INTO THE SUNSET YEARS by Kamlesh Tripathi

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    As we continue to grow old, our perspectives and lifestyles keep changing. Life is never static, they say. The only permanence is impermanence. The way we see the world at 20 is vastly different from how we perceive it at 40, 60, or even 80. Though it’s often said that age is just a number. The number subtly but significantly influences how we view the remaining time on Mother Earth, and how we choose to live in it. If we consider the average human lifespan as 100 years, the first 50 mainly involve learning, growth, and striving, while the second half leans towards reflection, realignment, and seeking deeper spiritual meaning.

    From the moment we are born, we can imagine a hundred years ahead, when the world seems filled with immense opportunities. The future expands like Parkinson’s law, filling the available hundred years. It appears to be brimming with opportunities, ambitions, and several ladders to climb. There’s a blend of excitement and apprehension. But success isn’t guaranteed. The path ahead is tough and winding. At this stage, the focus is on acquiring knowledge, developing skills, and laying down the foundation for a meaningful career and life. We put effort into education, training, and competition. The aim is to secure positions in top institutions or prestigious jobs that offer stability and high rewards. Once these goals are attained, our focus naturally shifts. The initial craving for academic success gives way to pursuits of professional, social, and financial achievement. These are early energetic years of ambition and diligent effort, reaching their peak in climbing the corporate and social ladders. These initial years are about proving oneself and establishing identity and worth in a demanding world. Although moments of introspection occur, the main focus remains on external achievements, recognition, financial security, and maintaining one’s social standing. The mind stays alert, the spirit driven. The challenges are seen as obstacles to overcome rather than signs to slow down.

    However, as time advances and we approach retirement, something shifts. We start to realise that our time on Earth is limited. There is a gentle yet persistent awareness that our stay here is temporary, and life is, in fact, a journey. At the peak of our professional success, many of us begin to experience a spiritual void, long concealed by material pursuits and external ambitions. This often marks the beginning of the search for inner peace, mostly after you retire. Thoughts about the next phase, the second innings, begin to surface. Questions once ignored now become central. What is the purpose of all this? What lies beyond this life? How should one prepare for the journey hereafter? The ancient Hindu tradition comprehensively captures life through its four ashrams. It provides a roadmap of life’s journey in the stages of Brahmacharya, Grihastha, Vanaprastha, and Sannyasa.

    As we approach life’s sunset, Shloka 2.22 in the Gita starts reminding us that the body is temporary, but the soul is eternal. The decay of the physical body is not an end, but a transition, much like changing clothes. The Shloka softens the fear of death by framing it as a natural and graceful process of renewal. It emphasises detachment, acceptance, and the continuity of the soul’s journey:

‘Vāsānsi jīrṇāni yathā vihāya
navāni gṛhṇāti naro’parāṇi,
tathā śarīrāṇi vihāya jīrṇāni
anyāni saṁyāti navāni dehī.’  (Just as a person gives up old garments and puts on new ones,
so does the embodied soul discards worn-out bodies and takes on new ones).

    Although conceived in an era bereft of mechanical clocks and the Gregorian calendar, they continue to offer timeless wisdom. Today, with our lives measured meticulously in minutes and milestones, we are more aware than ever of time’s passage. This awareness also serves as a reminder to pause, reflect, and live consciously. Ultimately, age isn’t merely about growing old. It is about growing wiser. It teaches us that ambition must be balanced with awareness. Success must eventually give way to surrender, and while youth is about becoming, age is about understanding. Life, after all, is not a race but a journey, a fleeting passage through time. May every sunrise hold more promise and every sunset hold more peace. Don’t simply retire from something; have something to retire to.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

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Short Story: The Mystery of Poropkar Villa by Kamlesh Tripathi

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    The dilapidated villa was crouched between the dark gorge and the sloping hillock. Its windows were like vacant eyes. Beyond the hillock, tea gardens stretched away, like a patchwork of shadow and the fading green, under the encroaching dusk. My car had stalled on the single, empty road, leaving me stranded. I decided to walk, hoping to find help in the nearest village, not expecting the crumbling double-story structure to materialise from the gloom.

