2025 Week 34 Update

Spanish writer, poet, and motivational thinker known for her uplifting reflections on life, love, and personal growth, Foka Gómez’s quote emphasises the power of self-belief as the foundation for achieving goals and creating change. It suggests that what may seem like “magic” in life—success, transformation, or overcoming obstacles—doesn’t come from luck or outside forces, but from the confidence we hold within ourselves. When you truly believe in your abilities, you activate resilience, creativity, and determination, which allow you to turn possibilities into realities. The message is simple yet profound: self-belief unlocks potential. Without it, doubts hold us back; with it, even the impossible starts to feel within reach. In essence, the “magic” is not external; it lives inside us, waiting to be tapped. This quote reminds us that the real magic lies in self-belief. When you trust in your own abilities, you unlock the strength and confidence to overcome challenges and achieve your dreams. Believing in yourself is the first step to making anything possible.

I once again spent the week working on my content calendar for the rest of 2025 and beyond. Some posts were easy, some took time, and some have still not come to me. But hopefully, what I write is interesting and makes you want to continue to read.

BB is busy with the final touches to his big trip next month, and he and his platoon are doing all they can to make their mission a success. GG is busy with school, assignments, projects, and tests. 

I read something recently that I thought I should share: There are many times when we feel that we can’t go lower than where we currently are. But we should never let the dark moments make us forget how powerful we truly are; we will always rise above. We should not let the temporary thoughts and emotions fool us into thinking we are weak, because when we’re vulnerable, it is easy to fall into the trap of assuming we can’t handle this. Remember, no matter how many times life has been hard, we have always found our way to the light. We’ve always shown up with resilience, strength, and grace and have it in us to overcome adversity and rediscover joy in our lives.

That’s all I have for you this week. Stay positive, keep smiling, and remember, it is always darkest before dawn!

In My Hands Today…

Children of Ash and Elm: A History of the Vikings – Neil Price

The Viking Age – between 750 and 1050 – saw an unprecedented expansion of the Scandinavian peoples.

As traders and raiders, explorers and colonists, they reshaped the world between eastern North America and the Asian steppe. For a millennium, though, their history has largely been filtered through the writings of their victims.

Based on the latest archaeological and textual evidence, Children of Ash and Elm tells the story of the Vikings on their own terms: their politics, their cosmology, their art and culture.

From Björn Ironside, who led an expedition to sack Rome, to Gudrid Thorbjarnardóttir, the most travelled woman in the world, Price shows us the real Vikings, not the caricatures they have become in popular culture and history.

Sacred Stones, Spaces and Stories: Shakthipeeta Part 16

Varahi Devi Temple, Panchsagar, Uttarakhand
The Varahi Devi Temple, located in the sacred land of Uttarakhand, in the town of Panchsagar is dedicated to Goddess Varahi. According to historical records, the temple’s present structure dates back to the 14th century, though much of its early history remains shrouded in mystery. According to tradition, it is believed that the lower teeth of Goddess Sati fell here. Interestingly, there is some debate about the exact location of this Shakti Peetha. While some sources place it in Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh, others identify it in Panchsagar, Uttarakhand.

At the Varahi Devi Temple, the goddess is worshipped as Varahi, a fierce form of Shakti. The name Varahi itself is significant, meaning with the face of a boar in Sanskrit. This unique representation of the goddess is closely associated with Lord Vishnu’s Varaha avatar. The Bhairava, the fierce manifestation of Lord Shiva who accompanies the goddess at each Shakti Peetha, is known here as Maharudra.

Goddess Varahi is depicted with the head of a female boar, wearing a red sari and adorned with jewels. The temple is revered by all three branches of Sanatana Dharma – Vaishnavism, Shaivism, and Shaktism. Unlike most temples, this shrine is open for only two hours daily, typically between 5:30 and 7:30 am. The temple is believed to be located near a sacred water body while the temple’s structure is said to glow uniquely when sunlight falls upon it, creating mesmerising views.

Despite its limited opening hours, the temple sees a constant flow of devotees offering prayers and seeking blessings. Navratri is celebrated with great gaiety at the temple, with Varahi Navaratri celebrated around June and July each year. Daily rituals include Kshirabhishekam or a milk bath and Kumkumarchana or a vermilion offering to the goddess. Sahasranamam and Ashtottara Shata Namavali are powerful chants that are recited during the daily pujas. The Rath Yatra is a major event celebrated with great devotion and festivals like Durga Puja, Vijaya Dashami, and Kalabham Festival are also celebrated with enthusiasm.

