Puja Quotes

Always remember, wherever you are, whether near or far, you had a mother who really, really loved you. The original mother. Once you've found your true inner guru you can never again be divided. Perfect union with the divine, through the grace of your real teacher, transcends time, space, death and all worldly limitations. Your real teacher is the original mother - regardless in which manifest or non-manifest form, or gender, she appears. The one who nurtures you and the one who also, out of wisdom and compassion, corrects you if you are misguided.

Duhai RABB.. Aku terpana pada seseorang yang mempesona, hingga aku membuta melupakan-MU Sang Pencipta dirinya, seharusnya ENGKAU lah yang paling layak ku puja, Duh, Malunya...

The intention (of the puja pandals) is not so much to entertain as to disorient and astonish; to tap into the Bengali’s appetite for the bizarre, the uncanny.

Respect your body, enjoy your body, love your body, feed, clean, and heal your body. Exercise and do what makes your body feel good. This is a puja to your body, and that is a communion between you and God.

The shefali will not bloom until it is time for the pujas.

If you do your best in the search for personal freedom, in the search for self-love, you will discover that it’s just a matter of time before you find what you are looking for. It’s not about daydreaming or sitting for hours dreaming in meditation. You have to stand up and be a human. You have to honor the man or woman that you are. Respect your body, enjoy your body, love your body, feed, clean, and heal your body. Exercise and do what makes your body feel good. This is a puja to your body, and that is a communion between you and God. You don’t need to worship idols of the Virgin Mary, the Christ, or the Buddha. You can if you want to; if it feels good, do it. Your own body is a manifestation of God, and if you honor your body everything will change for you. When you practice giving love to every part of your body, you plant seeds of love in your mind, and when they grow, you will love, honor, and respect your body immensely. Every action then becomes a ritual in which you are honoring God. After that, the next step is honoring God with every thought, every emotion, every belief, even what is “right” or “wrong.” Every thought becomes a communion with God, and you will live a dream without judgments, victimization, and free of the need to gossip and abuse yourself.

True that life is given, And received. But truer still: The single-act of giving Makes the offerer the beggar, too—

For when down on the knees The man (or god) stretches the arms In giving, It is no accident the hands Are curled like bowls or cups, For he offers self, yet Begs it back again.

–Guaita, puja i baixa, i s'ho enduu tot. –El què? –vaig preguntar. –L'aigua –va dir l'holandès–. Bé, i el temps.

The best "Puja", the best form of worship is to be happy, to be grateful.

Vaig en una muntanya russa que només puja.

if Hindus cannot—or are not allowed to—perform something as fundamental as Puja, they’re destroyed in ways our imagination cannot even fathom.

उसे मेरे खो जाने का डर था. इस इतनी बड़ी दुनिया में, जहाँ मेरे होने का कोई सबूत नहीं, उसे मेरे खो जाने का डर था. सिर्फ उसके डर से ऐसा लगा जैसे मेरा अचानक से कोई वजूद हो गया हो. मुकम्मल.

For feverish mornings after he left, she lay awake in that guest room in their house, in the rumples of the sheet he had slept in. She would get him on every turn: his aftershave lingering on the sides of the pillow that sometimes caught her, waking up from her dreams of him, in nuclear nights, his gaze: drenching her like water drops on burning rocks. She herself didn’t have any smell. He had to really lean in the first time to make out the attar amidst the freckles on her neck. And then there would be at least two, never only one: Jasmine and that other thing that he could never place- a smell that was between imitation pearls and the insides of a Durga Puja afternoon. On some days even in Simla, this she, would waft in by his collars nonchalantly.’ ('Left from Dhakeshwari')

True that life is given, And received. But truer still: The single-act of giving Makes the offerer the beggar, too— For when down on the knees The man (or god) stretches the arms In giving, It is no accident the hands Are curled like bowls or cups, For he offers self, yet Begs it back again.

उसके हाथों में वो सिगरेट जितनी खूबसूरत लगती थी, उसके होटों पर उससे कहीं ज्यादा कातिल. उसे सिगरेट पीते हुए देख कर यकीन पक्का हो जाता था कि स्मोकिंग किल्स.

Hope shines through unsealed blinds Cobwebs cleared From overworked minds QUARANTINE+VE

Spring-cleaned minds Stripped of the mesh Raring to venture out afresh QUARANTINE+VE

All pre-Abrahamic cultures understood the tremendous importance of remaining closely connected to the past if the present was to be invested with any spiritually significant meaning. They also understood that the most personally relevant and accessible portal to the empowering wisdom and goodness of the past was through their own direct ancestors, those who shared their particular bloodline and DNA. It was for this reason that all traditional cultures engaged in what is often called ancestor worship (pitri-puja). There is no pre-Abrahamic culture on Earth that did not honor its ancestors in one form or another. This is a very important spiritual practice and tradition that used to be practiced universally by families in the ancient past. The process of ancestor worship now needs to be revived in the modern world if we are to not lose our sacred connection with our own cultural-spiritual heritage. Ancestor worship must become a regular practice again.

