The inner child cries for acceptance and recognition. The divine hears the whispers of our hearts and leads us back to the path of love, understanding, and self-discovery.
As I shuffle through the chapters of my childhood, I see the beginnings of a pattern, where on countless occasions as I raised my hand in the classroom, it went unnoticed and unacknowledged. Every instance left behind a palpable scar of rejection and feelings of dejection.
Sporting soda-bottle glasses and born with a roly-poly figure, I still wanted to be seen, to be heard, to carve out my own space in a world indifferent to my presence.
I was reminded of a Maya Angelou quote, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” The pain of a story untold, and unshared experiences, all contributed to the shape of my inner narrative.
The soda-bottle glasses hid a face that craved recognition. My glasses became a distorted lens through which I perceived myself. The extra weight I carried, both physically and metaphorically, became a burden of unmet expectations and a constant struggle to be recognized, to be accepted.
But why am I reminded of all of this today?
Those memories and accompanying feelings surfaced when one of the devotees in the spiritual organization I am attached to, told me, “They haven’t invited you; you are one of the older sevaks, who has been working with the organization for such a long time.” Whether it was a taunt or a question, it pierced my heart like an arrow.
I found myself grappling with the unsettling feeling that my contributions were going unnoticed, overshadowed by the recognition bestowed upon others. That even those relatively new were receiving greater blessings from the guru was disheartening.
The battle between my mind and heart waged on.
My rational mind urged me to ignore the external comparisons and reminded me that my journey was my own. My mother had instilled in me the importance of seva (selfless service), and the belief that generating good karma involved using tan (body), mann (mind), dhan (wealth), and vani (speech) to serve those around us.
My heart cried out for acknowledgment and external validation.
I wanted to adhere to the three tenets my guru preached—Love, Selfless Seva, and Transformation. Engaged in seva without expecting anything in return mirrored the plight of a child in a classroom whose raised hand went unnoticed.
How could I aspire to transform or guide others towards transformation when I, too, felt unloved and overlooked?
This inner turmoil underscored the complexity of living the teachings I sought to follow. It became eventually a journey not just of external service but of internal healing and self-love.
I realized that the epistles preached by our guru weren’t just external guidelines but profound invitations for inner reflection and personal growth.
Love, Seva, and Transformation weren’t just actions to be performed outwardly but a path to be walked inwardly, nurturing not only the well-being of those we serve but our own as well.
The journey towards transforming others became inseparable from the journey of transforming oneself.
In expressing my pain, I found solace, and in bearing it, I discovered strength. The choice to be heard, whether by others or by the divine, became a harmonious dance between vulnerability and resilience.
I have come across many women with experiences like mine. One particular story has stayed with me. This friend of mine, born into a traditional Marwari family, has grappled with the pervasive sense of being unwanted right at the outset – a ‘girl child’ relegated to the shadows in a culture that favored sons.
The discrimination dogged her life, from being denied simple pleasures such as a personal sound system to more profound wounds such as being excluded from a family trip abroad through a deceitful affidavit showing her as a year younger.
These patterns persisted into her marriage, where indifference and apathy towards her became normalized, etching deep scars. It took her many years to confront the harsh reality of her unwanted existence. The emotional residue cast a shadow over every relationship she has formed.
Yet, a glimmer of redemption has emerged for her — empathetic friends who have comprehended the depth of her pain.
Her profound spirituality, rooted in a love for Vedanta and a close connection with the Chinmaya Mission that teaches that philosophy has become an anchor. In moments of despair, spiritual pursuits have provided solace and purpose to her.
Her story helped me out too. I had to resolve my conflict — to express my pain or bear its weight in silence.
As if responding to the silent cries of my soul, the divine unfolded a series of beautiful events. I was led to the heart of our guru’s ashram on my birthday. That sanctuary of serenity became a space where my unspoken pain seemed to dissolve in the ether, and the divine presence wrapped around me like a warm embrace.
At that moment, I surrendered to the divine orchestration of my life. The path I had chosen, marked by the pursuit of inner peace and understanding, unfolded before me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. It was a gentle reminder that the divine, in its infinite wisdom, has ways of reaching out to us, nudging us back onto the chosen path when we veer off course.
I found a profound sense of belonging in the ashram, nestled in the Bhimashankar hills, about 50 miles from Mumbai. It houses the MahaKaali Mandir, pulsating with energy. The Dhyaan Manthan Kshetra embodies the essence of the ashram. It is surrounded by a tranquil pond adorned with lotus fronds.
Surrounded by the energy of love and acceptance at the ashram, the realization dawned that the journey of healing and self-discovery is not always a solitary one. The divine orchestrates encounters, events, and moments of revelation, guiding us through the labyrinth of our narratives.
In expressing my pain, I found solace, and in bearing it, I discovered strength. The choice to be heard, whether by others or by the divine, became a harmonious dance between vulnerability and resilience.
In the unfolding chapters of my life, the ashram remains a symbol of divine intervention, a testament to the experiences that shape our journey. It serves as a reminder that even in silence, the divine hears the whispers of our hearts and responds in ways that lead us back to the path of love, understanding, and self-discovery.
Photos courtesy: Freepik
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