Unbelievable - The Lineage was Guiding Me

“Madam, 2021 was the worst of year of my life.” Today morning, a young man told me on phone. I met him near about a month back while I was travelling to Bhangarh with my mother. He was inviting my family on the b’day party of his twin sons as they were born on 1st January, 2020 and it was their first birthday.

On our route, near Rajgarh my mother wanted to use washroom that too in a western style as she had arthritis. My driver and I checked the toilets on petrol pumps, hotels, restaurants, schools and every other place where we saw a board ‘Toilet’ but all were in Indian style. We were searching from the past half an hour but could not find a suitable one for her.

While moving on a congested street with heavy traffic, we noticed a marriage palace and I got down inquiring. The employee getting out of the building refused. On hearing my voice, a young man came out and asked me, “How could I help you?” I explained the situation. He said, “Yes, they have a washroom in western style.” And gladly allowed us to use it.  

 I elatedly called my mother from the car as I had found one. While the young man and I started talking about our family, career and the place of work. I came to know that he and his wife both had government jobs. They had a marriage place, which was quite big and had modern amenities. As he told his full name, I took out a gold bangle and handed to him. He hesitantly took it. Then he refused to take it. I said, “Keep it as a remembrance that we meet up. It will be auspicious for you.”

“Will you please share your mobile number with me?” He asked.

“Sure.”

He repeatedly invited, “Please visit us again, today evening on your return journey.”

As I moved out of the marriage palace, I pondered what instigate me to give that bangle to him when he was financially sound, both husband and wife were earning good and had a decent marriage palace. The God wished so, so I did!

As the roads were bumpy, I took another route back home.

Today, he called me. While conversing with him, I came to know that the twins were weak and fell ill frequently. And he had a seven year old daughter who got fever after the birth of his sons. Her health deteriorated and she started having seizures, hallucinations and confusions. On diagnosis in Jaipur hospital, he came to know that it was brain fever. She was admitted in the hospital for two months and he could not sleep during that time, as he had to take care of his daughter even during the night because she could get a seizure attack any time. Now, her daughter had recovered somewhat. She could attend school, could write but not as beautifully as earlier, she could not remember for long time as her memory had been affected. The doctor told him that he was lucky as out of 25 cases 10 died, 10 became mentally retarded and hardly 4-5 cases survived. He prayed day and night for her recovery and spent near about 7-8 lakhs on her health.

“It was not the good time rather worst time of his life!” I thought.

Even if I was going a charity blindly, the lineage was guiding me. Unbelievable!

Pic : For more than three decades, I had this euphorbia in my garden but it bloomed only once. Unbelievable! 

WiFi Connection with God

“Immediately stop fasting on Thursdays!” I tried to ignore it but it bombarded again in my mind. “You should keep fasts on Wednesdays and worship Lord Ganesha.” These words were said to me near about four years back by one of my relative. Most of the time business related problems distracted me in my meditation but this was the first time a relative was disturbing me. Once again, I tried. This time a bit gently by changing direction of the flow of thoughts. “Where is that Pandit ji now who advised me to keep fast on Thursadys? How caringly he taught me to do chanting, to do hawans, to keep fast and to pray!” Although I was an advance practitioner now but how could I forgot him who taught me the basics. Whether he is alive or........? My heart skipped a beat, and I shivered a bit with unknown fear.

To know about his whereabouts, I called a management member of the temple where he used to work earlier. Almost a decade back, he left that mandir, I became busy with my business, and we lost contacts. The management member gave the number of an employee, the employee gave the number of his relative who was presently working in the same temple and the relative gave Pandit ji’s number. I dialed his number. Will he be able to recognise me?

“I am Dr. Saini’s daughter who used to live in University.”

“Who? Sweety?” He used to call me ‘Sweety’ though my nick name was ‘Cutie’, maybe he found it difficult to pronounce it. Anyhow ‘Sweety’ was much better than ‘Qweti’, ‘Kutti’or ‘Tutti’.

I was disheartened to know that he was going through severe financial problems. His relatives had deserted him. He was presently living in Dauji, a small town near Vrindavan. I sent the money through Money Order as his bank account got closed due to non-maintenance of minimum balance. I asked him to open a new bank account so that I could online transfer Rs. 21000/- per month in his account, an amount more than my personal expenses. He was elated. ‘Give more to others than you keep it for yourself’ was my mantra of life.

