Our Vara Mahalakshmi Vratam - A Living Prayer

In most homes, Vara Mahalakshmi Vratam is a single day in the year.

The silver kalasha is brought out, the coconut and mango leaves arranged, the flowers bought from the market, the lamps lit, the mantra recited.

And then the day passes, the decorations are put away, and life returns to its old rhythm.

In our home, it happened differently.

We did not decide to celebrate the festival.

We decided to live it.

Fifteen years ago, we began asking ourselves: What is the real wealth that Goddess Mahalakshmi gives?

Is it coins? Is it ornaments? Is it job promotions? Is it buying power?

Or is it something deeper, quieter, more permanent?

We saw the world’s pattern — working for others, chasing salaries, saving for things we didn’t need, sending children through years of schooling and college without any guarantee that they would have a decent life ahead.

We saw people exhausted, sick, in debt, disconnected from their food, their families, their own bodies.

And we stepped away.

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The Beginning of the Vratam

We started reducing what we needed.

We saved, quietly.

We bought one acre of land — not in a bustling suburb, but in a place where the air still carried the smell of rain, and where the soil could still remember seeds.

We built our tiny home with a Mason's help from the village, with mud, stone, cement, and roofing sheets — no architect’s bill, no loans, no debt.

We kept it small, simple, and strong.

We planted trees, vegetables, herbs.

We learned to grow food year-round, to ferment, preserve, and share.

We designed the garden to harvest maximum rainwater, lived without grid electricity, and worked with the daylight.

We began homeschooling Adhya and Anju — no uniforms, no timetable, no exams. They learned from seasons, from the garden, from books they chose, from real work.

We stopped buying most packaged foods.

We stitched clothes, repaired tools, and traded skills.

We healed with castor oil, Sanjeevini Oil, herbs, sunlight, and rest. We avoided hospitals for years as there was no need.

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The Blessings That Followed

From the outside, some might say we gave up too much.

From the inside, we received more than we ever imagined.

Freedom from diseases — our health improved as our food came from our own soil, unpoisoned and fresh.

Peace of mind — the anxiety of bills, deadlines, and office politics vanished.

Low cost of living — our monthly expenses dropped so low that we no longer feared the loss of income.

Freedom for our children — no morning rush, no exam stress, no school-induced fatigue, no hollow promises of “placement.”

Abundance in real form — fruits and vegetables daily, clean water, fresh air, and work that keeps us fit.

Beauty as daily company — the koel’s call before sunrise, the sudden rainbow after rain, the goat’s playful leap, the slow opening of a guava flower.

The joy of healing others — through oil therapy, kind listening, and practical guidance.

We realised this was Vara Mahalakshmi’s bounty — not stored in lockers, but in the health of our bodies, the richness of our days, the freedom of our choices.

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Living the Festival Every Day

In a traditional vrata, you place a kalasha before the goddess.

In our vrata, our land is the kalasha.

In a traditional vrata, you offer flowers and fruits to her.

In our vrata, every seed we plant and every tree that bears fruit is the offering.

In a traditional vrata, you recite mantras.

In our vrata, we speak the mantra of action — planting, cooking, teaching, healing.

In a traditional vrata, you share prasadam.

In our vrata, we share our harvest, our knowledge, our healing methods, our surplus seeds.

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Our Four Voices

I, Madhukar, quit working for others, chose self-reliance, built our home, planted our food, and healed our community. Every sunrise on our trees is my puja.

I, Savitri, kept my life light every day, homeschooled our daughters, cooked from our garden, stitched our clothes, and cared for our health naturally. My kitchen is my shrine.

I, Adhya, grew up without school bells, learning from the land, from books I love, from nature’s classroom. Every new leaf is my teacher.

I, Anju, run barefoot on grass, laugh with goats, carry vegetables, and welcome rain with open hands. Every butterfly is my blessing.

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The Real Wealth

We live without loans.

We sleep without fear.

We rise without alarms.

We eat without chemicals.

We learn without pressure.

We heal without hospitals.

We love without conditions.

This is our Vara Mahalakshmi Vratam — not once a year, but every day.

We offer our lives, our choices, our work to her.

She offers us back health, freedom, peace, and joy.

The kalasha never runs dry.

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