Virajā — The River That Had Been Calling Me All Along
“The soul does not leave the world at Virajā. It leaves behind the illusion that it ever belonged to the world.”
Yesterday…
I stood upon the luminous shores of Thiruppārkadal.
The Ocean that no mortal eye has ever seen.
The Ocean that the Āḻvārs beheld through the eyes of divine love.
There…
Śrī Viśvaksena revealed that the Lord had never counted the number of temples I had visited.
He had quietly measured how much of my heart had become His.
As those sacred words settled within me…
Viśvaksena turned toward another radiance.
Far beyond the Ocean…
a river shone with a light unlike anything I had ever known.
Not flowing.
Not still.
It seemed to breathe eternity itself.
“My child…”
he softly said,
“This is Virajā.”
For a long moment…
I simply stood in silence.
The sacred River was before me.
Then…
quite unexpectedly…
another memory awakened.
Not from a pilgrimage.
Not from a temple.
But from the quiet sanctity of my own home.
Every morning…
during my humble Thiruvārādhanai…
I would lovingly prepare the sacred water for my beloved Perumals.
With folded hands I would chant,
“Gaṅgā… Yamunā… Godāvarī… Sarasvatī…
Narmadā… Sindhu… Kāverī…”
Then…
after a brief pause…
my heart would whisper something that few even noticed.
“Virajā Nadī… āgaccha…”
“O sacred Virajā… please come.”
How many thousands of mornings had I uttered those words?
How many times had I lovingly invited that unseen River into the water offered to the Lord?
At that time…
it was simply devotion.
Today…
standing before Virajā herself…
tears began to flow.
I smiled through them.
How little I had understood.
It was never I who had invited Virajā into my worship.
Virajā had quietly been inviting me… every single day.
Every Thiruvārādhanai…
Every offering…
Every mantra…
had been the Lord’s gentle rehearsal…
for this very meeting.
I looked toward Viśvaksena.
“Swamy…
must I cross this River?”
He smiled with immeasurable compassion.
“My child…
no soul crosses Virajā by its own effort.
The Lord carries across those who have surrendered everything to Him.”
At once…
all fear disappeared.
As I gazed into the crystal-like waters…
they became a mirror.
Not of my face…
but of my entire life.
I saw my childhood.
The first dream of Lord Veṅkaṭeśwara touching my forehead.
The countless treks up the Seven Hills.
The joy of completing the pilgrimage to the 106 Divya Deśams.
The sacred footsteps of Śrī Rāma.
The forests of Vṛndāvana.
The smiling little Āṇḍāḷ who entered our home like a daughter.
The eager search for her beloved Kṛṣṇa.
The miraculous arrival of little Kṛṣṇa by flight.
The butter cup at Vraja.
The Vishnu Sahasranāma recitations.
The Ratha Yātrās. The unexpected miracles.
The tears.
The laughter.
The silent prayers.
Nothing…
absolutely nothing…
had been forgotten.
The Lord had treasured every moment.
Not to judge me.
But to show me…how lovingly He had walked beside me all along.
Then another realization quietly blossomed.
Virajā was not washing away my memories.
She was washing away my ownership of them.
No longer… my pilgrimage. my devotion. my achievements. my surrender.
Everything… had always been His grace.
Even my first longing to seek Him…
had begun with Him.The sacred River then whispered another truth into my heart.
This body…
formed from the pañca-bhūtas earth.. water… fire… air… and space…
had faithfully carried me through this sacred pilgrimage.
Through these eyes…
I had beheld His temples.
Through these feet…I had climbed His hills.
Through these hands…
I had offered flowers.
Through this tongue…
I had recited the Divya Prabandham and Vishnu Sahasranāma.
Through this heart…
I had loved Him.One day…
this body would lovingly return to the very elements from which it had arisen.
But I…dwelt within it.
The body hthe traveller…
had never been the body.
I had merelyad been my hermitage.
My instrument.
My companion.
The soul…belonged only to Him.
As I stood in that sacred silence…
the deepest realization of my earthly life unfolded.
Perhaps…
the true Archirādi Mārga had never begun after death.
Perhaps it had begun…
the very first time I chose humility over pride.
Forgiveness over anger.
Compassion over judgment.
Contentment over greed.
Service over recognition.
Love over hatred.
Every victory over my lower nature…
had already been another step toward Virajā.
The Lord had never waited until this day to transform me.
He had been transforming me…
every single day Slowly lovingly. patiently…
Viśvaksena gently placed his hand upon my shoulder.
“My child…
look once more.”
I looked into the River again.
This time…
there was no reflection No past. No future. Only Light. Only Peace. Only Him.
Then…
the waters gently parted.
Not because I had become worthy.
But because His grace had become complete.
Every step across Virajā felt effortless.
Not because I was walking.
Because Love itself was carrying me.
As I reached the opposite shore…
I instinctively turned back.
There was nothing left to reclaim.
Nothing left to regret.
Nothing left to fear.
Only gratitude.
Infinite gratitude.
Our revered Pūrvācāryas teach that Virajā is the sacred boundary between Prakṛti and the eternal realm.
The liberated soul does not cross by its own strength.Bhagavān Himself, out of boundless compassion, carries the surrendered soul beyond every trace of karma, sorrow and material limitation, preparing it for eternal kainkaryam.
For years…
during my daily Thiruvārādhanai…
I lovingly prayed,
“Virajā Nadī… āgaccha…”
Today…I realise.. the Lord had accepted that little prayer long ago.
He simply waited… until the appointed moment… to answer it.
“Virajā did not remove my memories. She removed my ego from them.”
“The body belongs to the five elements. The soul belongs to the Lord.”
“Every sincere act of surrender is already a step into the waters of Virajā.”
Perhaps…
we need not wait for the final journey to approach Virajā.
Every day we forgive…
every day we surrender…
every day we choose the Lord over our ego…
we quietly place another foot into those sacred waters.
Perhaps…
Vaikuṇṭha begins…
the moment the heart finally says,
“Nothing is mine… everything is Yours.”
As I stepped beyond Virajā…
the atmosphere itself changed.
The radiance became softer… deeper… more intimate.
Viśvaksena smiled. My child… no soul enters the Eternal City wearing the garments of the old world.”
