Silent Witnesses at the Temple

 

In a deserted forest stood a temple. A ritual was underway. Inside the sanctum, a priest and two men were present. After the prayer, the priest said, “This deity is awakened. Whoever sincerely asks for forgiveness is granted mercy.”

The first man folded his hands and prayed, “Lord, you know I perform my duties with full devotion. But the hospital where I work kept dead patients on life support during the epidemic, just to make money. I witnessed it all. I stayed silent, even though I saw everything with my own eyes. Survival is a harsh struggle. I was helpless. Please forgive me.”

The second man prayed, “My father died in that epidemic. He was a good man. If he unknowingly committed any sin, please forgive him. Give him a place at your feet.”

The priest said, “So be it.” Both men stepped outside the temple.

The first man asked, “Sir, in which hospital did your father pass away?”

The second man named the hospital.

The first man fell at his feet and said, “Sir, I work at that very hospital. I beg your forgiveness.”

The second man’s heart was flooded with emotions—anger, hatred, sorrow. He closed his eyes and tried to steady himself. Within moments, tears began to flow from his eyes.

The first man asked, “Sir, why are there tears in your eyes?”

The second man replied, “I too am a silent witness, just like you. I knew what was happening. My father is no longer alive, but because of my love for him, I too remained helpless.”

Who kept Dalits away from education?

The British spread the idea that before their arrival, women and Shudras in India had no right to education. Even after independence, British-influenced governments continued this propaganda. The aim was clear: divide society and rule. But truth cannot remain hidden. Today, with the help of AI and old references, the reality comes to light. Let us begin from the Vedic age—did Shudras have the right to education then?
 
शूद्रोऽपि विद्वान् भवति यद्यपि शूद्रजातः ।
विद्या हि सर्वं विश्वस्य संनादति ॥ (अथर्ववेद १९.६२.१)
 
A Shudra, though born as a Shudra, can become learned, for knowledge resounds throughout the universe and is available to all.
 
The Vedas themselves prove that Shudras and non-Aryans had full rights to education.

• ऋग्वेद ९.११२.३: “ब्रह्मराजन्याभ्यां शूद्राय चार्याय च स्वायचारणाय च” — Vedic knowledge is for Brahmins, Kshatriyas, Shudras, and non-Aryans alike.

• ऋग्वेद १०.५३.४: “यद् विश्वा अश्विना… शूद्राय वा ददथुरार्याय वा” — The Ashvins gave knowledge equally to Shudras and Aryans.

• अथर्ववेद १९.६२.१: “शूद्रोऽपि विद्वान् भवति… विद्या हि सर्वं विश्वं संनादति” — Even a Shudra can become wise; knowledge is universal.

• यजुर्वेद (वाजसनेयी संहिता २६.२): “शूद्राय च परं ब्रह्म दत्तं भवति” — Shudras too can attain the supreme knowledge of Brahman.

 
Clearly, in the Vedic age, varna was determined not by birth but by learning and deeds. Shudras and non-Aryans participated equally in Vedic study, sacrifices, warfare, medicine, and leadership.
Varna by Knowledge, not Birth
 
शूद्रो ब्राह्मणतामेति ब्राह्मणश्चैति शूद्रताम् ।
क्षत्रियात् जातमेवं तु विद्वत्त्वात् सागरादयः ॥ (महाभारत अनुशासनपर्व १४३.४९-५०)
 
A Shudra can become a Brahmin, and a Brahmin can become a Shudra. A Kshatriya too, by acquiring wisdom, can attain Brahminhood. Vyasa, the author of the Mahabharata, himself born of mixed lineage, fathered Dhritarashtra and Pandu. His son Shukadeva attained Brahminhood through Vedic study and self-realization.
 
जन्मना जायते शूद्रः संस्कारात् द्विज उच्यते ।
वेदपठात् भवेत् विप्रः ब्रह्म जानाति ब्राह्मणः ॥ (मनुस्मृति १०.४)
 
By birth all are Shudras. Through samskara one becomes a dvija (twice-born). By Vedic study one becomes a scholar (vipra). By knowing Brahman, one becomes a Brahmin.
 
