Xandra

The most infamous person I have ever met is Xandra—the one I created within the deep corridors of my own mind. She was beauty sharpened by intelligence, yet she turned her brilliance inward, misusing it to strike at the living, to win every argument life threw her way. Like an advocate arguing a case that no longer mattered, she fought endlessly until her own mind became the courtroom of her undoing.

One morning, Xandra burned sulfur toward her imagined enemy, a desperate attempt to make herself remembered. With her telepathic will, she crossed the mirror’s veil, reaching for the Kriya entity—her other self, the one still anchored in practice and discipline. She shows a naked lady image to her. The entity blackened the image of darkness. Then the next images appear, the entity recognized her instantly, shook her mind free of the intrusion, and saw her holding pictures of her mother and sister. “I don’t like these pictures,” the entity said gently, but Xandra persisted.

She conjured another image, a short man resembling her uncle. “Who is this man?” asked the entity. “I’ve never seen such a short man.” Confusion clouded Xandra’s face. Then came another image—her brother beside a small woman. The entity, curious, cut through the picture with a pair of invisible scissors, layer by layer, only to find Xandra’s own reflection staring back from beneath them all.

Why couldn’t she stop? The Kriya entity watched her comb her hair with trembling hands, lost in her illusions. With a quiet sigh, the entity closed all her inner doors—like the shutting of great temple gates—and Xandra faded into her own mad silence, her images dissolving into smoke.

Later, as the Kriya entity drove her car through the day’s rhythm, the first passenger sat quietly, but the next four tried to invade her mind. She felt her body twist unnaturally until her inner voice rose like a flame: “Keep your body straight. Let us teach them a lesson.”

She steadied herself, unmoved, and the passengers at the back began sneezing—three echoes of their own disturbed thoughts. The fourth passenger tried again, but she remembered Sadhguru’s words: “Stay still, without moving.” She became as solid as stone. The man beside her turned and saw, to his horror, that she sat beside him like a cemented statue, unmoving and unmoved. Fear silenced them all. Their games had turned against them.

When she drove alone, the warlord Raul appeared through telepathy, whispering, “I want to be like you.”
She replied sharply, “Then go for Inner Engineering. Still no courage to transform yourself?” His image broke apart and vanished into the air.

After every ride, she cleansed the car with sacred chants, washing away the auras of those who had sat before her, resetting the space in devotion.

And thus she learned: an idle mind can be healed only through devotion, through chanting, through practice pursued with love. For the mind is both temple and battlefield, and only the one who stays still within the storm finds peace in the silence beyond.