I què em caldria fer? Procurar-me un patró molt poderós, Le Bret, i, com una heura obscura que puja una paret, grimpar amb enganys, i a més, llepar-li les rajoles, veient que m'han clavat a la terra les soles? No, senyor!, que un banquer m'estimi per pallasso llepaculs que dedica sonets? No!, passo, passo! Afalagar, adular les passes d’un ministre per si m'adreça un gest que no sigui sinistre? No senyor! Empassar-me per esmorzar un gripau? Tenir el ventre gastat d'arrossegar-me al cau? I la pell dels genolls de nit i dia bruta? Ordenar a l'espinada que doblegui la ruta? No, senyor! Ser una estora als peus d’un idiota? Agitar l'encenser davant d'una carota? No, senyor! O saltar de faldilla en faldilla? O ser un gran homenet enmig d'una quadrilla? Potser passar la mar amb madrigals per rem i a la vela sospirs de vella? No fotem! No, senyor! Potser anar fins a can Seyrecet fer-me editar els versos, a quin preu? No, Le Bret! O fer-me elegir Papa en els pobres concilis formats per uns imbècils que van destil·lant bilis? No, senyor! Treballar perquè aplaudeixin altres un sonet que hagi fet, en lloc d'escriure’n d’altres? Trobar belles orelles de ruc, llargues i tristes? O viure amb l'objectiu de sortir a les revistes? Estar terroritzat com un que quasi es mor quan va veure el seu nom escrit al Mercure d'or? Calcular, esporuguit davant d'un anatema? Anar a fer una visita en comptes d’un poema? Relligar els aprovats o fer-me presentar? No, senyor! No, senyor!... Més m’estimo cantar, entrar, sortir, ballar, ser sol, sentir-me viure, mirar amb el cap ben alt, parlar fort, i ser lliure; anar amb el barret tort, contemplar l'univers, per un sí o per un no, barallar-me... o fer un vers! No tenir gens en compte la fama i la fortuna, poder, amb el pensament, enfilar-me a la lluna! No haver d'escriure un mot si de mi no ha sortit, i molt modestament poder-me dir: Petit, estigues satisfet de flors i fruits i fulles si és al teu jardí que en culls o bé n’esbulles! I si arriba el triomf, quan l'atzar ho ha dispost, no haver d'estar obligat a satisfer un impost, davant de mi mateix reconèixer-me els mèrits, no haver de pagar mai per uns favors pretèrits, i, encara que no sigui poderós el meu vol, que no arribi gens lluny, saber que hi he anat sol! Acte segon. Escena VIII.

But the Congress also played an insidious role in creating the circumstances that led to the demolition of the mosque. Though Rahul Gandhi once grandly claimed that the mosque would never have been brought down had a member of the Nehru-Gandhi family been at the helm of government, it was his father, Rajiv Gandhi, who on the request of the VHP first ordered the locks on the Ram Janmabhoomi–Babri Masjid complex to be opened in 1985. And in 1989, with one eye on the elections, it was Rajiv who sent his home minister, Buta Singh, to participate in the ‘shilanyas’, or the symbolic temple foundation laying ceremony, at a site near the Babri Masjid but outside of what he understood to be the disputed site. After his assassination in 1991 it became the responsibility of Narasimha Rao to safeguard the mosque from demolition. The Liberhan Report said Prime Minister Rao and his government were ‘day-dreaming’; his own party colleagues and those who met him in the days leading up to 6 December say his inaction was deliberate. Veteran journalist Kuldip Nayar even went so far as to suggest in his memoirs that Rao ‘sat at a puja when the kar sevaks began pulling down the mosque and rose only when the last stone had been removed’.

The End” It is time for me to go, mother; I am going. When in the paling darkness of the lonely dawn you stretch out your arms for your baby in the bed, I shall say, “Baby is not there!”—mother, I am going. I shall become a delicate draught of air and caress you; and I shall be ripples in the water when you bathe, and kiss you and kiss you again. In the gusty night when the rain patters on the leaves you will hear my whisper in your bed, and my laughter will flash with the lightning through the open window into your room. If you lie awake, thinking of your baby till late into the night, I shall sing to you from the stars, “Sleep, mother, sleep.” On the straying moonbeams I shall steal over your bed, and lie upon your bosom while you sleep. I shall become a dream, and through the little opening of your eyelids I shall slip into the depths of your sleep; and when you wake up and look round startled, like a twinkling firefly I shall flit out into the darkness. When, on the great festival of puja, the neighbours’ children come and play about the house, I shall melt into the music of the flute and throb in your heart all day. Dear auntie will come with puja-presents and will ask, “Where is our baby, sister?” Mother, you will tell her softly, “He is in the pupils of my eyes, he is in my body and in my soul.

Of all the things we share, the most central is not in the liturgical or theological or canonical dimensions of the religion. It is in the realm of our personal​ search and experience of God. I have danced in a Sufi fikre, sat for hours in a Zen Buddhist tea ceremony, been part of a Hindu puja, attended Shabbat services in multiple Jewish synagogues, and never, in any of those moments of worship, did I doubt these people were just as deeply involved in the search for God as I am. And that God was with us all. And why not? God is everywhere, they told us as children. But the question never goes away: Yes, but - where is God for me? I don't feel God. I don't hear God. I don't know how to know God. So God is surely in all these other places where the consciousness of God is also real, as well. But as much as I knew, even as a child, that it had to be true, that God was everywhere, still God was nowhere in particular in life. And, though I did not know it at the time, and so struggled through the thought of god for night after night in life, in that reality was all I needed to know about the search for God. It was years, of course, before I realized that I was looking for Something rather than for Everything, and so I found nothing because I was looking for the wrong thing. And that is the kind of seeking that causes all the pain.

Aku telah merebut sebagian wilayahmu dan engkau telah mengobrak abrik pertahananku. Namun kita sama sama tak hendak undur barang selangkah untuk mencapai puncak kejayaan. Sebab dalam Asmaradana kita telah sampai pada tahap di mana kekuatan tidak hanya terletak pada tembang dan susunan kata-kata yang indah yang akan menjebak aku agar takluk pada rayuanmu yang memesona. Sedang aku akan segera membinasakanmu dengan sentuhan lidahku di ujung bibirmu yang mulai kehausan atau di puncak kejantananmu yang masih berdiri tegak serupa benteng menjulang. Telah kujejali benakmu dengan rangkaian syair dan puisi yang menggugah hati dan dengan merdu suara baritonmu, kaulantunkan tembang tembang lawas yang membuat hatiku meronta ronta. Dalam romansa puitik Asmaratantra kauberusaha menjadikanku istimewa. Betapa kautahu, bahwa setiap belaian tanganmu akan menaikkan aku ke langit ketujuh. Dan hanya dengan jilatan apimu kauhumbalangkan aku kembali ke bumi. Namun dalam Asmaragama kita akan menuntaskan segalanya. Sebab aku tahu, bahwa ini adalah saat di mana engkau akan segera larut dalam khusyuk semedi dan kembang tujuh rupa dalam sebaskom air wangi akan membersihkan diri kita sebelum menyatukan jiwa ke dalam puja kepada Acintya, Sang Hyang Widhi Yang Maha Memberi. Namun aku bukanlah permaisurimu dan engkau bukanlah raja junjunganku. Aku tidak akan menggelung rambutku dan mencuci farjiku. Mandi di bawah dingin pancuran tujuh sendang hanya untuk menyerahkan kehormatanku. Sebab aku tak akan memberimu kebahagiaan yang engkau cari, sebagaimana engkau tak akan memberiku kebebasan yang aku minta. Dan di antara kita tak ada ikatan yang sungguh sungguh nyata selain fakta, bahwa aku adalah seteru abadimu. Kita tak akan pernah berhenti untuk saling menumpas dan menghancurkan di atas papan pertempuran yang lebih menyerupai padang Kurukshetra ini.

