Gauri Shankar. Sita Ram. Radha Krishna.

Notice a pattern ?

Before the mind jumps to explanation, before we start analyzing the patterns or unpacking history, just feel the order of those names.

The feminine comes first.

Not because she demanded it. Not because someone gave her permission. But because that’s how it always was. Naturally. Quietly. Like the moon pulling the tide. Like breath before speech.

In those ancient names is a remembrance: of a time when the feminine wasn’t behind or beneath, but before. Not above either - just first. Like the soil before the tree. Like silence before sound.

The modern world, with all its speed and structures, tends to forget things like this. We rearrange the names. We turn stories into hierarchies. We put the man first because we’ve built a world that confuses strength with control, and power with noise.

But the soul remembers.

The soul knows that Sita held the center. That Radha wasn’t an ornament to Krishna, but his doorway to the divine. That Shakti didn’t stand next to Shiva - she made him move.

There is no need for argument here. No debate. Just the simple truth of energy: the feminine births the form. The feminine softens the space. The feminine holds the whole thing together while no one’s watching.

We’ve forgotten this not just in culture, but in ourselves. We’ve all been taught to lead with the masculine - action, assertion, force. But within each of us, there’s a Gauri before the Shankar. A Sita before the Ram. A Radha before the Krishna. That quiet, intuitive knowing. That holding. That presence.

To honor the feminine isn’t to make a political statement. It’s to come home.

So maybe, the next time you say one of those names say it slowly. Feel the rhythm. Feel what comes first.

And remember: the woman wasn’t put first.

She was always there.