Arundhati and Ashltavakra.

 The moon seems like almost full. The post-Diwali lights outside my window still twinkled, clearly in denial that the festival was over. Down the lane, the gurdwaras were gearing up for Guru Purab, the air buzzing with hymns, community warmth, and the smell of karah prasad that can open all your senses after a weak of congestion.

I sat outside my home, soaking in the evening.....the Sacred Pause.

My brain had other plans. It was busy juggling thoughts about the Women’s India World Cup. The internet was having its moments of... stories, struggles, storms, and success, all hashtagged and hyperlinked.

Texting a friend, I said, “They’ve made history!”

He replied, “Many people have come out of their stories and created history.”

Well, his perspective. According to him, only those who create history matter???But what about the quiet ones... the invisible people...who don’t create history but sustain humanity? The mothers, the teachers, the listeners, the ones who light lamps in silence.

Another friend in the morning shared a thought.... kindness in the unkind world can be the  legacy.

Somewhere between this thought and the moon’s smug glow, Mother Mary came to me. Not in a vision ...just as a reminder that grace often visits quietly. My eyes drifted to the Ashtavakra Samhita lying open beside me, whispering its radical message of detachment, while next to it sat Arundhati Roy’s book, with her photo.... cigarette in hand ....exuding the kind of calm rebellion that says, “Question everything, even your enlightenment.”

And there I was — between Ashtavakra’s silence and Arundhati’s spark....not making history, not trending, but perhaps doing something rarer: enjoying the moonlight, the moment, and myself.

Well...why always history...we can create some mystery., 😉 

God Bless me.