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The Abundance Principle: Truth or Trap?

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

Sacred Stones, Spaces, and Stories: Jyotirlingas Part 4 – Mahakaleshwar Temple

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In the ancient city of Ujjain, perched on the banks of the holy Shipra River in Madhya Pradesh, stands the majestic Mahakaleshwar Temple, a storied sanctuary of Lord Shiva, honoured as one of the twelve Jyotirlingas in India. Mahakaleshwar, meaning “The Lord of Time and Death,” is unique for its south-facing linga or dakshinamukhi, a rare feature symbolising Shiva’s might over death itself. Throughout centuries, the temple has drawn kings, saints, poets, and millions of devotees, serving both as a spiritual epicentre and a monument to resilience amid cycles of destruction and renewal. In Ujjain, the cosmic rhythms of time and faith converge, making Mahakaleshwar a beacon in the Jyotirlinga pilgrimage and the soul of the city’s religious life.

The legends of Mahakaleshwar are at once magnificent and profound, revealing why the temple is revered as the guardian of time. One prominent tale is the Legend of King Chandrasena and Shrikhand: King Chandrasena of Ujjain, a devout Shiva worshipper, safeguarded the city while performing deep meditation. A simple farm boy, Shrikhand, inspired by the king’s devotion, discovered a buried Shiva lingam and began worshiping it. As the city faced invasion by enemies, Shiva appeared in his fearsome Mahakala form, answering the prayers of his devotees, vanquishing the oppressors, and promising to protect Ujjain henceforth. This miraculous event led to the formal enshrinement of the Mahakaleshwar Jyotirlinga, considered “Swayambhu” or self-manifested, offering devotees solace from fear and assurance of Shiva’s eternal guardianship.

Another powerful legend recounts the wrath of Lord Shiva during the cosmic Tandava dance at the death of his beloved Sati, after her father Daksha insulted him. Shiva’s dance of destruction in Ujjain led him to manifest here as Mahakaleshwar, “the mightier than time,” eternally transcending the cycles of birth and death. The temple also honours Kalabhairava, Shiva’s fierce aspect, as the guardian deity of Ujjain. According to lore, those who worship Kalabhairava here are protected, further cementing Mahakaleshwar’s reputation as a place to overcome fear and hardship.

Ujjain itself is ranked among the “Saptapuris”, the seven holy cities offering moksha or liberation from rebirth, making Mahakaleshwar a crucial gateway in Hindu eschatology. With roots stretching back over two millennia, Mahakaleshwar Temple is a living chronicle of Ujjain’s history.

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Archaeological records and ancient coins suggest that the original temple may have been constructed during the rule of Prajapati Brahma, with concrete evidence pointing to the reign of the Paramara dynasty as a formative period. Multiple dynasties: Guptas, Mauryas, Paramaras, Mughals, Marathas, and Scindias, have presided over Ujjain, each leaving their mark on the temple and city.

The invasions over centuries were brutal: The temple was repeatedly razed by foreign aggressors. Prominent among these was the destruction during the 13th century by Iltutmish, Sultan of Delhi. Nevertheless, local rulers like Udayaditya and Naravarman spearheaded reconstructions, reinstating Mahakaleshwar as Ujjain’s spiritual heart.

A hallmark of Mahakaleshwar’s history is its Bhasma Aarti tradition—the offering of sacred ash to Shiva, rooted in tantric lore and embraced by successive generations. The continuously burning dhuni or sacred fire in the temple is believed to have blazed for centuries. Ujjain also hosts the grand Kumbh Mela every twelve years, fusing Mahakaleshwar’s ritual power with vast communal gatherings. Through cycles of devastation and revival, the temple has stood as a metaphor for time’s flow and the endurance of faith.

Mahakaleshwar’s architecture is an elegant fusion of Bhumija, Chalukya, and Maratha styles, shaped by the eras and rulers who rebuilt it. The sprawling five-level temple complex is centred on the sanctum sanctorum, the garbhagriha, housing the self-manifested lingam deeply embedded in the earth. Its south-facing orientation sets it apart, signifying Shiva’s power over death and time, a feature central to spiritual and ritual practices.

