“Oh Mother! Your chants are so difficult to pronounce, your mantras for yagna so complex, and your sadhana… it all seems to go above my head,” I whispered in silent prayer. “Guide me instead to help someone who is forgotten by the world—someone isolated, unheard. As you, O Mother, embrace such souls, let me bring even a little happiness into one such life. Show me the way.” With folded hands, I prayed to Ma Matangi. And then, like a soft ripple in still water, an image appeared in my mind—an old man. Fragile. Silent. Alone. Sitting in a park. His words unclear, his presence unnoticed. A man living in his own world, as if the world had quietly forgotten him.
Days passed, and soon the sacred festival of Navratri approached. With devotion in my heart, I picked up a bundle of Nav Durga booklets from Gita Press Gorakhpur to distribute among security guards, housekeeping staff, and anyone willing to receive them.
As I walked, handing out the small tokens of faith, I reached the spot where I had last seen that old man. But he wasn’t there. A quiet disappointment settled within me. Had I misunderstood the Mother’s sanket (signal)? Still, I continued my path, trusting something unseen.
On my way back, I chose a different route. And there he was. Sitting quietly on a chair near the entrance of a building—just as I had remembered him. Time seemed to pause.
I walked up to him gently and offered the booklet. He looked at it, then at me, and a soft smile spread across his face. With trembling hands, he bowed slightly to the image of Ma Durga printed on the cover.
“Can you read?” I asked softly, unsure of his condition.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice faint yet steady, “I will read it when I go home… my spectacles are not with me right now.”
In that simple moment, something profound unfolded. No grand ritual, no complex mantra—just a small act of kindness. I realized then, perhaps this was the Mother’s true teaching. Not in difficult chants or rituals, but in quiet compassion. In seeing those whom the world overlooks.
With the blessings of the Divine Mother, I had not performed a mahan sadhana (great spiritual practice), but I had touched a human heart.
And maybe… that was enough.
Pic : AI Generated
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