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Cockroach type
Street-Commander Cockroach
My superpower: I can turn whispered rage into a Tuesday morning march, with chairs, transport and a printed agenda.
The system already named your species. What you discover here is what kind of cockroach you are. Some scatter. Some organise the basement where every revolution actually begins. Forty-five questions across three yogas (Karm, Gyan and Bhakti) mapped through Jung’s typology into eight cockroach archetypes. The first step of preparation for your dharma-yuddha, whatever you find that fight to be.
When public language reduces citizens to pests, the counter-language can reclaim the pest as a resilient archetype. The cockroach becomes a folk-Jungian figure: survival, shadow, endurance, nocturnal civic awareness.
Three Jungian preference axes (Extraversion–Introversion, Sensing–Intuition, Thinking–Feeling) produce eight accessible Cockroach Types. Not a diagnosis. Not destiny. A reflective mirror.
This test was designed for people moving through systems that were not designed for them. It rewards self-recognition over self-improvement, and humour over hierarchy.
The Bhagavad Gita names three yogas through which the soul moves. We have mapped each to a Jungian preference axis. Together they form the spine of this test. An Indian frame for a global question: how do you tend to show up before the righteous fight begins?
Where does your action turn. Toward the field, or toward the inner standard?
How does perception arrive. Through evidence you can inspect, or through patterns you can intuit?
How does judgment land. Through principle, or through dignity and relationship?
Each type is a public-facing pattern, not a private cage. You may recognise yourself most in one, and parts of yourself in three.
This test is, and will remain, completely free. No paywall on the report. No subscription on the workbook. No upsell on the eight types.
This work is the unfunded effort of a small group connected to a quiet, growing movement. Professionals who took the path of self-employment. Not out of passion. Out of the slow, polite realisation that the system they had served for decades had quietly stopped having room for them.
Take one of them. For four consecutive years, he personally paid this country, in personal income tax alone, a sum exceeding twice the gross annual salary of a sitting judge of its apex court. When his employment ended in April 2026, the political class that had cashed those contributions had other priorities. The constitutional institutions whose office it is to check arbitrary power, and to protect the citizens who finance the republic, were occupied with other matters. A productive taxpayer for two decades found that the public memory of such a citizen is rather short.
We are not writing this in self-pity. We are writing it because a polity that taxes its productive citizens heavily, and protects them lightly, eventually produces a generation of unusually attentive cockroaches. The kind of attention you cultivate in a quiet corner is, increasingly, the kind the loud institutions appear to have forgotten how to pay.
If the test helps you, that is the receipt we wanted.
“For twenty years I built instruments that classified other people. For four of those years, my income tax to this republic exceeded twice the salary of one of its highest judges. When the work ended, I learned how short the public memory of a productive taxpayer can be. This is what I built with the time the system suddenly returned to me.”
Arjuna did not ask, on the battlefield, who his enemy was. He asked who he was. One sitting. No timer. Back navigation. Progress autosaves to your device so you can finish later.