‘monster’
‘I know heroes. I’m like that. That’s cool.’
“Whenever and wherever there is a decline in religious practice, O descendant of Bharata, and a predominant rise of irreligion—at that time I descend Myself.”
“To deliver the pious and to annihilate the miscreants, as well as to reestablish the principles of religion, I advent Myself millennium after millennium.”
‘Monster,’ the word unsettles people.
That is intentional.
Not because I am glorifying cruelty. Not because I am flirting with darkness for aesthetic effect. The word Monster is chosen precisely because it forces a reaction. It demands inquiry. It refuses the comfort of spiritual softness.
Symbols matter.
Every civilization understands this whether it admits it or not. A cross evokes sacrifice. A crescent evokes submission. Superman’s shield evokes hope. Batman’s bat evokes fear and justice in shadow. The symbol works because the psyche stores meaning visually before it can articulate it verbally.
Sacred geometry, heraldry, emblems, sigils — these are not decorations. They are compression devices. Philosophy condensed into form.
‘Monster’ is mine.
It is not random. It is not a marketing accident. It is an homage.
Look closely at it.
The serpent’s teeth.
The open mouth.
The face within the form.
It represents Krishna inside Aghāsura.
For those unfamiliar: Aghāsura was a serpent demon, the embodiment of cruelty and suffocation. He opened his mouth like a cavern, stretching across the landscape so wide that Krishna’s companions mistook it for a natural wonder. One by one, they entered.
They were swallowed whole.
There was no immediate violence. No dramatic battle at the entrance. Just deception, atmosphere, enclosure. The air thickened. Breath shortened. Awareness faded.
Cruelty rarely announces itself with horns.
It suffocates.
Krishna did not attack from outside.
He entered.
He allowed himself to be swallowed with the others. And once inside, he expanded. His presence grew until the serpent could no longer contain him. The suffocator was suffocated. The deception collapsed from within.
No rage.
No spectacle.
Just expansion of truth until falsehood burst.
That is the symbol.
‘Monster’ is not Aghāsura.
‘Monster’ is Krishna inside the serpent.
It is discernment operating under dharma. It is the ksatriya function — not mindless aggression, but precise engagement with cruelty when it manifests.
This world is not gentle.
Anyone pretending otherwise is anesthetized.
I was raised Christian. I do not reject the teachings of Christ. I do not reject compassion. I do not reject sacrifice. Christ embodies Brahmanic mercy — universal love expressed through suffering.
But temperament matters.
Archetype matters.
Not every age requires the same posture.
In the Bhagavad-gītā, Krishna states:
“Whenever and wherever there is a decline in religious practice… at that time I descend Myself. To deliver the pious and to annihilate the miscreants, as well as to reestablish the principles of religion, I advent Myself millennium after millennium.”
That is not pacifism.
That is structural correction.
Different epochs call forth different expressions of the same Absolute.
Christ endured.
Krishna strategized.
Christ absorbed violence.
Krishna directed it lawfully.
Neither is superior. Both are functions of Brahman. But my temperament, my work, my dharma aligns with the ksatriya archetype.
Ksatriya does not mean caste entitlement. It means alignment with the duty of protection and confrontation under law. It is an archetype of disciplined ferocity.
Kurukshetra did not erase the ksatriya from existence.
It purified it.
The battlefield of Kurukshetra wiped out corrupt warriors who had abandoned dharma. But the ksatriya principle itself is eternal, just as dharma is eternal. It fades from visibility in certain ages. It reemerges when needed.
You cannot permanently remove the archetype of the protector.
You can suppress it.
You can distort it.
You can sentimentalize it.
But when cruelty becomes systemic, the ksatriya returns.
This is not a call to violence.
It is a call to integration.
Earlier in this series, we spoke of the Dweller. The accumulated tendencies, the unresolved karmic weight. We spoke of the Avatara — not as rescuer, but as alignment. ‘Monster’ stands at the intersection of those teachings.
If you do not face the monster within you, you will become Aghāsura.
Unrestrained power without compassion becomes tyranny.
Compassion without strength becomes helplessness.
Arjuna wept on the battlefield. That moment of hesitation marked his evolution. Without restraint, he would have been no different from the Kauravas. Compassion refined his ksatriya nature. He did not abandon his duty. He purified it.
In order to become Hero, you must confront and control the monster within.
Not eliminate it.
Control it.
Without restraint, strength decays into cruelty. Without strength, compassion decays into impotence.
Krishna did not need to prove himself at Kurukshetra. Long before the war, he had slain Pūtanā, Tṛṇāvarta, Bakāsura, Aghāsura, and ultimately Kaṁsa. All before reaching adolescence. His opulence was already demonstrated. No warrior could defeat him.
So he chose restraint.
He became a charioteer.
The most powerful being on the field chose service over spectacle.
That is ksatriya under dharma.
‘Monster’ is my reminder of that alignment.
It reinforces what this blog has been teaching from the beginning: change the world? Change yourself first.
Aghāsura is cruelty born of selfishness. Selfishness expands until it suffocates its environment. Krishna’s response was not protest. It was expansion of consciousness.
He entered the mouth of the serpent.
That is the work.
You do not fight systems from outside with outrage alone. You enter them with awareness and expand until deception collapses.
But first, you must face your own.
‘Monster’ is not a threat.
It is a test.
When you look at it, what do you feel?
Fear?
Power?
Resistance?
Recognition?
Symbols do not argue. They activate.
This logo is an homage to my guide. To Krishna not as myth, but as operational archetype. Through will and imagination, I altered my life. Not through fantasy. Through alignment. I found in Krishna a being to emulate — strategic, restrained, fierce under law.
‘Monster’ represents that internalization.
It is not aesthetic rebellion.
It is devotion expressed through posture.
If this disturbs you, examine why.
If you prefer a gentler avatar, that is your alignment.
Mine requires engagement.
We are about to move formally into Vedanta. No more circling. No more hints. The foundation has been laid. The Dweller has been introduced. The Avatara has been clarified. Dharma and Prakriti have been established.
Now you see the symbol.
‘Monster’ is not metaphor.
It is a declaration.
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(written with the assistance of ChatGPT)
