Thaipusam is a Hindu festival dedicated to Lord Murugan, the god of courage, wisdom, and war. Celebrated during the Tamil month of Thai (January–February), coinciding with the Pusam star, the festival is observed by Tamil communities in India, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, Singapore, and across the world. Among these, Malaysia hosts the largest Thaipusam celebrations in the world, with millions of devotees gathering each year, most notably at the Batu Caves near Kuala Lumpur. Not only is Thaipusam a visual spectacle, it is also an intense expression of faith, discipline, and personal commitment.  

The festival is rooted in Hindu mythology. According to legend, Surapadman, a powerful shape-shifting demon king, grew arrogant after gaining boons through severe penance and began to oppress gods and humans alike. To restore balance, Goddess Parvati gifted her son, Murugan, the divine spear, the vel. After a fierce battle, Surapadman tried to escape by transforming himself into a big bird and then a tree. With one decisive strike of the vel, Murugan split the tree into two, making Surapadman resume his original form. As he fell, it is believed that something changed within him. 

Surapadman showed true repentance for all his evil acts, and Murugan showed mercy—transforming one half of Surapadman into his peacock vahana and the other into the rooster on his battle flag. The story symbolises the destruction of ego and ignorance, and the possibility of redemption through surrender. 

In the weeks leading up to Thaipusam, devotees prepare for the festival through fasting, prayer, and vows of purity. On the day of the festival, many undertake long pilgrimages to Murugan temples, often walking barefoot as an act of penance and devotion. A central ritual of Thaipusam is the carrying of the ‘kavadi’—a physical and symbolic burden offered to the deity. The word kavadi means ‘burden’, symbolising the weight of one’s vows, prayers, and past actions being consciously surrendered to Lord Murugan. Traditionally carried on the shoulders, kavadis may be simple wooden frames or elaborate structures adorned with flowers, peacock feathers, and images of the deity. Carrying the kavadi is both a physical and spiritual discipline, representing the surrender of ego and past actions to the divine. 

Another distinctive aspect of the festival is ritual body piercing, undertaken by some devotees as a form of controlled spiritual discipline. These voluntary practices are undertaken after periods of fasting and prayer and are believed to be guided and protected by Lord Murugan’s grace. 

Accompanied by chants of “Vel! Vel! Muruga!” and strong community support, Thaipusam becomes a shared spiritual journey—one that emphasises transformation, humility, and renewed faith. 

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Every year, Guruvayur Ekadashi — also observed as Gita Jayanti — reminds us of the power of reflection and conversation. This is the day when the Bhagavad Gita, born from Krishna’s dialogue with Arjuna, was first spoken. It is a moment that celebrates both faith and the timeless importance of conversation, reminding us that some of the deepest truths in our traditions emerged not from commands, but from dialogue. 

Across civilizations and centuries, dialogue has been one of humanity’s most enduring ways to explore difficult questions. A dialogue is dynamic: full of questioning, resistance, and discovery. Truth often emerges not from a single voice, but from the space between two or more. 

In India, this tradition runs deep. The Upanishads unfold through debate and inquiry, where teachers and students explore complex ideas together. The Mahabharata carries this spirit forward. It is framed through multiple storytellers and listeners, each adding a new layer of meaning. The sage Vyasa is said to have dictated the Mahabharata to Ganesha. Within it, Sanjaya narrates the Kurukshetra war to Dhritarashtra, answering his questions about the fate of his sons. And before the battle begins, another powerful dialogue rises — the Bhagavad Gita, where Krishna reveals to Arjuna the nature of duty, action, and liberation. 

It is striking that ideas like dharma, karma, and moksha were not delivered as sermons but through conversation. The layered structure of the Gita helps us understand its depth and complexity. Arjuna’s doubts strengthen Krishna’s responses. His fear and confusion make the text relatable and human. Without Arjuna’s voice, Krishna’s teachings might have felt distant; with it, the Gita becomes universal. Each reader can find their own questions echoed in Arjuna’s. 

This method was not unique to India. In ancient Greece, Socrates also taught through dialogue. He walked the streets of Athens asking questions about everything from governance to the inner soul. Instead of lecturing, he probed until clarity emerged. Today, this approach is known as the Socratic method, the foundation of philosophical inquiry and legal education. Interestingly, Socrates wrote nothing himself — his ideas survived because others recorded his conversations. 

Dialogue shaped Buddhism too. Many Buddhist sutras present disciples asking questions, with the Buddha responding patiently, and turning abstract truths into human conversation. 