    Rain began to fall, a cold drizzle that quickly soaked my clothes. The darkness deepened, pressing in. That’s when the villa caught my eye, a flicker of warm light in the front room, a beacon of desperate hope. Relief washed over me; shelter, and perhaps a mechanic in the morning.

    Approaching, I noticed the name etched above the door: ‘Poropkar Villa’. The path to it was flanked by tea shrubs that released a damp, aromatic scent. I hesitated on the road; the villa’s other windows were swallowed by blackness. Only that single light flickered. Finally, chilled and weary, I decided to knock on the door.

    My first knock was tentative, met only by the drumming rain. I waited, then knocked harder. Footsteps shuffled inside. Relief surged again. A male voice, thin and reedy, called out, “Who’s there?”

    ‘I’m Ajoy. My car broke down nearby. Could I trouble you for shelter for the night?’

   The door creaked open. An old man stood silhouetted against the light. ‘Please, come in, Ajoy. Call me Dibyajyoti.’

    His voice snagged at a memory. Familiar, yet altered by age. Voices didn’t usually jar like that.

    On the wall, an ornate clock ticked. Its hands pointed at 7:30 pm. My watch read 8:00 pm. ‘Your clock seems to have stopped,’ I said.

    He smiled faintly. ‘I prefer it slow. The world rushes enough. Let my time crawl.’

    The lagging clock echoed another memory: Pranjal, a colleague years ago, who always kept his watch half an hour behind. We’d worked together briefly before losing touch. Pranjal, the one who disappeared after that awful business with a girl…

    A jolt went through me. ‘Dibyajyoti… are you by any chance Pranjal?’ His eyes, deep-set and shadowed, fixed on me. ‘Who are you?’

    ‘Ajoy. We worked together. Pranjal, where is that girl you were seeing? And why here? Why change your name?’

    He sighed, a sound like dry leaves skittering. ‘A long story. After we lost contact, the affair continued. One night, after a movie, I dropped her off near her home. But she never arrived. They found her… in the river days later. Raped and murdered. The police came for me. No alibi, no defence. They sentenced me. Job gone, family gone. Years in prison. I screamed my innocence, but her family… they wouldn’t listen. Later, after I was locked away, friends found evidence – she was taken by goons that night. But it was too late for me. When I came out, I couldn’t face anyone. I came here, to the hills. Did some charity, saved some money, bought this place and changed my name. Pranjal is dead. Call me Dibyajyoti.’

    A chill deeper than the rain settled in my bones. Hunger gnawed, but the villa was bare except for water. Dibyajyoti suggested we check the car. Maybe it would start now. ‘Nothing to eat here,’ he said. ‘The distant village might have something.’

   We walked back. To my surprise, the car started on the first crank. I thanked him profusely, promising to visit again soon.

    An hour’s drive brought me to a cluster of lights, a village. A roadside dhaba glowed invitingly. It was well past midnight. I ordered a meal, shivering despite the warmth inside. An old man nursing a chai looked up.

    ‘Sir, you’re far from home. Where are you coming from?’

    ‘From the Poropkar Villa. Met an old friend there, Dibyajyoti.’

    The old man’s face hardened. ‘Dibyajyoti? He died five years ago. No one lives in that cursed house. He murdered a girl, served his sentence and came back here to rot.’

    ‘What nonsense!’ I protested. ‘I spent hours with him just now! We were colleagues! He told me he was framed for a murder that he didn’t commit! His real name is Pranjal!’

    The dhaba owner leaned forward, his voice low and grave. ‘Framed? Perhaps. And the girl’s family knew that he was framed. He confessed this on his deathbed, they say. He changed his name to Dibyajyoti to avoid embarrassment—to escape his own ghost.’