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The temple towers, shikharas, are adorned with detailed carvings of mythological themes, while wide pillared halls or mandapas invite mass gatherings. Constructed of massive stone blocks and ornate marbles, the temple’s design blends durability with artistry. Within the precincts are shrines dedicated to Parvati, Ganesh, Kartikeya, and Nandi; exquisite reliefs cover walls and pillars depicting Shiva, his vahanas or vehicles, and attendant deities. A distinctive feature is the Kalabhairava sanctuary, reinforcing the temple’s role as a protectorial space. The eternal dhuni is both a literal and symbolic heart of the temple, its smoke infusing the daily bhasma aarti and connecting worshippers with cosmic cycles. The multi-storeyed structure allows for distinct ritual layers, each with its own atmospheric ambiance and spiritual significance.

Mahakaleshwar is famed for its intense, immersive rituals. The most celebrated daily rite, performed at 4 am is the Bhasma Aarti. Priests douse the lingam with bhasma or ashes from the sacred funeral pyres, anoint and dress the deity, then awaken Lord Shiva with chanting, music, and offerings. Only men can witness the actual bhasma application, a tradition echoing the tantric emphasis on transformation through ash and fire. Daily pujas are a cycle of morning, afternoon, and evening prayers, including abhisheka which is the ritual bathing with water, milk, honey, aarti with lamps and conch shells, and the distribution of prasad or blessed food. Mahashivaratri draws throngs from across India for all-night vigils, fasting, and processions. The temple marks other local and national festivals with grandeur. As offerings to Kalabhairava, devotees present liquor, a rare permitted custom signifying liberation from taboo, fear, and the mundane. Local families and temple societies maintain centuries-old traditions, with inclusive efforts ensuring all strata of society participate in ritual cycles. The rituals here are elemental: fusing body, mind, and spirit in cycles reflecting the movement of time and the inevitability of death and renewal.

A visit to Mahakaleshwar is a transformative pilgrimage, set in the vibrant and historic city of Ujjain. Ujjain is accessible by rail and road, with the nearest airport at Indore about 55 km. Pilgrims arrive from across India and the world, often as part of Jyotirlinga circuits or during festivities like Kumbh Mela. Ujjain is known for its welcoming Dharmashalas or pilgrim hostels, bustling markets, and street-side eateries serving traditional cuisine. The city’s ancient lanes, ghats, and ritual spaces evoke the spiritual heritage of the region. Situated on the banks of the Shipra, Mahakaleshwar’s setting connects water, life, and cosmic cycles. Ujjain itself is considered a point of cosmic calibration, India’s ancient prime meridian, from which astronomical calculations are made. Pilgrims recount mystical dreams, moments of deep peace, and miraculous recoveries. The very stones of Mahakaleshwar seem to pulse with time’s rhythm, whispering stories from millennia past. The experience is one of immersion: in ritual, history, and spiritual community, leaving participants profoundly changed.

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Mahakaleshwar Temple, beyond its religious role, has indelibly shaped literature, art, music, and identity in Ujjain and beyond. The temple and city feature in countless Sanskrit and Hindi works, from Kalidasa’s “Meghadoot” to medieval bhakti poetry and modern narratives. The myth of Shiva as Mahakala has inspired tales of divine power and cosmic cycles. Shiva-centered ragas and devotional songs echo in temple halls and city festivals, providing inspiration for classical and folk artists. Painted scrolls, sculptures, and murals throughout Madhya Pradesh reference Mahakaleshwar, his fiery dance, and the city’s sacred landscapes. For Ujjain’s inhabitants, Mahakaleshwar’s festival calendar structures civic life; local customs, crafts, and economies revolve around the temple. The city’s reputation as a “divine timekeeper” arises from the temple’s mythic and astronomical associations. Pilgrimage narratives and experiences are widely shared in contemporary literature and digital media, further expanding Mahakaleshwar’s cultural reach.

Today, the Mahakaleshwar Temple embodies both ancient resilience and adaptive modernity. Governed by the Mahakaleshwar Mandir Trust, the temple organises daily rituals, festivals, and infrastructural development. Ujjain has emerged as a major pilgrimage hub and a heritage destination. Infrastructure improvements have increased accessibility while retaining the temple’s historic ambience. Recent decades have seen extensive conservation: restoring sculptures, reinforcing the foundations, and managing the temple’s cultural landscape. Mahakaleshwar attracts a diverse, transnational array of pilgrims—youth, families, scholars, spiritual seekers—reflecting the broad appeal of Shiva and the enduring relevance of Jyotirlinga worship. Mahakaleshwar’s presence in popular media, documentaries, and digital platforms continues to widen its spiritual resonance in India and worldwide.

