Ekta is a therapist and integrative wellness advocate with over three decades of Heartfulness practice and teaching. She leads government relations and regional work for the Heartfulness Institute, heads Energy Medicine at Wellness by Heartfulness, and serves on several national and international yoga bodies.

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Ekta Bouderlique

<h3 style="text-align:center;">A Book Review</h3><h4>In Five Prescriptions for the Soul, Daaji takes one of India’s most uncompromising teachings and does something rather audacious with it: he asks what enlightenment looks like when it has to survive Monday morning at work.</h4><h4>BY EKTA BOUDERLIQUE</h4>Out of sheer habit, I venture into the airport bookshop, which is lined, rather ominously, with self-help books. There are books telling me how to think, eat, sleep, love, lead, age, succeed, heal, and apparently, become the most optimized version of myself before boarding even begins. Faced with so much improvement, giving up on self-development suddenly feels wonderfully human.Daaji’s new book is already in my bag. I had picked up a copy at its launch earlier in the trip, and, amid the usual commotion of travel, had not yet found the time to read it. Now, as the flight takes off, I open Five Prescriptions for the Soul from the Ashtavakra Mahagita. That wonderful smell of a newly printed book exhilarates me, and I confess to approaching it with particular curiosity.Many may know Ashtavakra's story, but the Ashtavakra Gita is hardly light reading. It is one of those magnificent Indian texts that wastes very little time reassuring the reader. Its proposition is radical: you are already free; you have just mistaken yourself for someone who isn't.And now Daaji has written a book about it, with an unusual title.Those who know me will hardly expect complete impartiality when it comes to Daaji, so let me dispense with that pretense immediately. I know him well enough to be both tender and occasionally amused by the unexpected directions his teachings take, even as I admit that familiarity may be a dangerous advantage for a reviewer.But the title already has me smiling. Daaji spent more than three decades as a pharmacist in New York, and here he is, after all these years, still writing prescriptions. Five of them, this time.A few pages later, however, my smile fades into serious focus. This is so not a self-help book! Or, if it is, it is the most subversive one I have encountered, since, somewhere along the way, it begins questioning the existence of the very self we are so industriously trying to improve.&nbsp;Later, I muse on the impressive number of methods we develop for escaping our limited selves. We pray, meditate, fall in love, run marathons, paint, and listen to music, as we fight back the pain of life’s endlessly mundane challenges. The methods may differ, yet the hope beneath them is oddly consistent. How many times have we thought, if only for a moment: Could the person carrying my life please disappear?Enter Ashtavakra.&nbsp;This ancient Indian text featuring the young sage proposes a more inconvenient possibility. While we seek escape from ourselves, perhaps the deeper issue is that we have mistaken ourselves for something that was never quite us in the first place. It is, I realize with a huge sigh, such a liberating thought—though a very upsetting one as well.At the center of the book is the famous dialogue between King Janaka and Ashtavakra. Janaka possesses almost everything the modern world teaches us to acquire: wealth, position, intelligence, learning, and influence. Yet he remains restless. Daaji captures his condition in one beautiful sentence: “The gap between knowing and being was the wound he carried.”&nbsp;<hr><h4 style="text-align:center;">Daaji captures his condition in one beautiful sentence: “The gap between knowing and being was the wound he carried.”</h4><hr>&nbsp;There, I think, lies the reason this ancient conversation feels so contemporary.We may be the most advice-saturated civilization in history. We know astonishing amounts about the brain, trauma, dopamine, sleep, relationships, emotional intelligence, productivity, and well-being. We have podcasts explaining how to breathe, and watches reminding us when to work out and even when to eat. Knowledge about how to live has become almost embarrassingly abundant. Yet the state of our planet and its inhabitants somehow contradicts all this evidence that we have consequently become better at living.Janaka’s questions therefore travel remarkably well across thousands of years, now landing in my hands through