My journey to becoming a past life regression therapist - Part 1

This post is about the key events that led me towards the concept of past life regression therapy (edited on 24-Aug-2025)

I was born into a Hindu middle-class family, and my early years as a child were spent in my paternal grandparents’ house in Shivajinagar, Bangalore (now Bengaluru).  A bustling joint family that included my parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins.  Just half a mile away lived my grandfather's elder brother and his wife, who had no children of their own.  My father would often visit him and, on occasion, would take me along.

From my earliest memories, at the tender age of three, I was introduced to the profound concepts of life and death.  One day, my father came home and I heard a hushed, serious conversation among the family.  Unable to understand what was happening, I watched as everyone left the house.  My father then took me to his uncle’s place, where I saw his uncle lying peacefully, his body adorned with garlands of flowers and his nose stuffed with cotton. Confused, I asked what was happening, and someone gently explained that he had died.  The word meant nothing to me.  We then went to the crematorium, where I watched as the body was laid on a pyre and set to flames.

Returning home, I was a whirlwind of questions for my mother, my mind reeling from what I had seen. With infinite patience, she explained death to me, telling me that it was an inevitable certainty for every living being.  Overwhelmed with grief, I asked if she, too, would die one day.  She held me close and, with a calm voice and certainty, said that one day, everyone has to die, and yes, she would die, too.

It was then that she told me we were souls that had taken up bodies to live in this world.  She tried to explain rebirth, and when I asked her where we would be reborn, she simply said it could be anywhere.  The thought of not being able to see her again after she died disturbed me deeply.  I cried inconsolably that day, and for a few days afterward, I continued to be deeply disturbed.  But soon, the magic of maya—the illusion of the world—took over.  I became engrossed in the other wonders of childhood, and the memory of that day slowly receded.  A new question had slowly found its way into my head “Who am I?”

When I was four, my parents decided to move out of my grandparents' home to a rented house close to their offices to cut down on the travel it.  Both their offices being close to each other helped matters.  To care for me and my younger sister while they were at work, my mother's sisters took turns staying with us.  My aunts kept me engaged by telling me stories from spiritual texts and instilled in me the discipline of offering morning and evening prayers.

My introduction to the concept of karma and rebirths is bathed in the golden light of my maternal grandma's home, where I'd escape to during school vacations.  My cousins and I would gather, spending our days playing and our nights captivated by my grandma’s stories. For us, she was an authority on the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, the two great historical epics of Bharat.

Despite having only, a fourth-grade education before her early marriage (what would be considered a child marriage by today's legal standards in Bharat), her passion for learning was immense. She read voraciously, devouring volumes of religious texts like the Ramayana, Mahabharata, Puranas, and Upanishads. After dinner, before we fell asleep, all of us cousins would put our beds in the living room and sit down to hear her interesting stories. I would listen to her with rapt attention, and through her, I was introduced to the concepts of karma, rebirth, and reincarnation. The concepts from these stories calmed me and gave me the profound assurance that my loved ones would be born again and that death was not an end, but merely a transition.

By the time I turned seven, my parents had built our own home, and we moved in. I joined a new school, and my mother's elder sister, who was separated from her husband, moved in with us to take care of me and my two younger sisters. Her children—my elder cousin sister and her brother, who was a few months younger than me — joined us as well.

The five of us grew up together under my father's strict supervision.  We children, had our share of fights, of course, but they were always forgotten quickly.  A strong bond exists between us even today.  Having gone through a rough marital life, my aunt had put all her faith in God.  She taught us the importance of being good people with the right moral values.

My student life was a blend of cultures.  At my convent school, St. Germain High School, in Bangalore, I had friends from different faiths—Hinduism, Christianity, Islam, and Jainism.  Unlike other convents that forced biblical concepts onto the young minds, my school was a true melting pot, and we were never separated by religion.  We were never forced or made to feel that a particular religion was superior at school either by the management or by the teachers.