Mahakaleshwar Temple in Ujjain stands as the eternal keeper of time, a place where mythology, history, ritual, and humanity converge. As the only south-facing Jyotirlinga, it underscores Shiva’s power over mortality and time, offering liberation, protection, and renewal to all who seek it. In the labyrinthine lanes of Ujjain and the echoing halls of Mahakaleshwar, the cosmic cycles unfold, inviting generations of pilgrims into a dance with the divine. Through destruction and restoration, legend and lived experience, Mahakaleshwar continues to guard the passage of time, remaining a pillar of India’s spiritual heritage and a guiding light in the Jyotirlinga circuit.

Life Beyond the Highlight Reel

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Social media runs our lives more than we admit. It feels like the place to be if you want to know what’s happening with people. But the truth is that what we see there isn’t the whole story. It’s not real life. It’s the highlights, the best parts, carefully chosen and polished. That’s why it feels so dangerous. It tricks us into thinking everyone else is living better, happier, more exciting lives than we are.

We scroll through pictures of vacations, smiling couples, perfect homes, and celebrations. But we don’t see bills, fights, loneliness, or self-doubt. And because we don’t see those things, it’s easy to believe they don’t exist. That gap between what’s shown and what’s real is what makes social media such a mind game.

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The Nature of the Highlight Reel  

Think of a highlight reel in sports. A player’s best shots, biggest goals, or buzzer-beating scores. You don’t watch the missed shots, the mistakes, or the hours of practice. Social media works the same way. People show the most polished version of themselves. The good moments, not the daily grind.

Someone might post a picture of a romantic dinner, but not the argument that happened last week. A clip of their baby laughing, but not the sleepless nights or moments of frustration. The family holiday snaps, but not the stress of travelling.

This doesn’t mean people are lying. Most are just choosing what to share. But the result is the same. The feed looks like nonstop joy, success, beauty, and fun. The boring and painful moments are invisible. And because we see highlight after highlight, it shapes what we expect from life.

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Comparison Is Unavoidable  

The biggest problem is that we can’t stop comparing. Even if we know in our heads that social media is curated, our feelings react differently. You see an old friend buying a house, and suddenly your apartment feels small. You see someone running marathons, and your walks around the block feel pathetic. The more you scroll, the more you feel like you’re behind.

We compare without meaning to. It just happens. And unlike TV or movies, which feel far away, social media feels personal. These are our friends, classmates, and coworkers. People our age, from our town, with the same opportunities. So their “highlight reel” feels like a challenge to our reality.

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The Pressure to Perform  

Seeing other people’s highlights doesn’t just make us compare; it also makes us want to perform. We start to think about our own posts as if they were a product. We edit photos, tweak captions, and pick the best angles. We want to look like we’re winning, too.

You might spend an hour editing a picture that captures a two-minute moment. Or post a smiling selfie even when you felt anxious that day. This isn’t always conscious. Sometimes it’s just a habit. We want others to think our lives are good, so we highlight the good parts. In that way, everyone is performing.

But performance comes with pressure. If you show only wins, you feel like you can’t show losses. If you always smile in photos, you feel like you can’t admit sadness. Slowly, your online self becomes a version of you that’s hard to live up to in real life.

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Missing the Full Picture  

When we only see highlights, we miss the messy reality. And in that gap, truth gets distorted.

Think about friendships. You might see your friend posting pictures of parties every weekend. You wonder why you weren’t invited. You think you’re left out. But maybe it was a cousin’s birthday or an office thing where they don’t actually know most people. You’re missing context.

Or careers. A coworker posts about getting promoted, but they don’t share the months of struggles or mistakes that came first. You just see the win, not the grind.

Even self-image suffers. People use filters and angles that make them look different from in person. When that’s all we see, it changes our idea of what’s normal or beautiful.

The biggest problem is forgetting that we’re not seeing the full movie, just the trailers.

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Mental Health Struggles  

Scrolling through highlight reels has real mental health effects. Many people report feeling more anxious, more insecure, and lonelier after time on social media. Seeing other people’s joy can make our own problems feel bigger.

You might feel like everyone else is happier, more successful, or more loved. And when life feels hard, that contrast can be painful. Even if you know logically the truth is different, the feelings sink in. Your brain doesn’t shake it off so easily.

There’s also the addiction cycle. Likes, comments, and shares give little hits of dopamine. They feel good for a moment. So we keep posting. We keep checking. But the high fades quickly, leaving us wanting more. Meanwhile, when a post doesn’t get much engagement, it feels like rejection, even though it doesn’t really mean anything.

