There are times of the year when Vedic tradition and Vedic astrology invite us to look ahead to the future, and others when they ask us to look back to see those who came before us. The goal is not to live in the past; rather, remembering our ancestors helps us remember where we come from.

Pitṛ Pakṣa is the period dedicated to the Pitṛs, that is, the ancestors, and it is one of the most important times of the year to honor them, pray for them, and reflect on what we have received from our family lineage. Our ancestors are our legacy in terms of talents, but they are also the burdens we carry with us from generation to generation.

In 2026, we can consider this period September 26 through October 10: September 26 marks Pūrṇimā Śrāddha (the Full Moon of the ritual), while the Kṛṣṇa Pakṣa (the waning fortnight) dedicated to the ancestors begins on the 27th. This leads up to October 10 with the Sarva Pitṛ Amāvasyā, the “New Moon of All Ancestors,” which brings the entire period to a close. In our region, the Amāvasyā (New Moon) begins on the evening of October 9 and ends on the afternoon of the 10th, so it will be celebrated on October 10.

We often think of our ancestors as black-and-white photographs, distant names, and family memories. But there is so much more to it. Our bodies have been shaped by them. Within our DNA lies a story that does not begin with our birth. We carry physical traits, predispositions, talents, vulnerabilities, and ways of reacting that span generations. Our elders knew this: “You’re just like Great-Aunt Agelina,” they’d say when they saw common patterns with a relative.

The Vedic tradition adds a karmic dimension to this biological legacy: blessings, abilities, talents, and protections can be passed down through a family line; but so can unresolved issues that keep recurring until someone brings them to consciousness. Anyone familiar with Family Constellations knows what I’m talking about. Along with a body, we inherit karma. And family karma seeks resolution within us.

This does not mean being prisoners of the past. We must not view our heritage as something fatalistic. On the contrary. Knowing what comes from our lineage allows us to stop living it unconsciously.

We decide what to do with this legacy: We can pass it on to our children unresolved, or we can reconcile with it within ourselves. This is our most important choice.

Because one day, we, too, will be someone's ancestors!

Our Debt to Our Ancestors

In Vedic culture, human beings are not born as individuals completely separate from the rest of existence. They are born into a network of relationships, and for this very reason, they are also born with debts.

The Śrīmad Bhāgavatam explicitly discusses our debt to the Devas (the celestial beings), to the Ṛṣis (the forefathers who passed down knowledge, science, and wisdom to us), to other living beings, to society, to family members, and to the Pitṛ, those who came before us.

The debt owed to one's ancestors, Pitṛ Ṛṇa, stems from something very concrete: Through them, we have received this body (the product of our father’s and mother’s genetics) and the opportunity to become part of a particular family, culture, and history. It doesn't matter whether our relationship with our family was easy or difficult. Our material existence has been passed down to us through that lineage. And in a certain sense, we owe it to them.

We shouldn't view debt in a negative light. Pitṛ Ṛṇa means that we join a family not to be passive members, but to actively contribute to the growth of the lineage that we embody.

That is why Pitṛ Pakṣa is not a somber rite honoring the dead. It is, first and foremost, a time of gratitude. We may have many things to work through regarding our family, but the first thing we received from them was the opportunity to be born. The opportunity to have this experience in this world. The opportunity to take on a human form—considered rare among the many living species—so that we may grow and, eventually, free ourselves from the cycle of birth and death.

When the line becomes blurrier

During Pitṛ Pakṣa, tradition holds that the connection between the world (or rather, the realm) of the living and that of the Pitṛ is particularly strong. In modern terms, we might say that the distance between different aspects of existence is narrowing. The texts speak of different Lokas—that is, different planes on which beings can continue their journey. There is not only Earth; there are countless habitable planets in the universe. There is not only this dimension; there are countless dimensions.