My Saturdays, however, were for the city's central library, a half-mile walk that was a welcome escape from the errands at home.  One day, a series of comics on the Mahabharata from Amar Chitra Katha caught my eye. These comic books were a favourite among children of my generation.  I spent the next few months devouring the entire collection, which was released once a fortnight.  My fascination with these epics only grew, and as I got older, I continued to read books by multiple authors on the subject. My conclusion was that many of these authors brought in their own interpretations, which sometimes took away the original intent of the authors—Rishi Valmiki for the Ramayana and Rishi Ved Vyas for the Mahabharatha.  These were written in Sanskrit.  As I have not learnt the Sanskrit language, I refer to the translated English versions.  I intend to learn this language one day.

This was also a time when televisions were a new and exciting addition to many homes across Bharat. Every Sunday morning, families would gather to watch Ramanand Sagar's Ramayana, a television series that captivated the entire nation. It was soon followed by B.R. Chopra's Mahabharat, and people, regardless of their religion, watched with great interest.  These serials touched upon the concepts of soul, rebirth, reincarnation, astral travel etc.  These were too good to be true.

During this time, discussions around religion, past lives, and reincarnations would occasionally come up with my school friends.  My Christian and Muslim friends held a firm belief in a single life, followed by divine judgment and an eternal fate in either heaven or hell.  This was a stark contrast to what my grandmother and Hinduism had taught me.  I couldn't help but find the idea of eternal punishment too harsh and final. Didn't everyone deserve a second chance?

Our history textbooks only briefly touched upon the Ramayana and Mahabharatha, describing them as ancient epics that portray the victory of good over evil.  However, these texts are so much more than just a fight.  When you read the original scriptures, the battles are only a small part of a much larger body of knowledge.

These texts cover everything from the right way of life and the duties of people in society to the concepts of the soul, karma, rebirth, and even geography, astronomy, and astrology.  The Ramayana and Mahabharatha are powerful lessons on respecting women and the ill effects of greed, ego, anger, and war.  The Bhagavad Geeta, which is part of the Mahabharatha, is a "Song of God" where Lord Krishna explains the concepts of the soul, dharma (duty), karma, bhakti (devotion), and moksha (salvation).  The Shanti Parva, another section of the Mahabharatha, explains the right way of life through stories and examples.

Unfortunately, the comics and shortened versions in history books fail to capture the depth of these subjects.  Today, in the name of secularism, references to these texts are being removed from our history books, and this treasure of knowledge is being taken away from young children.

A few of my classmates would even make fun of the Hindu religion, saying our gods had elephant heads or that we worshiped stones. I saw this as pure ignorance, likely a result of what they were being taught by their religious leaders to establish the superiority of their own faiths.

Interestingly, the term "Hinduism" is not found in any of the spiritual texts. The term "Hindu" was coined during the colonial rule in the 19th century.  The majority people of Bharat followed something called Sanatana Dharma, or the "eternal way of living." It encompasses diverse spiritual paths, philosophies, and practices, viewing itself as a universal way of life rather than a rigid dogma.  The colonial rulers who followed the identified this group by referring to them as “Hindus”.

The concept was too complex for us young teenagers to fully unravel. Eventually, we would set our questions aside and return to the more pressing matters of games and academics. Despite our differences, there was no disrespect for each other's religion. Occasionally, I would accompany my friends when they visited the church in the adjacent compound of our school and pray along with them.

After I finished my 10^th grade at St. Germain, I moved to college to pursue my pre-university studies for the next two years. I chose to specialize in commerce and accounting.  At the time, there was a common misconception that students with high scores pursued science, while those with lower scores opted for commerce and arts. Despite my high academic scores and a natural scientific curiosity, I chose a different path.  My parents were initially hesitant but ultimately supported my decision.  My childhood dream was to become a doctor and serve society.  However, a casual conversation at home changed everything.  My mother mentioned that the Chartered Accountancy course was one amongst the most challenging professional qualification in the country, with fewer than 50,000 certified professionals in all of Bharat.  Taking this as a personal challenge, I decided to shift my focus and pursue a career as a professional chartered accountant.