All of this makes social media feel both irresistible and draining.

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Why We Keep Falling for It  

So why do we keep buying into the highlight reel, even when we know it’s not real? The answer is simple: humans have always wanted to be seen in the best light.

Think back before Instagram. People have always shown their best selves. Dressing nicely for family portraits. Bragging to relatives about new jobs. Showing off clean living rooms when guests came over. Social media just amplifies that tendency.

It also plays on our natural curiosity. We want to know what’s going on with people we know. And once we open the door, we can’t help but judge, compare, and react. The problem isn’t new. Social media just puts it in our pocket 24/7.

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Escaping the Illusion  

The hard truth is you can’t control how other people post. You can only control how you respond. Here are a few ways to fight back against the illusion of the highlight reel:

  • Remind yourself it’s not the whole story. Every post is a moment, not a full picture. Nobody’s life is perfect.
  • Take breaks. Stepping away helps reset your mind. Even a short break can relieve the pressure. 
  • Set limits. Don’t scroll endlessly. Give yourself cut-off times.
  • Unfollow or mute. If certain people’s posts always bring you down, take control of your feed.
  • Focus on reality. Spend time with friends face-to-face. Notice the good in your own daily life, not just the online version.
  • Be honest when you post. Share things that feel real, not just staged. It takes courage, but it can also feel freeing.
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When Social Media Helps  

It’s not all bad. Social media can connect people, spread awareness, and give support. It can be fun to see others’ moments, so long as you remember what they are: highlights, not daily reality.

It can help share ideas, art, and projects. It can also give people with small voices platforms they never had before. The issue isn’t the tool itself; it’s how we use it, and how we let it affect us.

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Choosing Real Life First  

At the end of the day, social media is a tool. It doesn’t have to define how you see yourself. The highlight reel is fine as long as you remember it’s edited. Real life is happening off-screen, in conversations, in messy days, in struggles, and in small victories nobody posts about.

Your own life, with its ups and downs, is worth more than any curated feed. The challenge is to believe that when scrolling tempts you to think otherwise.

Social media will keep showing highlights. That won’t change. What can change is how you see them. Don’t measure your behind-the-scenes against someone else’s best moments.

The highlight reel isn’t the truth. It’s just the surface. Look beyond it. Choose to live in the real story, not the filtered one.

Sacred Stones, Spaces, and Stories: Jyotirlingas Part 3 – Mallikarjuna Temple

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Situated atop the sacred Shri Shaila Mountain in the Nallamala Hills of Andhra Pradesh, the Mallikarjuna Temple in Srisailam is one of the twelve revered Jyotirlinga temples of Lord Shiva. Unique among the Jyotirlingas, Mallikarjuna also simultaneously enshrines a Shakti Peetha, making it a rare and deeply sacred space for the worship of Shiva and his consort Parvati, worshipped here as Bhramaramba. This convergence of Shaivism and Shaktism symbolises cosmic balance and union, earning the temple the epithet Kailash of the South. For centuries, pilgrims have journeyed through dense forests and rugged hills to seek blessings from the divine pair, believing the temple to be a source of spiritual power, peace, and transformation.

The Mallikarjuna Temple brims with ancient mythic tales that illuminate its divine origins and cosmic significance. According to one legend found in the Agni Purana and Skanda Purana, a pivotal event shaped the temple’s sanctity: the reconciliation and union of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati on the sacred hill of Shri Shaila.

One popular story recounts the marriage dilemma of Shiva’s sons, Ganesha and Kartikeya. When deciding which son should marry first, Shiva proposed a cosmic contest: whoever circled the universe first would win. Kartikeya rode off on his peacock mount to physically circle the world, while Ganesha circled his parents, Shiva and Parvati, symbolising the universe itself. Ganesha’s cleverness won him the first marriage, making Kartikeya angry and withdrawing to isolation.

To bring Kartikeya back, Shiva and Parvati took residence on Sri Shaila Mountain in the forms of Mallikarjuna (Shiva) and Bhramaramba (Parvati), thereby turning the hill into a sacred abode. It is believed that on new moon nights or Amavasya, Shiva appears as Mallikarjuna, and on full moon nights or Poornima, Parvati appears as Mallika, and together they await their son’s return.

Another legend suggests that Mallikarjuna is one of the three divine Shiva lingas appearing during different yugas at Srisailam, Draksharamam, and Kaleshwaram, representing his omnipresence. The name Mallikarjuna itself is derived from Mallika, meaning jasmine, believed to be the flower with which Shiva’s linga was worshipped here.