And she knew her defiance in escaping his grasp, even temporarily, had shown Jasu the depth of her strength. In the months afterward, though he behaved awkwardly, he had allowed her the time and space she needed. It was the first genuine show of respect he had made toward her in their four years of marriage. Jasu’s parents made no such concession, their latent disappointment growing into relentless criticism of her for failing to bear a son.Kavita walks outside and spreads her mat on the rough stone steps, where she sits facing the rising sun in the east She lights the small ghee-soaked diya and thin stick of incense, and then closes her eyes in prayer. The wisp of fragrant smoke slowly circles its way up into the air and around her. She breathes deeply and thinks, as always, of the baby girls she has lost. She rings the small silver bell and chants softly. She sees their faces and their small bodies, she hears their cries and feels their tiny fingers wrap around hers. And always, she hears the sound of Usha’s desperate cry echoing behind the closed doors of the orphanage. She allows herself to get lost in the depths of her grief. After she has chanted and sung and wept for some time, she tries to envision the babies at peace, wherever they are. She pictures Usha as a little girl, her hair wound in two braids, each tied with a white ribbon. The image of the girl in her mind is perfectly clear: smiling, running, and playing with children, eating her meals and sleeping alongside the others in the orphanage.Every morning, Kavita sits in the same place outside her home with her eyes closed until the stormy feelings peak and then, very gradually, subside. She waits until she can breathe evenly again. By the time she opens her eyes, her face is wet and the incense has burned down to a small pile of soft ash. The sun is a glowing orange ball on the horizon, and the villagers are beginning to stir around her. She always ends her puja by touching her lips to the one remaining silver bangle on her wrist, reconciling herself to the only thing she has left of her daughters. These daily rituals have brought her comfort and, over time, some healing. She can carry herself through the rest of the day with these peaceful images of Usha in her mind. Each day becomes more bearable. As days turn to weeks, and weeks to months, Kavita feels her bitterness toward Jasu soften. After several months, she allows him to touch her and then, to reach for her at night.

1. Dari balik tingkap ini aku sengaja mengintaimu, memasang kamera pada jalusi untuk melihatmu mencumbui malam. Seperti gerimis yang baru saja turun, menggiringmu melewati teras rumah tetangga lalu sengaja menggeletakkan tubuhnya di atas sofa abu abu yang dulu engkau beli dari pesta Sri Ratu. Tangan tangan hujan tidak meronai pipimu dengan warna merah jambu melainkan coklat tua agar senada dengan jaket yang dikenakannya. Walau, ia hanya seorang penjaga yang membawa suar kemana mana. Namun ia juga adalah samudra tak bernama yang tak urung menelikung tubuhmu dengan kata luas tak terperi. Sebagaimana kata kata rayuan yang diucapkannya bergema bersama lantunan tembang tembang lawas yang ia rekam sepekan sebelumnya dari sebuah aplikasi di internet. Ia tak menyembunyikan tangannya yang sibuk menggali harta karun jauh ke dalam lubukmu. Membiarkan pikiranmu terbang melayang ke pelataran Sukuh, ke atas puncak arca garuda di Cetha dan lalu melayap jauh hingga ke Khajuraho. Menangkap semburat lidah api yang asyik menyigi setiap detail relief candi yang akan membuat nafas kalian tersengal sengal. Memanggil awan dan memetakan semua rencana perjalanan wisata mimpi kalian ke Thailand, Bhutan, Nepal, Burma, India, Sri Lanka, Maladewa hingga ke China. Pada lukisan Lee Man Fong engkau menjelmakan dirimu menjadi seorang gadis Bali yang bertelanjang dada. Bersimpuh di bawah pohon sambil memantrakan puja. Sementara aku terjatuh dan terjerembab berungkali dari loteng ini dengan kaki yang goyah dan juga patah. Tak sekali kali berani beranjak hanya untuk sejenak menghela nafas. Karena lelaki pembawa suar itu telah menaikkan tubuhmu ke atas kereta berkuda dan menjelmakan dirimu menjadi seorang permaisuri. Seperti paduka Sri Ranggah Rajasa yang menyunting Ken Dedes di balik kejayaan Singosari. Ia sungguh lelaki pemberani yang tak gentar mengajakmu menari. Menjelajahi gunung, lembah, kebun dan persawahan di bawah naungan pohon pohon banyan di pinggiran jalan. Melewati sekumpulan bocah yang tengah bermain gundu, gobak sodor dan sunda manda. Engkau tak menghiraukan mereka dengan bising lagu dangdut di balik suara desahanmu. Menancapkan lembing pada setiap cubitan bibir yang bernafsu menyadap getah dari busung dadamu. Tajam gigi taring dan juga geraham yang menerakan sebuah marka rahasia di atas jenjang lehermu. Sedang mataku terantuk gelap yang berjatuhan di bawah pintu palka yang merapuh ini, saat layar mulai terkembang dan lelaki keturunan nelayan itu menggeser lunas perahumu di atas lidah ombaknya.

The shefali will not bloom until it was time for the pujas.