The Garuda Purana It is one of the texts that goes into the most detail regarding this relationship between life and death. Garuḍa, the divine bird and son of Kasyapa and Vinata, asks Viṣṇu (the Absolute) a very sensible question: If one of our ancestors no longer possesses the body we knew, or has already assumed another state of existence, or has been reincarnated, how can he receive what we offer him?

The answer is very fascinating.
Viṣṇu replies that The name, the gotra (that is, the family lineage to which one belongs), and the mantras always direct the offering to the one for whom it is intended And it says that, whatever state a being may have attained, Śrāddha (the rite for the ancestors) takes the form of the most appropriate nourishment for that being. It is as if we had a unique identification code; even if the body we inhabit and the identity we assume change, we continue to be identifiable as eternal souls.

Then he uses a very simple image: How a calf Manages to Find Its Mother, so that the offering intended for an ancestor can reach him wherever he may be.

It’s an image I really like because it completely shifts the perspective. Śrāddha isn’t simply “giving food to the dead.” It’s about creating a connection to benefit the soul’s journey. The ritual uses the name, the family lineage, the mantra, and the intention to build a bridge between two (or more) states of existence.

The Garuḍa Purāṇa also devotes particular attention to the’Amāvasyā, the New Moon. In a very evocative passage, he describes the Pitṛs who, on the day of Amāvasyā, symbolically wait at the thresholds of their descendants’ homes to receive their offerings, remaining there until sunset.

The threshold, the doorway, the front door of our home is a perfect image for understanding Pitṛ Pakṣa. A threshold belongs to two spaces at the same time: inside and outside. It is the point where one enters and exits.

During these days dedicated to our ancestors, we, too, find ourselves, symbolically, on a threshold: on one side, the visible world in which we live; on the other, that endless stream of lives from which we come.

Sarva Pitṛ Amāvasyā

Of all the days of Pitṛ Pakṣa, The final Amāvasyā is particularly powerful. The New Moon is inherently connected to the Pitṛs and the Śrāddhas, as explained in the Garuḍa Purāṇa; when this period comes to an end, its significance becomes even more evident. In 2026, Sarva Pitṛ Amāvasyā falls on October 10.

“Sarva” means "everyone." It is, therefore, the Amāvasyā of all our ancestors, including those whose names we have forgotten and those who no longer have anyone to remember them. They, above all, may need our help.

Try to mentally reconstruct your family tree. We usually know our parents and grandparents. Some of us remember our great-grandparents. By the time we reach the fourth or fifth generation, gaps begin to appear. Those men and women have vanished from our memory, but that doesn’t mean they’ve vanished from our history. In fact, perhaps their forgotten memory echoes in our automatic actions, in our patterns, and perhaps in obsessive thoughts or self-sabotaging behaviors. And, in any case, if even just one of them had not existed, we would not be here.

Sarva Pitṛ Amāvasyā therefore allows us to turn our thoughts also to the Known and Unknown Ancestors, to all those people whose faces, names, or stories we no longer know.

Ancestors in the Astrological Chart

Jyotiṣa, or Vedic astrology, also provides very precise tools for examining our family heritage. In our tradition, certain configurations in the chart invite us to explore our connection to our ancestral lineage more deeply.

A strong relationship between The Sun and Saturn may indicate a theme related to Pitṛ Doṣa, especially when supported by other elements in the chart. The relationship between The Moon and Rāhu Instead, it can lead us to observe any difficulties in the maternal line, which is called Mātr Doṣa. Another level concerns the Bādhaka: When the Sun or the Moon is involved with the Bādhaka-sthāna or its ruler, we may be facing an obstacle whose roots are older than our individual experience.

Of course, simply finding Saturn next to the Sun or Rāhu next to the Moon is not enough to automatically conclude that there is an ancestral issue. Jyotiṣa operates through confirmations, repetitions, and successive levels of interpretation.

One of the most important cards is the D12, Dvādaśāṁśa. It is the Chart of the Generations That Came Before Us. It describes parents in great detail and then allows us to move on to uncles, aunts, grandparents, and earlier generations. Using the study method I employ, we can go as far back as seven generations. So we can truly investigate the source of a possible ancestral blockage by looking specifically at the figures who may have caused rifts or family traumas severe enough to be passed down through the generations.