Dialogue sits at the heart of our institutions. Parliaments debate to test ideas in the presence of opposing voices. India’s ‘Question Hour’ demands that ministers explain themselves publicly. Courts function through argument and counter-argument — lawyers speak, judges question, and truth is pursued through exchange, not assertion. 

So how does dialogue differ from storytelling? A story is linear and moves forward along a predetermined path. Dialogue is recursive — it circles back, revises, clarifies, and transforms. In the Bhagavad Gita, when Arjuna asks, and Krishna replies, the exchange is not just a transfer of knowledge. It is a transformation, one that reshapes both teacher and student, listener and reader. 

But do we still practice true dialogue today? Dialogue requires humility, patience, and listening.  It asks us to hold silence long enough to hear another voice. Without this, even the most sacred traditions lose their power. With Arjuna’s honesty, Krishna’s patience, and Socrates’ curiosity — we can soften divisions and find clarity again.

The art of dialogue is ancient, human, and still within reach. All we have to do is ask…and listen. 

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The end of the monsoon has always been more than a shift in weather. It is a time when the skies open after months of storm, when myths, epics, and festivals converge to give meaning to the retreat of rain. For ancient India, the parting clouds were not just a natural occurrence but a chapter in a cosmic story. 

The Devas, the Asuras, and the Skies 

In Vedic hymns, Indra is praised as the lord of thunder and rain, the one who wields the vajra (thunderbolt). His most famous battle was against Vritra, the serpent-demon who held back the waters of the world. When Indra struck Vritra, the rivers and rains were released. Myths like these offered explanations for the cycle of rain and drought, flood and retreat. 

The end of monsoon, when the clouds scattered and the skies cleared, was often seen as Indra withdrawing after victory, taking his forces of rain back to the heavens. Alongside Indra stood Varuna, the god of oceans and cosmic order (rita). Varuna’s role was to ensure that the waters returned to their rightful places—the seas, rivers, and underground springs—after the season of excess rain. In folk belief, his steadying hand kept the floods from swallowing villages once the storm season was over. 

Natural imagery reinforced these myths. The rolling away of dark clouds was likened to an army in retreat, while the golden sunlight of Sharad (autumn) was seen as the radiance of the gods returning to earth. 

Epics and the Retreat of Rains 

The great epics paid close attention to the rhythm of the seasons. In the Ramayana, Rama waited through the monsoon months in Kishkindha, forging his alliance with the vanaras. Only after the rains ended could his army march towards Lanka and begin the great war. The clear skies marked a time of decisive action—a season of battles where dharma would triumph. 

In the Mahabharata, too, rains dictated the rhythm of war. Armies traditionally rested during the monsoon, when rivers swelled and chariots could not move. The Kurukshetra war began in late autumn, after the rainy season, a detail that reflects how deeply natural cycles shaped even epic storytelling. The departure of the rains was symbolically tied to moments of reckoning, conflict, and eventual renewal. 

Festivals of Transition 

As the monsoon retreated, festivals marked the shift from storm to clarity. 

Sharad Navratri (September–October): Nine nights of worship, ending in the victory of the goddess Durga over Mahishasura. The timing reflects a cosmic renewal after the cleansing rains. 

Dussehra (Vijayadashami): Celebrated at the end of Navratri, it recalls Rama’s victory over Ravana, linking the festival directly with the post-monsoon return of clarity and light. 

Diwali: The festival of lights, celebrated a few weeks later, marks Rama’s return to Ayodhya after fourteen years of exile. Lamps are lit not only to welcome him, but also to mark the joy of harvests ripening after the rains. 

Together, these festivals mirror the natural journey: from turbulence to triumph, from cleansing rains to abundant harvests. 

Songs, Folklore, and Beliefs 

The retreat of the monsoon has always been sung into memory. In the folk songs of North India, the clouds are imagined as weary travellers making their way back home, while the clear autumn moon is celebrated as a symbol of purity and peace. The Toda people of the Nilgiris tell of two divine beings, Kaarsh and Kawntaiahh, who brought the south-west monsoon to their land. Their very breaths created storms and rain, and the swirling mists around sacred peaks still mark the onset and retreat of the season. Such myths root the monsoon deeply in local landscapes, making weather itself a divine presence.  

In Maharashtra, ballads tell of Indra’s return to his heavenly palace, leaving behind a refreshed and fertile land. Even classical music echoes this change of season: while monsoon ragas like Megh Malhar are sung to invite rain, autumnal ragas such as Durga and Bhairav celebrate the calm clarity of retreating skies. Across regions, the end of the rains inspire art, ritual, and devotion—transforming a natural shift into a sacred story. 