Before entering a new home a Vaastu puja is performed to the imaginary Vaastu Purusha. The place is scrupulously cleaned and a light is carried to the centre of the house where a jug of water, white flowers and burning incense have already been placed. Milk is then boiled until it overflows or food is cooked and offered to the gods. Then follows a prayer for health, wealth and happiness. Finally, holy water mixed with sandalwood oil is sprinkled into each corner of the property to purify it. The food that has been cooked is then offered to the gods and given to the guests as prasad. There are five essential items required for a puja: water or milk, incense, flowers, a light and a bell. The water or milk represents the element water, the incense is symbolic of the element air, the flower represents earth, the light symbolises fire and the sound of the bell represents space.

performed to the imaginary Vaastu Purusha. The place is scrupulously cleaned and a light is carried to the centre of the house where a jug of water, white flowers and burning incense have already been placed. Milk is then boiled until it overflows or food is cooked and offered to the gods. Then follows a prayer for health, wealth and happiness. Finally, holy water mixed with sandalwood oil is sprinkled into each corner of the property to purify it. The food that has been cooked is then offered to the gods and given to the guests as prasad. There are five essential items required for a puja: water or milk, incense, flowers, a light and a bell. The water or milk represents the element water, the incense is symbolic of the element air, the flower represents earth, the light symbolises fire and the sound of the bell represents space.

समुद्रवसने देवि पर्वतस्तनमण्डिते ⁠। विष्णुपत्नि नमस्तुभ्यं पादस्पर्शं क्षमस्व मे ⁠

The myth of the Pujas is a simple one – full of rural sweetness. ... The Pujas are, in part, an ever-returning homage to that magical sense of being rescued, so indispensable to children.

Kau pancarkan kebahagiaanmu dari mata air yang tersembunyi. Seperti ketika laut pasang di bawah tatapan lembut sang matahari mendatangkan kegembiraan yang tak terlukiskan. Sepasang lima jari yang terkembang ke empat penjuru samudra saat menghantarkan puja kepada yang maha kuasa. Ia yang memberi kita segala kenikmatan. Ia yang kepadanya kita berpulang. Menjamah pusat rindu yang gaib, mencumbui perasaan  garib yang sebelumnya tiada dikenal. Waktu yang memetakan segala ingatan purba atas raga kita yang fana, telah tumbuh menjadi kenangan baka atas lebatnya hutan rimba belantara dan sebuah sendang kecil di tengah tengah pulau terpencil yang dikelilingi oleh lembah yang permai dan perbukitan perak yang dulu sekali sering engkau jelajahi. Gunung gunung yang menjulang tinggi di kejauhan seakan menantang untuk ditaklukkan. Langit biru terhampar di atas padang gundul terbentang jauh hingga ke semenanjung yang sebelumnya tak pernah dijamah. Semua yang dulu cuma bagian dari lintasan sejarah, namun kini selamanya telah jadi pengingat akan dirimu. Semua yang dulu pernah mengungkapkan seluruh jejak petilasan dan penaklukanmu. Bentang alam dari seluruh kekayaan yang kini engkau simpan dalam perbendaharaanmu pribadi. Alam liar dari horizon pikiran dan khazanah perasaan yang nyaris tak terselami. Tidak ada lagi rahasia yang engkau tutupi dari mata kami, selain daripada ceruk ceruk terdalam dari palung palung yang tersembunyi di balik mimpi mimpimu. Sungguh, tiada lagi kebahagiaan yang mampu mewakili perasaan kami saat ini, karena engkau telah mengijinkan kami untuk menjadi saksi mata; hasrat dari hasratmu, kerinduan dari kerinduanmu, cinta dari cintamu. Bagaimana kami mampu membalas kebaikan hatimu yang sungguh tiada terkira? Sebab hanya tulus kata dari apa yang tak terucap namun telah puas kami saksikan, akan menggenapi seluruh janji dari semua yang telah engkau beri namun tak akan pernah kami miliki. Akan tetapi, sudah cukuplah itu semua bagi kami, karena engkau telah mengijinkan kami mengagumi keelokan panorama dari apa yang selama ini engkau simpan rapat rapat sebagai harta pusaka yang hanya bisa dinikmati oleh sang raja.

May the gracious rays of the sun lights up your ways, Happy Chhath Puja.

Ekspedisjonen har nå hatt tre velsigninger og to pujaer. Etter mine beregninger må dette være nok. Vi må være den mest velsignede og beskyttede ekspedisjonen noen sinne.

Wak Katok pun tahu, bahwa tak ada yang lebih hina dan celaka dari seorang pemimpin yang gagal, dari seorang raja yang gagal, yang kelemahan-kelemahannya telah terbongkar dan tak berhasil pula membuktikan kekeramatan dirinya sendiri, yang selama ini dipuja-puja orang.

Ujjain Kaalsarp Dosh Puja Online Booking - Kaalsarp Dosh Puja is a Hindu ritual performed to appease the serpent deity, Kalsarpa, who is believed to cause problems and obstacles in one's life. The puja is typically performed in Ujjain, Madhya Pradesh, India, which is considered to be a sacred city for performing this puja. The puja is performed to remove the negative effects of Kaalsarp Dosh, which is said to be caused by an inauspicious planetary alignment in one's birth chart. The puja involves offerings to the serpent deity and recitation of mantras to appease him and remove the negative effects. If You want to perform Kaalsarp Dosh Puja In Ujjain the you must need to conntact with Kanta Guru ji Kanta Guruji is a puja Specialist in Ujjain, you must contact Kanta Guruji for performing your puja in Ujjain. Guruji also has over 20 year experience in performing all types of pujas.