Thus, birth did not decide varna; education and spiritual realization did. Examples abound: Valmiki (Shudra by birth, yet author of the Ramayana), Vishvamitra (who became a Brahmarshi), Jabali, Satyakama, and Vyasa—all born of lower or mixed origins, yet attaining Brahminhood through knowledge.
 
Education also enabled Shudras to become rulers: Chandragupta Maurya, son of a maidservant, studied at Takshashila under Chanakya and founded the Mauryan Empire. Ajatashatru, son of a maid, became king of Magadha. Mahapadma Nanda, of Shudra origin, expanded the Nanda Empire. Pushyamitra Shunga, of humble birth, founded the Shunga dynasty. Divya, a fisherman, became king of Avanti. These examples prove that in ancient India, kingship and status came not by birth but by knowledge and deeds.
 
Just as Shudras had access to learning, women too were honored seekers of knowledge. The Vedic tradition recognized Sadyovadhu (studying before marriage) and Brahmavadini (lifelong learners). Women studied the Vedas along with music, arts, and martial skills. Rigveda and Upanishads mention scholars like Gargi, Maitreyi, Lopamudra, Apala. Gargi challenged Yajnavalkya in debate, while Maitreyi questioned him on immortality, showing their intellectual depth. Vedic texts also affirm daughters as equal heirs and encourage women in politics and warfare. Thus, women were respected as philosophers, teachers, and leaders shaping India’s knowledge tradition.
 
 
From the Vedic age until the Mughal period (1526 CE), India had a rich educational tradition. Great universities like Takshashila, Nalanda, Vikramashila, Vallabhi, Odantapuri, Jagaddala, Kashi, Ujjain, Mithila, Kanchipuram, and Sringeri flourished, along with hundreds of thousands of smaller gurukuls.
 
By the 18th century, there were over 600,000 gurukuls, with Shudras and Dalits forming the majority (75–80%). Gurukuls taught not only Vedas and philosophy but also mathematics, astronomy, medicine, arts, and 72 crafts—blacksmithing, weaving, carpentry, pottery, painting, architecture, metallurgy, ivory work, gem cutting, musical instruments, agricultural tools, and shipbuilding. This made villages self-reliant.
 
British surveys (William Adam, 1835–38 in Bengal-Bihar; G.W. Leitner, 1882 in Punjab) and Dharampal’s The Beautiful Tree (1983) confirm that nearly every village had a school, with Shudras forming most students.
 
But after 1857, the British crushed the gurukul system. Macaulay’s English-based education replaced it. Kings and landlords stopped supporting village schools. The British opened few schools in villages, focusing only on producing clerks.
 
By 1901, only 97,000 schools remained (down from 600,000 gurukuls). Literacy fell to 5.3% overall (men 9.8%, women 0.7%). Shudra-Dalit literacy collapsed from 70–80% to barely 1–2%. In Bengal, Brahmin literacy was 467 per 1,000 men, but Shudras like Chamars, Mahars, Gonds, and Kolis had only 8–54 per 1,000. Dalits were at 8 per 1,000.
 
Thus, within 50 years, Macaulay’s system made the majority illiterate. Brahmins, already urban and engaged in study, adapted easily to English education and gained government jobs. Shudras and Dalits, left in villages, became illiterate.
 
 
Conclusion
 
Macaulay’s policy benefited the upper castes but destroyed Shudra-Dalit education. The closure of gurukuls and the urban-English schooling system excluded the majority. The truth is: it was the British education system that deprived Shudras of learning.
 
Today, with schools in every village, and with reservations, scholarships, and social reforms, Dalits and girls are once again entering education in large numbers.
 
 
 
 

The Tragic End of Yakshpriya

Alka Nagari was Kubera’s rich and shining capital, full of golden roads and jewel-covered palaces. Beauty was everything here, and wealth was worshipped. But behind this glitter was a dark truth.

