The confessions of a clueless mind

 Ten years. It’s been a decade since you left, Dad — but in truth, I’ve been trying to understand you for much longer. Your later years were defined by illness — a failing heart, Parkinson’s, and a body that slowly stopped cooperating with the spirit inside. But that’s not the whole story. It took me years to realise that. Growing up, the narrative around you was… complicated. You were often seen as weak, even irresponsible. And as children, we accepted what we were told. We didn’t question it. We didn’t know how to. But time has a way of revealing quieter truths. As I grew older, I began to hear stories — from your brothers, your cousins — about the man you once were. Charismatic. Warm. The heart of every gathering. Someone people gravitated towards, someone who lit up rooms without trying. And I found myself wondering… what changed? Life, perhaps. Circumstances. The quiet weight of responsibilities and relationships that, over time, may have taken more than they gave. Somewhere a...

 In times of peace, when the world appears serene, Old tremors rise within—the unknown and the unseen. They are not strangers, but impressions carved in mind, Samskaras of forgotten acts, across lifetimes entwined. They stir the echoes of an uncomfortable past, One that cannot dwell with the fleeting present’s cast— Like phantoms in the inner field of silent thought, Not foes to battle, but veils to be seen through, not fought. Life offers second chances, but karma does not forget; The ledger of the soul records every deed and debt. New joys cannot erase the shadows etched in being— They follow the subtle self, in waking and in dreaming. These skeletons in the cupboard of consciousness remain, Returning as teachers, disguised in joy and pain. They steal the illusion of a guiltless, untouched future, For the jiva must reap what the doer chose to nurture. Yet beyond the torment, beyond the past’s vast cast, There stands the Witness—unchanging, free, steadfast. When ...

 Public discourse often treats spirituality and religion as interchangeable. Yet they operate on fundamentally different principles and serve distinct human needs. Understanding this distinction—particularly through the lens of descriptive spiritual traditions and prescriptive religious systems—clarifies why one emphasizes inner transformation while the other prioritizes collective order. Sanātana Dharma may be understood as a descriptive spiritual framework rather than a religion in the conventional sense. It does not begin with a fixed creed, a singular founder, or a closed canon of unquestionable truths. Instead, it articulates enduring human values—truthfulness, compassion, non-violence, integrity—as patterns observed in lived human experience. These values are not issued as absolute commands but presented as guiding principles, open to debate, reinterpretation, and contextual adaptation. The tradition assumes moral agency and intellectual humility: that human understanding i...