Daaji’s book: How do I attain knowledge? How do I become free? How do I loosen attachment?Ashtavakra’s answer is almost absurdly economical: kshama, arjava, daya, santosha, and satya—forgiveness, sincerity, compassion, contentment, and truth.Five qualities. Five medicines.This could easily become a neat five-step program with a cheerful diagram at the end. Daaji does something much more interesting. Each prescription initially appears to improve the patient, until we slowly discover that the patient is precisely what is under investigation.The patient, it turns out, is the self.This is where Daaji succeeds in making Ashtavakra unusually accessible without domesticating him. It is perfectly possible to read and even understand the philosophy of nonduality beautifully, and remain furious with one’s brother, parent, colleague, or friend for years. One may discourse magnificently on detachment and still be offended because somebody failed to answer a WhatsApp message. For most of us, there is a considerable distance between metaphysical understanding and Sunday lunch with the family or Monday morning at work.&nbsp;<figure class="image image_resized" style="width:75%;"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/Five_Values_of_Mindful_Living_f76e0450a9.webp" alt="Five Values of Mindful Living.webp"></figure>&nbsp;Daaji puts the book squarely into that gap.He shows us how forgiveness loosens the past, how sincerity closes the distance between who we are and the persona we perform, like an actor on the proverbial stage. He explains how compassion dissolves the hard frontier between “me” and “you,” how contentment challenges the extraordinary authority we give circumstances over our inner states, and how truth eventually turns around and questions the one experiencing all of this. &nbsp;<hr><h4 style="text-align:center;">He explains how compassion dissolves the hard frontier between “me” and “you,” how contentment challenges the extraordinary authority we give circumstances over our inner states, and how truth eventually turns around and questions the one experiencing all of this.</h4><hr>&nbsp;Who, exactly, is this I that has been offended, disappointed, praised, ignored, satisfied, dissatisfied, forgiven, and transformed?This is where the book changes its scale. What began as five beautiful human qualities becomes an inquiry into consciousness itself.And yet Daaji reaches this enormous question through almost embarrassingly ordinary situations: resentment, pretense, expectations, relationships, ambition, hurt, and desire.These seemingly ordinary things gain mass as we accumulate their heaviness. A grievance here, an expectation there, an identity we must defend, a role we have performed for so long that we no longer remember how or why it all began. Eventually their gravitational pull feels so natural that we simply call it “life.”Daaji’s prescriptions work in the opposite direction. They remove weight. The book does not give you wings; it removes the ballast.Of course, many moments in human life cause the usual sense of self to recede. We know them in meditation, music, creativity, sport, love, beauty, and service—those rare intervals when the commentator inside us falls silent and we simply are. But the intriguing question is what happens afterward. The music stops. The meditation ends. Someone says precisely the wrong thing at breakfast, and our carefully reconstructed self immediately reports for duty.Daaji is interested in that reconstruction.His inquiry into how we rebuild our prisons again and again may be more useful than simply seeking another fleeting experience of freedom. For me, that's where Five Prescriptions for the Soul becomes far more than a commentary on an ancient text. It offers a practical bridge between glimpsing something profound and living it.&nbsp;<hr><h4 style="text-align:center;">His inquiry into how we rebuild our prisons again and again may be more useful than simply seeking another fleeting experience of freedom.</h4><hr>&nbsp;<figure class="image image_resized" style="width:75%;"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/magnific_remove_the_hands_99872_64e1df108c.webp" alt="magnific__remove-the-hands__99872.webp"></figure>&nbsp;Then, just when one might fear that all this nonduality is becoming terribly serious, Daaji does something rather unexpected. Throughout the book, he draws upon familiar scenes and characters from popular Indian films to illuminate Ashtavakra’s ideas. Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham, Taare Zameen Par, Dear Zindagi, Rang De Basanti, Lagaan, and Anand share pages with Sanskrit philosophy. On paper, the combination sounds improbable. In practice, it works remarkably well.A Sanskrit concept may require several paragraphs of exposition, whereas a character or scene we have loved on a cinema screen already occupies a cherished place in Indians’ collective emotional memory. The film references are not merely decorative, nor do they try to make ancient philosophy fashionable. Daaji uses their familiarity as a doorway. They allow an unfamiliar idea to land in familiar human experience.At one point, Daaji revisits the film Anand through an entirely different philosophical lens. The movie has not changed. What has changed is the perspective from which we see it. In this way, Daaji offers a new entry point for readers who might otherwise never encounter this magnificent teaching.For a Heartfulness practitioner, the book contains another layer of particular interest: Daaji maps the five prescriptions onto the five points, or chakras, of the heart, and their corresponding elements within the Heartfulness system. What initially appears to be an ethical sequence reveals itself as an inner geography of transformation.The book is careful about the provenance of this map because it is not presented as something taken from classical yogic literature, but as experiential knowledge transmitted through the Heartfulness lineage. For Heartfulness practitioners, that distinction makes the exploration more interesting, since the qualities of forgiveness, sincerity, compassion, contentment, and truth have specific locations within our physical bodies and can be explored there through direct experience.&nbsp;<hr><h4 style="text-align:center;">Daaji bridges the distance between understanding nonduality as a philosophical truth and arriving at it through personal experience.&nbsp;</h4><hr>&nbsp;<figure class="image image_resized" style="width:75%;"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/michelle_mcewen_wl94_E5_VLB_5o_unsplash_e23a22b6b6.webp" alt="michelle-mcewen-wl94E5VLB5o-unsplash.webp"></figure>&nbsp;Here, Daaji bridges the distance between understanding nonduality as a philosophical truth and arriving at it through personal experience.&nbsp;“If I am already free, why must I practice?” is not an unreasonable question. Nor is: “If the separate self is ultimately an illusion, who exactly is being liberated?”&nbsp;This book offers a wonderfully unspectacular answer: Begin with the person you still cannot forgive. Notice where you are pretending. Notice whom your compassion does not include. Notice what you insist must happen before you permit yourself contentment. Then ask what is true. You do not have to begin with enlightenment. Yesterday’s argument will do just fine.By the time we arrive at satya, the five prescriptions that appeared initially to be improving the self have now turned the light upon the self receiving the treatment. Daaji uses the image of a porter carrying luggage to illustrate the self, bearing its burdens: once the luggage has been dispensed with, what need is there for the porter?&nbsp;The treatment has now consumed the patient. Perhaps that is why I found the book unusually powerful. As a contemporary culture, we are so addicted to addition. More knowledge, more achievement, more purpose, more productivity, more experience, more techniques, more optimization, even more extraordinary states of consciousness. We accumulate solutions to the burden of accumulation—only adding to our burden.&nbsp;Daaji, with considerable elegance, proposes subtraction instead. One grievance less. One mask less. One boundary less fiercely defended. One outcome upon which happiness no longer depends. One illusion surrendered.Perhaps this is the real achievement of Five Prescriptions for the Soul. Daaji does not so much bring Ashtavakra into the modern world as reveal that Ashtavakra never really left it. That ancient sage has been hiding in our marriages and meetings, our ambitions and disappointments, our prayers and our meditations, our movies, and our Sunday lunches and Monday mornings, lingering all the while, waiting patiently inside the stubborn little pronoun around which we arrange almost everything: “I.”Janaka thought freedom required one more acquisition. Our pharmacist sage, Daaji, gives him five medicines instead. One by one, they take something away, leaving behind what we all need to discover. As I close my eyes and plunge into meditation, the book begins its work of unraveling within my heart.&nbsp;<hr>References:Patel, Kamlesh D. (Daaji). Five Prescriptions for the Soul from the Ashtavakra Mahagita. Jaico Publishing House, 2026.