The monsoon’s departure has never been just about weather. It was a reminder that all things, even the heaviest clouds, will pass, making way for new beginnings. Ancient India read the skies as a sacred text, where every season told a story. And just as our ancestors found meaning in the shifting clouds, we too can learn from nature’s lesson: change is not to be feared but welcomed, for with every ending, comes the promise of renewal. 

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On a stormy midnight in Mathura, the prison doors swung open on their own, and a raging river parted for a father carrying his newborn. A legend was born that night. The child was Krishna, known as the playful cowherd, wise philosopher, and divine protector. His birth is celebrated across India as Janmashtami. 

According to the Bhagavata Purana, Krishna was born to Vasudeva and Devaki while they were imprisoned by Devaki’s brother, King Kamsa. A prophecy had warned that Devaki’s eighth child would bring about Kamsa’s downfall. To prevent this, Kamsa planned to kill their previous children. However, on the night of Krishna’s birth, miracles happened. Guards fell asleep, chains broke, and Vasudeva safely carried the infant across the Yamuna to Gokul. There, he would grow up under the care of Nanda and Yashoda.  

Janmashtami is observed on the eighth day (Ashtami) of the month of Bhadrapada, which usually falls in August or September. In Mathura and Vrindavan, temples light up with lamps and are adorned with flowers as devotees sing bhajans and recount stories from Krishna’s life. These stories include his melodious flute playing, his mischief, and his dances with the gopis. In Maharashtra, Dahi Handi events celebrate Krishna’s butter-stealing days, featuring human pyramids that reach for pots of curd hung high in the air.  

Fasting is an important tradition during the festival. Many devotees refrain from eating until midnight, the sacred moment of Krishna’s birth. At this time, idols of the infant Krishna are bathed in milk, curd, honey, and ghee, then dressed in fine garments and jewellery. Cradles are rocked, lullabies are sung, and chants of “Hare Krishna, ” fill the air.  

Janmashtami is more than a celebration of a divine birth; it reminds us of Krishna’s timeless message in the Bhagavad Gita: to live with love, courage, and selfless action. As the night sky resonates with music and devotion, the festival encourages everyone to welcome Krishna into our homes and our hearts. 

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Why do so many people love Hanuman? Is it because he can lift mountains? Or because he never gives up? Or maybe it is because he’s everything at once — strong and gentle, serious and funny, fierce and kind. In the countless stories about him, Hanuman shows us different sides of himself — each one full of power and meaning. 

Here are just some of the many faces of Hanuman, each drawn from a moment in his extraordinary story. 

Hanuman the Devotee 

Hanuman’s most   famous role is that of a bhakta — a true devotee. His love for Lord Rama is so deep that it becomes part of who he is. One of the most touching stories comes after the war in Lanka, when Sita gives Hanuman a pearl necklace as a reward. He begins biting each pearl, checking it carefully. When asked why, he says he is looking for Rama inside them because for him, only what holds Rama is valuable. Some even say he tore open his chest to show that Rama and Sita lived in his heart.  

Hanuman the Warrior

In the battlefield of Lanka, Hanuman becomes a one-Vanara army. He leaps across oceans, defeats demons, and sets the city of Lanka on fire with his burning tail. But one of his most epic warrior moments comes when he lifts the Dronagiri mountain to save Lakshmana. Not knowing which herb could heal him, Hanuman decides not to waste time and brings the whole mountain instead. It’s a reminder that true strength is not just about muscle, but about purpose.  

Hanuman the Scholar 

Did you know Hanuman was a brilliant scholar too? He is said to have mastered the Vedas and the Shastras and is even known as a great grammarian. In one lesser-known story from the Mahabharata, Hanuman meets the mighty scholar Bheeshma and engages him in a deep discussion on dharma and devotion. Another story says that after the war, Hanuman wrote his version of the Ramayana on a rock wall with his fingernail. It was so beautiful that even Valmiki was humbled. 

Hanuman the Trickster 

Hanuman has a clever, mischievous side too. As a child, he once mistook the sun for a fruit and leapt into the sky to grab it. Later, when he enters Lanka to search for Sita, he disguises himself, shrinks in size, and sneaks past the demon guards. When caught, he allows himself to be tied up — only to use that moment to burst free and burn down the city. His trickery is not for fun alone — it is always in service of a larger mission. 