I thought the Vedas were a load of humbug and it didn’t matter which way you recited them. Some jobless Brahmin like my father, created them thousands of years ago. Instead of making themselves useful, the Brahmins prayed to the Gods they themselves invented for the rain, the sun, horses, cows and money and many other things. It must have been very cold, from whichever cursed places they came. Otherwise, why would they croak like frogs and appeal to the Gods after putting hundreds of assorted twigs into the fire? Perhaps I was prejudiced. I shouldn’t think that the work they were doing, as Yajnas, was useless. In fact, it served as a perfect tool to mint money and gain material favours. They were no fools-these Brahmins. They knew how to project even the mundane tasks of burning twigs as earth-shaking, scientific discoveries and claimed to tame the forces that controlled the world. And it was funny that the majority of people like the carpenters, masons and farmers who were doing something meaningful, had become supplicant to these jokers croaking under the warm sun, sweat pouring from their faces in front of a raging fire and chanting God knows what. They had a Yajna or a Puja for everything under the sun. If you had leprosy or a common cold, there was a God to whom you had to offer a special puja to appease him. You wanted your pestering wife to elope with your bothersome neighbour, there was a puja for that too. You wanted your cow to have a calf or your wife to have son, the Brahmin would help you. He would just conduct a Puja and a divine calf or son would be born. You curried favour with the Brahmins and your son would become the biggest pundit in the world by the age of sixteen. If not, he would perhaps become rowdy like me, who did not respect Brahmins or rituals. He would become a Rakshasa. I think there are many more Rakshasas among us now. Perhaps, it was because the ‘why?’ virus spread. Couldn’t the Brahmins conduct a puja so that our heads were cleared of sinful thoughts? This is something I have to ponder over when I have time.

In this new bhakti tradition, it was not necessary to renounce the world, in the manner of the Jains or the Buddhists; nor was it necessary to perform the fire sacrifices prescribed by the Vedas. Instead, intense devotion and passionate pujas were believed to bring salvation just as effectively, via a path that was open to almost everyone.

I've always thought of our annual puja as a ritual to be hidden and Christmas as a holiday to be celebrated. But when I think about it, It's strange to leave cookies out for a fictional old man too. I guess humans are universally strange.

Puja makes gods more personal. There are Ishta-devatas or personal gods, Kula-devatas or family gods, Graha-devatas or household gods, and Grama-devatas or village gods.

चार दिन की ज़िन्दगी है, तीन रोज़ इश्क.

with her, still. I am hurt, the hurt having multiplied when I realised that Kushi is Gopi’s child. But I also feel sorry for Puja, for everything she went through all alone, without the bolstering support of us, her family. Now I understand why Puja asked the landlord if she could marry Gopi. It was a desperate act on the part of a floundering girl. Is Kushi Puja’s way of giving me something of Gopi because she stole him from me? I love Kushi like nothing and no one else. It was love at first sight as it was with Puja, Ma, but with none of the jealousy. How could I resent this tiny new life, this helpless minuscule being who had come into my world on the rain ravaged day when I bid adieu to you and Da, a blessing at a time when I had never felt more alone? Whatever her reasons, I am grateful to Puja for the

Duhai RABB.. Aku terpana pada seseorang yang mempesona, hingga melupakan-MU Sang Pencipta dirinya, seharusnya ENGKAU lah yang paling layak ku puja, Duh, Malunya...

Puja makes gods more personal. There are Ishta-devatas or personal gods, Kula-devatas or family gods, Graha-devatas or household gods, and Grama-devatas or village gods. These gods either protected their worshippers or provided for them.

This is the first time our power did not work,' [the witch doctors] told him. 'After doing the pujas, we asked the spirits to go and kill your family. But the spirits came back and told us they could not approach you or your family because you were always surrounded by fire. Then we called more powerful spirits to come after you--but they too returned, saying not only were you surrounded by fire, but angels were also around you all the time.' Jesu Das told them about Christ.

I once asked a few North Koreans if the Buddha was sacred to them. The answer was a mockery of Marxism. ‘Yes, the Buddhists invented printing and production of books,’ said the party-tutored government-appointed interpreter. Only that which is useful is important. In this respect, the capitalists and the communists hold a common view of the ancient past. They are the Benthamite utilitarians. The Savarkarites too use ancient history to instigate and bring together the Hindus. Ganga puja for Modi is a photo opportunity. •

Karma can prevent us from discovering the spiritual path. Baba used to say that only when a person’s karmas were balanced, that is, when there was roughly an equal amount of good and bad karma, could he receive shaktipat, or divine awakening. Too much good karma or too much bad karma creates attachment to the external world. A person with a lot of good karma basks in the good life, while a person with a lot of bad karma completely focuses on his material or physical lacks. The corresponding yoga is called anavopaya, ‘the way of the body’. Literally translated this is the ‘means’ or yoga of the bound soul (the body). Anavopaya, therefore, is the cultivation of right actions on the level of the body. It includes karma yoga, which is the yoga of service; ritual worship (puja); hatha yoga; and pranayama, yogic breathing exercises. All of these sort out the physical body or how we conceive of ourselves as the body. Anavopaya helps us balance our bodily karmas. Meditation on the chakras or points in the body, on the breath, on objects in the world or deities are all within the scope of anavopaya.

Love is a hidden fire, A pleasant sore, A delicious poison, A delectable pain, An agreeable torment, A sweet and throbbing wound, A gentle death.

Sebagian mencarinya dalam rangkaian perbuatan baik dan ketaatan, sebagian berkejaran dalam keilmuan dan kebaruan terus menerus, sebagian terjun bebas dalam absurditas dan ketersesatan diri. Sebagian kita mencarinya diantara gema lantunan shalawat atau nyanyian merdu puja dan puji, sebagian lain, larut mencarinya dalam dentuman audio-visual bercampur substansi pembangkit adrenalin dalam event-event party paling hip di kotanya. Sebagian mencarinya dalam upaya yang gigih untuk mendapat predikat tech savvy. Sebagian lain, mencarinya dengan berkeringat dalam trend lari kekinian yang hampir separuhnya berisi aktivitas narsis dan konsumsi bermacam produk running shoes. Sebagian mencarinya dalam ritual belanja dan mengumpul barang-barang branded, sebagian lain mencarinya dalam ketiadaan barang-barang di sekitarnya. Sebagian mencarinya dalam prestasi dan penghargaan. Sebagian lain justru mencarinya pada keinginan untuk tidak dimengerti dan kesalah-pahaman. Sebagian mencarinya dengan berlari, sebagian lain mencarinya dengan berdiam diri. Sebagian mencarinya di tengah keramaian, sebagaian lain mencarinya dalam kesendirian. Terus mencari, entah mencari apa.. Terus ingin, tapi entah ingin apa..