Five Prescriptions for the Soul

<h4>From restoring the sacred landscape to rediscovering the sacred within: DAAJI’s vision for VRAJ VAIBHAV ABHIYAN.</h4><h4> BY EKTA BOUDERLIQUE</h4> In June 2026, I traveled with Daaji through Braj, the sacred region of northern India associated with Krishna’s childhood. I could never have guessed that the journey would give rise to a movement.Daaji stayed at the Heartfulness ashram in Mathura, only a few meters from the Krishna Janmabhoomi temple. Each morning, temple bells reached us before the full force of the late summer heat. By then, the streets were already filling with pilgrims: families arriving by bus and tractor, barefoot devotees carrying cloth bags, elderly people leaning on relatives, and children asleep in their mothers’ arms, all creating a colorful chaos.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_2_be41fd63ca.webp" alt="brij-2.webp"></figure>&nbsp;I have traveled with Daaji often enough to recognize the moment when something has seized his attention. He sees both the systemic failures within a situation and the possibility beyond it. In Braj, that perception caused him an unusual sadness. Braj lives in the imagination of millions as the holy landscape where Krishna’s childhood lila [divine play] unfolded. Mathura, Vrindavan, Govardhan, Barsana, Nandgaon, and Gokul form a sacred geography whose hills, forests, kunds [sacred ponds], and pathways have been sanctified by centuries of poetry, pilgrimage, and devotion. Even the dust, known as Braj raj, is revered. Pilgrims stoop to touch it before raising it to their foreheads.Many pilgrims arrive carrying an idealized vision of Braj. Instead, they encounter a region straining beneath the weight of the devotion it receives each day. Shortly after sunrise, the roads thicken with endless cars, two-wheelers, and pedestrians. Monkeys leap across rooftops and electrical wires. Traffic presses between pilgrims, animals, and vendors. Loudspeakers compete with horns and temple bells. Families sleep in the open on the pavement. Waste gathers beside roads and water channels. The smell of open sewers, stagnant water, and waste drifts through streets, clashing with the heady mix of spice and temple incense. It hits you hard.At Govardhan, Daaji observed pilgrims undertaking parikrama [ritual circumambulation] through heat, dust, and traffic. Some walked barefoot. Others performed dandavat parikrama, lying full length upon the road, marking the point reached with their fingertips before rising and beginning again. The journey can continue for days.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_13_518f4ae9e9.webp" alt="brij-13.webp"></figure>&nbsp;Though their devotion was unmistakable, it was the absence of care around them that moved him.Where could an elderly pilgrim rest amid the crowd? Was clean drinking water available? How could someone absorbed in prayer remain safe beside moving traffic? Where could a mother wash her child? Who would help the sick or exhausted?A pilgrimage cannot become an inward journey when its most basic human needs remain unmet. Together with local authorities, we visited several pilgrim facilitation centers. Daaji examined the kitchens, sanitation, sleeping quarters, and drinking-water arrangements. Though established with good intentions, these institutions struggled with management and maintenance.Daaji’s attention settled on the practical details. Could the kitchens provide three nourishing meals each day? Were the toilets clean and functional? Would families find a safe place to rest? Who would maintain these standards long after the inauguration, when public attention had moved elsewhere?&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_25_d6e1b6d3c5.webp" alt="brij-25.webp"></figure>&nbsp;For Daaji, serviceable infrastructure should meet every need, elegantly and simply, as it does at Kanha Shanti Vanam, the Heartfulness Institute’s headquarters.At Radha Kund, pilgrims approached the water with reverence. Some touched it to their foreheads; others descended the ghats [steps] to bathe. Sacred memory remained alive in every gesture. Yet the water was so polluted that some of us hesitated to even approach its edge.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_12_7eabaf8fdd.webp" alt="brij-12.webp"></figure>&nbsp;Daaji did not regard the condition of Radha Kund as an isolated failure. He saw at once the larger pattern: polluted water, including the sacred Yamuna River itself, neglected pilgrim routes, inadequate facilities, disappearing green cover, and a sacred landscape being consumed faster than it could recover.He did not linger over the diagnosis. The moment he grasped the scale of Braj’s decline, his response took the form of action: <a href="https://vrajvaibhav.