Hanuman the Healer 

Hanuman is also associated with healing. His most famous act—flying to the Himalayas to fetch the Sanjeevani herb—saved Lakshmana’s life. In many parts of India, Hanuman is worshipped as a protector against illness, particularly among wrestlers, soldiers, and those who seek physical strength. Some temples even offer special prayers on Tuesdays and Saturdays for good health and courage. 

Hanuman the Tantric Guardian 

In some traditions, Hanuman is worshipped as a powerful protector in tantric practices. He takes on fearsome forms—like Panchamukha Hanuman, with five faces and ten arms, each face guarding against different kinds of evil. This form is said to have appeared when Hanuman had to rescue Rama and Lakshmana from a deadly trap. As a tantric guardian, Hanuman becomes not just a helper of gods, but a fierce force of protection in the cosmic battle between good and evil. 

Hanuman the Ascetic 

Some traditions depict Hanuman as a silent yogi, seated in deep meditation. After Rama’s departure, it is said that Hanuman withdrew from the world to continue chanting his name in solitude. In this form, he becomes the ideal ascetic—his mind entirely absorbed in the divine. This Hanuman reminds us of the stillness that lies beneath strength, the peace that follows devotion. 

And these are just a few of Hanuman’s many forms. In different regions and traditions, he appears as a musician, playing the veena in devotion to Rama; as a poet, composing hymns and verses filled with love; even as a guardian deity at village borders or a wrestler in local akhadas. His character continues to grow through stories, songs, and temple traditions, showing that Hanuman is not bound by one form or one role. He is a living symbol of all that is noble, brave, and kind.

In the vast world of Indian storytelling, Hanuman shines as a figure who is always close to the heart, whether he is flying through the skies or sitting in deep meditation. Each of his forms offers something special: strength, wisdom, devotion, or healing. And that’s what makes him timeless. No matter who you are or what you are facing, there is a Hanuman for you— ready to lift you up, guide you forward, or simply remind you that you are never alone. 

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Trivakra was a hunchback whose work was to take sweet-smelling ointments (angaraga) for Kamsa to smear on his body. Once, as she was going to the palace, she met Krishna and Balarama. Krishna’s presence filled her with love and she offered the angaraga to him. Krishna anointed himself and then holding her by the chin, stepped on her feet and straightened her back. Trivakra was cured of her hunch.

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Did you know that the Mahabharata ends with a dog? (It also starts with one, but that story is for another day.) 

After years of prosperous rule, the Pandavas and Draupadi renounced the throne and embarked on their last great adventure. They crossed land and sea and came to a winding mountain, where a dog joined them. As they climbed higher, one by one they began to die, but the dog followed at Yudhisthira’s heels like a silent shadow. When the two finally reached heaven, Yudhishthira refused to enter unless his faithful companion was also allowed inside. 

This story is not unusual. In world mythologies, dogs have often been associated with death.  

Hunting parties led by kings always included hounds to fetch the fallen kill. A dog’s howl, especially in the middle of war, was considered an ill omen. And the gates of Yama’s realm, the Underworld, are guarded by two dogs—Shyama and Sabala.  

Shyama (meaning ‘dark’) and Sabala (meaning ‘spotted’) can be described as dusk and dawn. Only one of them can see at a time, so they each have two pairs of eyes. 

In some stories, they are kind—messengers sent by Yama to collect the souls of the dead and guide them through the afterlife. In other stories, they are fierce—standing watch over the gates that all must pass through to reach the hall of judgement.  

The origins of Shyama and Sabala are uncertain. One version says they are from a group of asuras, called Kalakanjas, who were building a stairway to heaven. As the structure grew taller and taller, Indra pulled out one of the bricks. The whole thing fell apart, sending the asuras tumbling down. Most of them turned into spiders, landing safely. However, the two asuras at the top turned into dogs and were cursed to guard Yama’s kingdom forever. Another version calls them ‘Sarameya’ or the children of Sarama, Indra’s dog, who is considered the goddess of intuition and the mother of wild animals.  

Wherever they may come from, Shyama and Sabala still hold a place in our rituals. They are given offerings of rice-balls and mentioned in prayers to Yama, dating as far back as the Rigveda, where a seer says: 

The legend of these dogs has crossed the borders of India with Tihar, a five-day Nepalese Hindu festival, to honour creatures associated with Yama. On the second day, Kukur Tihar, dogs are worshipped. 

