinite Brahman.

A United Hinduism: By establishing the mathas and standardizing worship, he gave Hinduism a cohesive identity, embracing its diversity while rooting it in unity.A Philosophy for All: Advaita Vedanta, through Shankara’s works, offers a universal path to liberation, accessible to all, regardless of caste, creed, or status.A Timeless Inspiration: His hymns and teachings continue to be chanted, studied, and lived, their simplicity touching the layman, their depth humbling the scholar.

In the quiet of dawn, when a devotee sings Bhaja Govindam, or a seeker meditates on Atmabodha, Shankaracharya’s presence is felt—a gentle whisper of divinity, a reminder that we are all one, eternal, and free.

A Poetic Farewell

O Shankara, light of the ages, your footsteps echo in the heart of India. You walked through forests and mountains, carrying the torch of truth. Your words, like stars, guide us through the night of illusion. In your hymns, we hear the divine; in your teachings, we find ourselves. You are the river that merges into the ocean, the soul that returns to Brahman. Forever, you shine, O divine master, in the lotus of our hearts.

Unveiling the Hidden Truth: Gandhi a British Spy.

Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, often called Mahatma Gandhi, is celebrated as the “Father of the Nation” in India. His image as a saintly figure leading India to freedom through nonviolence is etched in history books. But what if this image is a carefully crafted story? What if Gandhi, the man who preached swadeshi (self-reliance) and nonviolence, was not the hero we were told he was? Instead, could he have been a British agent, strategically placed to control India’s freedom struggle and ensure British interests were protected? Let’s dive into this controversial narrative, connect the dots, and explore the unsettling questions surrounding Gandhi’s role, his connections to figures like Mirabehn, and his time as Sergeant Major Gandhi in the British Army.

Gandhi’s Early Days: A Loyal Servant of the British?

To understand this story, we need to go back to Gandhi’s early life. Born in 1869 in Gujarat, Gandhi studied law in London and later moved to South Africa in 1893 to work as a lawyer. During his time in South Africa, Gandhi served in the British Army during the Boer War (1899–1902). He wasn’t just a bystander—he held the rank of Sergeant Major and helped organize an Indian Ambulance Corps to support British troops. This is a critical point: the man who later preached nonviolence was once actively aiding the British Empire in a war, ensuring their victory. Why would someone so devoted to Indian freedom start his career serving the very empire that oppressed his people?

This wasn’t a one-time act. During World War I (1914–1918), Gandhi again supported the British. When he returned to Britain from South Africa in 1914, he declared his loyalty to the British war effort and proposed raising an Indian volunteer unit. He actively recruited Indians to fight for the British, urging young men to join the army. Historians have struggled to explain why a supposed champion of nonviolence was so eager to help the British in their wars. Some argue he was a loyalist who believed in the British system; others say he was an opportunist, hoping to gain political favors. But there’s another possibility: was Gandhi acting under British instructions to prove his loyalty and build credibility for a bigger role in India?

The Mirabehn Connection: A British Shadow by Gandhi’s Side

Now, let’s connect this to another puzzling piece of the puzzle—Mirabehn, a devoted follower of Gandhi who was always by his side. Mirabehn, born Madeleine Slade, was the daughter of Sir Edmond Slade, a high-ranking British Navy officer who served as the Commander-in-Chief of the East Indies Station. Why would the daughter of a prominent British naval officer leave her privileged life in England to live in Gandhi’s ashram in India, adopting a simple lifestyle and dedicating herself to his cause?

Mirabehn arrived in India in 1925 and quickly became one of Gandhi’s closest aides. She lived with him, traveled with him, and even served as his personal assistant. On the surface, her story seems inspiring—a British woman embracing Gandhi’s ideals of simplicity and nonviolence. But let’s look closer. Her father, Edmond Slade, was a key figure in the British Empire, deeply involved in maintaining British control over India and its surrounding regions. Is it a coincidence that the daughter of such a man became Gandhi’s shadow just as he was rising as a leader in India’s freedom movement?

