Your Chains Are Not Made Of Metal; They Are Made Of Fear.

This Janmashtami, break them.

There are moments in history that did not just happen in time but broke time open and let something greater step through, moments where the ordinary split to make way for the eternal, not with noise or fire or spectacle, but with such raw precision and spiritual force that even the laws of nature surrendered in silence.

One of those moments happened on a storm-soaked night, in a prison cell, when a child was born, not in luxury, not in celebration, but in chains.

That child was Shri Krishna.

But this is not a mythology lesson. This is not a bedtime story for the faithful. This is a call to wake up because the same consciousness that took form that night in Mathura lives within you.

Not metaphorically. Literally. The divine is not out there in the sky waiting to save you. It is already here, waiting for you to remember who you are and what you came to do.

Janmashtami, the festival of Krishna’s birth, is not a ritual to be performed only once a year. It acts as a mirror. It forces you to face your illusions, your confinements, your inner tyrants that keep you small, silent, and spiritually asleep.

And if you pay attention, truly pay attention, it reveals a map. A map to freedom. A map back to the truth.

The night Krishna was born, the world was burdened by its corruption. Kings governed not with wisdom but with greed. Power resided in the hands of men who had lost their connection to anything sacred.

The Earth, in her suffering, cried out for harmony. And what did the divine do? It did not send an army. It did not unleash fire from the sky. It sent a child. Vulnerable. Hidden and protected not by weapons but by dharma.

This is the first lesson: true power never needs to shout.

Because when Krishna is born, it is not just a physical event. It is a soul event. It is the moment when divine truth pierces illusion. It is when you finally stop pretending that life is random and realise everything that ever happened to you, every loss, every betrayal, every breakthrough, was part of a much bigger unfolding.

Let me take you deeper.

Krishna was not born into privilege. He was born into captivity. Into danger. Into a system that wanted him dead before he could even take his first breath. His uncle, Kamsa, ruled Mathura with fear. A prophecy had revealed that the eighth child of his sister, Devaki, would be his end. So he did what every ego does when confronted with truth: it panicked. It tried to control the uncontrollable.

Kamsa locked Devaki and her husband, Vasudeva, in a dungeon. Every time she gave birth, he killed the child. No remorse. No hesitation. Six times, Vasudeva handed over his child, hoping that perhaps mercy might arise. It never did. But here’s the lesson: surrender is not weakness. It is a strength in disguise.

Because on the seventh birth, something changed. The divine intervened. That child, Balarama, was mystically transferred to another womb. And on the eighth night, when the prophecy was ready to fulfil itself, Krishna appeared.

Not born. Appeared.

He did not arrive like other children. He emerged radiant, four-armed, holding the symbols of the divine. And he spoke. Not as a baby. As the Absolute. As Sat-Chit-Ananda. As existence, consciousness, and bliss are embodied in one form. He told his parents to take him to safety. To fulfil the plan. To become the instrument.

What happened next is not just miraculous, it is instructional.

The chains that bound Vasudeva fell away. The prison doors opened. The guards fell asleep. Nature paused. Not in defiance of physics, but in alignment with dharma. Because when your actions align with the cosmic order, the universe does not resist. It assists. The Yamuna River parted. The serpent Ananta Shesha rose to shield the child from rain. Vasudeva crossed into Gokula and made the divine exchange, placing Krishna beside Yashoda, and then took her baby girl back to Mathura.

When Kamsa tried to kill the newborn, she transformed into Yogamaya and revealed the truth. Krishna had already escaped. The prophecy was already in motion. And Kamsa was already finished.

Here is what you must understand: every part of this story is an invitation.

The prison represents your mind when it is ruled by fear. Kamsa is your ego, obsessed with control. Devaki is your inner devotion, locked away, suffering. Vasudeva is your wisdom, waiting for a moment to act. Krishna is encouraging your highest self, waiting to be born within you. And the storm outside? That is life, loud, unpredictable, sometimes terrifying, but also full of signs and signals that, if you trust, will guide you home.

You do not need to be religious to feel this.

You just need to be tired of the noise. Tired of outsourcing your power. Tired of pretending you are not divine. You need to stop playing small. Krishna’s birth is not an external celebration. It is an internal awakening.

So ask yourself: what part of you is still locked away? What truth are you hiding from because it threatens your current identity? What voice are you not listening to, because it demands you let go of comfort and step into purpose?

Do not mistake comfort for peace. Do not confuse silence with surrender. Krishna came into a world ruled by lies, but he never bowed to them. He played, but he did not pretend. He danced, but he remained anchored. He smiled, but he carried the weight of dharma in every breath.

And so must you.

Let Krishna be born in you. Let your illusions shatter. Let the part of you that fears your potential fall away. This is not a metaphor. This is a path.

Here is what you do:

Sit in stillness for 15 minutes today. No phone. No agenda. Just awareness. Just breathe.

Ask yourself: What is ready to be born in me? What must I surrender so that something higher can live?

Offer something to someone today without expecting anything in return. A kind word. A silent prayer. A helping hand. Krishna moves through selfless action. Become the vessel.

Read one verse from the Bhagavad Gita. Not as a scholar. As a seeker. Let the words hit you. Let them break you. Let them rebuild you because Krishna is not speaking just to Arjuna.

He is speaking to you.

And if you feel unworthy, remember this

He chose a prison, not a palace.

He chose cowherds, not kings.

He chose simplicity, not spectacle, because He is not looking for status.

He is looking for sincerity.

So here is your call to action.

This Janmashtami, do not just observe. Be reminded that Krishna resides within you as the Paratma, as the eternal witness.