I had a WiFi connection with God which worked 24 x 7 x 365. Prayer was the WiFi connection to Him- super-fast, always-on and free. He was always available, and I could stay in constant contact with Him. I could communicate directly with Him and if I listened carefully, I heard Him speaking to me. I could keep uploading prayers for others and could keep constantly downloading peace and His blessings.This was not the first time I got the signal from God to help somebody in need. Every now and then images of the needy persons flashed in front of me, and several times the guiding voice clearly instructed me about the exact amount. Some said it was Devi’s voice, some said it was Guru’s voice and some said it was your inner voice. Whatever it may be, I believed that it was Guru’s voice because after chanting the suggested mantras by Him, my prayers started speaking to me, the voice became clearer and more prominent.

In the book, ‘A Prayer that Never Fails’ Sadhvi Vrinda Om mentioned, “There were times during my japa when I could see people’s faces - someone in need, someone who was sad, someone going through a tough phase in life, someone I could help. My abilities were gradually growing to a degree where I could gauge what people were going through and what help they sought from me. This amazement at the accuracy of my reading surprised me as it surprised them.” I experienced somewhat quite similar.

Earlier I used to pray for any living being whom I found in distress. One day, I felt that I could not breathe properly when I saw a tree completely covered with dust near a stone mine. I prayed to God for rains so that it could wash away thick layers of dust. I felt piercing pain when a owner of a black horse hit the nail in his body before nailing it in horseshoe. I prayed for the black horse. I saw a bitch bleeding profusely, a savage man had raped her. My heart bled. I prayed for her. I saw an elderly man with both his hands plastered. I felt the pain he was going through. I prayed and prayed for him. R.A. Torrey said, “Prayer is the key that unlocks all the storehouses of God’s infinite grace and power.”

Prayers washed off the impurities of my heart, it steadied my mind and prepared it for the reception of divine guidance. Swami Sivananda says in ‘Bliss Divine’, “Prayer is communion with God through single-minded devotion. Prayer is spiritual food for the soul. Prayer is spiritual tonic. If you pray regularly, your life will be gradually changed and moulded. Prayer should be life long, and your life should be one long prayer.” Prayer should always be one’s first response to every situation. Therefore, pray and pray neither for the earthy pleasures nor for heavenly pleasures with sakam bhava but for the welfare of other beings, deep spiritual enlightenment and for His grace with nishkam bhava.

Pic : Pexels

A Glimpse of Ma Kalratri

Buuuurrp! Buh-UUuurrp! Buur...BrruUUUUuuuUuuUp!

I was experiencing severe motion sickness as if I was travelling in a hilly area though I was sitting on a red asana in my prayer room. I was undergoing sever discomfort because of bloating, nausea, stomachache and a mild sensation to vomit. Because of unceasing uneasiness, I forgot the mantra that I was chanting! It was not a long mantra or a difficult mantra. It contained just three words. I tried hard to recall the mantra, but I failed. It occurred on my second day of my forty days Sadhana.

A few days earlier, I saw a video shared by our Honourable Prime Minister Shri Narendra Modi on social media about Ma Kalratri, the seventh form of the nine forms of Goddess Durga which is worshiped on the seventh day of Navratras. As depicted, Devi looked stunning in blue color and I was attracted to the color more than the form. I could not resist myself from worshiping a Goddess who mounts on a adorable donkey instead of a ferocious lion, fierce tiger, aggressive jackal or feral bull. She was irresistible!

“MA, I drop all the fruits of this Sadhana. Please help me in completing this Sadhana.” I visualized a dark-complexioned Goddess with untied hair with left hands carrying hooked vajra, curved sword and right hands in abhyamudra and varadamudra riding on a gentle donkey and prayed, when I found it was almost impossible for me to sit further to complete my chanting. I opened my eyes, picked up my notes which were lying nearby and started reading the mantra from it. Nonstop burping distracted my attention from even reading a easy mantra. I could not focus. I could not peruse.

“MA, PLEASE HELP ME.” My heart cried aloud.

Once again, I gathered courage, put my index finger below the first word of mantra and read it aloud like a nursery kid. Moved my index finger below the second word and then the third. On that day, I completed my chanting like a child who was learning to read words by joining letters. Once again, I became child. Once again I became innocent. The innocence of child erupted a fountain of warmth, love and bliss in me.

Although my burping problem continued throughout this Sadhana still Ma Kalratri was very kind and blessed me with her glimpse. One day in meditation I saw her wide open, big, fierce eyes just like they are depicted in her pictures. Afterall, She is also known as ‘Shubhankari’, one who blesses Her devotees with auspicious results.

