Do you believe in fate/destiny?
I often ask myself: Did I do that intentionally, or was it unintentional?
This question echoed in my mind as I reflected on a powerful lesson—a painful yet eye-opening manifestation. It all started with my prayers and devotion, leading up to a promise I made: to fulfill my report card prayers at Batu Caves.
But then, another calling came. I had been deeply drawn to the Sadhanapada program offered by the Isha Center, hoping to join in early 2025. Yet, if I were called in earlier, it would clash with my commitment to Batu Caves. How could I possibly do both? How would I manage all the commitments I had placed upon myself?
This journey had begun right after my birthday last year. It became my ultimate goal—to see my prayers answered. I devoted myself to relentless prayers, chanting, and unwavering faith, pouring my heart into every ritual. At some point, I felt as if I had become an Asura within myself, forcing changes in ways I had never done before.
I found myself fasting earlier than usual, listening to my body as it rejected meat. A shift had begun. My dreams became disturbingly vivid—daunting visions of long-gone relatives, unsettling my peace at every turn. I felt the urge to uncover the root of this torment and banish it once and for all.
I needed to leave this personal hell.
Determined, I went to Batu Caves alone, believing that through unwavering prayer, my answers would come. My sister, too, had vowed to take kavadi, preparing diligently for it. Yet, in the end, she fell ill and couldn’t fulfill her vow.
On the eve of the prayers, I overheard from my sister’s friend that free electric train rides were available for devotees. That night, I prepared everything for the journey. The next morning, my sister dropped me at the station, dressed in yellow, ready to carry the kavadi.
As soon as I reached Batu Caves, I walked to the riverbank, where a group of kavadi bearers had gathered, waiting for the temple vel to be blessed. There was no time for distractions—I stepped into the water, joining them as the priest dipped the vel into the river, facing the temple with the morning sun shining upon us. I received flowers from a cameraman and took sprinkles of the holy water, blessing myself as the priest sprayed it over the devotees.
Then, it happened.
A trance-like calmness washed over me, carrying me through the journey. I couldn’t explain it, but I surrendered to it completely.
As I stood by the river, my eyes caught sight of a half-broken coconut lying nearby. Inside, I saw a one-ringgit note tucked into the coconut’s flesh. I hesitated. Had someone left this offering for me? Why would they abandon such a fresh coconut?
I took the one ringgit, seeing it as a sign—a symbolic start to something new. Then, without hesitation, I ate the juicy coconut, savoring it as it filled my empty stomach. Strength surged through me.
With renewed energy, I lifted the kavadi and began my journey.
The path from the river to the temple was a sea of devotees, all waiting for their turn to ascend the 276 steps to the temple. It was overwhelming, yet my trance-like state kept me focused.
Through it all, I realized something profound: destiny is a creation of fate and manifestation. I had manifested this experience, but it wasn’t just about completing a ritual—it was about letting go.
Letting go of ego, stubbornness, and negativity. Letting go of every toxic relationship I had ever held onto.
Yet, I could still feel something holding me back, like being stuck in sticky mud.
Had I truly let go? Or was I still clinging to the past?
The journey wasn’t just about reaching the top of Batu Caves. It was about breaking free.
And as I climbed those 276 steps, I knew—I was ready.
I often ask myself: Did I do that intentionally, or was it unintentional?
This question echoed in my mind as I reflected on a powerful lesson—a painful yet eye-opening manifestation. It all started with my prayers and devotion, leading up to a promise I made: to fulfill my report card prayers at Batu Caves.
But then, another calling came. I had been deeply drawn to the Sadhanapada program offered by the Isha Center, hoping to join in early 2025. Yet, if I were called in earlier, it would clash with my commitment to Batu Caves. How could I possibly do both? How would I manage all the commitments I had placed upon myself?
This journey had begun right after my birthday last year. It became my ultimate goal—to see my prayers answered. I devoted myself to relentless prayers, chanting, and unwavering faith, pouring my heart into every ritual. At some point, I felt as if I had become an Asura within myself, forcing changes in ways I had never done before.
I found myself fasting earlier than usual, listening to my body as it rejected meat. A shift had begun. My dreams became disturbingly vivid—daunting visions of long-gone relatives, unsettling my peace at every turn. I felt the urge to uncover the root of this torment and banish it once and for all.
I needed to leave this personal hell.
Determined, I went to Batu Caves alone, believing that through unwavering prayer, my answers would come. My sister, too, had vowed to take kavadi, preparing diligently for it. Yet, in the end, she fell ill and couldn’t fulfill her vow.
On the eve of the prayers, I overheard from my sister’s friend that free electric train rides were available for devotees. That night, I prepared everything for the journey. The next morning, my sister dropped me at the station, dressed in yellow, ready to carry the kavadi.
As soon as I reached Batu Caves, I walked to the riverbank, where a group of kavadi bearers had gathered, waiting for the temple vel to be blessed. There was no time for distractions—I stepped into the water, joining them as the priest dipped the vel into the river, facing the temple with the morning sun shining upon us. I received flowers from a cameraman and took sprinkles of the holy water, blessing myself as the priest sprayed it over the devotees.
Then, it happened.
A trance-like calmness washed over me, carrying me through the journey. I couldn’t explain it, but I surrendered to it completely.
As I stood by the river, my eyes caught sight of a half-broken coconut lying nearby. Inside, I saw a one-ringgit note tucked into the coconut’s flesh. I hesitated. Had someone left this offering for me? Why would they abandon such a fresh coconut?
I took the one ringgit, seeing it as a sign—a symbolic start to something new. Then, without hesitation, I ate the juicy coconut, savoring it as it filled my empty stomach. Strength surged through me.
With renewed energy, I lifted the kavadi and began my journey.
The path from the river to the temple was a sea of devotees, all waiting for their turn to ascend the 276 steps to the temple. It was overwhelming, yet my trance-like state kept me focused.
Through it all, I realized something profound: destiny is a creation of fate and manifestation. I had manifested this experience, but it wasn’t just about completing a ritual—it was about letting go.
Letting go of ego, stubbornness, and negativity. Letting go of every toxic relationship I had ever held onto.
Yet, I could still feel something holding me back, like being stuck in sticky mud.
Had I truly let go? Or was I still clinging to the past?
The journey wasn’t just about reaching the top of Batu Caves. It was about breaking free.
And as I climbed those 276 steps, I knew—I was ready.
JumpSoftware 
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