Rahu in Rohini? That desire? Bottomless

Rahu in Rohini feels like a dream you can’t hold. Soft. Sweet. Always just out of reach. You long for beauty, for love that wraps around you. You want to feel full. But the moment arrives, and it slips. Joy fades. Attention dulls. And you start chasing again.

Rohini is lush. Earthy. Tender. It offers touch, taste, and belonging. But Rahu isn’t here to rest. It wants more. Then more than that. It stretches desire until it becomes ache. You crave affection, security, sweetness. Yet nothing stays sweet long enough. Something always feels missing.

You may look grounded. Calm. Desirable even. People are drawn to the softness in you, the glow of something deep and warm. But inside, the ache grows. You want to be known, not just touched. You want someone to see the part of you that hides. The part that wonders if enough is ever possible.

There’s danger in this hunger. You might attach too fast. You might idealize someone, or fall for their potential. You might stay in something that hurts just to avoid the silence. You try to fill the hollow with love, with art, with beauty. But the silence returns. And sometimes, it’s louder than before.

This placement is not here to punish. It’s here to teach. Not through stillness, but through motion. Through longing that doesn’t break you—but opens you. You begin to see that what you chase is not really a person, or a feeling. It’s something else. Something beneath.

Rahu in Rohini is the artist’s ache. The lover’s shadow. The heart that wants home, but forgets where it lives. You learn slowly. You fall and rise. You create from the spaces where others look away. And one day, you stop needing to own what you love. You begin to become it.

That’s the quiet truth of this placement. Desire won’t leave you. But it will soften. Over time, it becomes less about filling the void—and more about listening to it. Letting it speak. Letting it lead you, not to the end of wanting, but to the beauty of wanting deeply. And surviving it.