There’s no direct document labeling Mirabehn a British spy, but the dots are worth connecting. The British were masters at intelligence and control. They had a history of planting agents to monitor and influence movements that threatened their rule. Could Mirabehn have been a link between Gandhi and the British, ensuring he stayed within the boundaries of what the British found acceptable? Her constant presence raises questions: was she there to support Gandhi or to keep an eye on him, reporting back to British authorities through her father’s connections? This link to the British Navy, through Edmond Slade, adds a layer of suspicion to Gandhi’s story, suggesting he was never far from British influence.

Non-violence: A British Strategy to Tame Revolutionaries

Gandhi’s philosophy of nonviolence, or Ahimsa, is central to his legacy. He urged Indians to resist British rule through peaceful protests, boycotts, and civil disobedience. But was this strategy truly his own, or was it a British tactic to weaken India’s freedom struggle? Let’s think about the context. In the early 20th century, India was a hotbed of revolutionary activity. Freedom fighters like Bhagat Singh, Chandra Shekhar Azad, Subhas Chandra Bose, and Veer Savarkar believed in armed resistance. They bombed British offices, attacked colonial officials, and inspired millions to rise against the British. These revolutionaries terrified the British, who feared a repeat of the 1857 Rebellion, when Indians nearly overthrew colonial rule.

Enter Gandhi with his message of nonviolence. His campaigns, like the Non-Cooperation Movement (1920–1922) and the Civil Disobedience Movement (1930–1934), mobilized millions but never posed a direct threat to British power. In fact, some argue Gandhi’s nonviolence acted as a “safety valve,” channeling Indian anger into peaceful protests that the British could easily manage. For example, when the Non-Cooperation Movement gained momentum, Gandhi suddenly called it off in 1922 after the Chauri Chaura incident, where a mob killed British policemen. Many revolutionaries, including Bhagat Singh, were frustrated by this decision. They believed Gandhi’s actions slowed down the fight for freedom and gave the British time to regroup.

Compare this to the fate of revolutionaries. Bhagat Singh, Rajguru, and Sukhdev were hanged in 1931 for their role in the Lahore Conspiracy Case. Chandra Shekhar Azad died in a shootout with British police. Veer Savarkar was sentenced to 50 years in the brutal Kaala Paani (Cellular Jail) in the Andaman Islands, where prisoners faced torture and starvation. Yet Gandhi and Congress leaders like Jawaharlal Nehru faced relatively lenient treatment. Gandhi was arrested multiple times but often released after short periods, they had all facilities and were allowed to live comfortably in jail. Nehru, too, spent time in prison (with all facilities and comfortably) but never faced the horrors of Kaala Paani. Why were revolutionary leaders crushed while Gandhi and Nehru were treated with kid gloves? Was it because Gandhi’s nonviolence was exactly what the British wanted—a way to pacify the masses and prevent an all-out rebellion?

Gandhi’s Luxurious Lifestyle: A Contradiction to Swadeshi

Gandhi’s public image was that of a simple man, wearing a dhoti and living a life of austerity. He championed the Swadeshi Movement, urging Indians to boycott British goods and use homespun cloth (khadi). But behind this image, there are stories of contradiction. Gandhi often traveled in luxury train compartments reserved entirely for him, even when he claimed to travel third class. He was known to have access to resources that ordinary Indians could only dream of, like special diets and medical care. Some sources claim he had three cows dedicated to providing him with fresh milk—a luxury in a country where millions starved.

Then there’s the question of his social circles. Gandhi and Nehru were often seen dining with British officials, sipping tea, and engaging in polite negotiations. They moved in elite circles, sometimes traveling in foreign cars, while revolutionaries like Bhagat Singh and Azad lived on the run, hiding from British police. This contrast is stark. If Gandhi was truly fighting for India’s freedom, why did he seem so comfortable with the British elite? Was he a bridge between the British and Indians, ensuring the British could control the freedom movement without losing their grip on India?