A cloud of Ashad, sent by Lord Varun (God of Rain), was heading toward Alka Nagari. It carried water that was once pure like nectar, but now mixed with pollution, it had turned poisonous.

Yakshpriya, a beautiful woman living in one of the palaces, ran to the rooftop hoping to receive a message from her lover through the lightning. She remembered his words: “Even in darkness, you shine like lightning. You are like Rambha (apsara in lord Indra Court in Heavan) herself. Who needs lamps when you are here?”

As the rain began, she danced and got soaked for the first time in Ashad’s monsoon. But suddenly, her skin started burning. She rushed to her room and looked in the mirror. Her face and body were scarred by acid rain. She screamed. Would her lover still love her now? In Yaksha society, beauty was a woman’s only value.

Outside, the rain stopped, but the land was blackened. Trees were burnt; birds were dead. The cloud looked down and saw a crowd around a woman lying in blood—her face ruined by the toxic rain. People whispered: “Her husband is abroad, and she wanted to enjoy the rain. Didn’t she hear the warnings on TV and radio?” One said, “How will she live now that her beauty is gone?” Another said, “We’re all dying slowly in this poisonous world. No one cares. “Blaming the king for the tragedy, the crowd erupted in slogans against King Kuber". 

The cloud felt guilty. It remembered Yakshpriya and her lover waiting at Ramgiri. What would it tell him? For a moment, the cloud wanted to turn back and empty its water into the sea. But it remembered Varun’s command: fulfill your duty, no matter what happens on earth. The cloud shed two tears and moved on

Small Family, True Happiness

 
In our country today, the government promotes family planning through the slogan “Ham Do Hamare Do” (We two, our two) to control the growing population.
 
From ancient times, religion has taught that having a son was considered a sacred duty of household life. A son was needed to repay the debt to ancestors, continue the family line, and preserve tradition. Chanakya says in his Niti Shastra:
 
“Even one virtuous son is better than a hundred without qualities.
Just as one moon removes darkness, thousands of stars cannot.”
 
This means the purpose of having children is not desire or numbers, but to raise a virtuous child who brings wisdom, strength, and goodness to the family, satisfies the ancestors, and gives meaning to life. A son is not a burden but a worthy heir who keeps the family light shining.
 
Saint Samarth Ramdas, while traveling across the country, saw the misery of families with too many children. In Dasbodh (Book 10, Chapter 4), he describes how large families fall into poverty, worry, and suffering. Through the story of a rich man, he shows that wealth was destroyed, the family became beggars, and life turned sorrowful because of too many children.
 
Samarth says:
 
“When children became too many, Goddess Lakshmi (wealth) left.
The poor family had to beg, with nothing to eat.”
 
Too many children increase expenses, salaries fall short, wealth disappears, and even food becomes scarce. Daughters’ marriages become difficult, valuables are mortgaged, debts rise, and begging begins. The father is forced to leave home and work in low jobs abroad. Hard labour brings stress and illness.
 
The lesson is clear: a large family becomes a centre of sorrow, not happiness. Constant quarrels and confusion destroy peace. The burden of worldly duties grows, but true joy is lost.
 

Indian War: Gandhara’s Final Cry

 

(Midnight. Shakuni sat in a corner of his camp, staring at the chessboard, lost in thought. Suddenly, a voice broke the silence and interrupted his chain of thoughts).

Shakuni (startled): "Sister? You here? At this hour of night? And tears in your eyes... surely not for the blind king’s sons?"

Gandhari (calm but firm): "Shakuni, I still remember the vow we took when leaving Gandhara. Though the Kauravas were born from my womb, they are like snake lings—enemies of Gandhara. I will not shed tears for them. Today, Shalya has been killed in battle. The war is nearing its end.

(sobbing)I came to see you one last time... Tomorrow, perhaps, on the battlefield..."

Shakuni (interrupting with bitter laughter): "Ha! Ha! Ha! So, I’m going to die tomorrow—is that it? We both knew this truth from the very first day of war. Why cry now? Eighteen divisions of Indian armies have been destroyed. Three generations wiped out. And what loss did Gandhara suffer? Only a handful of soldiers, including us. Has such a thing ever happened in history?