According to the Matsya Purana, Maa Varahi was created by Lord Shiva from the incarnation of Lord Vishnu’s Varaha avatar to slay a demon. She is primarily worshipped at night. It is said that there are two holes at the temple site, believed to be where Sati’s teeth fell. Legend has it that when someone tried to measure their depth years ago, he lost his power of sight. It is believed that Maa Varahi protects the holy city of Varanasi during the night, which is why the temple remains closed during the day. Some devotees believe that worshipping at this temple can help improve eyesight, likely connected to the legend of the unmeasured depth.

The Varahi Devi Temple, with its blend of myth, history, and living faith serves as a cultural centre, preserving ancient traditions and fostering community bonds. Its unique blend of Vaishnava, Shaiva, and Shakta traditions, coupled with its mysterious origins and limited accessibility, makes it a fascinating destination for both devotees and those interested in India’s spiritual heritage.

Attahas Temple, Attahas, West Bengal
The Attahas Temple, also known as the Phullara Shakti Peetha, is located in the village of Dakshindihi, near Katwa in Birbhum district. As one of the 51 Shakti Peethas, it is believed that this is where her lower lip is believed to have fallen. Here, the goddess is worshipped as Maa Phullora, symbolising blooming energy, and Lord Shiva is revered as Vishwesh Bhairava, her eternal consort and protector.

The origins of the Attahas Temple are deeply rooted in Hindu mythology and history. The name Attahas is derived from two Sanskrit words: Atta or excessive and Hasa or laughter, translating to loud laughter. This name is linked to the belief that Goddess Sati’s divine laughter resonates at this sacred site. The exact date of the temple’s establishment remains unknown, but archaeological evidence suggests that an ancient temple existed here centuries ago. The current structure was renovated and re-enshrined in 1915, after the original idol was moved to a museum for preservation. The temple houses a massive 15-foot-long stone that symbolises Sati’s lower lip, making it a unique representation among Shakti Peethas.

The temple’s location on the banks of the Ishani River, locally known as Kandor River, adds to its serene and spiritual ambience. Surrounded by natural beauty and dense forests, it is not only a place of worship but also a haven for environmentalists and birdwatchers who visit during December-January to observe migratory birds like Asian openbill storks and fruit bats.

As Goddess Sati is worshipped as Maa Phullora here, the name reflects her nurturing aspect that promotes growth and prosperity. Devotees offer items grown from the soil—such as grains, fruits, and flowers—as a symbol of gratitude for her blessings. Lord Shiva, in his fierce form as Bhairava, is worshipped here as Vishwesh, meaning Lord of the Universe. His presence ensures protection and balance at this powerful site of divine feminine energy.

Unlike conventional idols or murtis, the main deity at Attahas is represented by a massive stone measuring approximately 15 feet in length. This stone symbolises Sati’s lower lip and serves as a focal point for worship. The stone emanates an aura of divinity and uniqueness, making it one of the most distinctive representations among all Shakti Peethas. Though not grand in scale or opulence, the temple’s marble structure exudes elegance and serenity. Its understated design allows devotees to focus on spiritual connection rather than material grandeur. Adjacent to the main shrine is a smaller shrine dedicated to Lord Shiva as Vishwesh Bhairava, and Kal Bhairava.

A large pond near the temple holds immense religious significance. According to legend, Lord Hanuman collected 108 blue lotuses from this pond when Lord Rama required them for Durga Puja during his battle against Ravana. Devotees believe that bathing in this pond purifies sins and brings prosperity. The temple is surrounded by lush greenery and wildlife. Migratory birds like storks and butterflies add to its tranquil environment, attracting not just devotees but also nature enthusiasts.

The Attahas Temple follows traditional rituals steeped in Tantric practices and Shakta traditions. The day begins with Mangala Aarti or the early morning prayers, followed by offerings of flowers, especially hibiscus, coconuts, fruits, and grains. Devotees chant mantras dedicated to Maa Phullora while circumambulating the sanctum sanctorum. Navratri is celebrated with great fervour at Attahas. Special Tantric rituals are performed during these nine nights to invoke Maa Phullora’s blessings. Devotees offer anna bhoga or cooked rice offerings during these days as part of their prayers for prosperity.

