Sacred Stones, Spaces, and Stories: Jyotirlingas Part 5 – Omkareshwar Temple

The Omkareshwar Temple is one of India’s twelve revered Jyotirlinga temples dedicated to Lord Shiva, standing majestically on Mandhata Island amid the tranquil and sacred flow of the Narmada River in Khandwa district, Madhya Pradesh. The island itself is said to be naturally shaped like the sacred syllable Om, a symbol of the cosmic sound and creation in Hindu tradition. Both the region’s geography and mythology infuse this site with deep spiritual resonance, making it a crucial place of pilgrimage for seekers, saints, and historians alike. Omkareshwar’s importance stretches far beyond religious devotion; it is a site of harmony where legend, landscape, and architecture unite in eternal homage to Lord Shiva.

The legends that suffuse Omkareshwar Temple are as vibrant and multi-layered as the Narmada’s current, each weaving together divine drama, cosmic symbolism, and human aspiration. The most prominent legend tells of Vindhya, the mountain deity who, overflowing with pride, desired to surpass Mount Meru. The sage Narada detected this pride and advised Vindhya to pray for liberation from his arrogance and its attendant sins. Vindhya’s intense penance to Shiva led to the creation of a sacred geometrical diagram and a linga fashioned from sand and clay. Pleased by Vindhya’s devotion, Shiva manifested in two forms: Omkareshwar and Amaleshwar. The island gained recognition as Omkareshwar because the mud mound appeared in the form of “Om”.

Another legend centers around King Mandhata, a devout ruler from the Ikshvaku dynasty, ancestors of Lord Rama, who performed intense penance atop Mandhata Parvat. His unwavering devotion attracted the grace of Lord Shiva, who incarnated as the Jyotirlinga at Omkareshwar, blessing the land and its people. Mandhata’s sons, Ambarish and Muchukunda, undertook their own spiritual practices here, further amplifying the site’s sacred aura.

Hindu scriptures also recount an epic cosmic battle in which the Devas or gods were defeated by the Danavas or demons. Bereft and seeking salvation, the Devas performed severe austerities, praying to Shiva at Omkareshwar. Pleased by their prayers, Shiva manifested as the Jyotirlinga, in Omkareshwar, vanquished the demons, and restored balance to the cosmos, reaffirming Omkareshwar’s position as a place of divine intervention and protection.

Omkareshwar is deeply tied to the Advaita Vedanta philosophy and the eternal mantra “Om.” It symbolises non-duality, the unity of creation and creator, and the boundless resonance of the cosmic sound. Tradition holds that Adi Shankaracharya met his guru, Govinda Bhagavatpada, in a cave near the temple, a pivotal moment in Indian philosophical history that continues to impact spiritual seekers worldwide.

The spiritual and historical canvas of Omkareshwar Temple is rich, stretching over hundreds of generations. Historical accounts suggest that the original temple was commissioned by the Paramara Kings of Malwa in the 11th century CE. Over the centuries, it faced destruction and restoration, changing hands between rulers and dynasties. The Chauhan Kings administered the temple in later centuries. During the 13th century, Muslim invasions, starting with Mahmud Ghazni, led to periods of destruction and looting, but local rulers and devotees ensured restoration and continued worship. In the 18th century, Queen Ahilyabai Holkar, a renowned patron of Hindu temples, undertook extensive reconstruction and added significant architectural embellishments.

The temple and Mandhata Island feature prominently in the Skanda Purana, Shiva Purana, and other ancient scriptures, which extol the spiritual power of its location. The sacred geography is highlighted as a tirtha, or crossing place where heaven and earth meet, amplified by the confluence of the Narmada and Kaveri rivers.

The island’s natural shape, resembling the word “Om,” sets Omkareshwar apart from all other Jyotirlinga sites, while the surrounding ghats, forests, and riverbanks combine wild beauty with meditative calm. Adi Shankaracharya’s visit and extended meditation here serve as a bridge connecting Omkareshwar to the broader philosophical, sannyasa, and devotional traditions throughout India.

Omkareshwar Temple is as much a marvel of ancient architecture as it is a centre of spiritual energy. The temple is built in classic Nagara style with intricately carved spires and shikharas, merging gracefully with the island’s contours and riverbanks. The sanctum sanctorum or garbhagriha houses the revered lingam. The temple’s structure is predominantly stone, shaped to withstand centuries of monsoon and river flooding, reflecting both resilience and architectural innovation. Mandapas or pillared halls, circumambulatory paths, and subsidiary shrines dedicated to Goddess Parvati and Lord Ganesh enhance the spiritual and functional aspects of the site. Elaborate carvings on pillars, ceilings, and external walls depict scenes from Shiva’s lore, nature motifs, and floral designs emblematic of the Malwa region. The temple’s ornamentation honors both royal patrons and local artistic traditions, contributing to Omkareshwar’s vibrant visual identity.

