From Temple Steps to Your Doorstep: The RASVRA Story

There are moments in life when you stop being a spectator and become a participant. When observation turns into obligation. When silence becomes impossible.

For me, that moment came on the temple steps of Kashi.

The Steps That Changed Everything

I've walked these steps my entire life. Born and raised in Varanasi, the sacred city where Shiva himself resides, I thought I knew every corner, every ritual, every prayer that echoed through its ancient lanes.

But familiarity can be deceptive. Sometimes, the things we see every day become invisible—not because they're hidden, but because we've trained ourselves not to look too closely.

Until one day, I couldn't look away anymore.

It was early morning. The kind of morning when Kashi reveals itself in golden light, when the Ganga flows like liquid devotion, and temple bells create a symphony that feels older than time itself. Devotees were arriving, hands folded, hearts open, seeking blessings from Baba Kashi Vishwanath.

And there, on the same steps where faith ascended, sat those whom faith had seemingly abandoned.

Two Truths. One Question.

The first truth was visible in their eyes—men and women who once had names, stories, families, dreams. Now they were defined by a single word: beggar. Invisible to the crowds that passed them. Unreached by the prosperity that flowed around them. Their hands outstretched, not in blessing, but in desperation.

The second truth was in the hands of the devotees themselves. They came seeking purity, seeking connection with the divine. And they received prasad—sacred offerings that should carry the essence of devotion. But what they often received was prepared without care, sold without conscience, distributed without the sanctity it deserved.

Two problems. One sacred space. And a question that wouldn't leave me alone:

What if we could solve both?

What if the hands that once begged could create blessings? What if prasad could be as pure as the faith that seeks it? What if commerce and compassion weren't opposites but partners?

That question became my sankalp. My sacred vow.

The Uncomfortable Truth About Prasad

Let me tell you something most people don't talk about.

When you receive prasad at many temples today, you're often receiving something made in hurried kitchens, with ingredients chosen for cost rather than quality, by hands that are overworked and underpaid. The spiritual sanctity we assume exists... often doesn't.

Refined sugar. Palm oil. Artificial colors. Dairy from sources that dishonor the very animals we call sacred. Hygiene standards that would make any devotee uncomfortable if they saw the truth behind the scenes.

This isn't an attack on tradition. This is grief for what tradition has become in some places—commodified, rushed, stripped of the reverence it once held.

Our elders prepared prasad like they were preparing offerings for the divine. Because they were. Every ingredient was chosen with intention. Every step was performed with devotion. The act of making prasad was itself a form of worship.

Somewhere along the way, we lost that.

And I couldn't accept it.

A Meeting That Changed the Path

I could have started a business. Just another prasad brand with better packaging and smart marketing. But that felt hollow.

Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw those faces on the temple steps. And I knew that if RASVRA was going to exist, it had to do more than sell products. It had to restore something deeper—dignity, purpose, and the true meaning of seva.

That's when I met Mr. Chandra Mishra.

He wasn't a businessman. He was a builder of hope. Through an initiative called Beggars' Corporation, he was doing something extraordinary—training individuals who had been begging at temples, giving them skills, giving them employment, giving them back the respect society had stripped away.

When he told me about their work, something clicked.

These weren't just "beneficiaries." These were artisans in the making. People with hands capable of extraordinary craft, minds hungry for purpose, hearts that understood devotion in ways most of us never would. Because they had sat at the feet of the divine, not by choice, but by circumstance.

What if their hands—those same hands society ignored—became the hands that crafted blessings?

What if every box of prasad carried two stories: the story of faith for the devotee receiving it, and the story of transformation for the person creating it?

That's when RASVRA stopped being an idea and started becoming a movement.

Building Blessings. Rebuilding Lives.

Creating RASVRA wasn't easy. It never is when you're trying to do something that hasn't been done before.

We had to answer hard questions:

Could prasad be 100% vegan without losing its authenticity? Yes. Because our scriptures have always honored ahimsa—non-violence toward all beings. The cow we revere, the creatures we consider sacred—how could devotion that honors them involve their exploitation? We went back to ancient recipes, to ingredients that have always been satvik: jaggery, coconut, tulsi, bel, pure oils, sacred herbs. We proved that purity and compassion can coexist.

