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God

Kantara, Baba and Divine Comedy

Shiva in Kantara begins as a man deeply rooted in the physical world—he’s impulsive, indulgent, and disconnected from the spiritual legacy of his ancestors. His life revolves around thrill-seeking, village politics, and resisting authority. Though he’s part of a community that reveres the forest and its deities, Shiva distances himself from these beliefs, especially after the mysterious disappearance of his father during a sacred ritual.

But everything shifts when Shiva is pulled into a divine encounter during the ritual of Bhoota Kola. Possessed by Panjurli Daiva, a guardian spirit of the forest, Shiva becomes a vessel for justice and ancestral truth. The experience is not just spiritual—it’s transformative. He begins to see the forest not as a battleground, but as a sacred entity that demands reverence and protection. This awakening leads him to confront corruption, reclaim stolen land, and restore balance to his community. His personal redemption becomes a collective healing.

Cut to out second story in lens, Baba, the setting is starkly different. Baba is an atheist, a man who scoffs at spirituality and lives by his own rules. He’s rebellious, brash, and uninterested in the divine. Yet, his life takes a dramatic turn when he encounters Mahavatar Babaji, a mystical sage who reveals Baba’s true identity as a reincarnated saint. Granted seven wishes, Baba is thrust into a journey of self-discovery, where each wish tests his character and detachment.

Unlike Shiva’s explosive transformation in the forest, Baba’s evolution is gradual and introspective. The city becomes a mirror for his internal battles—temptation, ego, and loss. As he begins to understand the weight of his spiritual inheritance, Baba sheds his worldly desires and embraces a higher calling. His final ascent to the Himalayas symbolizes his complete surrender to the divine, leaving behind the noise of the city for the silence of enlightenment.

Shiva and Baba are not just protagonists, they’re instruments. Their stories suggest that the divine doesn’t concern itself with the mundane churn of politics, ego, or material chaos. It watches, waits, and when necessary, intervenes, not to fix the world directly, but to test a chosen soul. The transformation of that soul becomes the spark that shifts everything around it. In Kantara, Shiva’s possession by Panjurli Daiva isn’t a reward, it’s a reckoning. The deity doesn’t descend to negotiate with corrupt landlords or argue with forest officers. Instead, it chooses Shiva, a flawed man, to carry its fury and justice. The divine tests him through pain, loss, and revelation. And once Shiva surrenders, the forest breathes again. The land is reclaimed, the rituals restored, and the community healed, not because the divine fixed it, but because Shiva did, under its influence.

Similarly, in Baba, Mahavatar Babaji doesn’t intervene in Chennai’s chaos. He doesn’t stop politicians or cleanse the city of greed. He simply grants Baba seven wishes, a spiritual test disguised as a gift. Baba’s journey through those wishes is riddled with temptation and heartbreak. But as he evolves, shedding his ego and embracing detachment, the world around him begins to shift. His resistance to corruption, his protection of the innocent, and his final surrender to the Himalayas leave behind a ripple of change.

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God

“Bhaja Govindam” – Bridge to the Divine

Putting music in words is something extremely difficult, especially song like Bhaja Govindam which dances around very intricate and beautiful ragams from Yamuna Kalyani to the fantastic Sindhu Bhairavi. As you read this article, a carnatic lover’s minds waves to the mellifluous voice of MS Subbalakshmi singing it. This song was composed by the Sri Adi Shankaracharya. His genius lies in composing a brilliant song on the top for a listener, for a person who went deeper, it is the ultimate spritual knowledge. The composition talks about people whose sole purpose of life is the desire to earn money. “mUDHa jahIhi dhanAgamatRshNAm“, he even went to extent of calling these people fools. With this line, song breaks to BrindavanaSaranga is highly divine raagam used to bring out pensive nature, it is not coincidence this raagam is used for this particular stanza. If you have been temples or Kacheris, this first verse one is done with chorus. It is beautiful that Yamuna Kalyani can produce in a chorus.

On the surface, the song is devotional. But each verse is a philosophical dagger, cutting through illusions of permanence, ego, and materialism. It’s a spiritual wake-up call disguised as a lullaby. Shankaracharya uses the word mūḍha (fool) deliberately, not to insult, but to jolt the listener out of spiritual slumber. The repetition emphasizes urgency: time is fleeting, and the pursuit of truth cannot wait.

Before reading more about the song and its beauty. Lets take a step back and see the bigger philosophy of Advaita Vedanta.

Advaita Vedanta teaches that Brahman alone is real, and the world is Maya—a transient illusion. The individual self (jiva) is none other than Brahman, but due to ignorance (avidya), it identifies with the body and mind.

Advaita Vedanta is not just a philosophy—it’s a radical shift in how Vedas and Upanishads were interpretted. One of the key philosophy is ‘Tat Tvam Asi’, in english, it roughly translates to “You are that”. That here is Brahman.

Let’s break it down:

  • Tat = That (referring to the ultimate reality or Brahman)
  • Tvam = You
  • Asi = Are

Now hold on. You might be thinking, “But I’m Aakash. You’re you. How can I be something called Brahman?” Fair question. Let’s walk through it together.

Start here: Are you aware of your own existence right now? Can you sense that awareness? Now ask—what is aware of your existence?

Is it your body? No, because your body has changed—from childhood to youth to wherever you are now. Is it your thoughts or emotions? Those change too, sometimes slowly, sometimes rapidly.

So what remains constant? There’s something that observes all these changes—your body, your thoughts, your feelings. That observer, that awareness, never changes. It’s always present, quietly witnessing everything. Advaita Vedanta says: That awareness is Brahman. It’s not a concept or a deity—it’s the very essence of reality. And it’s what you truly are. Still with me? Let’s try a thought experiment.

Imagine awareness as a person sitting in a movie theatre. He doesn’t remember how he got there or anything before the film started. All he knows is the movie playing in front of him. He watches the story unfold—characters appear, fight, fall in love, die. Now imagine this person suddenly believes he is one of the characters on screen. That’s ignorance. But when the film cuts to intermission, he snaps out of it. He realizes: “Wait—I’m not the movie. I’m the one watching it.”

That’s the shift Advaita points to. You’re not the body, not the mind, not the story playing out. You’re the awareness watching it all. And that awareness? Aham Brahmasmi—I am Brahman.

Okay Aakash, I hear you. I might even agree with you. Then how come we see so many deities and gods in this culture. Okay, Cut to Bhaja Govindam now. Being your awareness requires tremendous mental resilience and mental clarity. There is seperate book which Shankara wrote on this called “Viveka Chudamani”. Book talks what it takes to be realized person. For the interested, please have a stab at the book. It could change your outlook of the word “determination”. Shankara and his disciples know its not everyone. He knows that, to be realized person it takes letting go of ones identity. Identity of nation, gender, friends & family and other complex constructs which helps us survive. You are ready to do anything for your loved ones because you identify with them. You identify yourself as their partner, father, mother, son, daughter etc. Sense of self disappears with them. You are suddenly a wonderful human being with them vs others. That’s fine and its helps us live in perceived peace. Its a survival tactic us the Homo Sapiens have figured helps us live and thrive. Shankara felt instead of identifying with just kith kin and loved ones, one can identify with a deity or “God” as their father, mother, or even partner. Thats how Bhakti Yoga enters the chat. Bhakti leads to the Jnana, knowledge of the supreme. Worship becomes a gateway to Jnana (knowledge), leading to the realization that the worshipper and the worshipped are one. Shankara being a staunch proponent of Jnana Yoga, recognized the value of Bhakti as a prepartory path. Bhaja Govindam is just the bridge – He knew it begins with devotion and that always leads to the ultimate.