The Mamleshwar Temple, located on the opposite bank, considered by some traditions as equally sacred. Adi Shankara’s Cave is where Adi Shankaracharya met his guru, is marked by an image and often visited by spiritual aspirants. Archaeological remains of Jain and Hindu temples, known as the 24 Avatars Group, showcase the island’s multi-faith heritage.

The spiritual life at Omkareshwar pulses with daily rituals and annual festivals that unite devotees in worship and celebration. Daily pujas include the abhisheka when the linga is bathed with water from the Narmada, milk, honey, and fragrant flowers, accompanied by the rhythmic chanting of mantras. Multiple times each day, ceremonial lamps, music, and prayers unfold, invoking the blessings of Omkareshwar. Devotees present coconuts, incense, silk, and garlands, often completing a circumambulation of the temple and island, a rite said to bestow merit and purification.

Mahashivaratri is the most important festival, marked by vigil, fasting, grand processions, and elaborate worship attended by tens of thousands of pilgrims. The fifth lunar month, Shravan, is filled with special pujas, communal singing, and heightened devotion. Local customs reflect both Malwa and broader Indian traditions, with community involvement spanning from offering food to maintaining cleanliness and hosting guests.

A pilgrimage to Omkareshwar is as much a journey of spirit as one of landscape. Omkareshwar is connected by road and rail from Indore, Khandwa, and Ujjain. The nearest airport is Indore, about 80 km away. After arriving in the bustling town, pilgrims cross the Narmada by ferry or foot bridges to reach Mandhata Island, with its serene ghats, steps, and forested terrain. Eateries, dharamshalas (pilgrim hostels), lodges, and ashrams cater to all travelers, offering simple vegetarian fare and local delicacies. The town radiates a welcoming spirit with locals, priests, and volunteers supporting visitors in their search for spiritual solace and ritual guidance.

The sounds of water, bells, and chanting intermingle, creating a meditative ambiance that resonates with ancient stones and smiling faces. Many share tales of healing, inner peace, inspiration, and unexpected blessings, the island’s energy and landscape accentuate the sense of divine presence.

Omkareshwar’s reach goes far beyond its physical boundaries, shaping literature, music, art, and local identity. The temple is extolled in classical Sanskrit and vernacular poetry; devotional songs and stories celebrate Shiva’s victories, Mandhata’s penance, and the island’s mystical power. Regional and national artists compose bhajans and ragas inspired by the temple and the chanting reverberating across the river. Stone sculptors and local artisans produce icons, carvings, and paintings reflecting the temple’s motifs. Fairs and festivals feature dance, drama, and crafts, sustaining Omkareshwar as a vibrant cultural hub in the region. Omkareshwar shapes community pride for residents and the Malwa region, fostering a sense of belonging. Spiritual anecdotes and legends are shared with every visitor, passed down through generations and etched into local folklore.

Today, Omkareshwar Temple is a dynamic pilgrimage and tourist destination, managing ancient traditions amid contemporary needs. The temple is administered by local trusts and authorities, maintaining daily rituals, festival calendars, and infrastructural upgrades. Digital registration, security enhancements, guided tours, and heritage conservation reflect ongoing adaptation.

Visitor numbers swell during Mahashivaratri, the Shravan month, and holidays, with improved travel facilities and hospitality. Environmental stewardship ensures preservation of the river, forests, and historical monuments. Major conservation efforts include repairs after monsoon damage, safeguarding sculpture, and archaeological work. Pilgrims and tourists hail from across India and the globe, reflecting the temple’s universal spiritual magnetism.

The Omkareshwar Temple, held tenderly in the embrace of the Narmada’s waters and the shape of Om, stands as a testament to the unity of creation and consciousness embodied in Lord Shiva. Its tapestry of legend, sanctity, history, and landscape offers a sanctuary for reflection, transformation, and transcendence. In the grand circuit of Jyotirlinga temples, Omkareshwar is both a spiritual and philosophical anchor, inviting every seeker to listen to the eternal sound within and without, in every stone, wave, and breath.

In My Hands Today…

In the Land of Invented Languages: Esperanto Rock Stars, Klingon Poets, Loglan Lovers, and the Mad Dreamers Who Tried to Build a Perfect Language – Arika Okrent

Just about everyone has heard of Esperanto, which was nothing less than one man’s attempt to bring about world peace by means of linguistic solidarity. And every Star Trek fan knows about Klingon, which was nothing more than a television show’s attempt to create a tough-sounding language befitting a warrior race with ridged foreheads. But few people have heard of Babm, Blissymbolics, and the nearly nine hundred other invented languages that represent the hard work, high hopes, and full-blown delusions of so many misguided souls over the centuries.

