I’ve been on this planet for almost six decades now, and I’ve been fortunate to see a fair portion of it. I’ve been able to travel widely, not just in the country where I was born but elsewhere, too. My penchant for travelling started early, in childhood itself. My parents took us children on numerous trips during our school vacations. Later, the sort of work that I took up was such that for me it often seemed like a paid holiday—I got to travel widely for a job that I then j

Of the incidents from my early childhood that I still vividly recall one relates to my maternal grandmother. This happened when I was little—around half a century or so ago—and so I'm not sure if my account is entirely error-free but maybe it went something like this: My maternal grandparents were returning from America, where they had spent some time with their son (my mother’s brother), who lived there. It was rarely that we got to meet these grandparents of ours because we

Some days ago, I attended a talk by a man who, many years earlier, had joined a cult-like group and had risen to become one of its important figures. He spoke eloquently and had some rather interesting things to say, but one point of his that I just couldn’t get myself to accept had to do a crucial teaching of his cult that is related to the afterlife. According to the teachings of this cult, there is no Creator God, and nor is there anything like a soul that comes from such

I was born into a fairly well-off family. We enjoyed a comfortable lifestyle, and my father’s salary was enough to afford numerous fulltime home-help or ‘domestic staff’. One of the finest things that I remember from my childhood days about my late mother was her compassionate treatment of our home-help, so that they were, in a sense, an integral part of our family. Within the constraints of a hierarchical employer-employee relationship, she related to them with care and genu

I was around ten years of age when my parents decided to enroll me in a boarding school that was located up in the hills, far from the city where we then lived. One reason for this might have been that this school offered a wide range of extra-curricular activities, including sculpture, carpentry, weaving, music, horse-riding and many different sports, which went along with the regular academic curriculum. My parents possibly thought that these activities would provide me a m

For him prayer was to simply repeat Fixed words daily, a mechanical feat, Not knowing it wasn't to say words mere, But to speak to God and attentively hear Whatever it was that God wanted to say, The guidance that He sought to convey. Those he knew considered prayer to be A wordy incantation, some magical key, Words to please God, flatter and charm, To earn good fortune and keep off harm. None of his folks had even once heard Of prayer other than reciting many a word. They di

Many years ago, my mother, who was then in her late 60s or early 70s, fell ill and had to be admitted to hospital. I don’t know what the issue was, but it was likely serious because she was put into a special ward in the hospital and spent quite some days there. It was painful to see my mother in a hospital bed, and I turned to God for her to recover. Now, this was a long time ago, and so, I can’t remember what exactly I told God, or if, indeed, I said anything at all to Him

She said to herself, “I’ve had enough Of ritualistic prayers and such stuff. It’s now become a really big strain, A huge burden on my tender brain!”   Just then, an idea came to her mind, Chatting with God as prayer she did find. Not once before had she heard of this, Her concept of prayer had been amiss. This is what for her prayer had been: Repeating set words to a being unseen, In a language she didn't understand, A tongue hailing from a distant land.   Finally, one day, t

All I ask is Your will be done. Other requests I have none. Your will be done from now on In my life till from here I’m gone. Grant this to You my only plea: May Your will alone in my life be.

Life’s a gift to be celebrated, Not a curse to be denigrated, Unlike what they grimly said, That, “It’s better to be dead. Life’s a burden, heavy to bear, Full of woe and onerous care. From it you must seek to flee, And from its bonds to be free. To it you must fully die, And this is the reason why: On the world God's put a curse, So, hatred for it we must nurse. This world we firmly renounce, 'Fie on it!', so we pronounce. Don’t be fooled by worldly allure, It’s a deadly dis

He claimed that God had specially sent Him into the world with the clear intent To be His spokesman for all time to come For all human beings, and not just some, And that they who believed what he said Would go to Paradise when they were dead, While those who rejected what he’d tell Would be tortured by God forever in Hell.   No evidence at all for his claims he had, His own people declared he’d gone mad For all the preposterous things that he said, Thinking him to be demon-p

This morning, when in my bed, This thought came into my head: In the world, only one will prevails, Even in the smallest of details.  If this is true, then every thought Every word, every deed wrought, On Earth, and elsewhere, too, Even all that you and I do, All actions done, of every kind, Are willed by a single mind, Which decrees things to occur, As ‘God’ to this mind one may refer. If this is so, it would mean God’s will alone has ever been. This, in turn, would suggest