Isha

 We suffer from many diseases today—not of the body, but of the mind.

One such condition is the compulsive urge to shout, “Stop corporate power!”

The same voices once screamed “Stop Tata! Stop Birla!” as if possessed.

Now the targets have changed: Ambani, Adani.

The noise remains the same. Only the names rotate.

This reflexive outrage isn’t accidental. It’s a worldview carefully manufactured by sections of the media and self-styled liberals.

Ask them basic, kindergarten-level questions: 

How much can one individual realistically invest?

How far can personal effort go?

Who funds large-scale experimentation?

Even if something succeeds, how is it taken to millions?

Silence.

That’s how effectively common sense has been anesthetized.

The latest punching bag is the Isha Foundation.

Its founder has been neatly boxed as a “corporate godman.”

“Aren’t there ancient temples? Why go to the Dhyanalinga for Mahashivaratri?”

This question doesn’t come from curiosity—it comes from intellectual conspiracy.

Only those wearing the costume of devotion ask it.

If you truly are a Shiva devotee, try this:

Can you gather even a hundred people—forget a thousand—in one place and make them chant “Om Namah Shivaya” together?

You can’t.

Yet through Isha, over 140 million people, online and offline, chanted AUM Namah Shivaya at exactly midnight yesterday, Indian time.

Instead of scoffing, try replicating it.

Gather just 1,000 people.

One open ground.

One night.

Then reality will introduce itself.

“Yes, but he has corporate money.”

Take one step forward yourself. Money will appear—from many directions.

And with it will come layers of chaos you didn’t budget for.

For a thousand people alone: Food, toilets, parking.

Police permissions.

Midnight sound regulations.

Crowd control that prevents even a single mishap.

Sustaining energy so no one feels drained or disengaged.

Add to that: Security for global dignitaries.

Volunteers who work without pay, credit, or expectation.

Feeling dizzy yet?

“I don’t know all that… but still, he’s corporate.”

Even my own favorite temple needs structure.

Order is not oppression.

Discipline is not arrogance.

On that count, Isha has delivered—flawlessly.

Please don’t rush to the tired accusation of “money arrogance.”

What you see is not control, but organic order rooted in devotion.

Yes, Mahashivaratri is about chanting the Panchakshara mantra.

I can do that alone on my terrace.

But solitary prayer and collective transcendence are not the same.

Standing for hours under the open sky, immersed in Shiva’s songs, surrounded by thousands whose minds slowly sync to the same frequency—

and then, at the stroke of midnight, when countless voices collapse into a single chant of His name—

That experience cannot be explained to those who’ve already decided to dismiss it.

Isha isn’t alone.

Nithyananda. Sri Sri.

Slander comes easily when the goal is clear.

And the goal is simple:

Erase Sanatana Dharma.

When someone achieves what we cannot, the dharmic response is not suspicion or fault-finding, but grace.

Sometimes, the most authentic service to Sanatana Dharma

is knowing when to step aside—and let devotion do its work.