In In The Land of Invented Languages, author Arika Okrent tells the fascinating and highly entertaining history of man’s enduring quest to build a better language. Peopled with charming eccentrics and exasperating megalomaniacs, the land of invented languages is a place where you can recite the Lord’s Prayer in John Wilkins’s Philosophical Language, say your wedding vows in Loglan, and read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland in Lojban.

Aging with Identity: Rethinking Erikson’s Final Stage of Life

Ageing is not just about bodies wearing down. It is also about identity, memory, and meaning. Erik Erikson, the psychoanalyst famous for his theory of psychosocial development, believed that later life is a stage of deep reckoning. His model, especially the last stage of “ego integrity vs. despair,” still shapes how academics, doctors, and ordinary people think about ageing. But the theory deserves scrutiny. It has both strengths and limits. It offers a helpful lens, but not the only one. To understand its truth, we must question it, push against it, and see where it holds up or falls apart.

Erikson built his work on Freud but expanded it. Instead of focusing on childhood alone, he saw development as lifelong. He listed eight stages, each defined by a conflict. Trust vs mistrust in infancy. Autonomy vs. shame in toddlers. Identity vs. role confusion in adolescence. Each stage asked a question about the self and others. How we answered shaped our growth.

For older adults, the last stage is the struggle between ego integrity and despair. Integrity means accepting your life as it was, with both failures and wins, and finding peace in it. Despair means regret, bitterness, and fear, especially fear of death. In short, Erikson asked, when old age knocks, do you face it with acceptance or anger?

Erikson’s last stage resonates because it feels true. Many older people speak about their need to “make peace” with their lives. Hospice workers observe patients reflecting on choices, wishing they had spent more time with family, or expressing gratitude for simple joys. The struggle between meaning and regret is visible in end-of-life interviews. Philosophers like Viktor Frankl, with his focus on meaning, echo this. Spiritual traditions, too, stress the importance of reconciliation before death.

The model also gives caregivers, families, and health workers a language to understand older people’s emotions. It recognises that ageing is not just physical decline but also psychological conflict. That alone is valuable.

But the stage is not universal. Not every person over 65, or 85, moves neatly into such a conflict. Many never stop working or see themselves as “old.” Others live with dementia, where reflection may no longer be accessible. If meaning-making defines ageing, what about those whose memory fails? Does that mean their experience is somehow incomplete? Erikson did not account for this.

The binary of integrity or despair also feels too stark. Human emotions are often mixed. An 80-year-old may feel proud of raising children, but at the same time regret a career choice. They may find comfort in faith but still fear death. To label them as sitting on one side or the other feels simplistic.

Class, race, and gender also complicate the picture. Regret and satisfaction are shaped by social conditions. What does integrity look like for someone who spent their life in poverty or discrimination? How does systemic injustice affect the ability to look back with acceptance? Erikson’s neat framing risks sounding blind to power.

Erikson built his model largely within a Western, individualist framework. Acceptance, in his sense, often means judging life as a personal project. But in other cultures, ageing takes different forms. In many Asian or African traditions, elders gain meaning by being part of the community, not by private self-reflection. Their identity is tied to family continuity, ancestral lines, or collective memory.

For example, Confucian ideas of filial piety emphasise not ego integrity but the role of the elder as custodian of wisdom and moral guidance. Wholeness comes not through self-acceptance alone but through leaving a legacy for others. In such contexts, Erikson’s last stage may misinterpret how ageing is experienced.

Other psychologists have offered different models. Robert Peck expanded on Erikson, suggesting that older adults face shifts beyond integrity and despair, like moving from valuing physical strength to valuing wisdom, or from focusing on personal goals to considering broader community roles. This seems less dualistic and closer to what people actually experience.

Modern gerontology often rejects “stages” altogether. Life is seen less as a set path and more as a fluid adaptation to change. Baltes’ theory of Selective Optimisation with Compensation explains ageing as a process of choosing what to focus on, maintaining what you can, and adapting where you must. This avoids the all-or-nothing of Erikson’s model and fits diverse experiences better.

Still, Erikson’s insight, that later life sharply raises questions of meaning, seems hard to deny. Even if the categories are rigid, his focus on reflection, reconciliation, and acceptance points to a central truth: ageing forces us to look back. Mortality makes the life lived matter in a way midlife rarely does. Almost every elder interviewed in ethnographic studies returns to this: how they made sense of what happened.

