By: Rimli Bhattacharya

The lyrics wouldn’t leave my head. The case was similar with my daughter as well. Upon returning home we tuned in to the famous YouTube our savior and resigned to our fates. We finally could call it a home. I mean finally I could call my house a home.

I was in search of His Grace Prabhu Gaur Gopal Das, the famous motivational speaker. I had heard him. Not exactly. I had heard his sermons somewhere, sometimes it was from a Whats App message, sometimes…….and sometimes, only sometimes. What I couldn’t realize was there is a message from every action and also from people around us. Don’t you sometimes get lonely in a room full of people? There is a nagging ache in the heart that refuses to leave you. Come on, I know what you are thinking of. People often ask me if it was me getting reflected in all my writings. This time too it was no different: “Are you writing your own story?” asks my friend. I answered softly “It could be your story as well.” In fact it’s everybody’s story. We all are in search of our purpose in life. And the answer would be to marry and settle down, to get good grades and settle down with a hefty pay check, to become a politician and settle down, do be a great dancer and settle down and the list is endless.

Make no mistake friends. I too wanted to know my purpose of life. At that I only knew I had the best mother and the worst father. Sadly it turned reverse. Now my mind talks to me: “Shaming your mother who carried you in her womb for nine months, the same mother who treated you as her world?” I counter my mind: “She is the cause of all my ailments as she was the one who decided to write my purpose in life.” You know, I haven’t forgiven her as on date. It’s my strong believe that a child shouldn’t come under the pressure of studies and too many extracurricular activities. But in my case it was entirely different. I was an average student who loved literature but my mother thought I was no less than Sir Albert Einstein. Therefore I remained a sex slave of my own Math teacher for two years. My mother knew it and father was oblivious. That was just the beginning. The Math teacher later became my professor in the Engineering College. As I refused to give in to his desires I was given the worst marks one could possibly get in a subject. Here I would like to add that I passed my degree with a gold medal wherein I got the least marks in the subjects he taught. I hadn’t forgiven him either. It is often said we should forgive for our peace and happiness. I too agree, but is that so easy to forgive these two people who had done immense damage to a child that she could no longer function in a way which a normal stable human could otherwise live.  

So I thought I finally have got the purpose in my life: One to forgive my mother, two to forgive my teacher, and three to rise above. As I said it isn’t that easy. I had to drink the most poisonous water in my four decades of lifetime. And in process I had almost died. Neither could I conduct the forgiving drama nor could I rise above. I was doomed. But this time it was something different. With the death of my father in year 2020, I hit the rock bottom. I realized my mind, body and everything is between was in jeopardy. Yes, I realized and I plunged into action. While my physical and mental agonies were taken care of from the professionals I was still in search of peace and happiness.

You know after spending two decades with the corporates, my carrier took a shift. I became a teacher to teach young minds. I would also stress on the fact that the journey from the corporate to becoming a teacher was not hunky dory. My father in his death bed wanted to see his daughter achieving peace, sadly he couldn’t.

Teaching requires perfection and also honing your skills. May be I have passed in Grade B when it came to perfection and honing the skills. So that wasn’t my calling either and I would land up hating my colleagues, and at times would even fight with them. No, not boxing but the thing which everyone likes: A drama. One day I was suggested by one of my colleagues to listen to the spiritual Gurus. That he said could curb my emotions and I landed up listening to Prabhu Gaur Gopal Das.

It was a Thursday and I was returning home brain drained when I saw two saints in saffron in the middle of the road, trying to distribute Bhagvad Gita. One of them kindly offered me a book of Bhagvad Gita and I declined his wish. In a whisper I asked one of them, if he knew Prabhuji and also if Prabhuji had any secretary to plan his schedules. He smiled and replied: “He is a monk who does all his chores alone and also he did not have a secretary.” And to whoever reading this memoir just know this: There I found happiness. No, I am neither a monk nor have I reached that level to attain Moksha. But I found peace. The one who never lifted a broom in her house took up one in the Ashram and cleaned the floor. The one who was not an early bird started her day in the early hours. The one who couldn’t chant started doing what she could never focus on – chanting for inner peace. My mind too diverts, the negative thoughts clutter my mind. But each time it did, I came back again. I am still far behind perfection but I could gain my first step to self-liberation.

I end this narration with the lyrics of the song which is playing in my head. It was sung by an ISKCON devotee H.G Yamuna Devi Dasi. It’s in Sanskrit. Translation is available. Need you one, do ask me.

Hare Krishna.

Govindam adi-purusam tam aham bhajami

Venum kvanantam aravinda-dalayataksam

Barhavatamsam asitambuda-sundarangam

Kandarpa-koti-kamaniya-visesa-sobham

Govindam adi-purusam tam aham bhajami

Angani yasya sakalendriya-vrtti-manti

Pasyanti panti kalyanti ciram jaganti

Ananda-cinmaya-sad-ujjvala-vigrahasya

Govindam adi-purusam tam aham bhajami

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Rimli Bhattacharya is an Engineer by profession but a writer in passion. Her writings have appeared in around 19 literary magazines. To name a few: Indian Cultural Forum, Daily O, Literary Yard, Café Dissensus, Feminism In India, Womens web, Education Post. She has authored two books “The crosshairs of Life” and “The day it rained and other stories”. She has also contributed to two anthologies “Book of Light” edited by Jerry Pinto and “Muffled Moans”. An avid reader she is a single mother to a teenage daughter. She is also an Indian classical dancer.