Jyotir Linga — The Column of Divine Light
On our hour-long drive from Nashik to Trimbakeshwar Temple, I read aloud to my friend Chandni, who had joined me from Delhi, about the meaning and background of the Jyotir Linga—“the column of divine light.” The text described how certain sensitive souls can actually experience this column of light in deep meditation at these sacred temples. It also recounted the temple’s ancient story: this is the holy place where Rishi Gautama prayed to Lord Shiva to bring the sacred river Godavari to Earth, with the blessings of the Trinity—Brahma, Vishnu, and Mahesh.
The landscape around Trimbak was breathtaking—lush green hills and mountains bathed in a serene stillness. There was an undeniable sacredness in the air, as if the land itself was conscious. Three of the surrounding peaks—Brahmagiri, Nilagiri, and Kalagiri—are revered as divine. It truly felt as though we were guests of Shiva Himself.
At the temple entrance, a trustee warmly received us and guided us inside. He suggested we have a special Abhishek Puja performed, and we agreed. As the priest began the ritual, Chandni and I both settled into meditation.
Then, quite unexpectedly, something extraordinary happened. Without any effort or invocation, I saw within my meditation a column of subtle light rising from the base of my spine—emerging from the Earth itself—passing through my spine and crown, and extending upward into the sky. Soon, I could see many such columns of light ascending from different parts of the temple. I felt a powerful surge of energy rising through me, causing my body to gently sway and turn from right to left in a circular motion. I tried to stop, thinking others might notice—but the movement began again, as if guided by a higher force.
Chandni and I looked at one another, and I whispered what I experienced. She said softly that she too saw a column of light rising through her! Neither of us had expected it—it was entirely spontaneous and unplanned.
A little later, the well-known Naadi reader, Sri P. Babuswami, arrived. I was touched that such a busy and respected man had driven an hour and a half to meet us. Together, we went toward the inner sanctum to have darshan of the Jyotirlinga, where three Shiva Lingas rest in a stone pit. The energy there was overwhelming—every cell of my body vibrated with a fine, living current of divinity.
As we stepped outside after offering our prayers, a Yogi caught our attention. He stood upon a stone platform beside the temple steps—his body smeared in sacred ash, clothed in simple ascetic robes, and barefoot. His right foot crossed gently over the left, the toes resting lightly on the ground—a stance reminiscent of Lord Krishna’s graceful pose. Babuswami ji whispered that this Yogi had been standing there, in that very spot, for twelve years. Twelve years! The thought left us awestruck. Chandni and I offered him some alms and met his gaze. His light brown eyes shone with a serene blend of kindness, devotion, and unwavering resolve. In that moment, it felt as though we were standing before Shiva Himself.
The temple, with the backdrop of mist-covered hills and ancient stones, felt like another world. Babuswami ji then guided us to the Kusavarta Kunda, the sacred pond within the temple complex, where the Godavari River is said to originate. As I stood by its waters, I could feel the serene presence of Rishi Gautama lingering in the air.
To our surprise, Babuswami ji even helped us shop at the nearby stalls! On our way back to the car, I called our driver and told him, “I’ll be there in one minute.” Smiling gently, Babuswami ji offered a piece of advice I’ll never forget: “Even small things like saying ‘one minute’ and not keeping it can create subtle karmas. Instead, say ‘a few minutes’ or ‘shortly,’ so your words remain true.” It was such a simple yet profound lesson—and I’ve followed it ever since.
How blessed we were to be guided by Shiva’s own messengers throughout that day. Before parting, Babuswami ji invited us to his office to locate my Naadi leaf in his Jeeva Sukshma Shiva Naadi collection. Though our schedule was tight—we still had to return to the hotel for breakfast and then reach Shirdi airport for our flight—I agreed to spare an hour.
At his office, I noticed a large photo of Guruji, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji, as he reads the Jeeva Naadi for him and many Art of Living folks. Chandni was delighted to see her Guru as well. We bowed before the shrine and sat down. Three bundles of palm leaves lay on the table—two already there, and the third brought by his assistant.
The process began: Babuswami ji read each leaf aloud, reading details from the leaf, like the person’s name and parents’ names, while I confirmed or denied each line. Whenever I said “no,” he moved on to the next leaf. Time was passing quickly, and I grew a little impatient. Trusting my intuition, I told him, “My leaf is in the second bundle.” He smiled but continued methodically with the first.
After finishing the first and third bundles, he finally opened the second bundle. As he started reading the first leaf—I knew instantly—it was mine. And indeed, it matched perfectly. The joy of that moment was beyond words. Until then, all my Naadi readings had happened remotely, over WhatsApp calls. But to witness my leaf being found in person, in the presence of the reader and the ancient texts themselves, was profoundly moving. Chandni too was deeply touched, and Babuswami ji seemed quietly amazed that my intuition had been so precise.
After offering my gratitude and prostrations, we left for the airport.
What a day it had been—filled with light, guidance, and divine grace at every step.
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