Critics often shy away from Erikson’s idea of despair because it sounds bleak. But maybe he was right to stress it. Ageing does involve loss: of health, vitality, loved ones, and opportunities. Pretending despair is avoidable may be dishonest. Perhaps what matters is not erasing despair but learning to live with both acceptance and regret. Integrity may not be a victory so much as a fragile balance.

This reframing also makes sense of why many older adults cycle between peace and sadness. Losses trigger reflection, good memories return, and the two coexist. The task is not choosing one “side” but holding both without collapse.

So why is this important now? Debates on ageing are not abstract. As populations age worldwide, societies must rethink how we support elders. If we frame ageing only as decline, we risk dismissing older adults as past their use. If we follow Erikson too literally, we may falsely assume the elderly are either serene sages or bitter failures. Both miss the complexity.

Public policies often overlook the psychological dimensions of later life. Loneliness, depression, and the search for meaning affect health as much as physical ailments. Understanding that ageing involves a struggle for coherence can shape better care. It reminds us that listening, storytelling, and honouring people’s lives matter.

The appeal of Erikson’s theory is its clarity: a neat final battle. But human lives rarely end neatly. Integrity is rarely full; despair never vanishes. The truth is likely messier: older adults juggle pride and regret, joy and sorrow, and courage and fear. Instead of treating Erikson as a strict stage, perhaps it is better used as a metaphor, a reminder of the questions that emerge when death comes close.

If we reject stages, though, we must ask: what does healthy ageing look like? Maybe it is less about resolving contradictions than about sustaining relationships, telling stories, and leaving something for others. Maybe ageing well is not inner peace but connection. Maybe it is not a judgment of a life but participation in life until the end.

Erikson’s theory forces the young to ask: when I look back one day, what will I see? His model is not just about old age but about what makes a life worth living. The danger is assuming a single answer applies to everyone. But the gift is remembering that reflection awaits us all.

In My Hands Today…

Steeple Chasing: Around Britain by Church – Peter Ross

Churches are all around us. Their steeples remain landmarks in our towns, villages and cities, even as their influence and authority has waned. They contain art and architectural wonders – one huge gallery scattered, like a handful of jewels, across these isles.

Award-winning writer Peter Ross sets out to tell their stories, and through them a story of Britain. Join him as he visits the unassuming Norfolk church which contains a disturbing secret, and London’s mighty cathedrals with their histories of fire and love. Meet cats and bats, monks and druids, angels of oak and steel.

Steeple Chasing, though it sometimes strikes an elegiac note, is a song of praise. It celebrates churches for their beauty and meaning, and for the tales they tell. It is about people as much as place, flesh and bone not just flint and stone. From the painted hells of Surrey to the holy wells of Wales, consider this a travel book . . . with bells on.

The Abundance Principle: Truth or Trap?

The abundance principle is popular today. It’s the belief that there’s enough wealth, opportunity, love, and resources for everyone. Some call it a mindset shift. Others treat it as a spiritual law. It pushes the idea that scarcity is man-made, while abundance is the natural state of the universe.

But is that true? Does it hold up under scrutiny? Or is it just a comforting story that hides hard realities? Let’s dig into it.

At the centre of the abundance principle is the idea that what you focus on expands. If you live with a scarcity mindset, you limit yourself. You see obstacles everywhere. But if you think abundantly, you see possibilities, take more risks, and attract better outcomes.

There’s some truth here. Psychology and behavioural economics support parts of it. Cognitive priming, for example, shows that what we focus on shapes perception. Optimists often spot chances pessimists overlook. And those who see opportunity tend to act more boldly, which can yield better results.

So yes, having an abundance mindset can improve how you navigate life. But that’s not the whole story.

Money is finite in any given moment. Time is limited; we only get 24 hours per day. Land, oil, water, and rare minerals are in short supply. If abundance believers deny that, they risk falling into magical thinking.

For example, if you take the principle too literally, you might think, “If I believe in wealth, wealth comes to me.” That ignores systemic inequality, privilege, corruption, and structural barriers. Tell someone living under poverty or oppression to “just think abundantly,” and you risk insulting their reality. So we need to separate mindset benefits from hard material limits. Thoughts can shape action, yes. But thoughts don’t change the raw scarcity of natural resources.

Scarcity has a productive role. Because we don’t have everything, we develop creativity. Scarcity forces prioritisation. It shapes value. A diamond matters because it is rare. If everything were abundant, would anything hold meaning? Economics is built on scarcity. Without it, supply and demand would vanish. Would human motivation remain if all needs were endlessly met? That’s an open question. So before we worship abundance, we should admit that scarcity gives structure to life. Without limits, choices lose weight. An abundance mindset often thrives for those who already have some privilege. It’s much easier to think positively about opportunity if your rent is paid and your basic needs are covered.