That night, Sushila went to the puja room when she arrived home. Her house was small, with only a few rooms, but there had always been a puja room as long as she could remember. It was in the northeast corner of the house, and Sushila once asked her mother why they did not have a fancier bigger puja room. “We are small people and we will be happy with small gods. It is not the size of the space used for worship that matters,” said her mother. “It is the size of your heart that matters. You can learn the lessons of Buddha and the Goddess in a prison, you do not need even this humble puja room. There are people in this town who are happy with much less than what we have.

पहली बार व्हिस्की उठा कर होठों तक लायी थी तो वही वनगंध साँसों में भर गयी थी. जबां पर सिंगल माल्ट का पहला स्वाद पहली बार चूमने की तरह था, अतुलनीय. याद का दहकता जंगल मुझे अपने आगोश में भर रहा था, हौले हौले, शायद वो अपनी बाहें कस कर मुझे तोड़ डालता. यक़ीनन, मुझे अफ़सोस न होता. पैरों के पास कोई खुशबूदार बेल उग रही थी और महसूस हो रहा था कि हर छोटे सिप के साथ मैं दार्जलिंग का वही जंगल होती जा रही हूँ कि जिसके बादलों में भीगे तने पर कोई अजनबी अपने होठ रखने की हसरत लिए हर साल लौट आना चाहेगा. चाहने और लौट आने के बीच उलझा हुआ शामें सिंगल माल्ट में डुबो कर आग लगाता रहेगा.

और इतना सब करते हुए भी जानना कि इश्क पर तुम्हारे आत्मदाह का कोई असर न होगा. वो चिरकाल तक इतना ही क्रूर रहेगा कि उसकी हुकूमत में किसी को इन्किलाबी झंडा उठाने का हक नहीं है. वो जब चाहे किसी को भी देश निकाला दे सकता है और उस देश से कहीं दूर बाहर जाने के बावजूद तुम्हारे खून के हर कतरे पर उसकी हुकूमत रहेगी. वो जब चाहेगा तुम्हें खून के आंसू रुलाएगा. जिस्म के पैरहन में कुछ भी मौजूद न होगा. तुम खाली हो जाओगे. अन्दर से रीत जाओगे. तब उस एक आत्मदाह से लोगों को आत्मबल मिलेगा और वो काला झंडा लिए निकल पड़ेंगे... जलना क्या...जीना क्या...मिटना क्या...इश्क क्या... इन्कलाब! इन्कलाब! इन्कलाब! 

ऐ सुनो न, महादुष्ट और चोट्टेकुमार, मुझे एक चिट्ठी लिखो न! हे आलसावतार, तुमसे कोढ़ी भी लजा जाए. हमरा एतना चिट्ठी पढ़े हो बैठ के जाड़ा में, चूल्हा में पकाया अल्लू खाते हुए. भुक्खड़ रे, ई सब से ऊपर उठ के एक ठो हमको चिट्ठी लिखो न. ऐसे कईसे चलेगा, खाली कोहरा पी के जिए आदमी, बतलाओ, ठंढा का दिन आया, हाथ गोड़ अकड़ रहा है. ए गो तुमरा चिट्ठी आता तो हम भी न बैठ के अलाव तापते हुए पढ़ते. बचवन सब को बतलाते ई हमार चोट्टा दोस्त है. तुम लोग अगर बेसी सुधरे हुए निकल गए कहीं गलती से तो तुम सबको इसी के पास भेज देंगे, चोट्टागिरी का ट्यूशन लगाने.

इश्क़ जब मुस्कुराता है तो उसके गालों के गहरे गड्ढे में सब लोग डूब जाते हैं।

तुम किस जहन्नुम में डेरा जमाए बैठे हो मेरी जान, मेरी जिगर के टुकड़े? तुमसे बात किए बिना सुकून नहीं आता। अगली बार BSNL वाले खुदाई करेंगे तो उसमें एक कट्टा मार देना, कभी कभी जहन्नुम का रौंग नम्बर लग जाए और तुम्हें जी भर गालियाँ दे सकूँ। इतना तो कर सकते हो मेरे लिए?

She believed in God; and the gods. It was the same thing, logic didn’t come into it. You just believed, you did puja to the idols, you asked them for favours and guidance. Occasionally you visited a temple or got hold of a Brahmin to perform certain rituals. You went to a guru and sat at his feet. All that embedded you in a way of being called Hinduism. You

this earth, as a parent, as a lover, as a migrant, as a bird. And if we are to suspend our secular beliefs, even for half a paragraph, we can imagine the migrated souls of all the human ancestors presently at table, looking over their bloodline progeny gathered together over the familiarity of cabbage and fried rice and the unfamiliarity of a meat disk between two circular pieces of bread, happy as parents in a playground when all of the children assembled play together quietly and at peace, and no one’s young feelings are hurt, and everyone will go home still innocent. Of course, by the logic of fiction, we are at a high point now. This respite, this happy family, these four new lovers, this child slowly losing her shyness, all of this must be slated for destruction, no? Because if we were to simply leave them feasting and ecstatic, even as the less fortunate of the world fell deeper into despair, even as hundreds of thousands perished for lack of luck, lack of sympathy, lack of rupees, would we be just in our distribution of happiness? And so we sigh, cross ourselves, mumble the Kaddish, perform our pujas and wudu, all in preparation for the inevitable, which, in this case, comes with the crunch of gravel down the driveway.

It is not usually remembered that after his great victory at Plassey, Robert Clive did not offer thanksgiving at a church but at a Durga Puja organized by Nabakrishna Deb in Kolkata.

My worship is of a very strange kind. In this, Ganga water is not required. No special utensils are necessary. Even flowers are redundant. In this puja all gods have disappeared And emptiness has emerged with euphoria.

Let us celebrate navratri and seek the divine blessing, courage and strength we need in life, May the blessings of Maa sweeps us to the land of eternal happiness, let’s make this Durga Puja a memorable one.

Secular culture cannot be created by building domes on the walls of temples. There is no guarantee of peace if you follow Babar and Aurangzeb." "It is our good fortune that we saw the grand temple of Lord Shri Ram in our lifetime." “The temple was demolished by the invaders. Puja was going on in Gyanvapi Temple for hundreds of years but it was banned in 1993 by the UP government (SP) at that time.