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Local tribal lore enriches the temple’s mystique as well. The Chenchu tribes, forest dwellers who historically live in the area, regard Shiva as a hunter who married a Chenchu maiden, symbolising a deep connection between nature, divinity, and humanity.

Mallikarjuna Temple stands as one of Andhra Pradesh’s oldest and most venerated religious sites, dating back over a millennium. Archaeological and inscriptional evidence traces the temple’s roots to the Satavahana dynasty (circa 2nd century CE), with subsequent expansions by dynasties including the Chalukyas, Pallavas, and Reddys. The Satavahanas left inscriptions acknowledging the temple and its hill, sanctifying it as a place of divine worship. Brief mentions appear in ancient texts, underscoring its status as a spiritual hub.

Over centuries, rulers like Prolay Verma and Anavema Reddy developed roads and mandapas or pillared halls facilitating pilgrim access into the rugged hills. The temple prospered through the classical and medieval eras, with notable contributions from the Vijayanagara Empire, which enhanced the temple complex, incorporating elaborate mandapas and gopurams or gateway towers that showcase their architectural patronage.

The temple is also historically critical because it is one of the only places in India where both a Jyotirlinga Shiva linga and a Shakti Peetha exist under one roof. As per mythology, this spot is where a part of Goddess Sati’s body (her upper lip or mukh) fell during Shiva’s cosmic dance of grief.

Philosophers and saints such as Adi Shankaracharya, Siddha Nagarjuna, and Allama Prabhu paid homage to Mallikarjuna, contributing to its stature as a center for Shaiva-Shakta theological discourse.

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Mallikarjuna Temple is an architectural marvel distinguished by the Dravidian style prevalent in South India, enhanced by the influence of the Chalukyas and Vijayanagara artisans. Set on a sprawling temple complex amidst the dense Nallamala forests, the structure features multiple gopurams or towering gateways with each gate, intricately carved with mythological scenes and divine figures, that serve as a majestic entrance, symbolising the transition from the mundane to the sacred. There are also lavishly decorated Mandapas and Sabhas or halls to host religious gatherings and rituals. The Grabhagriha or Sanctum houses the Mallikarjuna Jyotirlinga for Shiva and the Bhramaramba Shakti Peetha for Parvati; both are freestanding and receive individual worship. The enduring granite walls blend with the natural terrain, evoking a sense of the divine emerging from the earth itself while intricate sculptures and motifs including wall carvings narrate Shiva’s legends, goddess lore, and depictions of flora and fauna native to the region, reflecting local aesthetics. The temple complex includes a thousand lingas or Sahasra Lingas, commissioned by Lord Rama and the Pandavas, further enriching the sacred environment. The temple’s architectural design cleverly integrates with its hilly setting, with steps and courtyards guiding pilgrims upward toward the sanctum, symbolising the spiritual ascent.

Mallikarjuna Temple is alive with daily rituals and vibrant festivals that celebrate Shiva and Shakti’s cosmic dance. Daily pujas begin early morning with abhisheka, bathing the lingam with holy water, milk, honey, and other sacred substances, accompanied by Vedic chants. Devotional singing and lamp waving rituals take place at multiple times, creating an immersive sensory worship experience.

Mahashivaratri is the most important festival, characterised by all-night vigils, fasts, and spiritual discourses. The temple also celebrates Navaratri, celebrating the goddess’s power, attracting thousands from across India. Devotees participate in the ritualistic circumambulation of the temple and the Sahasra Linga complex. Local traditions by the Chenchu tribes include offerings and ecological respect rituals, highlighting nature’s role in the temple’s sanctity. The temple management facilitates feeding and accommodation for pilgrims, supported by local societies that organize cultural programs and care for the shrine.

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The journey to Mallikarjuna Temple is both a physical and spiritual pilgrimage through a lush, forested landscape teeming with biodiversity. Srisailam is connected by road and rail, with nearest major airports at Hyderabad and Kurnool. The last leg involves ascending rugged hill paths amid picturesque landscapes. The temple’s location in dense forests and hills adds a sense of seclusion and sanctity. Pilgrims often recount sensations of peace and divine presence amid chants, ringing bells, and the natural sounds of wildlife. Numerous dharamshalas or pilgrim hostels, eateries, and markets provide support to visitors, blending tradition with modern needs. Many pilgrims share stories of miraculous healing and spiritual experiences, attributing them to the temple’s cosmic energies and the mountain’s sanctity.

