Linkd

 Just as when we eat an apple, we receive the strength of the apple, and when we eat chaat or pakoras, we receive the energy of those foods—without having to do anything extra—the stomach digests everything on its own. In the same way, whatever we feed our mind, whether by reading, listening, or seeing, becomes nourishment for the mind. We do not have to do anything special; just reading, listening, knowing, and seeing is enough. The mind processes it all on its own and gets nourishment exactly according to what we have read, heard, seen, or known. Our thoughts are formed accordingly.

So, just as we focus on good food for good health, we should also let only good thoughts enter within us for a healthy and positive mind.

The difficulty is that whatever we desire tends to start getting fulfilled. Therefore, we should be very careful with any wish we make, because our desires begin to manifest without our realizing it. Whenever something terrible or horrifying happens in this world, it is often something that was once imagined by someone out of ignorance.

The world is not a separate entity from us; it is connected to us—almost like an extension of our own body. We feel that we are only as much as we see of ourselves in the mirror, but that is not true. Everything here is linked to us. Just as our hands, feet, head, eyes, and ears are parts of our body, in the same way, we are all limbs of a vast cosmic body. All our senseless or random imaginations also begin to manifest on their own.

That is why we must be thoughtful and careful about whatever we imagine.

I am onion

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These days, thoughts keep arising in my mind again. I often listen to Maharshi Raman on YouTube, sometimes to Jiddu Krishnamurti, and other similar talks in between. And when I listen to them, thoughts begin to form — that is, contemplation and reflection start in my mind.

For example, I am not really “I.” It’s like an onion — layers upon layers covering me.

One layer is that I was born in India, so I am this way.

The second layer — I was born into a Punjabi Hindu family, so I am this way.

The third — I was born into the Sachdeva family, so I am this way.

The fourth — the Sachdeva family had to move here during the Partition of the country, so I am this way.

The fifth — I studied in a Hindi-medium government school, so I am this way.

The sixth — I got married at the age of 19, so I am this way.

The seventh — I married into the Chandna family, so I am this way.

The eighth — I gave birth to four children in quick succession, so I am this way.

The ninth — I never did a job; I have been a housewife, so I am this way.

The tenth — I live in my own house in Dehradun, not in a rented one, so I am this way.

These are the clearly visible layers. But in reality, there are countless others that have made me who I am. Then who is the real me? If all these layers were to change, I too would change. And this is true for everyone — every human being is the way they are because they were born and raised in a particular environment at a particular time.

The Midnight Knock

 

The Midnight Knock

It was a freezing winter night, perhaps around two o’clock. All of us in the family were fast asleep, curled up tightly under our quilts. Suddenly, there came a loud knock at the door.

Our house was attached to the Head Post Office, where Papaji was the Postmaster. Hearing the sound, he got up and opened the door.

In the pitch darkness stood a tall figure holding a gun. In a firm voice, he said their vehicle had broken down and they needed shelter for the night. When we glanced through the main gate outside, we saw more figures — all tall, with their long hair hanging loose. At first, those long tresses made us think some women were among them. A flicker of doubt crossed our minds — could they be bandits? But then again, they were asking for help. Who could tell whether their intention was to loot the Post Office or not?

Papaji calmly said, “Alright, I will arrange something.”

He came inside and woke us children, telling us to vacate our beds. There were five of those strangers. Fortunately, we had one extra bed belonging to our elder brother who was away studying. The rest of us — all eight family members — squeezed into three beds, half awake, half anxious. None of us could stop wondering: Who were these men really?

Our grandmother was with us too. She kept softly chanting “Waheguru, Waheguru.” Papaji stayed awake the entire night, pacing back and forth outside their door like a silent guard.

At daybreak, they quietly got up and left.

And then the mystery of the long hair was solved — they were Sikhs. They have untied thier hair at night after keeping it wrapped all day, as Sikh men usually do.

Even now, the thought still lingers in my mind — were they truly dacoits? But perhaps Papaji’s kindness disarmed them. They caused no harm and left as silently as they had come.

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only you

 

Only for You

Last night, after listening to Acharya Prashant’s video, the verse from the Bhagavad Gita “Karmanyevaadhikaaraste” became completely clear to me. What I have understood, I am trying to write for Krishna alone, because once this is understood, no other action remains.

