#20. The Anahata Chakra

There is a fascinating bridge in Meghalaya called the Living Root Bridge. When we see pictures of this bridge, we question ourselves—How is this possible? It is a naturally grown pedestrian walkway formed from intertwined roots. Our central chakra, the Anahata, is also such a bridge, placed right at the center of the human body, interweaving the upper and lower halves to create the balance we are all searching for. 'Anahata' means unstuck or unhurt. Is it that simple? Perhaps not. Or perhaps yes. Our dear little heart resides there, wanting to be loved, wanting to express itself—yet it finds itself caught between right and wrong, between maybe and maybe not. There, a green glowing light resides.

As a stage artist, I have the fortune of being surrounded by talent and creativity. Along with it comes attachment—to the people I create with, to the characters I inhabit, even to the applause that fades as quickly as it comes. As we approach a show, something magical happens. Unwoven threads begin to tie themselves, just like the roots of that Living Root Bridge. Strangers become collaborators. Collaborators become friends. In rehearsal rooms and backstage wings, we align our energies in the beginning stages, then slowly become entangled with genuine affection. My heart, which gallops like a child, gets attracted to these candies and balloons—the warmth of creative communion, the thrill of shared purpose.

But here's where the theatre teaches its deepest lesson. Every show must end. Every cast must disperse. The stage that felt like home becomes an empty space again. This is where Anahata whispers its wisdom. Can I love fully without clinging? Can I give completely without expecting the gift to remain? The activation of this heart chakra teaches us to balance through wisdom, practice, and knowledge—not by feeling less, but by holding more lightly.

Being aware of Anahata means cultivating the spectator within. Picture yourself in the audience, watching a play unfold. You laugh, you cry, you lean forward in your seat—fully present, deeply moved. Yet you also know it's a performance. You understand the lights will come up, the actors will take their bows, and you'll walk back into the night. This is the art of being there and also not being there. Not detached, but free. Not cold, but unstruck.

The green glowing light at our center is the fourth primary energy in yogic traditions, governing love, compassion, and empathy without condition. This is love without transaction, without the silent ledger of who gave what and when. Only when love elevates itself beyond the need for return can it truly be called love—a love that nurtures the self while nurturing another, a love expressed through the chant of Yam, Yam, Yam, like invisible thread that holds pearls together without claiming them. A love that remains, even as everything changes.

A green glowing light called Anahata

Lives within my galloping heart

At times calm, at times racing

The simple chant of Yam, Yam, Yam

Guides this restless soul

Toward compassion and love—

Boundless and eternal.