No army of Bhishma will ever enter Gandhara again. No Gandhari will have to sacrifice her life again. Gandhara no longer fears India. Foolish Indian kings dance to foreign tunes for power. Now the world knows this. Hastinapur was full of foolish intellectuals that’s why our mission succeeded. Gandhari, wipe your tears. Look ahead.

The selfish Hindu and Buddhist kings of the Spata Sindhu region will not help King Dahir of Sindh. See, Gandhara’s cavalry is ready to destroy the Spata Sindhu region..."

(Both shouts together) "Victory to Gandhara!"

Though this story is ancient, it hides the true history of India’s subjugation

Strike and Betrayal

 

Sharmaji had been working as a supervisor in a factory in an industrial town for the past twenty years. He was simple, honest, and diligent. His son had recently passed his engineering exams and was searching for a job.

One day, a powerful leader from the local workers’ union came to the factory. He told Sharmaji, “There’s a strike tomorrow. Stand with us. I’ll get your son a job in this very factory.” Sharmaji had doubts, but for his son’s future, he agreed.

The next day, slogans echoed at the factory gate, “Long live Netaji! Down with the owner!” Police charged the crowd. Sharmaji and many workers were packed into a bus and taken away. A few hours later, they were released.

But the next morning, the factory guard handed Sharmaji an envelope. It read:

“Sharmaji, you are dismissed from service for alleged involvement in vandalism and rioting.”

Sharmaji was stunned. He tried to meet Netaji, but Netaji refused. Instead, Netaji held a press conference claiming the vandals weren’t from his union. Darkness clouded Sharmaji’s eyes. No salary, no pension. Court cases, police visits, legal fees. His son’s job was nowhere in sight, and even running the household became difficult. Finding another job was nearly impossible.

Within weeks, 40 new contract workers joined the factory at lower wages. Netaji bought a new Mercedes. But Sharmaji’s life was shattered.

This isn’t just one man’s story. In Mumbai alone, thousands of Sharmajis were left jobless after trusting labor leaders.

Chitragupta’s Judgment: The Selfie-Taker Became a Monkey

 

He died. His soul traveled through a path of light and arrived at the court of Chitragupta. Before him stood a grand throne of justice, upon which Chitragupta was seated. He was dressed in white robes, radiant and serene. In front of him lay countless scriptures, containing the records of all human’s sins and virtues on Earth.

Chitragupta asked, “Where do you wish to go?”

The soul replied, “I made many mistakes in life, but in the end, I went to see the Lord. I sought forgiveness at His feet. My sins were erased. I deserve heaven.”

Chitragupta opened a heavy tome. Its pages recorded the soul’s entire life—every action, every thought. Looking at the book, Chitragupta said, “But there’s no mention of your plea for forgiveness in my records.”

The soul was shocked. “How can that be? I went to the temple. Took photos, selfies, made reels. There’s proof!”

Chitragupta smiled slightly. “Yes, there is proof. You took a selfie at the temple’s entrance. There are photos with the idols around. Videos of the rituals too. Even a reel of you seeking forgiveness before the deity. But…”

Chitragupta paused. “Your focus was only on the camera. While asking for forgiveness, your heart was silent. There was no devotion in your eyes, only framing. No remorse in your mind, only the rush to post. Hence, your sins were not erased.”

The soul fell silent. Crestfallen.

Chitragupta said, “I won’t send you to hell. I’ll send you back to Earth—as a monkey in Delhi Zoo.”

“A monkey?” The soul was stunned.

“Yes. There, you’ll perform monkey antics. People will take selfies with you, click photos, make reels. Just like you did before the deity. But now, you’ll be in their frame. People will see humor, compassion, and irony in your form.

You’ll remember your past life— ‘I too once did this, and now I bear its consequences.’ Then, if you truly seek forgiveness from the heart, you’ll attain heaven in your next birth.” The soul was now quiet.

He understood—photos aren’t proof, feelings are.