Skip to main content

I WISH I WOULD BE A TREE OR A RIVER.....….




I wish I would be a tree. A tree is silently standing in its place—no worry of doing something, job, marriage, children, expectations, studies, etc. Just standing and following its Dharma. A tree’s Dharma is to grow leaves, give fruits, exhale oxygen, and provide shade. Just that simple.


We humans are mad, running behind money, status, cars, homes, beautiful wives, rich husbands, and thousands of other things. A tree is as it is. Nature arranges food and suitable conditions for its growth. Imagine just following one's Dharma. Trees have witnessed thousands or more years of human history. They may have witnessed Krishna, Rama, Buddha, and Meera—just being trees. They live a life of peace, contentment, and divinity.


I wish I would be a planet. Go to the terrace at night and observe the sky—silent, dark, and calm. Planets are rotating in their own positions and around the Sun as well. But at their own pace—neither fast nor slow, no competition with other planets. They move at their own speed, at their own distance from the Sun, made of the material they are meant to be. They don’t care whether it’s night and everyone is sleeping. Who is going to see them?


We humans, on the other hand, don’t want to do anything unless the result is determined—like passing an exam, buying a car to show off, or exercising to get the perfect shape. But planets shine as they want to. It doesn’t matter if anyone watches them or not.


I wish I would be a river. A river is just flowing, without knowing its destination. It flows silently, traveling thousands of miles without desiring what would happen to it. It crosses valleys, mountains, rocks, and plains, and finally merges into the ocean. A river is  working hard and one day, it will merge into the ocean. It will no longer have any individual identity—unlike us humans, who crave success, fame, and money, hoping our names surface on TV, newspapers, and social media so that society celebrates our hard work.


Imagine if a river also sought validation and refused to flow unless recognized—we would never have oceans then.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How Universe Send Sign 🌠

Meera lay curled on her bed. The room was locked. Lights off. Curtains drawn. Windows shut. Her eyes — swollen, red, heavy — told stories no one asked about. She cried. Loudly. Then silently. She shouted toward the ceiling, the sky, the unknown. “Why so much pain? What have I done? Is it a crime to be a girl in this world? Why is it so hard to have a voice… to be free… to just be me?” So many questions. And yet, no one to answer them. Later, she washed her face, tied her hair, and got ready. The library — her silent temple — was calling again. As she opened the main gate, she stopped. A man in orange robes stood there — like he'd been waiting. A wandering monk. Without a thought, she reached for a ₹10 note and offered it. But instead of leaving, he looked straight into her soul and said, “All your wishes will come true. You will succeed.” She stood still — surprised, unsure. But something inside her softened. “Was that… my answer?” she thought. She didn’t know. But her ...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Park: Your Shortcut to Enlightenment

  During childhood, we would go to the park to play with friends. I remember we used to be a group of 8–9 friends, and our favorite game was hide-and-seek. After playing, we would enjoy ice cream—orange-flavored, 5-rupee stick ice cream—our little park meal. Once, my school, Happy Hours Public School, took us to park for the Republic Day celebration. It was a fancy-dress competition, and since I wasn’t dressed as any particular character, I became a "foreigner" by default. My teacher chose me because of my fair skin. Haha! My brother became Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, the great freedom fighter of India. Well, those were childhood memories—the age of the park. Soon, we migrated to another place, not far away, just a different colony. The park became a distant dream as I got indulged in a different world. Now, in my mid-twenties, I have started going back to the park—but this time for a morning run. I wonder how much has changed. They have created separate walking and running ...
Post a Comment
Read more