A grand 10-day fair is held annually during Magh Purnima in January-February. Thousands of devotees gather at this time to offer prayers and participate in cultural programmes. The fair includes traditional music performances, stalls selling religious items, and community feasts. The temple is an important centre for Tantrik Shaktism. Many Tantriks perform rituals here seeking spiritual enlightenment or mastery over esoteric powers. These rituals often involve chanting mantras over specific yantras that are sacred geometric diagrams placed near Maa Phullora’s stone representation.

One legend explains how the name Attahas came into being. At Attahas, where her lower lip fell, it is believed that Shiva momentarily experienced divine laughter amidst his sorrow upon realising Sati’s eternal presence through these sacred sites. This laughter resonated across the cosmos and gave this place its name—Attahas or Loud Laughter. Another story links Lord Hanuman to this sacred site. During Lord Rama’s preparation for battle against Ravana in Lanka, he sought Maa Durga’s blessings through Durga Puja. As part of the ritual, he needed 108 blue lotuses. Hanuman searched far and wide until he discovered a pond near Attahas filled with these rare flowers. He collected them with devotion and presented them to Rama for his worship of Maa Durga. This act sanctified not only the pond but also reinforced Attahas as a site blessed by divine intervention.

An ancient terracotta inscription was discovered near the temple complex during archaeological excavations. While researchers are still deciphering its script, it is believed to contain information about early worship practices at Attahas or possibly references to Tantric rituals performed here centuries ago. This inscription adds an air of mystery to the temple’s history and underscores its significance as an ancient center of spirituality.

The Attahas Temple offers devotees a unique spiritual experience rooted in mythology, history, and natural beauty. Its distinct representation of Maa Phullora through a massive stone symbolising Sati’s lower lip sets it apart from other temples dedicated to Shakti. Whether you seek blessings for prosperity or wish to immerse yourself in serene surroundings steeped in divine energy, visiting this sacred site provides solace for both mind and soul.

Bahula Temple, Ketugram, West Bengal
Located in Ketugram village near Katwa in the Bardhaman district, the Bahula Temple is dedicated to Goddess Bahula, a manifestation of Shakti. The temple holds immense significance for devotees who come seeking blessings from the goddess, known for her nurturing and lavish nature. Here, Lord Shiva is worshipped as Bhiruk Bhairava, the divine protector of the Shakti Peetha.

The Bahula Temple is believed to date back to ancient times and is associated with the legend of Goddess Sati’s self-immolation during Daksha Yajna. It is said that Goddess Shakti’s left arm fell at this site in Ketugram and sanctified the location as a Shakti Peetha. The name Bahula has dual meanings: Bahu in Sanskrit means arm, signifying the part of Sati’s body that fell here, while Bahula translates to lavish or abundant, symbolising the prosperity and blessings bestowed by Goddess Bahula.

Historical records suggest that the temple was established by Raja Chandraketu, a local ruler who installed the stone idol of Goddess Bahula along with those of her sons, Lord Kartikeya and Lord Ganesha. Over time, the temple has undergone renovations but retains its ancient charm.

Goddess Sati is worshipped as Bahula, representing abundance and prosperity. Lord Shiva is revered as Bhiruk Bhairava, meaning one who has attained the highest levels of meditation or Sarvasiddhidayak or the grantor of all attainments.

The sanctum sanctorum houses a stone idol of Goddess Bahula in a serene form. She is depicted alongside her sons, Lord Kartikeya, symbolising war and fertility, and Lord Ganesha, representing auspicious beginnings and wisdom. The idol exudes simplicity yet radiates divine energy, drawing devotees into deep devotion. A separate shrine within the temple complex is dedicated to Bhiruk Bhairava, who protects this sacred site. His presence ensures balance and harmony at this powerful Shakti Peetha.

The temple features a spacious courtyard paved with red stone. This open space provides an area for meditation and spiritual reflection amidst the chiming of bells and chanting of mantras. The temple is located near the banks of the Ajay River, adding to its serene ambiance. The river is considered sacred by devotees who often take ritual baths before entering the temple. Unlike grand temples with elaborate carvings, the Bahula Temple boasts a simple yet elegant structure that emphasises spiritual connection over material grandeur.

The daily rituals and special ceremonies at Bahula Temple reflect deep-rooted traditions. The day begins with Mangala Aarti or early morning prayers at dawn. Devotees offer flowers, especially hibiscus, coconuts, fruits, sweets, and incense sticks as part of their prayers. Evening prayers include Sandhya Aarti followed by lighting lamps around the temple premises.