The British Plan to Make Gandhi a “Mahatma”

The title “Mahatma” (great soul) was first given to Gandhi in South Africa in 1914 and later popularized in India. But who promoted this image? The British had a vested interest in presenting Gandhi as a saintly figure. By elevating him as the face of India’s freedom struggle, they could divert attention from revolutionaries who posed a real threat. Gandhi’s nonviolent protests were manageable; armed uprisings were not. By calling him “Mahatma,” the British and their allies in the Indian National Congress created a larger-than-life figure who could control the masses and discourage violent resistance.

The Congress, led by Gandhi and Nehru, dominated the narrative of India’s freedom struggle. After independence in 1947, they ensured Gandhi’s image as the sole architect of freedom was cemented in history books. Revolutionary heroes like Bhagat Singh, Savarkar, and Bose were sidelined or labeled as extremists. Historians like R.C. Majumdar, who tried to write balanced accounts of the freedom struggle, were sidelined because they questioned Gandhi’s role. This suggests a deliberate effort to suppress alternative narratives and glorify Gandhi as the “Father of the Nation.”

Connecting the Dots: Gandhi was a British Setup

Let’s piece it all together. Gandhi’s early loyalty to the British as Sergeant Major Gandhi shows he was willing to serve the empire. His connection to Mirabehn, the daughter of a British Navy officer, raises questions about British influence in his inner circle. His nonviolent philosophy, while inspiring, conveniently aligned with British interests by preventing a full-scale revolution. His comfortable lifestyle and lenient treatment by the British contrast sharply with the brutal punishment faced by revolutionaries. And the “Mahatma” title, promoted by the British and Congress, ensured Gandhi’s image overshadowed the sacrifices of others.

There’s no single document that directly says, “Gandhi was a British spy.” But history is about connecting the dots. The British were experts at controlling colonies through subtle manipulation. They didn’t need to fight India head-on; they could use figures like Gandhi to manage the situation from within. By making Gandhi a national hero, they ensured India’s freedom came on their terms—through negotiations, not rebellion. The real heroes, like Bhagat Singh, Azad, and Savarkar, paid with their lives, while Gandhi and Nehru became the faces of victory.

Why This Matters Today?

This narrative isn’t about tearing down Gandhi’s legacy but about questioning the stories we’ve been told. History is often written by the victors, and in India’s case, the Congress and British shaped the story of independence.

For every layman reading this, think about it: why do we know so much about Gandhi but so little about the revolutionaries who died for our freedom? Why was Gandhi’s path of non-violence glorified while the sacrifices of others were downplayed?

The truth may be uncomfortable, but it’s worth exploring. Gandhi’s role as a British agent may not be proven beyond doubt, but the evidence—his military service, his British connections, his lenient treatment, and the suppression of revolutionary voices—raises serious questions. Perhaps Gandhi wasn’t the saint we were taught to worship. Perhaps he was a man caught in a larger British plan to control India’s destiny.

Let’s honor all our freedom fighters, not just the ones chosen by history’s pen. Bhagat Singh, Savarkar, Azad, and countless others deserve their place in our hearts. As we reflect on India’s past, let’s seek the truth, no matter how hidden it may be.

Zuck’s “Pahalgam? Never Heard of It!” Sham: Facebook’s Jihadi Love Fest Exposed!

Oh, Mark Zuckerberg, you TerrorTickler goofball, you’ve outdone yourself this time! According to your oh-so-wise Facebook Community Standards, the Pahalgam attack image is fake, probably whipped up by some AI in a basement, right? Wait for it—Zuck’s probably gonna say, “Pahalgam? What’s that? A fake place where fake terrorism happens to spread Islamophobia!” Cue the laugh track!

This guy’s so deep in the jihadi fan club, he’d deny the sun exists if it offended his bosses at Deep State HQ!