    The hot food turned to ash in my mouth. Hours spent with a ghost? His plea for understanding? His desperate need to tell me the truth before he parted?

    The old man’s words hung in the smoky air. ‘Dibyajyoti came to see you, then. He needed to tell someone whom he knew from before. Someone who might understand him. You were the right person. He told you that he was innocent. Now, maybe, his soul will finally rest.’

    Outside, the rain had stopped. The silence felt heavy, filled with the weight of a terrible secret finally spoken, and a spirit, perhaps, finally set free. I recollected suddenly. Dibyajyoti never shook hands nor served any food. Well, ghosts don’t do that, but they have a heart. The Poropkar Villa that night crumbled under heavy rains.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

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POETRY & POLITICS, IN LOVE & WAR – FAIZ

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    FAIZ’S WORK ENDURES BECAUSE ITS CORE IS HUMANISM

    A heartbroken teenager, a lecturer in English who was drawn to Marxism, a pioneer of the subcontinent’s political poetry, a supporter of Iran’s Islamic Revolution but not an Islamist, and finally self-exiled in Beirut after General Zia executed Bhutto – Faiz always said it was the early years that shaped the poet in him.

    Aur bhi dukh hain zamane mein mohabbat ke siva, rahaten aur bhi hain vasi ki rahat ke siva, mujh se pahli si mohabbat mere mehboob na maang (The world has other problems… other comforts than a lover’s embrace. So, my love, don’t ask I love you like I once did). That’s Faiz marrying romance and politics.

    In 1932, Angarey (Fire), an anthology of mostly feminist short stories, was banned but inspired the Progressive Writers Association, of which Faiz was an integral part. He left the army in 1947 to edit the left-leaning The Pakistan Times, disillusioned by Partition’s communal violence — Ye daagh daagh ujala ye shab-gazida sahar, vo intezaar tha jis ka ye vo sahar to nahin (This light stained by darkness is like dawn tainted by dusk. This isn’t the dawn we awaited).

    Arrested in 1951for the conspiracy to overthrow Pakistan’s Liaquat Ali govt, he published two books from jail. Dast-e Saba and Zindan Nama. He never gave up on hope: Qafas udaas hai yaaro saba se kuchh to kaho. Kahin to bahr-e-khuda aaj zikr-e-yaar chale (The cage is sad and silent. Say something to the breeze. For god’s sake, let’s talk about my beloved).

   On release four years on, he found Pakistan had distanced itself from the Soviets, his inspiration, and aligned with America, which he despised. In 1974, Bangladesh, at Mujibur Rahman’s request, he composed, Ham ki thahre ajnabi itni mudaraton ke baad. Phir banege ashna kitni mulaqaton ke baad (Despite the hospitality, we remain strangers, and who knows how many meetings it will take to become friends again).

    Once Zia arrested Bhutto, Faiz self-exiled to Beirut as editor of Lotus- a magazine to promote non-Euro-centric Asian and African writing. But Faiz felt uprooted, longing for his people: Mere dil, mere musafir, hua phir se hukum sadir, ki vatan-badar hon hum tum (My heart, my traveller, the order is issued again, we are exiled again).

    His most popular work, Hum Dekhenge, is a poem of dissent. Some find it anti-Hinduism — it’s just as anti-Islam. Inspired by Iran’s Islamic revolution, sourced from the Quran’s Surah al-Waqi’ah – the inevitability of Qayamat (doomsday)- experts are still divided over Hum Dekhenge’s message. A literal translation of key lines: ‘Idols would be removed from Kaaba to establish Allah’s rule.’ But these could also mean: Every idol – false gods and tyrants – will be removed from the house of God that is earth.’ Faiz was no Islamist but simply charmed by the people’s fight to depose the Shah.