All our sorrows arise from our desires, and desires arise from shame. Therefore, shame must be abandoned. Shame should exist only before Krishna, and action should be only for Him. We feel ashamed if our house is not good, so we desire to make it grand. We want a good job for that, a rich groom, a beautiful bride, worthy children. For the fulfillment of these desires, people go to temples, make vows, work hard, study, marry, have children. In other words, all responsibilities and duties are only for the fulfillment of desires. A whole life gets spent in this, yet desires never end, nor can they ever end.

That is why Krishna told Arjuna: leave aside the concern for results and surrender to Him. Then act, but act for Him. Let go of worries about victory or defeat—when there are no desires, what meaning do victory and defeat have? But for Krishna, one must act, for He alone is our beloved.

As for the question, “Who is Krishna?”—for that, one must read the Gita itself. I have read it many times, but a guide is also needed to make it clearer. It was Krishna Himself who sent me Acharya Prashant’s video.

Negligence of the daughter-in-law but trouble for the in-laws

 Negligence of the daughter-in-law but trouble for the in-laws

It had only been two months since the wedding when Sohni, wearing a fur-trimmed cardigan, was cooking. The sleeve of the cardigan caught fire from the stove’s flame, and the blaze quickly spread from her shoulder to her loose hair. Just as swiftly, she pulled off the cardigan, twisted it, and managed to put out the fire. Only a few strands of hair had been singed. She spent a few seconds catching her breath, trying to grasp what had just happened.

Her husband was away at the office, and her mother-in-law was in the garden chatting with a neighbor. When she came inside, Sohni first showed her the burnt sweater—it was only then she herself realized how much of it had burned—and then explained how it had happened. On hearing this, her mother-in-law panicked, thinking that had Sohni actually been harmed by the fire, the police would have harassed her endlessly with questions and accusations.

लापरवाही बहू की पर मुसीबत ससुरालवालों की

शादी को अभी दो महीने ही हुए थे और सोहनी फर वाला कार्डिगन पहन कर खाना पका रही थी .स्टोप की फ्लेम से कार्डिगन के बाजू के फर ने आग पकड़ ली जो तेजी से कंधे से होते हुए खुले बालों तक जा पहुंची और उसी तेजी से उसने कार्डिगन को उतार फेंका ,मोड़तोड़ कर आग बुझा दी. बस जरा से बाल ही झुलसे थे .कुछ सेकेंड्स साँस लेते हुए समझने में लगाये कि ये हुआ क्या आखिर .पतिदेव ऑफ़िस गये हुए थे और सासुमां घर के बगीचे में पड़ोसन से बतियाँ रही थीं.जब अंदर आयीं तो उन्हें पहले तो स्वेटर दिखाया, खुद भी तभी देखा कि कितना जला है और फिर बताया कि कैसे जला ,सुनते ही वह तो यह सोचकर घबरा गयीं कि खुदा ना खास्ता अगर सोहनी को सच मे आग से कुछ नुक्सान पहुंचा होता तो पुलिस तो उन्हें पूछ -पूछ कर तंग कर डालती.

Devraha Baba ji ka Prasad

We were returning from visiting the Ramnagar Fort in Banaras, all of us together in a boat. From another boat nearby, we received the barfi offered as prasad from Devaraha Babaji.

One family member hesitated and said, “Who knows what kind of prasad this is? Let’s not eat it. At least one of us should avoid it, so if something happens, there’s someone left to tell the story.”

Just then, the boatman’s oar slipped into the river. He jumped in after it—chasing the oar, but no matter how hard he swam, it kept floating farther away. Meanwhile, our boat started rocking dangerously in the wind. None of us knew how to swim. Our lives were suddenly at risk.

Another person remarked, “See, we didn’t eat the prasad. This is the result of our lack of faith.” At once, all of us quickly ate the prasad, thinking that our lives could be lost anyway.

At that very moment, someone from the other boat jumped into the river to help. He caught hold of the oar and handed it to our boatman. Swimming fast, the boatman climbed back in before our boat could overturn. He regained control, and soon we reached the shore safely.

Even today, the taste of that prasad remains fresh in my memory.