Shyama and Sabala are also significant in astronomy, representing the Canis Minor and Canis Major constellations respectively. The Kailasanathar Temple at Kanchipuram includes two dogs in a depiction of Shiva bringing the river Ganga down to earth. This could be hinting at the Akasha Ganga (Milky Way) and its Canis constellations—Yama’s two watchdogs, eternally gracing the night sky. 

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The Indian epics – Ramayana and Mahabharata – are both fascinating studies of human behaviour. They are full of myriad characters with unique personalities and motivations, all trying to navigate through concepts like duty, honour, love, morality, loyalty and courage. Unlike a lot of other modern and ancient literature however, the epics focus equally on men as well as women, allowing both genders the same level of complexity, thus giving us some of the most well-rounded, balanced, and interesting female characters.  

Women in the Epics  

Often women like Sita, Savitri, Sati and Anasuya are named as ideals of purity and chastity. They are seen to be women with excellent moral fibre, women who choose death over dishonour to their husbands and families, women for whom duty and sacrifice come above all else. However, the epics also contain female characters that have shades of grey. They are intelligent, confident and duty-bound, but they also display pride, rage and thirst for revenge.  

Ahalya Draupadi Kunti Tara Mandodari tatha  

Panchakanya smaranityam mahapataka nashaka 

This age-old Sanskrit verse is an ode to five such complex women from the epics. Literally translated, the verse means “One should forever remember the five virgins, Ahalya, Draupadi, Kunti, Mandodari and Tara, who are destroyers of great sin.”  

The Virgins 

At first glance, these five women don’t appear to be ‘chaste’ or ‘virgins’ in the traditional sense of the word. After all, all these women had relations with more than one man and some of them have also had to bear shame, abuse and punishment because of that. So why does this verse laud them? If these women were unchaste, then why do married women often chant this verse every day during their morning prayers?  

To answer these questions, we must examine our understanding of words like ‘chaste’ or ‘virgin’. In the traditional sense, a chaste woman would refer to someone who puts her husband above all else. She is devoted to only one man, never even entertaining the thought of loving another. She obeys her husband even if that means going against her own wishes. She is ready to sacrifice everything, even her life, to this end. Sita walking through fire to prove her chastity or Savitri following Yama to win back her husband’s life, can be seen as classic examples.  

However, there is another way of looking at the word ‘virgin’. A virgin could mean to be a woman who belongs to no man. She is essentially self-contained in the spiritual sense. She is a woman that no man can control or shame or ‘sully’, because she allows no one that power over herself, not even her husband. In that way, she is like the ‘pure’ spiritual ascetics, who always remain true only to themselves, dependent on no one, come what may.  

Draupadi and Kunti  

Ahalya, Mandodari and Tara belong to the Ramayana, while Kunti and Draupadi are from the Mahabharata. Kunti, the mother of the Pandavas, and Draupadi, their shared wife, both have massive roles to play in the way the Mahabharata plays out. Both are shown as intelligent, shrewd women with a deep understanding of the human mind. They were the guides to the Pandavas, providing advice, support and help throughout their journey, allowing them to fulfil their destiny. Both women also bear heavy burdens. They go through immense loss, sorrow and suffering but show strength and resilience that far surpasses the men around them. 

Kunti, whose boon allows her to beget children from various gods, has a son, Karna, before her marriage. Her action is born out of curiosity and the courage to explore outside the bounds of traditional taboos around unmarried mothers. She is however, forced to abandon her first son – a decision that causes her much pain throughout her life. After her marriage to Pandu, she bears him three sons, all from different gods, as per his desire. She is generous enough to share her boon with Madri, Pandu’s other wife. When Pandu and Madri die, she does not crumble. She becomes the strong matriarch that her sons need and fights tooth and nail to ensure they get their rightful place in the court of Hastinapur.  

Draupadi, born to avenge her father’s insult at the hands of Drona, has a life full of suffering caused by the actions of others. She is made the common wife of the Pandavas against her wishes, and faces insults about this all her life. She is staked in a game of dice like chattel by her husband, who is supposed to protect her. She is disrobed and publicly insulted in a roomful of men who watch on, unable to help her. That is where she learns not to depend on men or her husbands to protect her. She channels her rage and grief into a weapon meant to spur on her husbands in their journey. She ensures her honour is restored and assumes her rightful place as the queen of Hastinapur in the end. 

Kunti and Draupadi are perfect examples of autonomous women, bound to no man. They are extraordinary in their abilities and are aware that they must shape their own destinies, rather than depend upon others. While doing so, they are more than simply wives or mothers or daughters, they are their own women.  