ब्राह्म-मुहूर्तमें जागरण—सूर्योदयसे चार घड़ी (लगभग डेढ़ घंटे) पूर्व ब्राह्ममुहूर्तमें ही जग जाना चाहिये। इस समय सोना शास्त्रमें निषिद्ध है*

One crisp dusk when the skies are a red befitting my mood, I say goodbye to the azaan that comes from the east where the masjid is. After night eases into all corners previously owned by light, the people at the mandir start their puja. The music of the sitar and the accompanying voices raised in prayer fill the air. I stand outside in the garden, alone for once, and the frogs skirt the area I stand in as if they too know the state of my heart. I look up at the sky. I don't have a camera to capture the heavens heavy with stars, so I look my fill and try to impress the image into my heart. I know there will be other skies and other stars, but nothing will ever compare to these.

Bhakti, it is believed, are of two varieties – one, that of a traditionalist who follows holy scriptures and two, that of one whose sole route to the Lord is his selfless love. It is accepted that there are five ways pujas are performed. The first is calm meditation, the one followed by hermits. The second is complete surrender to the Lord. The third is acceptance of the Lord as your sakha (friend). The fourth is vatsalya, where the devotee considers himself as a child and the Lord as his guardian. The fifth form of puja is madhurya, where the Lord and the devotee are seen as lovers.

Out of clutter, find simplicity. From discord, find harmony. In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity. -Albert Einstein

Amidst some disorder Tiffs and tears There’s also love camaraderie and cheers

Learning new minimalistic ways of being Not merely looking But really seeing QUARANTINE+VE

Stars sparkle With unknown sheen Clouds milkier than ever been So much going right for mother nature Reinstated partly To original stature QUARANTINE+VE

Disparage not the modest word I tell all Ye guys, behold Because Words can bloodlessly move Mountains, I’m told

Ternyata benar. Hujan selalu menyimpan keajaiban. Seolah ada konspirasi dari balik langit yang mengatur perjumpaan ini. Perempuan ini seolah sengaja dikirim untuk mengisi kesuntukanku di halte setengah doyong ini.

Kamu tidak gila, kawan. Hanya saja, kamu tidak bisa membedakan antara mimpi dan realita.

It was during my first expedition on Everest, that I first experienced the Puja. The word Puja is a Sanskrit word, Pūjā, and it means, "The worship of a particular God or Goddess." In our case, our Puja was in honor of Sagarmatha. Sagarmatha is the Nepalese name for Everest. We were beseeching her, asking her for not just a safe climb, but thanking her for allowing us an audience. Not trying to sound clichéd, but it was a transcendently beautiful experience.

And as at every communal puja I have ever attended, there were the requisite distracted children, the whimpering baby, the sombre gentleman up front, and the comforting white noise of women talking and laughing at the back.

रूप, तेज, बल, पवित्रता, आयु, आरोग्य, निर्लोभता, दुःस्वप्नका नाश, तप और मेधा—ये दस गुण स्नान करनेवालोंको प्राप्त होते हैं— गुणा दश स्नानपरस्य साधो! रूपं च तेजश्च बलं च शौचम् ⁠। आयुष्यमारोग्यमलोलुपत्वं दुःस्वप्ननाशश्च तपश्च मेधाः ⁠।⁠।

Selama ini aku percaya bahwa doa dipanjatkan untuk memuji dan memuliakan namamu; tetapi saat aku berbicara kepadamu sepertinya aku hanya menghujat. Pada hari kematianku, apakahh dunia juga tetap berputar tak peduli seperti sekarang ini? Setelah aku mati dibunuh, apakah jangkrik-jangkrik akan tetap bernyanyi dan lalat-lalat terbang berdengung-dengung menimbulkan kantuk? Maukah aku mati secara gagah berani seperti itu? Tapi apakah aku benar-benar ingin mati sebagai martir sejati yang tidak dikenal, atau sekadar ingin mati mulia dan dipuja-puja? Ingin dihormati, dipanjatkan doa, disebut orang suci?

The SPH Nithyananda Paramashivam prays to Paramashiva and Ma Ganga for the Atma Shanti of the lives lost in the avalanche and massive flooding along the Alaknanda and Dhauliganga rivers. Further, The SPH prays for the speedy recovery of the injured. Maheshwara Puja will be offered for the departed souls of this tragic incident on the 11th Feb 2021 for their Atma Shanti. Alarmed by the continued massive flooding that would further upto other places, we would like to extend this notice shared by a samaritan online. Emergency Notice... A dam has been broken near Joshimath... Very terrible flood is about to come... Alaknanda river and Ganga ji will take a vicious form... By 2 pm this water will reach Srinagar and by 5-6 pm Rishikesh and Will reach Haridwar... Will do the rest later... If any friend is in the mountains in this area, then immediately go 8-10 km up... Don't run on main highway, because there is danger of landslide... And if anyone in Haridwar Rishikesh If so, get away from Gangaji.

