Because Apparently, We Need To Be Reminded
One of the greatest—and tragically underrated—contributions of Sanatana Dharma is the fierce, unbroken lineage of the “𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙪-𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙮𝙖-𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖”. Yes, that quaint old tradition where people truly learned from teachers—and didn’t just wake up one day claiming enlightenment after watching three YouTube videos. In every field—be it the lofty realms of adhyatma vidya or the grounded pursuits that serve human good at the physical level—this parampara has been the vehicle keeping knowledge alive and refreshed.
Now contrast this with non-Sanatana traditions—those that crown one charismatic figure as the sole authority. No dynamic principles, no checks and balances, just “𝘍𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.” Because obviously, the shifting reality must revolve around one person’s take. What could possibly go wrong? Oh right—exclusivity and violence.
By the very nature of creation—dynamic, unpredictable, vibrant—relying on a single guru as the eternal reference point is, let’s say, a bold choice. In fact, it’s where rot begins on the path of dharma. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦 𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴—𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘥𝘰𝘮.
And the irony? Those who claim to blaze their own path—whether consciously or through sheer cluelessness—end up idolizing their teacher instead of grounding themselves in eternal truths meant to guide across all times and contexts —Guru, Sadhu, and Shastra.𝘎𝘶𝘳𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘚𝘢𝘥𝘩𝘶 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘰𝘯. But why turn to any of these when you can worship your ego disguised as complete faith and loyalty—and dismiss everything else?
Look around, and it becomes embarrassingly obvious—whether Vaishnava, Advaita, or Shakta sampradaya—the unbroken guru-shishya parampara continues to flourish. No one has ever broken it. Not even the biggest, boldest acharyas. They adapted, yes. They contextualized. But break the principle? Not a chance.
And here’s the kicker: 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘤 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯—𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭. 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴. Separating a guru from his parampara is like saying, “Thanks, but no thanks” to the Vedas, Vyasa, and Sri Krishna. And you thought this was just a technicality?
Let’s be clear—this isn’t a footnote in tradition; this is the headline. It’s not a detail—it’s a principle. Unbroken, unyielding, and boldly declared in the Vedas, by Vyasa, and affirmed by Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita. But sure, go ahead—tell people otherwise.
If doubts arise (and for some, they definitely will), do something radical: consult the shastra. Check with your parampara. Explore the countless other Vedic traditions. But no—doing that would require humility and curiosity—two qualities in tragically short supply.
𝘈 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘢𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦—𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. Even those who “started” great philosophical systems like Shankaracharya, Ramanujacharya, or Madhvacharya didn’t just appear out of nowhere. They had gurus. They respected succession. They innovated, yes—but never amputated themselves from the tree of tradition.
Let’s also make a distinction here—𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘢𝘴. That kind of arrogance belongs only to those who have utterly misunderstood both guru and dharma.
Once we accept a philosophy that says, “𝘙𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦,” we open the floodgates to something disturbingly familiar: Abrahamic-style exclusivity, where everything boils down to the teachings of a single prophet. The result? Violence in the name of righteousness. Whether jihad or crusade, we know how well that ends.
And yes, even those who proudly broke from the Vedas struggle to keep their traditions coherent. Their followers either radicalize or dissolve into absurdity. I once heard an “educated” member of one such cult claim Sanskrit was invented by Brahmins to deceive. That’s right—deception through grammar. Must be a new genre of science fiction.
Or the uninformed Vaishnava devotee who boldly declared, 𝘞𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥—𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭.” Ah yes, the beginning of dissent, disguised as devotion.
Such attitudes come wrapped in layers of toxic superiority, soaked in exclusivity, and utterly allergic to collaborating with the natural laws of life. They assign superhuman qualities to their gurus—ironically undermining the very concept of avatara—and, surprise surprise, eventually demand their own country to preserve their guru’s legacy. See also: Punjab, history, and repeated mistakes.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 “𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘶” 𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘶-𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘺𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘦𝘥—𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪-𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦: 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘏𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘝𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘴, 𝘉𝘩𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘮, 𝘜𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘴, 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦, 𝘗𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺, 𝘗𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘤 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥. 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘺.
As the Bhagavad Gita 4.34 declares:
“tad viddhi praṇipātena
paripraśnena sevayā,
upadekṣyanti te jñānaṁ
jñāninas tattva-darśinaḥ”
“𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩.”
– Govinda Das (ISKCON Member)
