Darpan is a talk-first session with an AI tuned to sound like your steadiest self. You speak; it reflects instead of advising; at the close, one verse arrives, cited from ancient wisdom.
Four movements, a few minutes, one verse. Scroll through a single session, beginning to end, as it actually appears on the phone in your hand. (The longer answer to "is this just ChatGPT?" lives in the FAQ.)
There is no carousel of moods. No streak. No feed. The home screen is a greeting, a card to begin a session, and one shloka for the day. That is all the surface area Adhyatm needs.
Tap once. Begin speaking, or begin typing. The mirror listens until you stop. There is no time limit, no transcription anxiety, no "what should I say?" overlay. If you're stuck, four faint prompts sit beneath the field. They are starters, not constraints.
The mirror does not just listen. It hears what you said, names what it heard, and asks the question underneath. The one that takes you closer to the part of you actually doing the talking. No script. No advice. The conversation that would happen if you were sitting across from your steadiest self.
When you close the session, the mirror reads everything you sat with and hands you a single line the tradition would have offered. Devanagari first, in the tongue it lived in. Transliteration beneath, plain English that does not flatten the verse, its chapter and verse named, and a small reflection question drawn from inside it.
When you sit again, the mirror remembers what you carried away the last time. Each session builds on the one before it, and everything it remembers is yours to edit or delete.
Some things are not for thinking through. They are for putting down. Vyom is the other door of Adhyatm: anonymous, one-way, ephemeral. Write a few sentences, read one stranger's words in return, and both disappear in 24 hours. A classifier checks every release before it posts, and no one can reply. You will find the door on Home, beside Darpan.
Adhyatm is in closed beta. Leave your email and we will write when there is room.