A Hungry Wolf in Suit N Boots

“You have won the case against Department after four years of continuous fight in the High Court, your file is still pending in this office.” A bureaucrat taunted me while fiddling with his smart phone. He stopped playing with it, placed it on the table, and ironically said, “The work is neither done on the papers nor on the site. Then what is the use of wasting so much time, money and energy.”

His words deeply pierced me. I was hurt. Truth can be costly, but in the end it never falls short of value for the price paid. He was crossing his limits even though I could not say anything to upset him as my important business file was on his table.

That day, he kept me waiting for a long time because of a useless reason. He was interested in chatting with me about my life, goals, assets, family and more although I was only interested in moving my file from his table to the next level, to get my work done as quickly as possible although quickly word was out of fashion in Govt. Departments were everyone work as lazily as a snail.

While conversing with me, he came to know that I was single, rich and presently residing in Gururgram, a city that never sleeps and drinks red wine to quench its thirst. His hungry eyes moved down from my face and his flirting sentences became obscene. At work place, I always wore body-concealing dresses with full sleeves, high necks and loose fit. Nevertheless, he was a hungry wolf in suit and boots!  

I am not a sheep! I am a lioness. However, it was not the proper time and place to show my bravery prowess but to act like a fox carefully, smartly and tactfully. I could not slap him, scream or shout at him as half the staff members of the Department knew me. Any sort of expression of anger from my side would create a scene in the office and in return would spoil my reputation. I opted to stay calm in the ocean of chaos of emotions.

Moreover, I was surprised with his guts. The office in which we were sitting was situated in my ancestral city where my grandfather was one of the respectful person in the town, my father was known for his honesty and truthfulness and everyone in due respect called him a ‘Dakter’(doctor) in spite of calling him by his name. And I was known as ‘Dakter ki beti’ (daughter of a doctor), kind and simple to whom many so called well wishers gave ‘free ki advice’ to own a luxurious car instead of Innova.

Holding a file for no apparent reason, marking it to the wrong person, passing it from one table to another, not passing it through proper channel and putting a pointless objection verbally were common traits of government employees but this officer was different. He was keeping back my file just to have a gala time with me. He was a smoker. He was an alcoholic. He was flirtatious. And may be a womanizer!

He offered me to go out somewhere. I declined his offer, as I had to attend an important meeting whether it was a genuine reason or I just made an excuse to avoid him, I could not recall now. I had less than two hundred friends on Facebook and I did not make friends so easily nevertheless to buy time I asked him, “Let’s be friends on Facebook.”

“Friend zone!” He said and a cunning smile appeared on his not so ugly face.

After all a wily officer was to be handled carefully and smartly.

The whole evening I kept wondering how to put a stop on his advances. Who could put a pressure on him – a local leader, politician, friend, relative, neighbor, his senior or his wife? His raunchy talks kept bombarding my head like firing bullets making me uncomfortable and tensed. I could not sleep at night. I kept turning from one side to another. I was damn tensed. At midnight when I could not bear the heaviness in my head, I decided to login my social media accounts. I kept clicking this or that button. I surfed and searched. Many times, I went through my friends list on Facebook if by chance I missed out somebody’s name that could help me. When I saw hungry wolf’s name in my friend’s list, I clicked to see his profile. I further check his friends list may be somebody I knew.

I was surprised to notice a young guy was a mutual friend of hungry wolf and my cousin. Without wasting a second, I emailed my cousin to inquire about that young guy. He replied that the young guy was his langotiya yaar, his childhood friend as well as college buddy. Hungry wolf and his langotiya yaar were from the same college and now in the same Department but in different cities.

Ghode ki dhai chaal! (a unique and very tricky move of knight who can move two and a half steps and can jump over any other piece(s) in chess.) I played chess on the board of life.

One year later, I emailed my cousin.

Now a days, hungry wolf is in the jail as he has been caught red handed in a bribery case.

He replied

LOL

Pic : Unsplash

My Writing Journey - From Pencil to Keyboard

Would she slap me? 

With red ink, my English teacher drew a round circle around the word 'ther' on my class work notebook. She wrote 'i' in between letter 'e' and 'r'. This was my fourth mistake in the same line and ninth mistake on the same page. Agitatedly, my teacher corrected a few more grammatical and spelling mistakes. While circling the word 'cheld', her patience gave way to anger and she shouted, "You make so many spelling mistakes. Your English is very poor." Instead of saying, I would improve them, I smilingly said, "Actually ma'am, my mother tongue, Hindi is also weak." Amused with my sense of humor or my presence of mind, she wrote 'Good'. At that time, I was in third standard.