Navratri is celebrated with great grandeur at this Shakti Peetha. Special pujas are performed over nine days to honour Goddess Bahula’s nurturing aspect. Devotees offer bhog or sanctified food made from rice, fruits, and sweets during these celebrations. Durga Puja and Kali Puja are marked by elaborate rituals conducted by priests using tantric practices. Devotees participate in community feasts organised within the temple premises. Maha Shivratri is dedicated to Bhiruk Bhairava, where devotees perform night-long prayers seeking his blessings for spiritual growth and protection. Chhoti Navratri, a lesser version of Navratri celebrated in April includes yajnas or fire sacrifices performed to invoke divine blessings.

According to local lore, Raja Chandraketu was a devout follower of Goddess Shakti who had a vision instructing him to establish a temple at Ketugram where Sati’s left arm had fallen. Following this divine command, he installed stone idols of Goddess Bahula along with those of Kartikeya and Ganesha. It is said that Raja Chandraketu’s devotion was so intense that he never left empty-handed after praying at this temple—a belief that continues among devotees today. Another popular legend highlights how Maa Bahula blesses her devotees with prosperity and abundance. Farmers in Ketugram believe that offering prayers at this temple ensures bountiful harvests and protection from natural calamities.

The name Bahula, meaning lavish or abundant, reflects her role as a giver of wealth and well-being. Bhiruk Bhairava’s association with meditation as Sarvasiddhidayak has inspired many sages and ascetics to practice intense penance near this temple. It is believed that meditating here under Bhiruk Bhairava’s guidance leads to spiritual enlightenment and liberation from worldly attachments.

The Bahula Temple offers a unique spiritual experience rooted in mythology, history, and devotion. Its status as one of the 51 Shakti Peethas makes it a must-visit for devotees seeking divine blessings. The serene environment near Ajay River provides an ideal setting for meditation and introspection while the simple yet powerful representation of Maa Bahula through her stone idol emphasises humility in worship. Whether you seek prosperity or spiritual growth, visiting this ancient shrine will leave you feeling connected to divine feminine energy embodied by Maa Bahula!

In My Hands Today…

The Wreckage of My Presence – Casey Wilson

Casey Wilson has a lot on her mind and she isn’t afraid to share. In this dazzling collection of essays, skillfully constructed and brimming with emotion, she shares her thoughts on the joys and vagaries of modern-day womanhood and motherhood, introduces the not-quite-typical family that made her who she is, and persuasively argues that lowbrow pop culture is the perfect lens through which to understand human nature.

Whether she’s extolling the virtues of eating in bed, processing the humiliation over her father’s late in life perm, or exploring her pathological need to be liked, Casey is witty, candid, and full of poignant and funny surprises. Humorous dives into her obsessions and areas of personal expertise—Scientology and self-help, nice guys, reality television shows—are matched by touching meditations on female friendship, grief, motherhood, and identity.

Reading The Wreckage of My Presence is like spending time with a close friend—a deeply passionate, full-tilt, joyous, excessive, compulsive, shameless, hungry-for-it-all, loyal, cheerleading friend. A friend who is ready for any big feeling that comes her way and isn’t afraid to embrace it.

Short Story: Kites and Mangoes

9 August, Singapore

You don’t sound Indian,” the boy had said at the kopitiam when Kavya ordered her teh c kosong. He’d grinned, like it was a compliment.

Kavya had smiled tightly, thanked him, and walked away. She was used to it.

Born and raised in Singapore, she knew the National Day Parade theme song by heart and could switch between English, Tamil, and a sprinkle of Mandarin like a linguistic gymnast. But somewhere between “pure” Singaporean and “actual” Indian, she felt like she belonged everywhere and nowhere at once.

She’d grown up visiting temples on weekends, dancing Bharatanatyam at community festivals, and eating prata after tuition class. But whenever she visited Little India, there was always someone who’d ask, “You from here or there?” and she never had a clear answer.

This year, she wanted something more. Something beyond tidy traditions and carefully curated heritage trails. She booked a solo trip to India, to Madurai, the city where her grandmother had been born.

Why now?” Amma had asked, frowning over her glasses.

I want to feel where I come from,” Kavya replied. “I want to be in India on Independence Day.”

Her mother had sighed but said nothing. That night, she slipped an old photograph into Kavya’s bag: a black-and-white picture of a young woman in a half-saree standing in front of the Meenakshi Temple.

11 August, Madurai, India

The heat struck like a drumbeat. Everything in Madurai pulsed: the honks, the temple bells, and the jasmine sellers with their hypnotic chants.