I joined the BHS First Grade College—now known as Vijaya College—in Jayanagar, Bangalore, not by choice, but, as I now believe, by destiny. This period of my life was truly transformative. I met a diverse group of teachers and friends, excelled in academics, sports, and extracurricular activities, and became a more confident person. I completed both my pre-university studies and my graduation from this college, which was affiliated with Bangalore University.  

My time at BHS also reignited my dormant curiosity to learn more about myself and the concept of rebirths.  One teacher, in particular, stands out: the late Mr. Kirthi Rawal.  Our Hindi language teacher, he didn't just teach the language; he wove life lessons and inspiring stories into his lectures, always encouraging us to be better human beings.  Unfortunately, many students didn't appreciate his life lessons and only attended his classes to meet the mandatory attendance requirement.  He once took a few of us to the Ramakrishna Ashram, where I bought a few books by Swami Vivekananda. One, titled Life after Death, offered profound insights into life and mortality.

I was captivated by Swami Vivekananda's books, especially the stories of him recalling past lives and reading entire books by simply flipping through the pages. They were fascinating, yet hard for me to believe.  Still, my interest in them was immense.

During my college days, a friend happened to lend me a book on Sun Signs by Linda Goodman. I found myself completely engrossed, as I could strongly relate to her descriptions of the personalities associated with different zodiac signs.  This was the first time I realized that something as simple as a birth date could hold so much information about a person's character.  As an Arian, I have to admit, the book also did a wonderful job of massaging my confidence.  This was my first brush with astrology.  My curiosity, however, took a backseat to my ambition.  

After completing my Bachelor's Degree in Commerce, I decided to pursue the Chartered Accountancy (CA) course.  The exams, conducted by the Institute of Chartered Accountants of India, were split into two stages: Intermediate and Final.  The next three years were a mix of practical training and book learning during my internship at Sharp & Tannan, Chartered Accountants.  During this time, I not only cleared my CA Intermediate exams but also the final exams from the Institute of Cost & Works Accounts of India, which made me a professional Cost Accountant.

After my three years of internship, I decided to start teaching Cost Accounting.  Along with a friend, Prasad, who wanted to teach Income Tax, we started a small coaching center in the parking lot of his house.  Our CA friends referred their colleagues to us.  Since we offered the course at one-fifth the market rate, many came to check it out.  We told them they could pay the fee after the course, only if they were happy with our teaching.  Soon, we had a decent number of students for our first batch.  I quickly found that teaching made me understand the concepts even better, as I had to answer the students' questions.  I discovered that I truly loved teaching; there was something so fulfilling about sharing my knowledge with others.

However, as the final exams neared, I found my interest in the CA course waning.  I didn't prepare well and failed my first attempt.  My disinterest continued into the second attempt, and I failed again.  The results didn't surprise me, but they certainly surprised my family and friends.  I knew the reason for my failure and was confident I could pass whenever I truly wanted to.  It was just that my passion for completing the course had taken a backseat.  Back then, the pass percentages for the CA exams were in the single digits, and honestly, the main reason was that students simply didn't prepare.  When they failed, they would blame the course, the grading, or questions that were supposedly "out of syllabus."

My parents didn't say anything when they learned of my results, but a few days later, my mother asked me to quit the course if I was finding it too difficult. She worked in the accounts section and had colleagues who had attempted the exams in their prime but had given up, claiming the course was too difficult. She'd even seen one of them fall into a depression and was likely worried about me. She tried to reason with me, saying it was fine to give up since I already had my professional degree as a Cost Accountant.

Hearing her say that made me feel sorry for her. I knew how proudly she held her head high when her colleagues asked about me. I visualized her shoulders drooping and her head bent low if she had to tell them I'd given up. I asked her to give me one last opportunity and promised I would clear it on my next attempt. I told her if I didn't, I would pursue a job as a Cost Accountant.

