In astrology, one encounters different kinds of scholars. There are those with trenchant intellects who raise sharp and pertinent questions, yet hesitate to offer answers or defend a viewpoint with conviction. Then others seek authority not through reasoning but by invoking the names of celebrated astrologers or the heads of well-known Jyotisha institutions, as though an appeal to reputation were a substitute for sound argument.
Earlier in my own journey, I too was deeply impressed by a scholar who asked incisive and logical questions. I quoted him often. But one day it occurred to me that however brilliant a question may be, its value is limited if it is never followed by an earnest attempt at an answer. Questions illuminate problems; answers advance knowledge. As the old saying goes, "It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness." Endless questioning without constructive inquiry merely prolongs the darkness.Another aspect that gradually became evident was the lack of consistency in such efforts. The objective often appeared to be disruption rather than construction, criticism rather than clarity. It is easy to unsettle established ideas; it is far more difficult to replace them with something coherent, logical, and rooted in evidence. Anyone can demolish a building, but only a skilled architect can raise one.
With time, another truth became clear to me. India possesses a vast treasury of Jyotisha classics authored by sages, seers, and savants whose scholarship, tapas, and insight are immeasurably greater than that of the present generation. If the stream has become muddy, one must return to the spring. The nearer one stands to the source, the purer the water. Our classics are that source.
This does not mean they should be accepted blindly. Every verse deserves thoughtful examination, logical analysis, and practical verification. But when doubts arise, my first instinct is to seek answers from the original authorities rather than from modern interpretations that often reflect personal opinion more than scriptural intent.
Today, therefore, my effort is to propitiate the source. I may err in understanding the classics, but I would rather struggle with the words of the masters than be swept away by fashionable conjectures. After all, "A river cannot rise above its source," and no commentary can ultimately surpass the wisdom from which it is derived.