The Mallikarjuna Temple influences literature, music, and art, particularly in the Andhra region. The temple and its legends feature in classical Telugu and Sanskrit poetry, as well as oral folklore, which celebrates the divine union of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati. Devotional songs, especially during festivals, draw from regional and classical traditions, creating a rich sonic tapestry that resonates with the natural environment. The temple’s carvings influence contemporary art forms as well, inspiring devotees and artists alike. Beyond faith, the temple is a source of cultural pride for communities around Srisailam, integrating tribal heritage and mainstream Hindu traditions. The bees said to have made the temple their home, without harming worshippers, and stories of divine protection deepen the temple’s mythos within local culture.

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Today, Mallikarjuna Temple serves as both a major pilgrimage destination and a cultural heritage site. The Sri Bhramaramba Mallikarjuna Devasthanam oversees temple operations, pilgrimage infrastructure, and festivals. Significant investments in roads, accommodations, and amenities have facilitated growing visitor numbers while preserving spiritual rhythms. Mahashivaratri attracts a national and international audience, blending traditional rituals with modern event management. Ongoing restoration projects safeguard ancient structures while adapting to environmental and tourist pressures. The temple attracts devotees from diverse backgrounds, including urban and rural, domestic and overseas, reflecting its broad spiritual appeal.

The Mallikarjuna Temple at Srisailam stands as a celestial beacon embodying the cosmic harmony of Shiva and Shakti—the masculine and feminine divine principles. Its ancient legends, rich history, and mesmerising architecture invite pilgrims to a spiritual journey of devotion and discovery. Uniting primal forest landscapes with sacred stone, it affirms India’s layered cultural and religious heritage. As a vital node in the Jyotirlinga circuit and a symbol of balance between power and grace, Mallikarjuna Temple continues to inspire faith, scholarship, and awe across generations.

Short Story: Second Chances

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The conference room on the thirty-eighth floor of the Raffles Place tower buzzed with polite conversation as executives filtered in for the quarterly review meeting. Marcus Lim straightened his tie and checked his watch. He was early, as always. The acquisition of NexaFlow had been his project from the start, and today’s meeting would finalise the partnership that could make his career.

He was scrolling through his tablet when she walked in.

The woman commanded attention without trying. Her navy blazer was perfectly tailored, accentuating curves that spoke of confidence rather than apology. Dark hair swept into an elegant chignon, framing a face that was striking in its intelligence; sharp cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that seemed to see everything. When she spoke to her assistant, her voice carried the kind of authority that came from earning respect, not demanding it.

Marcus found himself staring. She was easily the most captivating woman he’d ever seen.

“That’s Priya Kumar,” whispered his colleague, Wei Ming. “She built NexaFlow from nothing. Brilliant woman. A bit intimidating, though.”

Priya. The name suited her. Marcus watched as she took her seat at the head of the table, directly across from him. When their eyes met, he offered his most charming smile. She looked at him for a long moment, something flickering across her features, before nodding politely and turning away.

The meeting proceeded smoothly. Priya’s presentation was flawless, her responses to questions sharp and insightful. Marcus found himself genuinely impressed, not just attracted. This wasn’t just beauty and confidence; this was brilliance in action.

“Mr. Lim,” Priya’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I believe you had some concerns about our data security protocols?“

He recovered quickly, launching into his prepared questions. But throughout the discussion, he couldn’t shake the feeling that her dark eyes were studying him, measuring him against some invisible standard.

After the meeting, Marcus lingered, hoping to catch her alone.

“Ms. Kumar?” He approached with what he hoped was professional interest. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab dinner tonight. To discuss the partnership, of course.”

For just a moment, something raw and vulnerable flashed in her eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by polished professionalism.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate, Mr. Lim. All business matters can be handled during office hours.“

The rejection stung more than it should have. “Of course. Professional boundaries. I respect that.“

As he walked to his BMW in the Marina Bay Financial Centre car park, Marcus couldn’t understand why he felt like he’d failed some test he didn’t know he was taking.

Ten years earlier

Priya Raj pushed her thick glasses up her nose and clutched her textbooks tighter as she navigated the crowded NUS campus. At nineteen, she was already carrying more responsibility than most of her classmates could imagine: working two part-time jobs to help with family expenses while maintaining her first-class honours in computer science.

She’d learned to make herself invisible. It was easier that way.