    The poem’s climax, Utthega anal haq ka nara, jo mai bhi hu or tum bhi ho. Bus raj karegi khalke khuda jo mai bhi hu or tum bhi ho. Anal haq means ‘I am the truth.’ In Semitic religions, Islam, Judaism and Christianity, there’s strict duality between God and his creation. In contrast, the Sufi anal haq resonates with the Advait concept of aham brahmasmi or ‘I am one with God.’ The poem’s message then is that humans are the ultimate truth — divinity is within humanity, hence the divine right to self-rule.

(TIMES OF INDIA 5.7.25)

Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

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21/7/25 Speaking Tree: Radha Rukmini:Two Facets of Love in Krishn Lila

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(Times of India 21/7/25. Speaking Tree: Radha & Rukmini: Two Facets of Love in Krishn Lila by Ganesh Kolambakar)

    In Krishn’s divine lila, love reveals itself in many shades, not to confuse us but to awaken us. At first glance, Krishn’s bond with Radha may seem puzzling, especially since Rukmini was his lawful consort. Yet across centuries, temples, songs, and hearts remember Krishn not as ‘Rukmini-Krishn’ but as ‘Radha-Krishn’.
    Radha and Rukmini are two expressions of the Divine force. They symbolise two dimensions of love– the worldly and the transcendental, the composed and the consuming. They are not in conflict but in complement, reflecting the soul’s journey towards the divine.
Rukmini, the queen of Dwaraka, embodies maryada, the love that lives within the boundaries of dharm. She is Lakshmi incarnate, graceful and steadfast. Her love stands for a sacred partnership rooted in harmony, order, and purpose. She represents Apara Shakti, Krishn’s manifest energy that sustains worldly life.
Radha, the gopi of Vrindavan, is Krishn’s Hladini Shakti, his bliss, inner song. Her love transcends all boundaries. It is romantic, yes, but not merely earthly; it’s the soul’s cry for union with the Infinite. Radha is Para Shakti, the soul’s longing for the Divine, unbound by law or logic. She is not another love; she is love itself, raw and pure.
To a layperson, Radha and Krishn’s romance is emotionally relatable, a tale of longing, stolen glances, and secret meetings under moonlit skies. But to the seeker, it reveals a profound truth: that the soul, like Radha, yearns not for a husband or a protector, but for oneness with the Divine Beloved. This is why their love stirred saints and poets alike. Meerabai, too, wept and sang for Krishn, not as a king but as her eternal lover. Her devotion mirrored Radha’s fearless and boundless love, pure, sacred, and beyond the bonds of this world.
Rukmini’s love is the temple. Radha’s the sacred fire within. Rukmini walks with grace, and Radha dances in divine ecstasy. Both are true. Both are sacred. One represents Krishn’s presence in worldly life. The other reveals Krishn in the innermost heart. Sri Aurobindo saw Radha as the symbol of the psychic being – the soul’s flame moving toward the Divine. In this light, Radha and Krishn are not two lovers, but the seeker and the sought. Their union is not merely emotional. It is spiritual and cosmic.
Some traditions view Radha and Krishn as Shakti and Shiv, two forms yet ultimately one. Rukmini represents Krishn’s role in society and dharm. Radha is the inner music, his hidden joy. Both are divine movements of the same truth.
To truly understand Krishn, one must embrace both these aspects. He is the cowherd of Vrindavan and the sovereign of Dwaraka. He is Radha’s eternal beloved and Rukmini’s devoted husband. One whispers the mystery of divine ecstasy. The other upholds the strength of divine grace.
Krishn’s lila unveils love in its fullness. In Krishn’s world, love has many faces. Each of them is sacred. Through them, we do not just learn how to love. We learn how to become Love itself.

Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

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Banu Mushtaq’s (International Booker Prize Winner-2025) interview

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(TIMES OF INDIA ARTICLE DATED 2/3/25: NEED FOR MORE TRANSLATIONS TO TAKE OUR LITERARY TREASURES TO THE GLOBAL STAGE)

Banu Mushtaq’s Translated Short stories have just made it to the Booker longlist, but the 77-year-old is more than a writer — she is also an advocate and a feisty feminist who has spotlighted the cause of Muslim women through her literary and legal work. Shrinivasa M spoke to the Kannada author, whose stories have been adapted into an award-winning film as well as being featured in literary magazines like The Paris Review and The Baffler
    Q. What was your reaction to ‘Heart Lamp’ making it to the International Booker longlist? You’ve received many national awards before, but was this a surprise?
    A. For a moment, I couldn’t even grasp what our literary agent was saying. Then, as congratulatory messages poured in, the atmosphere turned festive. At first, I saw it as a personal achievement, but watching my colleagues celebrate made me realise it was a collective success. More than anything, it’s a recognition of the Kannada language, Karnataka’s rich literary heritage, and the people of India on the global stage.
    Q. Kannada literature remains under-represented internationally. What can be done to change this?
    A. Interestingly, this is the first time both Romanian and Kannada languages have been included in the Booker longlist. Though Kannada has produced diverse literary genres, its international exposure remains limited, unlike Malayalam Literature, where translations into English happen promptly. Despite the vast volume of Kannada literature published daily, less than 1% is translated. Many masterpieces remain inaccessible to international readers, and this recognition highlights the need to bridge the gap.
    Q. Your stories often challenge caste, class, and gender hierarchies. What inspired the narratives in this anthology?
    A. ‘Heart Lamp’ is the English translation of my anthology ‘Edeya Hanate.’ My inspiration comes from daily life–observing society, people, and the compelling human stories I come across in newspapers and in my practice. As an advocate who offers free mediation services, I often witness clients, especially women, sharing not just legal concerns but also their emotional struggles. During these sessions, I maintain two sets of notes–one for legal aspects and another on their personal journeys. These emotional narratives form the foundation of my creative work. Short stories come naturally to me as I feel I can effortlessly transform daily interactions into compelling narratives.
    Q. How did you choose which stories to include in this collection for international readers?
    A. The selection was a collaborative effort between my translator Deepa Bhasthi and me. She read my five anthologies, and we discussed which stories to include. Some moved and disturbed her deeply, and I honoured her choices because if a story impacts her, it will resonate globally. The injustices of male dominance and societal hierarchies exist everywhere, and women across cultures will find themselves in these stories.
Q. You were a key part of the 1970s Bandaya Sahitya movement. How did it shape your writing, and what is the relevance of the resistance movement today?
A. The Bandaya movement inspired multiple social movements, including the rights of women and Dalits. Working in Hassan, a hub of activism, I witnessed protests daily, and my work documents personal experiences of humiliation, struggle, and resistance, allowing me to reflect and find solace through storytelling. Bandaya is a mindset — It’s about resistance against societal injustice, and it remains a way of life for me. While society is not always unjust, certain periods impose rigid norms, demanding blind adherence. At such times, we must challenge these restrictions. I continue to question societal, political, and religious structures, particularly male dominance.
Q. You have strongly supported the cause of Muslim women, even braving a social boycott in 2000. Do you feel issues like the hijab have become politicised, and become, a tool to target Muslims?
A. No. In fact, a segment of Muslims has begun adopting political Islam, and we should be wary of this trend. The hijab controversy in Udupi’s schools and pre-university colleges emerged due to the political agenda of outfits like the Social Democratic Party of India (SDPI). This led to a series of actions and reactions. It is crucial to understand the sudden emphasis on the Constitution by certain groups who previously showed little interest in the matter.
Q. What is the role of literature in social change?
A. Literature has the power to influence decisions and perspectives. Recently, a Muslim woman from the coastal region sought legal advice from me. She told me that watching ‘Hasina’ –a Kannada film made by Girish Kasaravalli which is based on my story of a woman deserted by her husband after he finds her pregnant with a fourth daughter –helped her find answers to her struggles. That moment reaffirmed my belief that literature can shape lives, encourage resistance, and offer solutions.
Q. Were there any challenges in translating ‘Heart Lamp’?
A. Yes, especially due to the regional and linguistic nuances. I use Hassan dialect, colloquial Kannada, and many Urdu and Arabic words, which are difficult to translate. Deepa consulted publishers and ultimately retained many native terms. She met me multiple times for clarifications. She put in immense effort.
Q. With ‘Heart Lamp’ gaining global recognition will you write more for an international audience?
A. I have always written for myself and Kannada readers, without considering a global audience. My commitment remains to human experiences. My style and expression may evolve, but my core themes will not change.

Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

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BEAUTIFUL QUOTES & LOVELY LINES

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BEAUTIFUL QUOTES & LOVELY LINES

 

What goes around really comes around.

**

Krishna is in all, and we all are in Krishna,

One-in-all and all-in-one is Krishna.

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Prices are the only thing that defy the law of gravity.

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The promise given was a necessity of the past, the word broken is a necessity of the present—Machiavelli

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‘What is a cynic? A man who knows the price of everything and value of nothing’—OSCAR WILDE

*****

 

Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

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Poem: Arrogance

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POEM: ARROGANCE

–There is no poison as pungent as arrogance. Shed arrogance and welcome the happy world around you—

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There is some turbulence,
There is some disturbance,
Or is it my arrogance,
That disturbs my equilibrium?

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It echoes through my hollow pride,
A voice I silenced, now amplified.
It mocks my mask, my constant cloak,
The louder I speak, the less I know.

*

There isn’t a song left in me,
For arrogance has consumed me completely.
Its embers once felt like a sacred flame,
But now it only burns in shame.

*

Still, a ray of sunlight dares to creep,
Into the room where I barely sleep,
Sneaking in through the silent skylight,
Scattering gold into my endless night.

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It encourages me to open my mind,
To let the weight of falsehood unwind.
It whispers softly with no demand,
Let go arrogance and do not command.

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It tells me to open my arms,
To embrace life without titles or charms,
To welcome the happy scenes around,
And leave the arrogance behind.

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Nature says: I am on colourful display,
For eyes that wander, and hearts that stray,
I offer peace that cannot be owned,
But you must come to me unthroned.

*

But arrogance tries to forestall the interplay,
Building walls that keep joy at bay.
Like a vortex, it feeds on control,
Draining the light from my soul.

*

Yet the power of the skylight becomes immense,
When it allows the sunlight to shine,
Inside my once-armoured defence,
A quiet light, yet so divine.

*

The trees outside no longer condescend,
They sway like sages; they do not pretend.
Their wisdom lies in being still,
And bending gently to the will.

*

I see now: the path is not to reign,
But to walk through sun and storm and rain.
To learn, unlearn, and fall apart,
Until humility reclaims the heart.

*

So let the sunlight do its part,
Peeling arrogance from my heart,
In this open space, I start afresh,
Because I have miles to go,

Before I rest.

*

–Bury your arrogance and see the difference in your life—

by

Kamlesh Tripathi

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

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Who is Shiv?

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(20/2/25, SPEAKING TREE ECONOMIC TIMES)


WHO IS SHIV?
ANUP TANEJA
    When we speak of Shaivism, the question arises, ‘Who is Shiv?’ In Puranas, we come across different depictions of Shiv–benevolent as well as fearsome. In benevolent aspects, he is depicted as an omniscient yogi who lives like a mendicant on Mount Kailash, and also as a householder who is married to Parvati and has two sons, Ganesh and Kartikey. In his fearsome aspect, he is depicted as the slayer of demons. As the patron God of yog, meditation and arts, Shiv is revered as Adiyogi.
Among his various representations in art, the most popular is Nataraj, the Lord of Dance. The iconographical attributes of Shiv are as the serpents adorning his neck; the crescent moon; Ganga flowing from his matted hair; the third eye on his forehead as Trilochan; the trishul, trident, as his weapon; Nandi, the bull, as his vehicle; and the damru, drum, that represents the cosmic sound of creation.
In contrast, in the inner dimension, Shiv is perceived as Neel Purush, the Blue Being. Ultimate Reality, who abides in the highest spiritual centre in the sahasrar region, the brain. In Kashmir Shaivism, the inquiry about Ultimate Reality starts not with the third person but with the first person, with Shiv ‘here’– within oneself as one’s own higher Self.
With the mind getting dissolved in consciousness, realisation dawns upon the seeker that nothing exists apart from Shiv.

Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

SHORT STORY: IS DEATH IMPORTANT?

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IS DEATH IMPORTANT?

Everyone fears death, but birth and death are laws of creation.  It is essential for the balance of the universe. Without it, humans would dominate one another. 

How? Read this story:

*Once, a king visited a sage who was sitting under a tree outside his kingdom. He asked, “O Swami! If there is any herb or medicine that can grant immortality, please let me know.”*

The sage replied, 

“O King! Please cross the two mountains in front of you. There, you will find a lake. Drink its water, and you will become immortal.”

*After crossing the two mountains, the king found a lake. As he was about to drink the water, he heard painful groans. Following the sound, he found a very weak man lying in pain.*

When the king asked the reason, the man said, “I drank the water from the lake and became immortal. After I turned a hundred years old, my son threw me out of the house. I have been lying here for the last fifty years with no one to care for me. My son has passed away, and my grandchildren are now grown. I have stopped eating and drinking, yet I am still alive.”

*The king pondered, “What is the use of immortality with old age? What if I gain youth along with immortality?” He went back to the sage to find a solution and asked, “Please tell me how I can gain both immortality and youth.”*

The sage replied, “After crossing the lake, you will find another mountain. Cross it, and you will find a tree filled with yellow fruits. Eat one of them, and you will gain both immortality and youth.”

*The king crossed another mountain and found a tree filled with yellow fruits. As he was about to pluck and eat one, he heard loud arguments and fighting. He wondered who could be quarrelling in such a remote place.*

He saw four young men arguing loudly. The king asked why they were fighting. One of them said, “I am 250 years old, and the man on my right is 300 years old. He is not giving me my share of the property.” 

*When the king asked the man on the right, he said, “My father, who is 350 years old, is still alive and hasn’t given me my share. How can I give mine to my son?”*

The man pointed to his father, who was 400 years old, and shared the same complaint. All of them told the king that their endless fight for property had forced the villagers to expel them from the village.

*Shocked, the king returned to the sage and said, “Thank you for teaching me the importance of death.”*

The sage then said, *”Because death exists, there is love in the world.”*

*”Instead of trying to avoid death, live each day and every moment happily.* Change yourself, and the world will change.”

1. *When you chant the name of God while bathing, it becomes a holy bath.*

2. When you chant while eating, the food becomes sacred.

3. *When you chant while walking, it becomes a pilgrimage.*

4. When you chant while cooking, the food becomes divine.

5. *When you chant before sleeping, it becomes meditative sleep.*

6. When you chant while working, it becomes devotion.

7. *When you chant at home, it turns into a sacred space.*

*Live wisely, live well. Have a good life*.

Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

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https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

TRAVELOGUE: LONDON EYE TO EIFFEL TOWER,

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    We landed at Heathrow, London, Terminal 4 at 2.30 pm London time. By the time we left the airport, it was six. The group arrived at the Holiday Inn Express Terminal 5 hotel at 7:00. Our check-in was followed by a continental dinner. The daylight in London lasted till nine. As a result, one felt one had eaten lunch instead of dinner.