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But for billions of people, scarcity isn’t a mindset; it’s survival. A mother in a drought-hit village has no clean water. A child in an underfunded school lacks resources. Can abundance thinking erase that? Not without systemic change. And that means collective effort, not just individual thinking. Abundance rhetoric often shifts responsibility away from social change and onto individuals. That might suit elites who benefit from inequality. So we should ask: Does the abundance principle empower everyone, or only those already comfortable?

Now let’s challenge the scarcity view. Human history shows we keep breaking resource limits with ingenuity. Agriculture feeds growing populations. Green energy reduces reliance on oil. Technology unlocks new minerals in places once unreachable.

Each time we hit a wall, we often innovate our way past it. So while scarcity exists in the short term, abundance may emerge in the long term if human creativity continues. This suggests abundance is not a fixed reality but a moving target we can push toward. That’s a point in favour of the abundance principle.

Abundance thinking is often packaged as a quick fix. You’ll find it in self-help books, coaching seminars, and Instagram posts. The message: think positive, trust the universe, and all your goals will align. But this risks creating blame. If someone struggles, it’s implied that they failed to think abundantly enough. Poverty or illness is framed as a mindset failure. That’s cruel and misleading. The hard truth: not everyone has equal chances. Luck, geography, genetics, and social conditions matter. Abundance thinking can help, but it doesn’t override brute reality.

So, where does this leave us? The abundance principle has value when used as a mindset tool. It opens people to opportunities and reduces fear-driven choices. But it becomes dangerous when treated as cosmic law or economic policy. We need both scarcity and abundance. Scarcity pushes us to innovate. Abundance thinking allows us to expand possibilities. Together, they create tension that drives human progress. The mistake is treating abundance as a universal truth, rather than a useful perspective.

Let’s press harder. If resources are abundant, why wars over oil? Why mass migrations over food and water scarcity? Why is climate collapse driven by the overuse of limited resources? Can we just affirm abundance and solve these? No. These are complex systemic issues. Optimism cannot generate new water in a dead river. But innovation and cooperation can. Abundance emerges not from belief alone, but from human effort, planning, and shared responsibility.

This raises another question: Does the abundance principle risk encouraging passivity? Instead of working to solve problems, people may wait for abundance to “flow.” That mindset could worsen the very issues abundance claims to heal.

Still, we shouldn’t dismiss abundance entirely. Studies in positive psychology show people with a belief in possibility tend to recover faster from setbacks. Hope fuels resilience. That’s valuable. So perhaps the abundance principle is less about truth and more about utility. It works if it helps you act, adapt, and persist. Problems come when we confuse utility with objective reality.

From Eastern philosophy, Buddhism warns against attachment, including attachment to wealth or abundance. The focus is not abundance but detachment. From Stoic philosophy, Seneca emphasised preparation for loss and embracing limits, not denial of them. From modern environmentalism, abundance thinking risks ignoring ecological collapse. If we believe resources are infinite, we may overconsume even faster. So wisdom traditions often lean toward balance, restraint, and awareness of limits, not endless plenty. The abundance principle in its modern self-help form ignores that lineage.

One of the key tensions in abundance thinking is between the individual and the collective. On an individual level, it makes sense. Believe in opportunities. Act as if possibilities are open. That can fuel success. But collectively, unchecked abundance ideology may fuel consumerism, environmental harm, and inequality. If everyone believes resources are limitless, who protects finite ecosystems? If everyone is told they can get rich, who addresses structural poverty? So abundance, if applied blindly, can become an excuse for selfishness.

Maybe the healthier approach is sustainable abundance. That means recognising limits while working collectively to expand opportunity. Not ignoring scarcity, but managing it wisely. Not telling the poor to just change their mindset, but creating systems that expand access. This framing respects reality and still draws on the hope of growth. It blends realism with optimism.

The abundance principle speaks to a deep human longing. We want to believe there’s enough for all of us. It soothes fear and inspires hope. But we must test its claims against reality. Scarcity is real and shapes life. Ignoring it is a mistake. But abundance can be cultivated through innovation, cooperation, and mindset shifts. The principle works best not as a universal truth, but as a tool, a frame of mind that helps us strive for more while facing limits honestly. So next time you hear someone say “abundance is all around,” pause and ask: in what sense? Psychological abundance? Technological? Environmental? Economic? Does it help us, or does it distract us from what must still be done? Perhaps the best answer is simple: think abundantly, but act responsibly.