The confessions of a clueless mind

 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 ...

It is believed among the Hindus that the Himalayas are the abode of the Gods. In fact, Mount Kailash is believed to be the mythological Kailasa where Lord Shiva resides. Accordingly, the Hindus also believe that these mountains are the resting place for the spirits of their dead ancestors. The Hindu association with the mysticism of the Himalayas doesn’t stop at that. It is also believed that one cannot go to the Himalayas until their destined time. Of course, a pragmatist would dismiss these beliefs as just mumbo-jumbo. And I set out to do the same as well, when some of us friends went on a Himalayan trek a few months ago. We planned to start our trek from Solang , and go all the way to the Beas Kund , the source of the Beas River, where, as the legend goes, the great Hindu sage Veda Vyas (also known as Beas ) wrote the epic Mahabharata . What followed, however, was a series of events that seemed to warn us to not proceed on our expedition. Call it coincidences, or omens. But they d...