Ahalya, Mandodari and Tara 

Ahalya, the beautiful wife of Sage Gautama, was cursed when she was seduced by Indra, who came to her disguised as her husband. While different versions of this story exist, most agree that she recognised Indra, but followed her instinct and curiosity and allowed herself to be seduced. Hers is a unique case of a married woman having a liaison with another man, without it being adultery or rape.  

On the face of it, Ahalya can be seen as an immoral woman. But when one analyses further, one sees that she represents a primal, unbound, female energy that instinctually responds to Indra’s masculine energy. Married to an old sage, Ahalya is never given the opportunity to actualise her beauty and youth. By giving in to Indra, she allows herself to rise beyond her roles as mother and wife and becomes a lover – a woman. Throughout all, she remains true to herself, her instincts and her deepest feminine urges, making her an extraordinary woman.  

Tara, the wife of Vali and Mandodari, the wife of Ravana are similar in a lot of aspects. Both are married to strong, powerful men. However, they are confident, intelligent women who act as counsellors to their husbands, preventing tragedies and ensuring their kingdoms run smoothly. However, when their husbands don’t listen to their advice, it leads to Ravana and Vali both perishing due to Rama. Upon losing their husbands, these women don’t collapse. Tara marries her brother-in-law Sugriva, to ensure her son, Angada’s place on the throne. Mandodari marries Ravana’s youngest brother, Vibhishana, and rules by his side to keep the peace in her beloved Lanka. Tara and Mandodari are true queens. They refuse to be their husband’s shadow and do what is best for themselves and their kingdoms, showing their unparalleled determination and strength.  

Panchakanya as Shakti 

These five kanyas, while not chaste in the traditional sense, are true virgins in the spiritual sense. They are not bound to any man and are manifestations of feminine power. They go beyond their earthly roles of being mothers and wives and excel at being individuals, always true to themselves. While their autonomy, strength and intelligence are awe-inspiring, they also have to contend with loneliness, grief and suffering because of their extraordinary natures. Their ferocity in remaining true to their humanistic core makes these five maidens true representations of Shakti in our epics, and worthy of veneration.  

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The terms asura and rakshasa are associated with destruction and violence throughout Indian mythology. In the epics, like the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, they are seen as demonic figures – monstrous in form and nature. However, a closer look reveals that not all asuras were the same. A lot of the asuras were not only talented and skilled at various crafts and warfare, but they were also great devotees of gods and had virtues like loyalty, selflessness and even righteousness. 

To delve into these ‘noble’ asuras, we must first dispel this mist and recognise their unique identity, not merely as ‘villains’, but as a distinct group with their own complex history, lineage, and qualities. Through the course of this article, we will see unexpected facets of these mythical beings, revealing many virtues hidden beneath the imposing faces and fearsome roars.  

Kumbhakarna 

Kumbhakarna, the younger brother of King Ravana, stood out not only for his immense size and insatiable appetite but also for being a virtuous and formidable warrior. While the Ramayana revolves around characters like Rama, Sita, Ravana, and Hanuman, Kumbhakarna holds a unique place in this epic. 

According to the Bhagavad Purana, Kumbhakarna is believed to be the incarnation of Vijaya, a gatekeeper deity, along with his brother Jaya. The two brothers faced punishment for their misconduct while guarding Vishnu’s abode. They were granted three lifetimes as Vishnu’s adversaries, cursed to die at his hands before being welcomed back to Vaikuntha. In their second incarnation, Jaya became Ravana, and Vijaya took the form of Kumbhakarna. 

Ravana, humiliated by Rama and his army, sought aid during the war from Kumbhakarna. However, a divine boon from Brahma made waking Kumbhakarna a daunting task. Legend has it that he was roused only when a thousand elephants trod upon his colossal frame. Upon awakening, Kumbhakarna learned of what Ravana had done and, despite his best efforts to persuade Ravana to reconsider, Kumbhakarna’s advice fell on deaf ears due to Ravana’s pride. Driven by loyalty, Kumbhakarna reluctantly joined Ravana’s army, demonstrating his prowess on the battlefield by single-handedly defeating thousands of Vanaras. Kumbhakarna’s dedication to his brother, even in the face of his own reservations, exemplifies his familial loyalty. Even though he had his arms severed by powerful divine weapons during the confrontation with Rama, he continued to fight valiantly. Some versions of the Ramayana even depict him recognizing the divinity of Rama. 