“Alamak, is that the same blouse she wore yesterday?” The voice carried across the Arts Link, followed by barely suppressed laughter.

Priya’s cheeks burned, but she kept walking. The blouse was one of three she owned, all carefully maintained but obviously not from Orchard Road boutiques. She’d learned not to react to comments from Marcus Lim’s circle, the golden boys and girls who seemed to glide through university on charm and family connections.

Marcus himself had never been cruel, not directly. He simply… didn’t see her. When Professor Tan paired them for a programming project, Marcus had looked right through her as if she were furniture, immediately suggesting they meet at the coffee shop in the Science canteen where she worked, not knowing, of course, that she’d be serving him while trying to discuss their code.

“Can I get you anything else, ah?” she’d asked after bringing him his third kopi-O.

“Just working on this project with…” He’d glanced around vaguely. “Some girl from class lah. She’s supposed to be here.”

Priya had stood there in her coffee-stained uniform, textbook tucked under her arm, invisible.

Three weeks into the partnership negotiations, Marcus was no closer to understanding Priya Kumar. She was professional, brilliant, and completely unreachable. Every attempt at conversation beyond business was met with polite deflection. Every invitation was declined with perfect courtesy.

It was driving him crazy.

“You’re obsessing, bro,” Wei Ming observed over lunch at a trendy CBD restaurant. “It’s not like you. Usually, they’re all over you.”

Marcus poked at his laksa, watching the busy street through the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Singapore River. “She’s different.”

“Maybe that’s the point. Maybe she sees right through your usual charm.”

That afternoon, Marcus found himself really looking at the people around his Shenton Way office. His secretary, who always seemed nervous. The junior associates who laughed too loudly at his jokes. The cleaning auntie who hurried past him as if afraid to be noticed.

When had he stopped seeing people as individuals?

The question haunted him through another sleepless night in his Sentosa Cove penthouse.

The breakthrough came during a crisis. A cybersecurity breach at one of Lim Holdings’ subsidiary companies threatened to derail not just the NexaFlow partnership, but several other major deals. Marcus worked through the night, coordinating responses from his corner office overlooking Marina Bay, when his phone rang.

“Mr. Lim? It’s Priya Kumar. I heard about the breach. I’m sending over my team.”

“You don’t have to—“

“My reputation is tied to this partnership now. We fix this together.”

For the next eighteen hours, they worked side by side. Marcus watched Priya command her team with quiet authority, solving problems with elegant efficiency. She ordered zi char for everyone, remembered the security uncle’s name, and somehow made the crisis feel manageable.

Around dawn, they found themselves alone in the conference room, surrounded by empty coffee cups and whiteboards covered in code, the Marina Bay Sands and Singapore Flyer silhouetted against the pink sunrise beyond the windows.

“Why?” Marcus asked quietly. “Why help when I know you don’t even like me?“

Priya looked up from her laptop, fatigue softening her carefully maintained composure. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

“I feel like I know you,” he said suddenly. “Like we’ve met before.”

Her fingers stilled on the keyboard. “We have.”

“When? I would remember…“

“Would you?” Her voice was soft, almost sad. “National University of Singapore. Computer Science. Professor Tan’s Advanced Programming module.”

The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. The Science canteen coffee shop. The project partner he’d barely acknowledged. The girl whose name he’d never bothered to learn.

“Oh God. Priya. You’re…“

“The same person I always was.” She closed her laptop with a quiet snap. “Just visible now.”

Marcus felt like the floor had dropped away. “I was such an asshole.“

“You were twenty.” Her voice was matter-of-fact. “We all were someone different then.”

“No, I was worse than that. I was blind. I was…“

“You were a product of your environment.” Priya stood, gathering her things. “But that doesn’t mean I have to forget.”

She paused at the door. “The crisis is handled. I’ll have my legal team finalise the partnership documents. We don’t need to work together directly anymore.”

Marcus sat alone in the conference room as the sun rose over Singapore’s skyline, finally understanding why her eyes had seemed to see straight through him. She’d been measuring him against the boy who had looked right through her, and he’d been found wanting.

The question was: what was he going to do about it?

Marcus started small. He learned the names of everyone in his building: security guards, cleaning staff, and the uncle who ran the kopi tiam on the ground floor. He instituted monthly team meetings where junior associates could present ideas directly to leadership. He volunteered to mentor students at NUS, particularly those on financial assistance.

But mostly, he tried to become worthy of a second chance he wasn’t sure he’d ever get.