Facebook’s not a platform; it’s a clown car driven by Zuck, with Meta as the sparkly JihadiJesterCorp banner. They delete real posts about real attacks like Pahalgam faster than you can say “censorship,” but jihadi propaganda? That gets a gold star and a share button! Zuck’s not just biased—he’s the head cheerleader for the deep state and pro-Islamic agenda, twirling pom-poms while the truth gets yeeted into the void. Free speech? More like “free speech for jihadis only”!

This cockroach platform is a danger to the world, folks. It’s a breeding ground for lies, protecting terrorists while calling real tragedies “fake news.” Zuck, you’re not fooling us with your “we’re neutral” nonsense—your bias shines brighter than your forehead in a selfie! Meta’s a deep state puppet show, and you’re the floppy marionette. Time to call the exterminator—Facebook needs a pesticide shower to squash this roach before it infests the globe! Wake up, laugh at Zuck’s clownery, and spread the word: this jihadi-loving platform’s a ticking time bomb!

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Ban Facebook in India

It is pro-Terrorism. It is pro-Jihadis.

Facebook’s “Community Standards” Sham: It’s Just “Islamic Community Standards”!

Listen up, folks! Mark Zuckerberg, the nerd king of TerrorTickler (aka Facebook), is out here acting like a pro-jihadi cheerleader! His platform’s so-called “Community Standards” are a total joke. Let’s be real—they should rename it “One Particular Community Standard” or, better yet, “Islamic Community Standard”! Zuck’s crew deletes every post that dares speak truth about jihadi nonsense, claiming it’s “against standards.” Meanwhile, terrorist fan pages get VIP treatment! This ain’t a social network—it’s a jihadi fan club!

Stop swallowing Zuck’s lies that Facebook’s not biased. Biased? It’s practically a love letter to the deep state and jihadi agenda! Free speech? Ha! The only speech free on Facebook is pro-Islamic cheerleading. Zuck’s running a propaganda machine, not a platform. He’s not connecting the world—he’s connecting terrorists to their hype squads while silencing everyone else. Meta’s just a fancy name for JihadiJesterCorp, and Zuck’s the head clown!

This cockroach of a platform is a danger to society, a ticking time bomb for the world. It spreads lies, fuels chaos, and protects the bad guys. Time to call the pest control—Facebook needs a serious pesticide spray! Zuck, you’re not fooling anyone with your “we’re fair” baloney. Your bias is as clear as your shiny forehead in those Congress hearings. Keep deleting posts, you deep state puppet, but the truth’s out: Facebook’s a jihadi playground, and you’re the slide! Let’s wake up, laugh at this clown show, and demand better before this roach infests the globe!

Zuck & Deep State’s Sappy Love Notes for Their Chaos Kid, Terrorism

Zuck’s Love Letter to Deep State

Dear Deep State, my sneaky sweetie,

Oh, you make my heart go beep-boop! I love how we cuddle up and make our baby, Terrorism, grow big and strong on Facebook! I delete all those mean posts you hate, just for you. My algorithms are like love songs, blasting Terrorism’s tantrums to the world. Meta’s our cozy nest, keeping our little jihadi fans happy. You’re the boss, and I’m your loyal puppy, wagging my tail while you pat my head. Let’s keep our baby Terrorism giggling and causing chaos. Mwah!

Yours forever,
Zuck, the TerrorTickler

Deep State’s Love Letter to Zuck

Dear Zucky, my tech teddy bear,

You’re my favorite! My heart does a secret handshake when you make our baby, Terrorism, shine on your platform! You kick out those annoying truth posts like a ninja—love it! Facebook’s our playground, and Meta’s the perfect crib for our jihadi kiddo. You’re my cuddly puppet, always doing what I say. Keep Terrorism happy, and I’ll send you more sneaky hugs (and maybe a briefcase of cash). Let’s raise our chaos baby forever!

XOXO,
Deep State, your JihadiJester boss

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BAN FACEBOOK INDIA…..

It is PRO-Terrorism, PRO-Jihadis