It’s very interesting because sometimes something that seems almost inexplicable in D1 becomes clear in D12. A person may be experiencing a difficulty that, when looking solely at their own history, seems to have no origin. Then, when you examine the family line, you realize that the same issue runs through several generations.

But there is an even deeper and more ancient level—one that transcends the boundaries of time—when we work with Divisional Charts of higher harmonics.

From the D40, Khavedāṁśa, and from the D45, Akṣavedāṁśa, let’s take a closer look at the maternal and paternal lines, respectively. Here, the issue becomes even more nuanced. We are not merely observing our parents as individuals, but rather what has been passed down to us through them and shapes our unconscious at its most fundamental level.

And we must remember that ancestral karma isn't made up solely of problems. We also receive talents, protections, insights, abilities, and blessings. An artistic sensibility can span many generations. Or it often skips a generation, only to manifest itself in another. The same can be true of a spiritual gift, intelligence, the strength needed to face difficulties, or a particular calling.

But how far back can we go?

Here, the discussion about ancestors becomes even more interesting.

When we say “Pitṛ,” we naturally think of our father, our grandfather, and our grandfather’s father. But we can keep going: the father of the father of the father of the father…

After just a few generations, we lose track of the names. As time goes on, we lose our family history entirely. But the chain doesn't end.

When we delve into the genealogies of the Purāṇas, this line expands until it becomes a cosmic genealogy. And here we must be precise: we do not find a simple linear chain in which “Manu begets the Prajāpatis, and the Prajāpatis beget Brahmā.” The structure is much richer.

The Śrīmad Bhāgavatam recounts that from Brahmā emerge Svāyambhuva Manu and Śatarūpā, the first great progenitor couple of this cycle of creation. Manu and Śatarūpā fathered five sons: Priyavrata, Uttānapāda, Ākūti, Devahūti, and Prasūti. The three daughters are married to Ruci, Kardama, and Dakṣa, respectively, and through these lines the population expands. Manu’s sons and descendants are described as those through whom the progeny spreads throughout the worlds.

Alongside this line are the large ones Prajāpati, literally the “lords of progeny,” who are entrusted with the task of multiplying the various forms of life. The Bhāgavatam lists Marīci, Atri, Aṅgirā, Pulastya, Pulaha, Kratu, Bhṛgu, Vasiṣṭha, Dakṣa, and Nārada among the sons of Brahmā.

So, when we go far enough back, the family tree stops looking like the little diagram we can draw on a piece of paper. It becomes a The Cosmic Web of Manu, Prajāpati, and the Ṛṣis through which the various strands of existence are propagated.

And even Brahmā does not represent the absolute beginning. In Vaiṣṇava cosmology, Brahmā is born on the lotus that emerges from the navel of Garbhodakaśāyī Viṣṇu. The secondary creation of the universe begins with Brahmā, and through his sons and the great progenitors, the various populations of the worlds are gradually brought into being.

At this point, the word “ancestor” takes on a completely different meaning. We start with our grandfather and find ourselves face to face with Brahmā, the first being created in this universe.

That's also why I like to talk about a stellar origin of our genealogy. It is important to understand exactly what I mean: I am not simply saying that modern genetics has discovered an extraterrestrial signature in our DNA. I am referring to the Vedic cosmological view. In that view, the history of humankind is not isolated from the structure of the universe. Our most distant ancestors belong to a genealogy that encompasses various lokas, Manus, Ṛṣis, Prajāpatis, and celestial beings.

We are Earthlings because this is the world we currently live in, and this is the body we use. But According to the Purāṇas, our history is far greater than the Earth.

Pitṛ Pakṣa thus takes us from the particular to the universal. We can begin by lighting a lamp for our grandfather and, following that same line far enough back, arrive at the progenitors of humanity, at Brahmā, and at the very structure of creation.