In my primary section, I wrote with pencil in my notebooks and with red pen, the teacher used to draw at least three big round circles in each line. In all most all the pages, the red color was more prominent over the dim black shade. In my middle class, my genius mother tried hard with love and compassion through simple methods to teach me tenses when she found that I was not able to learn them in school but unfortunately, she could only teach me eight tenses. Tenses used to give me tension! In my higher standard, my language teacher always coaxed me to write more sentences in essay and all the time encouraged me to describe the topic in detail. As my mind would become blank like a dry river or ideas would not flow from it like a frozen river however, with great difficulty, I could write an essay having just two-three small paragraphs.

After I completed my college education, a dense cloud of tension enveloped me and to escape from the world of reality I immersed myself in the world of fiction. I decided to read books- one book per day. ‘Read, Read and read’ became my mantra and I read anything and everything including mythology, spirituality, astrology, Vastushastra, business, historical fiction, romance, drama, thriller, classics, Hindi Literature and just anything that I could grab. I read thousands and thousands of books on various subjects including English Literature.

In 2009, I was in an emotional turmoil because of my bottled emotions. To vent them out, I started a blog with a tag line ‘When I can’t speak, I write...’. The tears that never flowed out of my eyes became my words. Anais Nin said, “The role of a writer is not to say what we can all say, but what we are unable to say.”

On a keyboard, I started writing random ideas that pop up into my head because water only flows when faucet is turned on. Many known people made fun of me because of my amalgamation of past and present tense in the same sentence, improper use of commas, not able to properly express the subject matter. I was too bad in basics what to say about the advance writing skills. I decided to keep moving ignoring every comment on my writing. “I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.” ― Anne Frank

Seeing me struggling hard to improve my writing skills, my brother who had a excellent command over the language advised me some good points on creative writing. It should have a beginning, middle and an end. The opening should be like Dan Brown’s novel ‘Da Vinci code’ in which the readers were in awe and were eager to know what would happen next, the middle should be like Chetan Bhagat’s ‘Five Point Someone’ novel where readers could connect themselves with the happenings as well as surroundings and the ending should be like Arundhati Roy’s ‘The God of Small Things’ in which readers could not predict the end, a totally unexpected end or a lesson that left a lasting impression on reader’s mind as in Eric Segal’s ‘Doctors’ which was concluded as ‘Science cannot comprehend a miracle’. Make a blueprint and then erect a building on it! However, the epic ‘The Ramayana’ was popular since ages because at 75% stage of the book, the protagonist Shri Rama lost all hope, he was tired, his wife was abducted, his younger brother was unconscious after a severe injury from a deadly weapon, and he was almost on the verge of losing the battle of life. There was no hope of his revival. The hero of the story hit the rock bottom. Hanuman ji brought sanjivani booti (magical herb used as medicine) for his brother and gradually, the protagonist was back to fight again with more valor and courage. This script structure was followed in all Hollywood Superman and Spiderman movies. Along with him, my maternal grandfather who was a retired English teacher also motivated me to write continuously for betterment, in my own unique style without copying any celebrity author.

Several years passed when one day...

“When bhai (brother) has edited it then why are you showing it to me?” My mother said to me after reading the first line of the post.

“Bhai hasn’t read it. He is busy.” I replied.

“You have written it!” She said with a surprise. “And bhai has not edited it.” Now surprise was more in her voice.

I nodded.

“You can’t write such a beautiful and elegant line.”

I tried to convince her that it was written by me, no one had read it, and she was the first reader.

She read the second line and found a silly mistake, which convinced her that I had written it.

This major change came in my writings after I had gulped down almost all works of Somerset Maugham – short stories as well as novels.

For many years, my brother and my mother were my editors. Now, I edit my writings on my own.

Now, shout-outs, featured posts and competitions on os.me encourage me to write more and better. I am participating not to compete with anybody but with myself. If I could write better than my previous post then I am a winner! If the flow of ideas stop and I stop writing then I would be a loser!

After all, “A word after a word after a word is power.” as believed by Margaret Atwood

Pic : Pixabay

A Big Responsibility on Little Shoulders

“Do you need a guide?” A boy who looked like seven years old asked me.

I doubt your geographical and historical knowledge.

“What is your age?” I inquired.