In the wake of the massive flooding along the Alaknanda and Dhauliganga rivers due to the breakage of a glacier, The Supreme Pontiff of Hinduism, Jagatguru Mahasannidhanam, His Divine Holiness Bhagavan Nithyananda Paramashivam prays to Paramashiva and Ma Ganga for the Atma Shanti of the lives lost and further performs Maheshwara Pooja along with His sanyasis for the liberation of the departed souls. The SPH Nithyananda Paramashivam also sends healing blessings to the victims, their families and prays for their speedy recovery. Regardless of the number of births the soul would have taken, regardless of the soul, while embodied having been initiated by the Master or not in his lifetime - the Master can intervene and make His presence available in the departed soul’s life and lead it to Enlightenment! This is possible only through Maheshwara Puja! It is possible only in Hinduism. The SPH Nithyananda Paramashivam says, "The best place on Planet Earth to give “pinda tharpana” is the stomach of a sannyasi. That is, the hunger fire (jataragni) of a sannyasi is the best fire into which you can offer the “pinda tharpana”, the “shraaddha”, which reaches the departed ancestors, (pitrus) directly. The Somasambhu Patati describes that it is thousand times more greater than offering any “shraaddha”, any “pinda”, in any river, any water-body, any lake, any holy land, any holy place. Offering it in the stomach of the living incarnation of Paramashiva is the best form of “pinda tharpana” and 'shraaddha'. In Hinduism, Shraadhha wherein food is offered to sanyasis for the completion with the departed souls, is called Maheshwara puja. In the Somashambhu Paddhati, Shraadhha vidhi,Sloka 3 लिङ्गिनो ब्राह्मणाद्याश्च श्राद्धीयाः शिवदीक्षिताः । liṅgino brāhmaṇādyāśca śrāddhīyāḥ śivadīkṣitāḥ । The translation goes “The Sannyasis and Brahmanas who have been initiated into the Shiva deeksha are eligible to be appointed as the representatives of Pitrus in the Shraadhha.” KAILASA’s Department of Religion & Worship conducts the Maheshwara Puja as prescribed by the Vedas and Agamas revived by The SPH Nithyananda Paramashivam. In the Maheshwara Puja, as the 1008th living incarnation of Paramashiva, The SPH personally receives Bhiksha (alms) and He liberates the departed souls along with the Nithyananda Sanyas Order (Monastic Order). In conjunction of Year 2021 dedicated to Peace & Trust, Shrikailasa Uniting Nations for Monks & Nuns, Shrikailasa Uniting Nations for Ancient Sciences with the collaboration of ShriKailasa Uniting Nations for Global Peace & Religious Harmony requests the grace and blessings of The SPH Nithyananda Paramashivam to liberate the 156 departed souls for which Maheshwara Puja is being offered today. It includes the 34 lives lost due to the Uttarakhand flood.

The SPH Nithyananda Paramashivam prays to Paramashiva and Ma Ganga for the Atma Shanti of the lives lost in the avalanche and massive flooding along the Alaknanda and Dhauliganga rivers. Further, The SPH prays for the speedy recovery of the injured. Maheshwara Puja is being offered today on the 11th February 2021 for the departed souls of this tragic incident that took place on 07 February in Uttarakhand, India along with the deadly flash floods that struck in the city of Tangier on 08 February 2021, in Jordan & Saudi Arabia on 04 to 05 February and in Fiji on 31 January 2021 for their Atma Shanti. In the Maheshwara Puja, The Supreme Pontiff of Hinduism, who is the embodiment of cosmic energy; Paramashiva, personally receives the Bhiksha or food offering and he liberates the departed soul with the Nithyananda Sanyas Order (Monastic Order) No matter how many births the person would have taken after leaving the body and no matter if the person has met the Master or not in the life, the Master can intervene and make His presence available in the departed soul’s life and lead it to Enlightenment.

That the goddess comes to town with her children, leaving her reluctant-householder husband behind on Mount Kailash, makes Pujo a singular celebration of family values and domesticity, unlike the Kill Bill independence of Kali.

nonchalant charminar ma, i can’t smile well-scrubbed twisted-smirks in your noble society anymore in the godly dense ocean of kindness with krishna’s duffed up white teeth with studious eyes of the devil i can’t anymore in a ramakrishnian posture use my wife according to the matriarchal customs substitute sugar for saccharine and dread diabetes no more i can’t no more with my unhappy organ do a devdas again in khalashitola on the registry day of a former fling. my liver is getting rancid by the day my grandfather had cirrhosis don’t understand heredity i drink alcohol read poetry my father for the sake of puja etc used to fast venerable dadas in our para swearing by dharma gently press ripe breasts of sisters-born-of-the-locality on holi on the day ma left for trips abroad many in your noble society had vodka i will nonchalantly from your funeral pyre light up a charminar thinking of your death my eyes tear up then i don’t think of earthquakes by the banks or of floodwater didn’t put my hand on the string of the petticoat of an unmarried lover and didn’t think of baishnab padavali ma, even i’ll die one day. at belur mandir on seeing foreign woman pray with her international python-bum veiled in a skirt my limitless libido rose up ma because your libido will be tied up to father’s memories even beyond death i this fucked up drunk am envying you carrying dirt of the humblest kind looking at my organ i feel as if i’m an organism from another planet now the rays of the setting sun is touching my face on a tangent and after mixing the colour of the setting sun on their wings a flock of non-family-planning birds is going back towards bonolata sen’s eyes peaceful as a nest – it’s time for them to warm the eggs –

So every day there is puja in your house but no Quran. Do you even have Allah’s name written anywhere? Or now you rely on Ganesh to protect you?” “Sonia had Allah’s name in every room of her house, but it didn’t protect her, did it?” Ruby said.

Hardships may last perhaps a bit longer But cleansed of excesses We’ll come out stronger

Studded with optimism values and honour A better world Is round the corner

Recalibrated life Recalibrated time Emeralds dusted Of emotional grime QUARANTINE+VE

Shunning all crutches of modern din Finding a stronger self within QUARANTINE+VE

Insulated from all the plastic glitter Mankind becomes mentally fitter QUARANTINE+VE

Shorn of consumeristic malls and pubs And parlour-fuelled vanity rubs Refurbished senses Clearer goals Mall rats transformed Into inspired souls QUARANTINE+VE

Pollution wiped Off Innocent skies False pride from egoistical eyes So much going right for mother nature Reinstated partly To original stature QUARANTINE+VE

The waters are a crystal blue Uncluttered minds Replenished anew So much going right for mother nature Reinstated partly To original stature QUARANTINE+VE

The grass is a brighter shade of lush Life devoid of maddening rush So much going right for mother nature Reinstated partly To original stature QUARANTINE+VE

The trees are a deeper hue of green Complicated lives Decrypted clean So much going right for mother nature Reinstated partly To original stature QUARANTINE+VE

Rising from ashes Defeating the sceptic We’ll build a new world Brick by brick

Yet again, United Nations has recognized the atrocities done against the most vulnerable Hindu girls and women. #UnitedNationsRecognisesPersecutionOnTheSPHNithyanandaAndKailasa

The birds hum a happy song Reclaiming lost skies Where they belong So much going right for mother nature Reinstated partly To original stature QUARANTINE+VE