Pitṛ and Pitṛ-Deva

There is another interesting point to note. In the texts, the word Pitṛ does not refer exclusively to our deceased relatives. There are also specific Classes of Pitṛ, ancestral beings connected to Pitṛloka and ritual offerings. The Śrīmad Bhāgavatam, for example, mentions the Agniṣvātta, the Barhiṣad, the Saumya, and the Ājyapa, identifying them as Pitṛ. The Pitṛ are therefore a distinct non-human species living in a dimension of this universe. These beings are called ancestors because they have actively participated in the development of human civilizations, though not on planet Earth.

This broadens the meaning of Pitṛ Pakṣa even further. There is our personal genealogy, but there is also an archetypal and cosmic dimension to the ancestor, understood as a source of help and support for our earthly growth. Tradition does not view life as a series of isolated individuals who appear and disappear: there are lineages, roles, worlds, and relationships that continue beyond a single incarnation.

Svāhā and Svadhā

Here we come to a simple and very beautiful practice.

In Brahma-vaivarta Purāṇa Here we find an important distinction. Agni is the sacred fire, the sacrificial fire, which carries the offerings into other dimensions. Agni has two wives. Svāhā is Agni's first wife And through Svāhā, the offerings are directed to the Devas, the celestial beings. Svadhā, on the other hand, is Agni’s wife, associated with the Pitṛs, and is presented as the power through which offerings to the ancestors reach their destination.

So we have two options: Svāhā to the Devas, Svadhā to the Pitṛs.

The Brahma-vaivarta Purāṇa also contains a particularly interesting passage. It states that remembering the name Svadhā three times It bestows the merit of Śrāddha, Bali, and Tarpaṇa; in other words, this mantra is equivalent to performing a complete ritual. It may seem like a shortcut, but it allows us to understand the power of the mantra and, above all, the intention we put into it.

That is why, during Pitṛ Pakṣa, we can follow a very simple practice. Sit in silence—perhaps in front of a lamp—and begin to remember your ancestors. First your parents, then your grandparents, and your great-grandparents. If you know their names, you can say them aloud. When the names fade from memory, you can simply address all your ancestors on both the maternal and paternal sides—known and unknown alike.

As we recite slowly, for each person we remember:

Svadhā · Svadhā · Svadhā

We can do this for each person we remember, or just once, mentally embracing the entire lineage.

I wouldn’t use this formula with the somewhat simplistic idea that three words can magically erase any family problem. The text attributes a specific ritual significance to the threefold recitation of Svadhā. In our practice, it can also become a moment of reconciliation, acknowledgment, and restitution. The intention we bring to it plays a crucial role and allows us to simplify the practice as much as possible.

We can say to ourselves: I acknowledge what has come to me through you. I hold on to what is good. I let go of what is not meant to continue through me.

Ultimately, working with our ancestors is exactly that: a journey of personal growth. It isn’t about blaming previous generations for what isn’t working in our lives. Nor is it about romanticizing the family. It means taking a clear-eyed look at a lineage of which we are a part.

Someone before us has suffered. Someone has made mistakes. Someone has been afraid, and that fear may have been passed down. But someone has also prayed, persevered, protected their family, learned a trade, developed a skill, and performed acts of generosity. All of this, too, has been passed down to us.

Today, we are the point at which that very long history becomes the present.

Pitṛ Pakṣa gives us a few days to remember. And Sarva Pitṛ Amāvasyā reminds us that this history is much longer than our memory: behind the names we know lie thousands of forgotten names; behind our families lie our ancestors; behind our ancestors, in Vedic cosmology, lie Manu, the Prajāpatis, the sons of Brahmā, and Brahmā himself.

If you trace your family line back far enough, sooner or later Genealogy Becomes Cosmology.

And so we come to understand that honoring the Pitṛs does not simply mean looking back. It also means gaining a deeper understanding of our place in the great flow of life and consciously making use of what we have received, before passing it on to those who will come after us.