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On my way Home

As cliches go - truth is stranger than fiction. Read on about life's true tales which border on the intangible.

india Updated: Oct 18, 2003 16:00 IST

This is not a fictional account. I might have to change the names of people that I make a mention of just in case they desire it to be so. Rest all is true but there is obviously no way that I can prove that to you. The only motive behind writing this is to share with anyone (who is just as inclined towards) the little discoveries that I make in my attempt to see that which is not tangible but more real than what is. I really do look forward to hearing from whosoever wishes to write back to me about one's own feelings on the 'subject'. The link for writing back is given right below my own account. I hope to write to you every Wednesday and Saturday.

"Have you read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho?" asked Shaifali, my friend for 13 years, who was in Delhi a month back. I shook my head just a little indicating that I hadn't.

"Oh Meghs, it's a great book. You must read it. Anyway, it will come to you when the time is right," she sounded, as always, full of energy. I smiled at that statement.

"You don't believe in what I just said to you?" she was excited at the prospect of initiating a dialogue on the 'seemingly unseen' forces that shape our life.

"You know me Shaif. I never disbelieve anything as far as such matters are concerned. I know that there is a dimension to life, which we are unaware of, but it is there. I also know there is no such thing as co-incidence," saying this I rested my head on the couch.

"That's so true... the way I landed up with this job, it is simply amazing. You remember those days when I was desperate to get out of Delhi. Just anyhow, somehow, I wanted to get out of here and find myself a job in Bombay. That was the only single thought, the only single desire that haunted me day in and day out and then it happened one day..." and she went on to tell me the events that led to the fulfilment of her then most intense desire.

"There is this thing that Coelho writes in his book - when we really want something, the entire universe comes together and makes it happen for us. Oh God, the moment I think of those lines I get goose bumps. Believe me, there is nothing more that I believe in right now. Haven't you felt that way ever, haven't your heart's deepest desire come true?" she asked eagerly.

"Not till now," was all I said as I stared at the ceiling.

Actually, I was too tired to think. I was tired of dealing with the mundanity in my life. I was petrified of thinking that I was sinking into an existence, which would be the exact replica of anyone else's - just as Buddha had said: one eats, defecates and dies.

How was I evolving as a human being? There had to be more meaning to life than just earning your bread, loving your family, seeing people die and then dying yourself. I can't always be guarding myself against hurts, failures and loss, right? I can't always be anxious about what life has in store for me. I can't let life push me around that much. I had to have more control over my life. I had to have more control over my reactions to life and not vice versa.

I had to discover that secret force, which had me twisted around its little finger and was throwing me around as if I was some lifeless little twit. I had to find strength and fight back and fight back hard. I wasn't about to lose. But how, how was the question. And with this question on my mind I would cry myself to sleep each and every night, beseeching the Almighty to show me the way.

I had been in this state for more than a year and my God didn't seem to be paying any heed to my fervent, silent prayers. With each passing day, as my grip around life got a little more loose, my cry for His help intensified. And then, a few days back, He answered...

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First Published: Sep 24, 2003 11:57 IST