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Vraj Vaibhav Abhiyan</a>, a vast, sustained initiative to restore the region’s water bodies, forests, pilgrim facilities, and sacred ecology.Vraj Vaibhav Abhiyan reaches far beyond restoring a single kund or refurbishing an isolated pilgrim center. Under Daaji’s guidance, it envisages the ecological and cultural renewal of Braj through water restoration, forest revival, native tree planting, improved pilgrim facilities, waste management, institutional cooperation, and the creation of meditation spaces across the region.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_14_56780bc66b.webp" alt="brij-14.webp"></figure>&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_19_405fc7f7c7.webp" alt="brij-19.webp"></figure>&nbsp;Daaji does not separate meditation from responsibility or spiritual perception from practical work. The inner must find its outward expression. For Daaji, reverence without stewardship is more evident in Braj than any other place in India. The land associated with Krishna now requires organized action in equal measure to the devotion it inspires.And Braj is buckling under the weight of devotion. Mathura recorded about 90 million visits in 2024, while the Mathura–Vrindavan region still faced a daily sewage-treatment shortfall of roughly 81 million liters. A new plant entered trial operation in March 2026, but infrastructure remains far behind the scale of the pilgrimage.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_21_fe0b5293c3.webp" alt="brij-21.webp"></figure>&nbsp;During his visit, Daaji spoke boldly of the need to revive the fundamental understanding of sacredness. In Vedic times, he said, spiritual life was not centered upon temples, which were erected much later. Instead, people encountered the sacred in fire, water, wind, rain, mountains, and forests. Nature itself revealed the divine presence as it moved through all life, and the inner spiritual practices of that time granted people the sensitivity to sense the interconnected fabric of existence.After millennia, temple traditions were imposed upon communities as places for collective worship. Over time, the Divine came to be increasingly located within the temple’s inner sanctum, approached through prescribed forms, and encountered at appointed times—all while creating immense fortunes from offerings, which provided the priesthood with a phenomenal income that it still fiercely protects.Daaji’s consistent effort is to return the seeker to the antaryamin, the indwelling divine presence.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_15_0309d5eccb.webp" alt="brij-15.webp"></figure>&nbsp;Heartfulness meditation begins with the gentle suggestion that the source of divine light is already present within the heart. As Daaji often says, Krishna has already given us his “address,” declaring: अहमात्मा गुडाकेश सर्वभूताशयस्थितः । अहमादिश्च मध्यं च भूतानामन्त एव च ।। aham ātmā guḍākeśa sarva-bhūtāśaya-sthitaḥ;&nbsp; aham ādiś ca madhyaṁ ca bhūtānām anta eva ca“I am the Self, O Gudakesha, dwelling in the hearts of all beings. I am the beginning, the middle, and also the end of all beings.” —Bhagavad Gita 10.20Krishna identifies himself as the indwelling Self, the antaryamin, present in every heart. Yet we continue traveling from temple to temple in search of the One who has already told us where he resides! Pilgrimage reaches its fulfillment when the outer journey leads to the heart.Heartfulness practice invites that movement from the very beginning. Rather than beginning with belief alone, it starts with inner experience, from which a new state of being gradually emerges, eventually leading toward the dissolution of the limited self in the Absolute. At first, one meditates upon the divine presence in the heart. Soon, one begins to experience it. With continued practice, the distance between the seeker and the sought begins to diminish. Prayer becomes less a petition and more an offering of the self in joyful surrender. Meditation moves beyond thought, image, and emotion. The heart grows increasingly transparent to a reality that cannot be contained by words. At its highest reaches, spirituality ceases to concern itself with personal desire, accumulated merit, or religious identity. It becomes the refinement—and ultimately the transcendence—of identity itself.