Kavya stayed in a modest homestay just off a street flanked by banana trees and walls stained with old film posters. The house had creaky wooden shutters, a courtyard with a mango tree, and an old woman who insisted Kavya eat second helpings of everything.

The rhythm of life was different here. Slower, louder, more chaotic, and strangely comforting. Kavya spent her mornings walking to temples and her afternoons scribbling in a notebook she carried everywhere. She didn’t know what she was writing—just thoughts, feelings, and fragments of herself.

12 August, Madurai

On her second morning, Kavya heard a ruckus in the alley. She stepped out and saw a girl, barefoot, dust-streaked, and laughing, chasing a runaway calf down the narrow lane. The girl caught it by the rope, scolded it gently in Tamil, and looked up to see Kavya watching.

You look like you’re from here but also… not,” the girl said, grinning.

Kavya laughed. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that. I’m Singaporean. My grandma was from here.”

Then you’re one of us,” the girl declared. “I’m Meenal. Come. We’re painting flags today. For August 15. Want to help?

Kavya blinked. “Me? I don’t really paint…”

That’s okay. You’ll learn. We’re not picky about strokes, only spirit.

And just like that, she was pulled into a swirling circle of colours, cloth, and conversation.

13 August, Madurai

They sat under a neem tree, painting tiny Indian flags on scraps of cloth. Children swirled around them, cheeks smeared with green and orange.

What’s National Day like in Singapore?” Meenal asked, dabbing white onto a fabric square.

There’s a huge parade. Fireworks. Everyone wears red and white. But… it feels curated. Clean.”

You miss mess?” Meenal teased.

I miss… rawness. My identity feels like a fusion dish sometimes. Indian, but diluted. Singaporean, but never quite full-blooded.

Meenal paused and dipped her brush into green. “Being Indian isn’t about passports. It’s about stories. Smells. The way your body remembers mangoes even when your tongue forgets.”

Kavya looked at her. “You make it sound like poetry.

It is. We’re both translations of something old and beautiful.”

They sat in silence for a while. A small girl brought them sliced raw mango with chilli salt. Kavya bit into it, eyes watering from the tang.

This,” she said, “tastes like my grandmother’s kitchen. I didn’t even know I remembered.”

Meenal smiled. “See? That’s the thing about home. It sneaks up on you.”

14 August, Madurai

That evening, Meenal took her to a rooftop near the temple.

We come here every year to light paper lanterns,” she said. “Some say they carry prayers. Others say they chase away the shadows.”

As the sky dimmed, they lit small lanterns and watched them rise. Kavya stood quietly, fingers curled around her wrist.

My parents wanted me to study engineering. I chose literature instead,” Meenal said suddenly. “They said it was a waste. But I like words. Words are how I remember who I am.”

Kavya looked at her. “You’re lucky you even knew. I feel like I’m always translating what I want, who I am, who people think I should be.”

“Maybe identity isn’t about choosing one version. Maybe it’s about collecting them, like shells. Some smooth, some cracked. But all real.”

15 August, Madurai

The morning was thick with saffron skies and fried vadai. Children marched barefoot with tricolour kites and hand-painted flags. The air buzzed with pride, promise, and powdered colours.

Meenal tugged Kavya to the rooftop.

Here. Yours.

Kavya took the spool and launched her kite into the air.

It wobbled at first, then caught the wind. Higher, stronger.

Below, loudspeakers blared patriotic songs. Kavya felt the strings burn gently against her fingers.

You know,” she said softly, “In Singapore, we sing ‘One People, One Nation, One Singapore.’ But I never understood how to be one thing.”

Meenal grinned. “Maybe we aren’t meant to be one thing. Maybe we’re meant to be many.”

They watched the sky fill with colour. Saffron, white, green, and somewhere, Kavya imagined, red and white too.

I came here to find roots,” she said. “But I think I’ve found mirrors.”

One Week Later, Back in Singapore

Back in Singapore, the sky was cleaner, the traffic neater, and the air-conditioning colder.

On her desk sat a jar of Madurai earth, still smelling faintly of turmeric and dust.

On the wall: two flags. Side by side. Equal in colour, different in rhythm.

She opened her journal and flipped to the back.

A new note from Meenal had arrived by post.

Dear Kavya,

Happy National Day (again)! Mango season starts in March. Your kite is still flying, by the way.

We saved the spot on the rooftop for you.

Kavya smiled and picked up her pen.

Dear Meenal,

Tell the mangoes I’m coming. And this time, I’m bringing chilli salt.