I shifted my focus back to my studies, spending the next few months completely immersed in my journey to become a professional chartered accountant.  I successfully achieved that goal in my next attempt in 2001. Even during those intense months of studying, I never missed a Sunday cricket match—my favourite sport.

After I became a chartered accountant, I spent a year working for Sharp & Tannan.  But I had my sights set on a bigger goal: working for one of the "Big Four" audit firms.  I had promised my boss while joining back after writing my exams.  In 2003, I joined KPMG, where my focus shifted to providing consulting services to multinational clients, a world of constant learning, performance, growth and rewards.

Few years later, in 2004, a visit from my cousin ignited back the spark of curiosity into astrology.  He told me about a Naadi astrologer who had predicted his future with unnerving accuracy. The astrologer, he said, used ancient manuscripts written on palm leaves, identified by a person’s thumbprint. My rational mind was suspicious, yet a part of me was intrigued. I wanted to see if this was truly possible, if such a thing could exist.

Life, however, has a way of sweeping us back into routine, and I soon forgot about it. But destiny, it seems, had other plans.  One day, I found myself with some time to spare near the very office of the astrologer my cousin had described.  I decided to venture inside.  The first thing I noticed when I stepped inside was a large photo of Rishi Agastya (a revered sage for Hindus) adorning the wall.  A prayer meet was in progress, and I, along with several other people, was asked to wait for it to conclude.

After the prayers, the woman at the reception just asked the purpose my visit and then simply took my thumbprint while asking for my age.  She did not collect any personal details.  She then handed it over to a young astrologer, one of several who seemed to work under the main astrologer.

I didn't have to wait long.  One of the astrologers returned with a collection of ancient manuscripts, their pages made of what looked like bark and bound together with a simple string.  He then led me to a private room with two chairs separated by a table in between.  The air in the room seemed to shift, heavy with the weight of time and secrets.

He began to read from the manuscripts, asking me only to confirm if the details were applicable to my life.  As we continued, he started telling me my name, date of birth, my parents' names, educational qualifications, and even my profession.  It was astonishingly accurate.  He then handed me a list of different chapters—each relating to a specific aspect of life, such as family, parents, profession, marriage, and health—and asked me to select the topics for which I wanted predictions.  After I chose the ones I was interested in, he told me to return in a few days.

When I got back on the appointed day, he had transcribed the chapters into a notebook for me. He said some of the scripts related to my life weren't available and had transcribed the ones that were available.  We went into the private room, where he read my future to me, translating from Tamil to Kannada as he went.  He later had an assistant translate the notes into English for me, before handing over the notebook to me.  The predictions he gave were incredibly specific, painting a detailed picture of events to come.  When I asked who had written these amazing manuscripts, he told me they were the work of ancient sages, passed down through countless generations.  At the time, I didn't take them very seriously.

But as the years unfolded, each prediction began to come true with astonishing precision.  In 2007, I got married to my beautiful wife, Bindu.  The details the astrologer had predicted about my wife—her name, her educational background, and even some unique physical attributes—all matched perfectly.  It was a surreal confirmation of the accuracy of the predictions.  I was astounded, almost haunted, by the question: "How could someone have known my future with such detail?"  This experience, however, made me wonder if astrology was a worthy subject to explore.  Until then, I had given little thought to astrology.  My grandparents and mother had a basic understanding of the almanac, consulting it and local priests to determine the auspicious times for important events, but the almanac's being in a language that I was not comfortable with had always kept me from exploring further.

Then, one day, I read a newspaper article with a picture of doctors, engineers, and other professionals seated in a classroom learning Vedic astrology at Bharatiya Vidhya Bhavan in Bangalore.  It appeared to be a structured course taught in English.  My desire to learn was immediate, but my consulting job at KPMG, with its constant travel, made it impossible.

