With his parents’ blessings, Bhagwan Parashurama set out from his home, not on a whim, but with purpose. His path first took him to the home of his elders, where he paid respects and listened to their counsel. Eventually, he arrived at the hermitage of the great Sage Bhrigu, the revered progenitor of his lineage. Bhrigu’s presence was like a pillar connecting Rama to the roots of his ancestry. The sage, pleased by the boy’s respectful approach, welcomed him warmly and inquired about his parents, his brothers, and the welfare of his family. Parashurama, in turn, spoke openly of his father, his mother, and the well-being of his kin, assuring the sage that all were well.
Reflection
We, too, begin our deeper journeys by first anchoring ourselves to where we come from — our lineage, our mentors, our roots. In the physical world, this means visiting elders and reconnecting with family; in subtler realms, it may mean revisiting the origin of our values and purpose. Before we set out to conquer mountains, we often need the blessing of those who stand at the source of our river.
The Call to Austerity
After spending some days at the hermitage, Parashurama was called aside by Bhrigu to a quiet, secluded place. The sage’s voice was gentle but firm. “O child,” he said, “leave this hermitage now and journey to the great Himalaya. There, build your own hermitage and devote yourself to worshipping Mahadeva. Practice discipline and austerity with unmatched devotion, for in a short time the God of Gods will be pleased. When he is pleased, every desire you hold can be fulfilled — and you may ask for any boon you wish, even the mastery of weapons.
Reflection
Here lies a timeless truth — before the great gift comes the great preparation. In our age, “going to the Himalayas” might mean stepping away from distraction to create space for deep work or inner transformation. And perhaps, as in Parashurama’s time, the Himalaya is not just a mountain range on Earth, but a higher plane of consciousness — a place of thinner veils, where our efforts meet divine attention more readily.
Through Sacred Landscapes
Obedient to his elder’s command, Parashurama set forth. His path wound through lands rich with life: rivers shimmering like threads of silver, forests alive with birdsong, mountain slopes touched with the fragrance of wild blossoms. He crossed valleys and plateaus where deer moved like whispers and elephants stood like ancient guardians. Along the way, he offered salutations to hermitages and shrines, each one a waypoint of blessings and unseen protection.
Reflection
Whether the landscapes he crossed were entirely earthly or partly of subtler worlds is a matter for the heart to decide. In our own journeys, too, there are terrains visible only to the inner eye — moments of intuition, sudden clarity, or deep peace that rise unbidden. These, like Parashurama’s forests and rivers, are sacred waypoints reminding us that the path is not just distance covered, but transformation unfolding.
The Hidden Preparation
At last, he neared his destined place — the mountain heights where austerity awaited. In this silence, the young warrior-sage was to become more than he had been. Every step taken so far — from the blessings of his parents to the counsel of his ancestor — had been quiet preparation for the real work: the discipline that would shape his destiny and, through him, the destiny of many.
Reflection
Often, we think our journey begins when we start “the main task.” But Parashurama’s story reminds us that the journey begins much earlier — in the meetings, the farewells, the landscapes passed, the blessings received. Sometimes we are already on the higher path without realizing it; the austerity has begun in the very act of saying yes to the call.
nakul sardesai 
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