Two months later, he ran into Priya at a tech industry charity gala at the ArtScience Museum. She looked stunning in a midnight blue cheongsam, commanding attention in a room full of Singapore’s most influential people. Marcus approached carefully, his heart hammering.

“Priya.”

She turned, and for the first time since their reunion, her expression wasn’t guarded. “Marcus. I heard about your mentorship program.“

“Word travels fast in Singapore.”

“I fund three scholarships at NUS. I hear things.” She studied his face. “Why?”

“Because I finally realised that the world doesn’t revolve around people like me. And I wanted to do something useful with that realisation.”

They talked for an hour. Really talked. About their work, their families, their hopes for Singapore’s tech scene. When the evening ended, Marcus found the courage to ask again.

“Dinner? Not as a business meeting. As… whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Priya was quiet for so long, he thought she’d say no. Then: “There’s a place I like in Chinatown. Nothing fancy.“

“Perfect.”

The restaurant was a hole-in-the-wall zi char stall tucked away in a back alley near Tanjong Pagar, with plastic chairs and the kind of authentic Hokkien food that couldn’t be found in trendy Clarke Quay establishments. Priya had changed into jeans and a simple blouse, and Marcus had never seen her look more beautiful.

“I used to come here during university,” she said, expertly manoeuvring her chopsticks around the sweet and sour pork. “It was the only place I could afford that felt special.”

“What was it like?” Marcus asked quietly. “Uni, I mean. For you.”

Priya considered the question. “Lonely, mostly. I was so focused on survival, academically and financially, that I forgot to be young. I watched people like you having experiences I couldn’t afford, and I told myself I didn’t want them anyway.”

“I’m sorry I was part of that.”

“You weren’t cruel, Marcus. You just… existed in a different world. One where people like me didn’t matter.”

“They did matter. I was just too stupid and self-absorbed to see it.”

She smiled then, the first genuine smile she’d given him. “We were both different people then.”

“I’d like you to know the person I am now.”

“I think,” Priya said slowly, “I’d like that too.”

Their courtship was careful, deliberate. Marcus learned that Priya had built her company not just from ambition, but from a desire to create opportunities for people who’d been overlooked the way she had been. She’d hired dozens of first-generation university graduates, funded coding bootcamps in heartland communities, and quietly revolutionised the way Singapore’s tech industry thought about talent.

Priya learned that Marcus’s newfound awareness wasn’t performative. He’d restructured his company’s hiring practices, implemented blind resume reviews, and somehow managed to do it all without seeking credit or recognition.

“You’ve changed,” she told him one evening as they walked along the Marina Barrage, the city lights reflecting off the reservoir, six months into whatever they were calling their relationship.

“Not changed,” Marcus said. “Just finally became who I was supposed to be.”

“And who is that?“

He stopped walking and turned to face her. “Someone worthy of you.”

Priya’s breath caught. In the glow of the Singapore skyline, she could see the boy he’d been in the man he’d become, but this version was better, deeper, marked by empathy and genuine humility.

“I was so angry for so long,” she whispered. “At you, at everyone who made me feel invisible. I built my whole life around never being that powerless again.”

“You were never powerless, Priya. You were just surrounded by people too blind to see your strength.”

When he kissed her, it tasted like forgiveness and possibility and the kind of love that comes from truly seeing another person.

One year later

The engagement party was held at the same conference room where they’d reconnected; Priya’s idea and characteristically perfect. Their two worlds had blended seamlessly: his family’s Peranakan heritage mixing with her chosen family of employees, mentees, and the professors who’d believed in her when no one else had. The catering was a mix of their favourites, from high-end hotel fare to zi char dishes that reminded them of their roots.

Marcus found Priya on the outdoor terrace, looking out over the glittering lights of the Marina Bay area.

“Having second thoughts?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“About marrying you? Never.” She leaned into him. “I was just thinking about that girl in the Science canteen. How she never could have imagined this moment.”

“She deserved it even then.”

“Maybe. But she wasn’t ready for it then. Neither of us were.”

Marcus turned her in his arms. “And now?”

Priya smiled, the expression transforming her face with joy. “Now we’re exactly who we’re supposed to be.”

As they kissed under the stars, the Singapore skyline sprawling endlessly below them, it felt like the best kind of second chance; not a revision of the past, but a bold new story written by two people who had finally learned how to truly see each other.

Some love stories begin with love at first sight. The best ones, perhaps, begin with sight at first love, the moment when two people finally become visible to each other, not as they were, but as they chose to become.