4th Dimension

The Hanuman Chalisa emerged from the soul of a poet in the 16th century—Tulsidas, a sage steeped in bhakti and awakened vision. He composed it in Awadhi, the dialect of the common people, far removed from the learned tongue of Sanskrit. This was a radical act: to take devotion out of the temples and place it on village lips. The hymn’s legend is just as powerful as its verses. Imprisoned by Emperor Akbar, as one narrative goes, Tulsidas composed the Chalisa during forty days of confinement. Each day, he recited a verse. On the fortieth day, an army of monkeys stormed the court, leading to his release. History may not confirm the tale. But the power of the story is symbolic—it speaks to what devotees know: Hanuman comes where he is called. Architecture of the Divine The Chalisa begins with a homage to the guru, before flowing into forty chaupais—couplets extolling Hanuman’s strength, wisdom, and unwavering devotion to Rama. It ends with verses promising protection, courage, and spiritua...

Things I never expected in Vadodara include uncivilized public behaviour. But the recent drink and drive case of Rakshit Chaurasiya is intriguing to me. he shouted "Another Round" , "Nikita" and "Om Namah Shivay" after killing and injuring innocents. Which is not unknown to us. It has become a very common scenario where a late-night street in a bustling city, a luxury car speeds past, a loud thud, a body on the ground. The driver? Gone. The headlines the next morning scream outrage, but within weeks, the case disappears into legal oblivion. It’s a script we’ve seen play out time and again, especially in recent years, where young, affluent men behind expensive wheels seem to treat traffic laws as mere suggestions. But has it always been this way? Have hit-and-run cases always plagued India, or is this a new, ugly side-effect of rising wealth, urbanisation, and the lack of consequences? Let’s take a journey through the decades, from post-independence India’s...

Holi’s roots extend deep into antiquity, with references appearing in early Sanskrit texts such as the Purva Mimamsa Sutras and the Kathaka Grihya Sutras, which describe springtime festivities resembling Holi. The Puranas further elaborate on Holi’s significance, particularly the Narada Purana and the Bhavishya Purana, which mention a festival named Holika or Holikotsav. These accounts, along with a 300 BCE inscription from Central India referencing Holikotsav, confirm its existence as an ancient public celebration. The festival was initially tied to agricultural cycles and lunar worship, particularly the full moon of the Phalguna month. Early celebrations were likely intimate family rituals performed by married women seeking prosperity for their households. However, as Holi merged with broader social customs, it evolved into a more exuberant communal festival marking the arrival of spring. Mythology also played a crucial role in Holi’s rise. The most well-known legend is that of Prahl...

I used to think laughter was just laughter. You know, that thing you do when someone slips on a banana peel, or when you realise your entire life is just a series of awkward moments held together by caffeine and bad decisions. But then, while working on theology of Devi Puran and the social construction of power (fancy, right?), I realised: laughter is a weapon. Not the kind you use in a bar fight, but one that humiliates, strips power, and occasionally, starts wars. The Goddess Who LOL’d at a Demon Mahishasura, the mighty demon, strutting onto the battlefield, flexing his muscles, feeling invincible. And then—BOOM—Durga enters the scene and lets out the loudest, most epic guffaw ever (अट्टहास, for those who enjoy dramatic Sanskrit terminology). Mahishasura, poor guy, suddenly feels… small. Like a man who just realised his Wi-Fi is down. His confidence crumbles. That’s the thing about mockery—it’s not just ha-ha funny; it’s uh-oh powerful. Durga wasn’t just laughing for fun. She was ma...