Could trained ex-beggars craft products that meet modern hygiene and quality standards? Absolutely. With proper training, proper facilities, and—most importantly—proper respect. These artisans don't just assemble boxes. They understand that what they're creating will be received with folded hands, with devotion, with trust. And they treat it accordingly.

Could we maintain spiritual authenticity without temple authorization? Yes. Because devotion is personal. We conduct sankalp rituals—name-chanting ceremonies—in the public corridors of Kashi Vishwanath Temple, hiring priests directly for this personal act of worship. We collect worshipped bel leaves and tulsi from temple offerings, dry them with care, and include them as blessed elements. We're not claiming official status. We're practicing genuine devotion. There's a difference, and it matters.

Could a startup balance profit and purpose? We're proving it's not just possible—it's essential. RASVRA is not a charity. It's a business. But it's a business where every sale creates employment, every product upholds purity, and every customer becomes part of a larger mission.

What RASVRA Really Means

The name RASVRA comes from "Ras"—essence, flavor, the soul of something—and "Vra"—a vow, a commitment.

We're not just selling prasad. We're keeping a promise.

A promise to devotees that what reaches their home is as pure as what they would offer to the divine themselves.

A promise to artisans that their work creates dignity, not dependency.

A promise to the planet that our devotion won't come at the cost of the beings we hold sacred.

A promise to tradition that we can honor it without blindly repeating practices that no longer serve purity or compassion.

This is prasad reimagined. This is faith with conscience. This is the intersection of devotion and action.

The First Step of a Thousand-Mile Journey

On December 10, 2025, we're taking our first real step.

We're launching the Shree Kashi Vishwanath Blessings Box—but not in the way most products launch. We're starting with just 100 boxes. A pre-launch. A validation. A conversation with the first 100 people who believe that faith and impact can walk together.

Inside each box:

• Handcrafted satvik prasad (200g, 8 pedas)—made with organic jaggery, pure ingredients, zero refined sugar, zero palm oil, 100% vegan. Each batch prepared like an offering, because it is.
• Lab-certified Panchmukhi Rudraksha—spiritually sanctified, a symbol of protection and devotion that has been revered for millennia.
• Pure Gangajal (100ml)—collected from the sacred ghats of Varanasi, for your pujas, for purification, for keeping divinity close.
• Temple blessings card—a keepsake carrying the energy of the ritual performed in your name.

But here's what makes it different:

Before your box reaches you, we take it to Kashi Vishwanath Temple. In the public corridor where devotion is accessible to all, we hire a priest to perform a sankalp ritual—chanting your name, offering prayers on your behalf. That moment is documented. A photograph is sent to you on January 1st, 2026, as proof that your blessing was real, personal, and rooted in tradition.

Your box will arrive between January 1st and 14th, 2026—the first blessings of the new year, delivered not by a faceless corporation, but by hands that have been transformed through this very mission.

This Is Just the Beginning

I won't pretend we have all the answers. We're young. We're learning. We're navigating a space where tradition meets innovation, where faith meets business, where idealism has to prove itself in the real world.

But we're committed.

Committed to never compromising on purity—even when shortcuts are tempting.

Committed to never exploiting the artisans who make this possible—even when profit margins could be higher.

Committed to transparency—even when it's uncomfortable to admit we're still figuring things out.

And committed to this belief: that when you receive blessings, someone else should receive dignity.

That's not charity. That's dharma.

An Invitation, Not a Sales Pitch

If you've read this far, you're not just a potential customer. You're someone who cares about the story behind what you consume. Someone who believes that how we eat, how we worship, and how we live should align with the values we claim to hold.

RASVRA's first 100 boxes aren't just products. They're a question:

Can we build a brand where profit and purpose aren't at odds?

Can tradition evolve without losing its soul?

Can a single purchase create ripples of change?

We think the answer is yes. But we need co-creators, not just customers. People willing to take this journey with us, to give feedback, to hold us accountable, to believe that something new and meaningful can be built in India's spiritual economy.

If that resonates with you, we'd be honored to send you the first blessings of the new year.

Not because we need your money. Because we need your belief.

The new year begins with a choice. How will you start yours?

RASVRA | From Faith. With Purity.

Where devotion becomes action. Where blessings become change. Where Kashi comes home.