For a very long time, from the depths of my earliest memories, I have had this burning desire to know. And until very recently, I thought that it was my “mind”, my “gross intelligence” that propelled me to knowing more about the world around me.
Right from childhood I was fascinated with books, books that explained how the world and the grand universe works, books with names such as “tell me why?”, “Inventions that changed the world”, “the world book” and so on. I would spend days reading and rereading the books that my parents would loving buy for me to counter the incessant series of questions that I asked. My “mind” would absorb every word, and every sentence in those books.
As I grew older I started to read a myriad of fiction and nonfiction books. My thirst for knowledge grew with each new book. I wanted to know more or rather everything. I remember, I was reading about Black holes and I became extremely sad when I realised that humans had no clue about the reality of black holes. The vastness of the universe confounded my sense of being and place. Learning and reading about time made me question the very reality in which I lived.
I had a subordinate at work with whom I would spend my evenings talking. I was 25 back then. I remember clearly I spent an entire month explaining to him all that I knew about the natural world and the universe. I can still clearly see the look on his face on one of those warm evenings, I remember telling him how infinitesimally tiny we are when compared to the universe. I remember how his face changed and I also remember a strange yet calm glow on his face. After that, everything changed about him. Truth be told, I don’t know what he went through that day, and such that we never spoke about it, but he indeed veritably had changed on that evening.
My desire to read changed to an intense desire to experience. I left the country when I was 26. I still remember that night when I climbed onto that Air France plane to Paris Charles de Gaulle. I couldn’t stop smiling. When I look back I realise it wasn’t really a laughter but a feeling immense joy. Everything around was new and beautiful. Everything was exciting. Every day was a new experience.
I moved a lot after that. I became a vagabond of sorts. I lived and worked in some beautiful countries. I returned to India in 2016, lost and confused.
I could no longer understand who I was. My outward search had ended. Every story was a repetition and I was no longer interested in repetitions.
Today, I am searching inwards, I have become intensely spiritual. I do not subscribe to any school of thought. I don’t know what is the truth and I don’t know what I am looking for.
I dont know if I should look for something in the first place.
I meditate, I chant, I love and I search for my own sweet little truth. My being is infused with thoughts and ideas from many guru’s but I am not a part of any particular school of thought. I want to search for my truth and not someone else’s truth.