“Thirteen years!”

His stunted physical growth astonished me. Neither he had proper nutritive diet to fill his little belly nor he had decent clothes to cover his undersized body like a professional guide. Although he would not be able to share something new with me as I have already visited many forts in the nearby area as well as I had a good knowledge of architect, Vastushastra principals and vegetation. Moreover, his accent was ambiguous and a face without a smile. A jhola chhap guide. To support him, I asked him to guide me through the narrow alleys of one of the most haunted forts of India- Bhangarh Fort.

As we strolled, he started narrating, “There used to be the bazaar on both the sides of the lane. The perfume bottle was purchased from the same bazaar by princess Ratnavati’s maidservant on which, the tantric did the black magic after she refused to marry him. Because Princess disliked him, she broke it as soon as she came to know about his plans. The tantric cursed the whole kingdom of Bhangarh before dying. It was deserted overnight.

“As you can see the chhatri (a shelter home/ small hut made up of stone) of the tantric who was in desperate love with the extremely beautiful princess.” He pointed at the far off place on the top of mountain.

As I have already read this on internet before visiting that fort, I was much interested in knowing about him rather than about the ruined building, which sang the songs of bygone, was now a desolate place inhabited by ghosts at night that nobody was allowed to stay inside this fort before sunrise and after sunset.

“Do you go to school?” I asked.

“Yes, today is Sunday. That’s why I am here to make some money?” He replied plainly.

“What did your father do?”

“All the time, he drinks tea.”

Further, he told me that he had a big family to support which includes his parents, four sisters and a younger brother and they reared five buffaloes however, they sold their milk to a nearby dairy to make their living.

Instead of him, I was telling him colorful tales, interesting folklore and mythological stories related to the deity, figure, animal or flower engraved on the on the walls of temples built in Nagara style in the compound of the fort. To break the all-pervasive spooky aura, I kept him engage in the sensational gossips on how to explain in detail to his prospective clients so that he could make some more money. Not only I taught him the art of clicking good photographs but also the skill to make boring places interesting with the magic of words.

After the trip, I paid him Rs. 200 as his fees, handed over my pair of gold earrings to him and asked him to present them to his elder sister at the time of her marriage. I was quite surprised to notice that no emotion appeared on his face, neither happiness nor gratitude but as he walked towards the main gate, I could sense that he had a big responsibility on his little shoulders.

Standing under a magnificent banyan tree close to the entrance of hauntingly beautiful fort, OSHO’s words rang in my ears, “Don’t think it as charity but share your things with others without expecting anything.”

Pic 1: Bhangarh Fort, Alwar district, Rajasthan

Pic 2 : Huge Banyana tree near Bhangarh Fort, Main Gate.

Guru Disciple Bond - The Purest of All Bonds

 In continuation of 'My First Spiritual Guru'

“A cyclone! Oh my God!” He stepped back a little as a scary thought arise in his mind.

On seeing so many scorpions hiding in freshly grown weeds adjacent to a water channel on a kachcha road, this thought surfaced his mind as he was about to step on them. This incidence happened when he was on his way to meet his Guru who was staying in his grapes orchid. On reaching there, his Guru inquired, “Kaushal, you got afraid of just tiny scorpions!”

“Ma, Om Swamiji has numerous siddhis. If somebody brought packed gift for Him, He already knew what was in it.” I was narrating incidents related to Om Swamiji to my mother.

“Kaushal chacha ji’s (my mother’s uncle and my maternal grandfather) Guru was also in possession of such siddhis.” She told me. “His Guru could very easily guess whether the steel tiffin box contain kheer or kadhi? Even steel was transparent for him!”

She continued further, “He used to serve his Guru with very much love and care. His Guru asked him to serve his mother like a Goddess and he obeyed his Guru’s command till she died.”

“Ma. Please tell me something more about his Guru.” I requested.

She narrated the scary scorpion incidence when his uncle got frightened on mere sight of a group of scorpions and surprisingly his Guru knew about it who was then a few kilometres away from that site. His Guru could easily sense about his slightest of emotion, how strong their Guru Disciple bond was, moreover, purest of all bonds.

“Like his Guru, my Guru who is kilometres and kilometres away from me also knows about each and every emotion arising in my heart.” I said.

Dear readers, I will love to gift ‘The Last Gambit’ authored by Om Swamiji to anybody who is interested in reading it. Please drop a mail to me at CHANDRIKASHUBHAMATGMAILDOTCOM.

Pic : Pexels