“`Throw me into the abyss of suffocation

bkm7aj5That is why on this very account my respected father was the pioneer of that path that inspired and persuaded one to follow the path of true life. I realised that a weak person can serve as a mirror for others to see their faces in it; for the consciousness of his weakness makes the weakling strong and energetic. Respected Father’s twinges of pain made me calm and peaceful, well fortified and endowed me with strength.
— Fake laughter, nauseous utterances became my tears.
genuine weeping began to flow, it turned into deliverance.
— False relationships fake realizations became sorrow and pain.
the pain found out true relationships
— Starved and famished minds put us off and the true path provided shelter.
For I realized:-
• Attachment is imprisonment for those who are weak.
• Greed is powerful for those who are hungry
• Rage is a weapon for those who are poor.
• Longings are a snare for those who are imperfect.
• Pride is a safe asset for those who are blind
• The blind can ruin the blind but not the eyed persons.
• The poor can swallow up the poor but not the powerful and strong.

I said “Respected father, you are always enamoured of foreign countries but now you are repeating India, India?” he answered “only because of our great preceptors”
This answer of my father not only made me acquainted with my own mind but also gave me information about the serious disease that had attacked his life and delimited it; while his life had the capacity to merge the Power Unknown with the individual. The poor simple-minded wayfarer gets entangled into many a beautiful snare of temptations. I had ever thought that religion does not allow any scope for partiality and discrimination there ought to be a place which could accommodate every person. On this account whichever word gave me an idea of boundary line was eschewed by my existence. The sense of boundary-line or barrier would choke my throat, suffocate my breaths and throw me into the abyss of suffocation, helplessness and despair. And I feeling like a puppet would convulse with pain as though a knife were giving cuts to my skin.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s