Ultimately, this powerful warrior met his demise at the hands of Rama, while dutifully serving his brother. Additionally, his attempt to counsel Ravana against the impending conflict, showcases a deep understanding of divine truths and underscores his moral compass. All these qualities make Kumbhakarna a figure worthy of re-evaluation and respect, adding a nuanced layer to the epic narrative of the Ramayana. 

Maya  

Maya, the king of a demonic race called the Danavas, is renowned for his architectural prowess. Among his many creations, he is particularly known for building the Palace of Illusions in the Mahabharata.  

Indraprastha, the kingdom established by the Pandavas, began as the untamed forest named Khandavaprastha, situated along the banks of the Yamuna river. When Arjuna set fire to the forest to clear the land, Mayasura, who was visiting a friend there, found himself trapped. It was in this dire moment that Arjuna extended a benevolent hand, rescuing Mayasura from the fiery inferno. This selfless act forged an unbreakable bond, and the grateful Mayasura pledged to build the Pandavas a beautiful home.  

Thus, from the ashes of Khandava forest, rose the city of Indraprastha. Described by Veda Vyasa as a paradise, it became a model of organised governance. Constructed by Mayasura in just five years, the Indraprastha Palace, also known as the Maya Sabha, boasted sweeping lines, grand rooms made of crystal and gems, and an opulent design. The palace had floors made of reflective crystals, giving the illusion of pools, and clear still-water pools that resembled floors.  

Unaware of this illusion, a visiting Duryodhana who was filled with envy over the luxurious palace, walked through it, mistaking one of the pools for the floor. As he fell into it, the mishap sparked laughter and ridicule from Draupadi and her maids. Enraged by the humiliation, Duryodhana’s anger flared, escalating the tension that paved the way for the infamous game of dice and, ultimately, the Kurukshetra war. Hence, Mayasura’s structures were not only renowned for their beauty, but also, settings that held narrative significance.  

Ghatotkacha 

Ghatotkacha, from the Mahabharata, is the son of Bheema and Hidimbi. When the Pandavas were living out their exile in the forest, a rakshasi named Hidimbi crossed paths with Bheema and they fell in love and got married later. Their son, Ghatotkacha, was half-human and half-demon. Despite her own brother seeing Bheema as an enemy, Hidimbi’s choice to marry him reflects a desire to take charge of her own destiny by gracefully assuming the role of a single mother and raising her son.  

Ghatotkacha inherited both human and rakshasa qualities, making him a formidable warrior. During the Kurukshetra war, he readily came to help his father. His proficiency in magic turned the tide of the war in favour of the Pandavas during critical moments. He could change his form and size at will, growing to gigantic proportions that dwarfed even buildings, or shrink to become tiny and invisible. This ability often proved advantageous in battle, intimidating enemies and allowing him to navigate difficult terrain. He also had the power to levitate and soar through the air with ease, which he used while helping Vatsala, the daughter of Balarama, leave her palace to meet her husband, Abhimanyu.  

He was also skilled at creating illusions to deceive his enemies. During the battle, he created a magical mountain from which came a stream of weapons. He could conjure up mirages, cast spells, and even made a dark cloud which rained down stones during the war. His immense strength could send trees flying at his enemies, and he could duplicate himself to confuse and tackle them. In the end, Ghatotkacha sacrificed his life to deploy the potent “Rakshasa Astra” against the Kaurava forces. This selfless act, born out of his commitment to the Pandavas’ cause, showcases his valour and willingness to prioritise the greater good.  

The temple in Champawat, Uttarakhand, associated with the site where Ghatotkacha’s head is believed to have fallen, adds a local touch to the Mahabharata narrative. The presence of a Ghatotkacha Temple in the Dieng Temples complex in Central Java, Indonesia, further illustrates the spread of Hindu mythology beyond the Indian subcontinent. Also, nestled amidst a sacred cedar forest near the town of Dungri, at the lush base of the Himalayan mountains, the Hidimba Devi Temple stands as a sacred sanctuary to Ghatotkacha’s mother, Hidimbi, who is revered as a deity there. A short distance away from this temple, a shrine has been dedicated to Ghatotkacha as well.  

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In Hinduism, the cycle of life and death is endless until one attains moksha (liberation from birth). However, there are some people who do not follow the same cycle. These are the Chiranjeevis. The Sanskrit word ‘chiranjeevi’ means immortal. Different texts mention either seven or eight such beings. This article explores how all of them attained immortality.  

