It’s almost amusing—if it weren’t so revealing—how casually hollow many astrologers sound in everyday conversation on social media. The chest-thumping never stops. The authority is always on display. But scratch the surface—just a little—and ask a simple, fundamental question… and suddenly the confidence evaporates. The same voices that roar in declarations begin to slither into evasions.
And yet, in their own narrative, they are no less than Brahma
rishis—keepers of divine wisdom, masters of cosmic law. The contrast is
staggering.
After spending twenty-five years in the study of astrology,
I find myself still standing at the shore, aware of how vast and layered this
ocean truly is. Every text, every principle, every combination opens into
deeper complexity. The humility it demands is not optional—it is inevitable.
Which makes one wonder: how exactly have these
self-proclaimed masters “conquered” what seasoned students are still striving
to comprehend?
WAH JI WAH.
When it comes to skill and knowledge, everything sounds
grand, profound, and complete. But in substance?
SWAH JI SWAH.
Just ash—residue after the fire has long died out. No heat,
no light—only the illusion that something once burned bright.
Astrology is not a performance stage. It is a discipline
that humbles you the deeper you go. And if humility is missing, one must
question—not the science—but the practitioner.