My time at KPMG, introduced me to another colleague, Viswanathan Panchukrishnan, or "Vishi," as we call him.  A qualified Chartered Accountant and Company Secretary, Vishi came from a family of priests, with thorough understanding of the scriptures.  We travelled together on many out-station assignments.  During these assignments, we and another colleague, Arjun Neelakantan, spent our evenings exploring different places and engaging in deep discussions on Hindu religion and its vast scriptures. The concepts of karma and rebirth were recurring themes, and through these conversations, I began to appreciate the true depth and vastness of Hinduism's ocean of knowledge.

Vishi’s credentials were as impressive as his insights. He had a gold medal in Sanskrit from Banaras Hindu University and recently awarded a doctorate for his work on using Ancient Indian Knowledge Systems to address contemporary challenges in auditing and corporate governance.  Today, along with his brother Venkat, he has made it his life's mission to make ancient wisdom accessible to all, using digital platforms to teach the Sanskrit language for the benefit of all mankind.

A few years later, in 2009, I joined Hewlett Packard, where my weekends were my own.  I initially considered another professional course, but the memory of that newspaper article kept coming back to me.  I decided to visit the office of Bharatiya Vidhya Bhavan.  To my delight, I confirmed the course was in English, and spanned three years (six semesters), and was conducted on weekends.  Without hesitation, I enrolled for the next available batch - 2010 batch.

For the next three years, my life became a fascinating mix of ancient wisdom and modern science. My teachers were a diverse group of professional astrologers, a scientist from the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO), and even doctors and engineers. We delved into a wide range of topics, including astronomy, medical astrology, and the preparation and interpretation of birth charts. This structured approach to learning shattered many of my preconceived notions and myths about astrology. I came to see it not as some mystical art, but as a scientific subject that demands both skill and intuition.  I also realized that the chapters in the list handed over by the Nadi astrologer corresponded to the "houses" in a Vedic astrology chart.

Vedic astrology, or jyotishya shastra, is considered one of the 'Vedangas,' or limbs of the Vedas. A birth chart is essentially a cosmic snapshot of the planetary positions at the precise moment and location of one's birth. The art of interpreting these charts requires deep knowledge, refined skill, and a keen sense of intuition. The subject is so vast and complex that only a select few can truly master it. It's no wonder that many people turn to astrology for reassurance during uncertain times. However, the abundance of fraudulent astrologers has unfortunately tarnished the credibility of this profound and ancient science.

As my friends and colleagues learned of my new pursuit, they began approaching me, some out of curiosity, others with genuine problems they were facing. It soon became clear that every birth chart—every life—had its share of good and bad times. People only ever sought help during their struggles. Every chart that we saw revealed some form of pain, some challenge at a different stage of life, but the question that truly haunted people was, "Why me?"

When I asked my astrology teachers, they would simply say, "It's because of your past karmas," but they couldn't elaborate on what those actions were. I soon realized that interpreting a chart to understand past karma is incredibly complex, and not many people are trained to do it. The "why" remained a frustrating and unresolved mystery.

In Bharat, it is common for people to approach astrologers to find an auspicious time for a child's birth, leading them to schedule C-sections accordingly. Man trying to play God.  In my view, this is a futile exercise, as there's no such thing as a perfect time. Every birth chart contains a mix of both good and challenging periods. A long life, for example, doesn't guarantee good health, financial success, or harmonious relationships. When we look back through history, no one has ever had a life without problems; everyone has faced their own unique set of challenges.

In 2011 or 2012, I stumbled upon a TV show called "Raaz Pichele Janam Ka" (Secrets from the Past Life). The series featured a past-life regression therapist, Dr. Tripti Jain, who helped celebrities explore their past lives to find answers to their problems. I found it too incredible to be real and dismissed it as a stunt for TV ratings.

One day at the office, the show became the topic of our lunchtime conversation. We all laughed, joking about how we could barely remember what happened yesterday, yet these people claimed to recall entire past lives. But as we walked back to our desks, an elderly colleague, Subba Rao, who had been unusually quiet during our laughter, pulled me aside. He told me his father was a past-life regression therapist and that the show was not something to be dismissed lightly. I thanked him and asked if I could meet his father. He smiled and said "yes." Again, I was engrossed in the daily routine that I forgot about this.