    The following day, we departed for London sightseeing after an English breakfast.  We travelled to London City Centre, crossing zones 3, 2 and 1. Our travel guide was Sari, and the coach driver was Sam. We first visited the Natural History Museum, followed by the Victoria and Albert Museum. There were brick-laden houses on the way. We passed through the Piccadilly Circus, Hyde Park, Hyde Park Corner, the statue of the Duke of Wellington on his horse, the Fountain of Opera, Trafalgar Square—Nelson’s Column and its four lions, considered zero miles for London, where Bollywood movies are shot. We attended the ‘Change of Guard’ ceremony at Buckingham Palace, held every other day. It’s a royal ceremony that we were able to shoot. The royal guards change shifts in a formal ceremony, accompanied by the marching band. Next was the Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Parliament Square and 10 Downing Street.

London Eye
West Minster Abbey

          We crossed the Thames riverfront humming an old classic, ‘Scarborough Fair’. The symbol of the two dragons, indicating you’re in London, was superb. The city of London is colloquially known as the Square Mile.

    The ‘London Eye’ (Ferris Wheel) gave a panoramic view of the city of London. It has 32 capsules. It takes 32 minutes for a circle with 32 people, reminding you of the 32 boroughs of London. One capsule represents one borough.  

London Bridge

    The next was the Phantom of the Opera, the Tower Bridge on the left of the London Bridge. We drove past the London Bridge and the fire monument of the 16th century. We also had a bite and a stroll on Oxford Street, followed by dinner at the Hot Plate Restaurant.

London Bridge

    The following morning, we were up at three to board the famous Eurostar train to Paris from St. Pancras International Station, London.  The train was at 7.01 am. We left the hotel at 4.30 in a coach to reach the station by five. The security check at the railway station was tedious because of the luggage. After security, one technically leaves the territory of the U.K. and enters Europe on a Schengen visa after immigration. Twenty minutes before departure, we were informed of our gate number. We sat in bogies 12 and 13 after walking past gate 10. Soon, the Eurostar train 9004 to Paris left platform 10 from St Pancras Railway Station. After a point, it entered Europe, leaving behind the U.K. It took 2 hours and 20 minutes to reach Paris. We were there at 10.20 am, exactly two hours and twenty minutes of travel time, but by the clock, it was three hours and twenty minutes because the continent of Europe is one hour ahead of the U.K. time. There are breathtaking tunnels under the English Channel. The train crosses them in about 35 minutes on the way to Paris-Gare-du-Nord railway station. The local tour guide in Paris was Senthil, an Indian expat. He began with a Vannakam—Tamil Namaste. The tour commenced with the Opera House and the Greek Church, rich in Greek architecture. Next was the Golden Flame and the bridge where Lady Diana died in a car accident. Then followed the Place De La Concorde, Macaline, Shawn Elizey, and the famous Eiffel Tower.

    Later, we visited Napoleon Bonaparte’s tomb in Les Invalides. At 2 pm, after lunch at ‘Welcome India’, we left for the Eiffel Tower. It was jam-packed with umpteen souvenir shops. The names of French authors Jules Verne and Victor Hugo graced many shops and public spaces in Paris. It reminded me of the statue of Sherlock Holmes in Baker Street.  It took an hour to get across the security gate and reach the summit level of the Eiffel Tower. The aerial view of Paris from there was splendid. The summit level was earlier closed. Later, they opened it. We were lucky to get the tickets. We had a drink in the Champagne bar. The Eiffel Tower has three floors: the first, the second, and the summit level. The pillar elevators and the stairs take you to the first and second levels. To reach the top of the Tower from the second level, one needs to locate a separate elevator meant for it. In the same sequence, one can come down. After beholding the Eiffel Tower, we undertook a river cruise on the Seine River.

PARIS CITY FROM IFFEL TOWER

    We reached our hotel at eight. After some free time, we drove down to ‘The Champs-Élysées’, the main street of Paris. We had a photo session there under the glittering lights. Thereafter, we went to the Eiffel Tower again. It was an amazing sight to see it lit up Eiffel Tower at eleven at night. It was the longest day of our tour—from 3 am to midnight and from London to Paris.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Like it and Share it

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***