After reading my previous post on joke outrage on a YouTube show, a reader informed me that the outrage happens because of the internet…I said, No!! it's not medium or even content, it's people and culture!!! If there is one thing India loves more than Bollywood, it’s being outraged by Bollywood. It’s a national sport, right up there with cricket and arguing with relatives about politics. Every few years, a film comes along that sends the moral guardians of the nation into a collective meltdown. The offense? Maybe a hint of cleavage, an actor uttering a forbidden word, or—heaven forbid—a woman experiencing sexual pleasure without looking guilty about it. The response is as predictable as a Salman Khan movie: protests, vandalism, court cases, and the inevitable PIL (Public Interest Litigation, or, as it should be called, Public Interference Lunacy). Before Satyam Shivam Sundaram, Raj Kapoor had already scandalised India with Bobby (1973) and Mera Naam Joker (1970). Bobby had pa...

We Indians love a controversy. And this time, it wasn’t over politics, cricket, or Bollywood—it was over a joke. A joke so inappropriate that it sent the internet into full meltdown mode. At the center of it all? India’s Got Latent, a dark-humor, satirical version of India’s Got Talent, hosted by Samay Raina. The show was known for its edgy jokes, sarcastic commentary, and unfiltered humor—not like our average family-friendly entertainment. Everything was going fine until Ranveer Allahbadia (BeerBiceps) asked that question which broke the internet. Even for a show that thrives on dark humor, this one was a nuclear-level misfire. Within days, the clip went viral, and outrage poured in. Politicians jumped in, lawyers filed complaints, news channels found their new prime-time topic, and Ranveer found himself the target of an FIR. In fact, this wasn’t the first time India saw moral policing disguised as law enforcement. Back in 1951, Jawaharlal Nehru introduced the First Amendment, limitin...

The collapse of the dot-com bubble in the early 2000s and the devastation of the 2008 financial crisis were seismic events in the history of the global economy. However, neither compares to the technological storm that erupted in 2025, reshaping the global power dynamics of artificial intelligence (AI). The U.S. tech sector witnessed an unprecedented market collapse, losing $1 trillion in a single day. At the heart of this disaster was Nvidia, the titan of AI chip manufacturing, which saw $600 billion wiped off its valuation within hours—a scale of destruction never before seen in American corporate history. The shock did not originate from regulatory crackdowns, economic downturns, or investor panic. It came from an unexpected revolution in AI, orchestrated by a small Chinese company and a handful of engineers who introduced the DeepSeek R1 model—an AI system so efficient and disruptive that it threatened to topple Silicon Valley’s dominance. DeepSeek R1: The Disruptor of ...

Kumbh Mela reveals a side of Hinduism that is often not talked about. It is not about temples, gods, devotion, songs, or saints. It is primarily a ritual, dominated by boisterous masculine energy embodied in naked ascetics (digambara). These ascetics are covered with ash (bhabhut), with matted hair (jata), and hold staffs (dandi). They belong to various gymnasiums (akhara). They evoke the followers (gana) of the wild form of Shiva (Bhairava). It's a ritual gathering, not about meditation or contemplation. It is about taking a dip in a particular spot in the river at the right time, after it's consecrated by bathing ascetics. The roots can be argued to be Tantrik, involving the body (tanu, in Sanskrit). Such rituals happen in many parts of India, where the ash-smeared ascetics congregate. These ascetics likely originated in the east, in the Terai region, and challenged the Vedic order from the western Punjab region, possibly around 1000 BC. They clashed at Gangadwar, now called ...

Today, I binged watched an intriguing 2nd season of  'Bandish Bandits.' It sparked questions about why we adhere to societal rules and the consequences of either following or defying them. The series presented a dilemma faced by talented individuals who struggle to balance their principles with societal expectations. Reflecting on this, I identified three types of people. First, there are those who steadfastly adhere to their principles despite societal pressures, similar to Bhishma. He upheld his vows and principles, even when faced with complex moral dilemmas. However, principles may not always hold true as times change, necessitating reinterpretation. Second, some individuals, like Krishna, value ethical standards but adapt them to incorporate new ideas and evolving contexts. Such people exemplify the ability to reinterpret ethics to serve the greater good, ensuring relevance and inclusivity. Lastly, some, like Ravana from the Ramayana, reject existing norms altogether, crea...