SAAMAKSHI MEDIUM

He comes, the  Mahadev , the Ashen King, in terrible grace. He wanders, clad in ghosts, upon the burning ground. His throat a twilight blue from saving a ruined world, he is covered in ash, the ultimate surrender of all form, wearing the stark, ragged banner of detachment. His dance, a fierce whirlwind with the  Bhootas,  is solitary, alone. And yet, she comes. The Golden One,  Adi Parashakti , the First Power. Her silks are woven from the sunset’s fire, her jewels are the starlight. Her gaze holds the entire, breathtaking burst of creation’s spring.  Shakti , the  Mahamaya , the very Power of being, adores him so, but not for the crown, the kingdom, or the velvet of the world. Her devotion seeks the heart's  Alakshya -  the unseen focus of the soul. She sees past the chilling blue, the tattered  Vy a ghr a mbara . She ignores the external, the clothes, the ash, the dire, stark landscape, for she loves the Powerful Soul, the Ever Divine,...

Think back to the last time you truly prayed. Not the hurried words under your breath before a meeting, not the casual “please help me” whispered on the way out the door - but real prayer. You stood, hands joined, eyes closed, heart open. What did you pray for? Chances are, you asked for something. Strength, love, acceptance. Healing for yourself or someone you care about. Protection, guidance, forgiveness. And there’s nothing wrong with that, yet, in that very asking, prayer often loses its essence. Because when we pray only to receive, it becomes pleading. We hand over our power to something outside ourselves, hoping that the Divine will fill the emptiness we imagine exists within us. So often, prayer becomes a kind of bargaining. We sit before God, list our troubles, and say, “Please fix this for me.” In that moment, we unknowingly shrink ourselves. We reduce prayer to pleading, as though the Divine were a distant authority and we were helpless children waiting to be rescued. But Go...