A few years later, I moved to Unilever. One day, I received a call from Subba Rao, inviting me to his housewarming ceremony. The ceremony was on a workday, so I told him I wouldn't be able to make it during the day but could come in the evening. He reminded me that it would be a perfect opportunity to meet his father and discuss past-life regression.  I thanked him for the invitation.

I reached his new house in the evening after work, eager to meet his father.  Luckily, most of the guests had already left, and the family was relaxing after the hectic ceremony.  Subba Rao and his family welcomed me warmly and showed me their new house.  Finally, he led me to an elderly man in his 90s and introduced his father to me.  His father welcomed me warmly and upon my request, happily started talking about the past life regression.  His tone was humble.  Soon, other family members joined the discussion, sharing their experiences with me.  I told him how comforting it was to realize that we have lived many lives and that our actions guide our future.  I then asked him to do a past-life regression for me and also teach me.  He smiled and suggested that I first learn more about the subject. He recommended I read "Many Lives, Many Masters" by Dr. Brian Weiss.

That night, I went straight home and searched for the book online. I found it after some effort and placed an order, but the thought of waiting a few days for it to arrive was unbearable.  My impatience got the better of me. The next day, I found a softcopy online and devoured it, sitting through the whole day until I had finished it.  It was a revelation. The book felt like a fairy tale, yet it resonated deeply with everything my grandmother had taught me and what I had learnt about rebirths.  It was incredibly reassuring to know that the concept was real.

Since I had already finished the book, I handed the physical copy to my wife when it arrived. I shared the book's revelations with my family and friends, but they didn't seem interested. My wife, however, read the book and loved it. Her only question was, "Is this real?"  I strongly recommend this book to those interested in knowing about past life regression therapy.  I have been regularly gifting this to friends and relative.  Am grateful to Dr. Weiss for writing this book and to Subba Rao’s father who referred me this book.

A few years later, I learned that a distant aunt had taken voluntary retirement from her senior position at IBM to pursue her spiritual interests, which included training in past-life regression.  I met her one day and eagerly asked her to teach me.  She simply smiled and told me to focus on my career, saying that I would learn it when the time was right.  The thought faded from my mind once more.

Then, on a quiet day in 2017, the idea of learning past-life regression resurfaced.  I wondered if there was a formal training program available.  After a long search over the internet, I found a promising website: Amarantos.org.  The site had no contact information, not even an email or phone number. All it had were videos of people who had attended a workshop conducted by a man named Venu Murthy, along with an online application form.  Since there were no dates or fees mentioned, I was unsure if the site was legitimate, but I filled out the form anyway.  I waited for a response, but I never heard back.

In early 2018, I made the life-changing decision to quit my lucrative corporate job at Unilever to start my own consulting firm.  Just two days after I resigned, I received an email from Amarantos.org.  They were starting a new workshop and invited me to re-apply if I was still interested.  I immediately filled out the form and followed up with an email (now that I had their email), expressing how serious I was about attending.  They replied, telling me to wait and that I would be informed if selected.

I had given the same answers on the application as I had in 2017, and I couldn't help but wonder if they would select me this time.  But to my delight, I was chosen.  This led me to wonder why I hadn't been selected the first time.  I searched through my old emails and discovered a message from 2017 that I had completely missed, confirming my selection back then, too.

It was destiny that I hadn't seen that email, because my job priorities would never have allowed me to attend the workshop in 2017.  But now, having resigned from my job, there was nothing to stop me.  I was finally ready for this, and it proved to me that we only get things in life when we are truly prepared for them.

I immediately seized the opportunity, paid the advance amount and booked my seat for the workshop.  The workshop that would open the doors to a world completely different from the one I had known — a world where I would not only experience my own past lives but also help others do the same.

 To be continued - Part 2

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