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Aaryan and Gurudwara/Church

  The world seems beautiful as I look into the eyes of my 3.5 year old son who is happily spinning away yarns sitting on a swing in the Empress Gardens. His eyes twinkle when I mention on our way back home that there is a Gurudwara nearby and perhaps we can drop in. I know he wants to buy a Kada (steel/iron bracelet) and shall be overjoyed...but little do I suspect that the brief visit would openup a flurry of questions in the days to come … While we are spending a leisurely time in our terrace in the evening – looking at the noisy street and varied people, Aaryan asks “Baba, why do we go to Gurudwara?” Me: “ To pray to the God” A:  “and temple?” Me: “Same to pray” as I prepare myself for tougher questions now A: “then why Gurudwara” I pause for a moment and then say “Well, there are more such places of worship. There is a temple, gurudwara, church and mosque. Some people go the temple and call themselves Hindu while some go to Gurudwara and are Sikhs. Christians g
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Timepass

July 2008 -- The world isn't kept running because it's a paying proposition. (God doesn't make a cent on the deal.) The world goes on because a few men in every generation believe in it utterly, accept it unquestioningly; they underwrite it with their lives – Henry Miller. Today I kept one day off – off from the world, one day away from any kind of work; I call it “the real upavaas” (wherein when people go on without food for one day) !!!   and I find it too less. The world around is so rich – the people, things, music, literature – rich of treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people; we just need to develop an interest in it and forget about ourselves for some time. It is very interesting to see how we elevate the importance of “I/myself” in our daily life and how big an issue we make out of ourselves each day – wherein the truth is that we are only a spark in the whole scheme of universe which is continuing since milleniums. In the whole perspective, our lives are
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First Grief

First Grief from Lipika  by Rabindranath Tagore Note: This little piece of prose has been one of my favorites for more than 2 decades now. I realized that this book is no more easily available either in physical form or e-form and thus thought to save some parts of it in my blogs and let it become an instrument in reaching unto the right audience one day, somewhere, in some part of the universe. (Aashish Singla)   Grass covers the spot where once a path led through forest shade.  In its solitude, suddenly someone said behind me , "Don't you know who I am?" I turned around and gazed at the face. I said, "I remember, but I'm not sure of the name ----" She said, "I was yours long ago, the grief of your twenty-fifth year" In the soft corners of her eyes something shone, as if a moonbeam in the deeps of a lake. I stood stock-still in wonder. I said, "I saw you that day dark and overcast, a stormy rain-cloud; today, I see an image of the fresh light
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