This poem does not seek to portray Maa Tripura Sundarī; it listens for her. She is not approached through description, devotion, or doctrine, but through a subtler recognition, one that arises when the mind loosens its insistence on knowing and allows presence to speak first. In Śrīvidyā, Tripura Sundarī is not merely a form of the Goddess, but the principle of pūrṇatā… wholeness prior to division. She is the beauty that exists before perception, the still intelligence from which desire, form, and meaning emerge without fracture. To encounter her is not to withdraw from life, but to perceive its inner order, where experience unfolds without bondage. The verses that follow are not arranged to instruct or persuade. They move the way awareness moves… circling, settling, revealing. What is named here is not meant to be grasped, only recognised. If the poem draws you into silence rather than interpretation, then you are already standing where it was written from.

This poem may unleash a catastrophe of excessive self-love, unshakeable confidence, and irreversible liberation from societal expectations. Prolonged exposure might result in a perpetual smile, and an uncontrollable urge to dance in front of the mirror. Proceed with caution (and a teeny-weeny bit of humour)! Read at your own risk. :P

This poem sketches my 24-day transformative journey in the heart of the Himalayas. Immersed in intense sadhana, I spent 12-15 hours a day meditating in a small, secluded room, stripped of all life’s luxuries. Facing the raw elements with unwavering resolve—no comforts, only the bare essentials—the cold, solitude, and austerity became my companions. Each challenge purified my soul and brought me closer to the Divine. Through this journey, I discovered not just a way to survive but a way to truly live, experiencing the profound happiness of simply being.