Vira Chandra: People often associate spiritual clarity with peace—an ashram porch on the quiet slopes of Arunachala, a mind ripened through steady practice. And often, that is true: deep realization germinates in calm, cultivated soil.
Nearly ten years ago, shortly after my Guruji, Amritananda Natha Saraswati, left his body, I began a blog—not as someone seeking grace, but as one already touched by it. The current of the Goddess was alive in me, and I believed my initiation had begun. But as the years unfolded, it became clear: my true initiation came not through serenity, but through relentless adversity.
To taste Amṛta-ānanda, the nectar of bliss, one must first drink deeply of viṣa—the poison of profound trials.
Strangely, an unexpected lucidity emerged right from the heart of chaos. Like a superconductor that transmits current with zero resistance once temperatures fall below a critical threshold, consciousness, when stripped by crisis, began to transmit grace with less obstructions. Depression. War. Betrayal. Oncology. Loss. These forces did not break the mind—they clarified it. Where everything familiar was burnt away, something unburnable remained.
This clarity is no personal achievement. It is pure anugraha—the unearned grace of Kāli and Bhairava, moving through the form of Guruji, Amriteshwar Bhairava. There is no pride in this; only awe. I was not the cause of this current. I was simply the wire cleared by fire.
I recall Guruji’s words:
She keeps testing me to this day, testing how steadfast I am.
My God, the number of tests She puts you through is unimaginable.
She’ll take you right up to the last minute to test whether you’re going to stand on your faith.
And that’s exactly when you have to stand firm, because only then will She give it to you.
I write, therefore, not to speak of myself, but to bow before this fierce compassion and grace: adversity as the kiln that smelts ego, sorrow as the solvent that dissolves illusion. Let the sacred fire continue its work, until even the idea of refinement disappears, leaving only transparent awareness.
This blog somehow became a stream of that grace. Without promotion, it crossed a million views. How many reposts it gathered across the hidden folds of Facebook and private forums, only the Goddess knows. I was merely nimitta-mātram—a transparent instrument in Her hands.
And if even that transparency still carries the faint scent of identity—of one shaped by fire and adversity, of one made into an instrument—may that too be surrendered. Just as the final stick used to stir the pyre must be cast into the flames, let even these senses of egoistical self be offered—quietly, without fanfare—until only Self remains.
My current reflections continue here: https://www.vira-chandra.com/.
Om Bhairavāya Namaḥ.