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_16_cdd51bc10f.webp" alt="brij-16.webp"></figure>&nbsp;This spiritual horizon gives Daaji’s work in Braj its deeper significance. Clean roads, revived forests, and repaired kunds are essential, yet they remain outward expressions of a more profound movement from possession to surrender, from separation to participation, and from the individual self toward the universal presence.During the visit, Daaji conducted satsang [group meditation] at the samadhi [memorial shrine] of Deoraha Baba, the revered twentieth-century saint, and at other sacred places across Braj. To sit in meditation with him and receive pranahuti [yogic transmission] was to encounter these sites differently.As I sat with him, I remembered Babuji Maharaj’s account of coming to Braj in 1947, being guided by the great masters to the exact locations associated with Krishna, and sowing the seeds of pranahuti across this sacred landscape. The memory returned with extraordinary force. Nearly eighty years separated the two journeys, yet in that moment, they no longer seemed separate. What Babuji had planted in silence appeared to be stirring again through Daaji as a living current drawing the seeker inward.Pilgrims often arrive carrying stories of saints, accounts of miracles, inherited reverence, and the accumulated emotion of generations. Meditation redirects that aspiration toward direct experience. The seeker becomes still enough to personally sense the inner charge of a place rather than merely hear about it.Since Daaji’s visit, meditation has begun at several locations in Braj. This may prove to be among the quietest and most consequential aspects of the entire undertaking, for a sacred place remains alive when it awakens the sacred within those who visit it. Through meditation and pranahuti, aspirants are invited beyond admiration for Krishna and beyond the repetition of his name toward direct inner experience. They are invited to discover Krishna within.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_7_5c6144d98a.webp" alt="brij-7.webp"></figure>&nbsp;The recognition of the antaryamin also changes our relationship with nature. A pond cannot become a drain, a forest cannot be dismissed as vacant land, an animal cannot be treated as an inconvenience, and pilgrims cannot be allowed to disappear into a crowd without having attended to their needs.The same presence lives within all.The restoration of outer Braj begins within.The impact of sacred places being surrounded by neglect is severe. While Braj could show that an ancient tradition remains capable of offering direct experience, ethical responsibility, and transformation, it could equally repel thoughtful seekers through disorder, commercialization, and the repetition of forms whose meaning has been forgotten.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_23_118800cb1a.webp" alt="brij-23.webp"></figure>&nbsp;More than a century ago, Swami Vivekananda courageously carried <a href="https://contributions.heartfulness.org/in-en/restoring-the-legacy-of-vraj" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">spirituality</a> into the realms of education and service. He demanded that the Divine be recognized in the poor, the hungry, and the forgotten. Today, Daaji carries that demand into the conditions of the twenty-first century.Devotion must be expressed as service, which must extend to the pilgrim searching for water, the mother sleeping beside a road, the kund receiving sewage, and the forest disappearing beneath construction. It must include groundwater, biodiversity, public health, transparent administration, and the very consciousness from which human action arises. For Daaji, thought pollution lies at the root of every unfortunate human error from which the planet now suffers.At the end of one visit, we sat in meditation while Braj continued around us. Traffic moved beyond the walls. Bells rang. Vendors called. Pilgrims continued through the heat.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_20_c35ae0f8a1.webp" alt="brij-20.webp"></figure>&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_17_0d37400710.webp" alt="brij-17.webp"></figure>&nbsp;For a while, the outward Braj receded. The Braj within began to emerge.As our convoy pulled out of Mathura, I found myself reflecting that the future of Braj depends upon devotion finding its fullest expression in transformation. The same devotion that draws millions there must also restore the land, care for the pilgrim, and ultimately lead the seeker to the divine presence within.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_24_d322f0896c.webp" alt="brij-24.webp"></figure>&nbsp;When the kunds become clear, when the land begins to breathe again, when every pilgrim is received with dignity, and when the seeker discovers the Divine as the antaryamin within, the outer Braj and the inner Braj will no longer stand apart but will be realized as one sacred reality.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_26_855082fe55.webp" alt="brij-26.webp"></figure>&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://cdn-prod-static.heartfulness.org/brij_22_97c33ef7e8.webp" alt="brij-22.webp"></figure>&nbsp;<hr> VRAJ VAIBHAV ABHIYAN is dedicated to the ecological, cultural, and spiritual renewal of Braj. It encompasses the restoration of sacred forests, water bodies, pilgrimage infrastructure, and natural heritage, together with long-term stewardship through community participation and service. Learn more, volunteer, or support the initiative at <a href="https://vrajvaibhav.org/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">vrajvaibhav.org</a>.