The Inverted Trees

🧀 The Tale of Paneerpralayā


In a time before time, in kitchens still unstirred, there emerged a soft white substance that curdled destiny itself – Paneer.

It began innocently.
The sage Tikkamuni meditated beside a cauldron of milk one afternoon when a lemon fell from a passing parrot’s beak.
The milk split, and the cosmos curdled.
Paneer was born.

The villagers rejoiced. They sautéed it, grilled it, danced with it.
Paneer became the symbol of sattva – purity, protein, and peace.

But soon… the hunger grew.

It crept into kormas, hid inside parathas, disguised itself in biryanis.
Paneer popped up in Indo-Chinese spring rolls.
It gatecrashed Thai curry.
It infiltrated sushi.

The sages convened.
“The Paneer has overstepped,” warned Rishika Masalādevī.

But it was too late.
Paneer was everywhere.
In laddoos.
In lassis.
In lasagna.
In jalebis.

This was the Paneerpralayā – the Great Paneer Flood.

Only one soul survived unscathed:
a goat named Gñānapagalikā,
who refused all offerings and nibbled only on mango leaves.



Moral:
In every age, beware the soft tyranny of excess.
Even the purest ingredient, when unchecked, becomes the sponge of saṃsāra.
Chew wisely.



🍛 Khaṇḍakhichdī and the Chocolate Siddhi Spheres

In the village of Chamatkāra, there lived a monk named Khichḍīnanda.
He was mild, mushy, and dependable – like the dish he loved most: khichdi.
Every evening, he stirred his pot with devotion, chanting:
“Dal, rice, salt, spice – make my soul feel nice.”

One day, while fasting, he found an old cacao pod fallen from a traveling sadhu’s satchel.
He sniffed it.
He wept.
He chewed a bean.

Time stopped.

An idea arose — sudden, sweet, and heretical.

That night, he made truffles from mashed rice, jaggery, toasted coconut, ghee, and melted cacao.
He rolled them into perfect spheres.
He called them Siddhi Spheres.

When villagers tasted them, they levitated.
Arguments dissolved.
A cow sang a rāga in Bhairavi.

The local guru was furious.
“Enlightenment is not coated in chocolate!”

But the goddess of the village descended in a dream and whispered,
“Sometimes bliss is a ball of brown.”

From that day, Khichḍīnanda was revered as a mystic chef.
His teachings were simple:
“Swirl the sacred. Sweeten the sorrow. Serve the spheres.”



Moral:
The path to liberation may be round, dusted with coconut, and melt slightly in the mouth.
Never underestimate dessert as dharma.



🧁 Bhogānandī and the Cupcake Chakra

In the ashram of Everlasting Dessert, there lived a monk named Bhogānandī.
He had renounced all cravings, except for one.
Frosting.

Each morning, he sat beneath a cherry tree, chanting:
“Om Nom Nomaya Svāhā.”

But the vision returned.
A cupcake.
Peanut butter icing.
Perfect swirl.
He resisted.
He failed.

Then came the squirrel.
Descending from the Bodhi branch,
it held in its tiny paws, a peanut-butter-frosted cupcake.

Bhogānandī gasped.
He took the offering.
He bit in.

A chakra opened.

Not the ones found in books.
This was the Cupcake Chakra,
a spiral of seven sacred flavours:

1. Base of Banana Bread – grounding


2. Swirl of Caramel Kṣhamā – forgiveness


3. Raspberry Rasāyana – vitality


4. Mint Mānasa – cool clarity


5. Coconut Compassion – heart


6. Blueberry Bhakti – devotion


7. Frosting of Fullness – mokṣa, whipped to soft peaks



With every chew, he let go.
With every lick, he surrendered.
He offered the last bite to the squirrel,
who vanished in a swirl of powdered sugar and grace.



Moral:
Desire, when tasted fully and offered freely, becomes a gateway.
Sometimes mokṣa is moist, sweet, and has sprinkles.