Vira Chandra: There was a time when mystical wisdom flowed effortlessly through the world. The words of saints carried the weight of Shakti, and those who sought truth could drink deeply from the rivers of Parampara, Sadhu-Sanga, and direct transmission. The currents of Anugraha Shakti found pathways through the great traditions—Shaiva, Shakta, Vaishnava, Sufi, Buddhist, and even the deeply encoded rituals of African mysticism. The voices of realized beings were not just echoes from the past, but living presences, guiding, revealing, awakening.
But now, one by one, these pathways are closing. I have seen it. I have heard it from those who walk these paths, and it cannot be denied. Whole Paramparas fade into lifeless institutions, their pulse growing weaker until only the hollow shell remains. Tariqas that once carried the fire of divine intoxication now struggle under the weight of formality and stagnation. Even in places where devotion once burned brightly, the light is dimming. It is happening everywhere, not in just one tradition but across the world. The great rivers are drying up. And yet, Shakti does not disappear.
A river blocked does not cease to exist. It seeks new ways, carving unexpected paths through unseen terrain. This is what I see now, what I feel so deeply—that Shakti is no longer bound to the expected, no longer confined to the walls of tradition. But why is this happening? Because the Classical Pillars of Tradition—Sadhu-Sanga, Guru, Shastra, and Parampara—can no longer adapt to the pace at which the world is changing. It is not that Shastras are invalid, but the reality is that every text that was once new and revelatory for seekers a thousand years ago now struggles to address the complexities of kala, desha, patra—time, place, and individual context. These texts remain sacred, but they have increasingly become the domain of scholars rather than direct tools of liberation for modern seekers.
Nietzsche, in Thus Spoke Zarathustra, beautifully depicted the kind of dry intellectualism that consumes texts without living their essence. Too many today mistake an academic grasp of tradition for true spiritual realization. Guénon’s followers, with their rigid belief that merely understanding Tradition intellectually is enough for liberation, embody this error. But the true seeker is not satisfied with such barren knowledge. The fire of direct experience still burns, and it is in that fire that Shakti moves now, beyond rigid forms and expectations.
She has slipped into the unnoticed, the mundane, the very places no one thought to look. She speaks now through songs that were never meant to be sacred, through words written by those who may not even know Her name. She calls from within the ordinary, revealing Herself in unexpected voices, awakening those who can still hear Her.
And that is why I now concentrate on these so-called mundane songs. Not because I have abandoned the old ways, but because I see where She is moving now. Because I refuse to believe that wisdom can only be found in texts that no longer breathe. Because I feel Her unmistakable presence in places where others assume She does not exist. And because I know that when Anugraha Shakti moves, She does not wait for permission, She does not require a sanctioned space—She simply is, pouring forth wherever She wills.
Some will understand. Some will not. That is how it has always been. But for those who can still recognize the scent of the Divine, even when it comes wrapped in unexpected forms, this is for you. The old rivers may be closing, but the flood of Shakti is still here. If you listen, truly listen, you will hear Her, even in the places you least expect.
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