Parashurama

Parashurama is the sixth reincarnation of Vishnu. After his family was mistreated by Kshatriyas, he made it his mission to rid the earth of them. Trained by Shiva himself,  Parashurama was brave, knowledgeable and devoted. Shiva gave him his axe, the Parashu, which led to him being called Parusharama, meaning ‘Rama with an axe’. Parashurama was a skilled teacher who taught Bheeshma, Drona and Karna. In fact, it is said that he was granted immortality by Shiva in order to train Kalki, the last reincarnation of Vishnu. He has met both Rama and Krishna, making him one of the few Dashavatars who has interacted with the others. 

Ashwatthama

Ashwatthama, the son of Drona, was born with a powerful gem on his forehead. This gem eliminated hunger, thirst, disease, and fear of any weapons, rakshasas, nagas and even gods, making Ashwatthama invincible. During  the Kurukshetra War, Ashwatthama’s father, Drona, and his friend, Duryodhana, were killed. Full of rage and grief, he went to seek revenge on the Pandavas. In the darkness, believing Draupadi’s five sons to be the Pandavas, he killed them instead and as a result, a furious battle ensued. He then tried to kill the unborn child of Uttara (Abhimanyu’s wife and Arjuna’s daughter-in-law), to end the Pandava lineage. However, before that could happen, Krishna took away his gem, condemning him to a life of endless suffering. It is believed that he still wanders the earth, filled with sickness and misery, his immortality being a curse instead of a boon.

Vibhishana

Vibhishana was Ravana’s brother and an asura. However, during the war, he defected to Rama’s side because of his righteousness. Some legends say that after the war, Rama granted him immortality to oversee the asuras and guide them along the path of righteousness. Others believe that it was Brahma who granted him immortality. When Brahma allegedly appeared in front of Vibhishana to grant him a boon, the latter asked for his mind to never stray from his conscience and that he always stay truthful. Impressed by this, Brahma bestowed upon him the gift of immortality. 

Mahabali

Mahabali was an asura king who captured the three worlds, defeating the devas. When they prayed to Vishnu, he took the form of a poor dwarf, Vamana, and asked the charitable king for three pieces of land measured by his stride. Mahabali agreed and suddenly, Vamana grew to an enormous size, covering the earth and heaven with his first two steps. When the humble Mahabali offered his own head for the third step, Vishnu, impressed by his gesture, crowned him the king of the underworld. Mahabali asked to be able to visit his subjects once every year, and so Vishnu made him immortal. Legends say that he might become the next king of heaven, taking Indra’s place. To this day, the festival of Onam in Kerala is a celebration of his annual return. 

Hanuman

Hanuman is the son of the wind god, Vayu, and his tales are recounted in the Ramayana, the Mahabharata and the Puranas. He is known for his devotion to Rama. According to some, when Rama was about to offer himself to River Sarayu, his last instruction was that Hanuman stay on earth till the end of this era to spread the Ramayana. This made him immortal. Other stories say that he was struck by Indra for trying to eat the sun as a child, and when revived, granted immortality by the devas. Some legends also speculate that he was granted  immortality by Sita as a token of gratitude, and for his devotion. 

Kripa

In the Mahabharata, Kripa was Drona’s brother-in-law and Ashwatthama’s uncle. He taught the Pandavas and the Kauravas, when they were growing up, and was considered a great teacher by all the princes. Unlike Drona, he was a fair and impartial guru, in whose eyes all his students were the same. Due to this nature, he was given the title ‘Acharya’ meaning ‘teacher’ or ‘guru’, and blessed with immortality. 

Veda Vyasa

Born as Krishna Dwaipayana, Veda Vyasa (literally translated as ‘splitter of the Vedas’)  is a sage and scholar who compiled the Vedas into four books. He is also known for writing the Mahabharata, the Upanishads, and the Puranas, all of which are important scriptures in Hinduism. Guru Purnima, a festival dedicated to honour teachers, is also known as Vyasa Purnima because it falls on his birthday. Some legends say that Vyasa was granted immortality so he could share his vast knowledge with the world. Other legends say that he was born an adult and has been immortal since. 

Markandeya

Some sources believe that Markandeya is the eighth Chiranjeevi. When his parents prayed to Shiva for a son, they were given the option of either having a pious child who would not live long, or a wicked child who would enjoy a long life. They chose the former and Markendeya was born — the ideal son, who destined to die at sixteen. He grew up to be a staunch devotee of Shiva, performing severe austerities and worshipping the Lingam. When the time came for Markandeya’s death, his devotion to Shiva protected him from dying. When Yama came to take his life, Shiva emerged from the Lingam, defeating Yama, and reviving Markandeya. He was then made immortal, remaining sixteen forever. 

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