The Life We Build and the Soul We Forget: A Reflection on Existence.

 

We spend an extraordinary amount of time learning how to live. 

We learn to earn, build careers, establish businesses, accumulate wealth, secure our future and create comfortable lives. We pursue achievements, seek recognition, travel, indulge in experiences and find ways to make life more enjoyable. From childhood, much of our conditioning revolves around becoming somebody, accomplishing something and making a success of our existence.

There is nothing wrong with any of this. 

Survival is necessary, ambition can be fulfilling and enjoying life is certainly not a crime. But somewhere between making a living and making a life, have we forgotten to ask why we are here in the first place?

Have we become so absorbed in the mechanics of existence that we have lost sight of its deeper purpose?

We measure progress through what we acquire, what we accomplish and how far we advance in the world. A successful career, a thriving business, financial independence and social recognition become milestones against which we evaluate our lives. We spend years refining our professional identities, strengthening our material security and improving our circumstances. 

Yet, how often do we turn that same attention towards our inner existence?

What about the evolution of the soul? 

What about understanding consciousness, questioning the nature of existence and exploring what it means to transcend the limitations of our own conditioning?

Perhaps we have become so preoccupied with making life comfortable that we have forgotten that comfort was never necessarily the ultimate purpose of being alive.

There is another journey unfolding alongside the one we consciously pursue. It is deeply personal, often invisible and impossible for anyone else to experience in its entirety. 

People may share our homes, relationships, successes and failures. They may know our histories, understand our personalities and witness our transformations. Yet nobody knows the complete story of our inner world. Nobody has lived every thought, confronted every contradiction, experienced every realisation or travelled every difficult stretch of our consciousness.

Our relationship with our soul is uniquely ours.

Others can accompany us, influence us, guide us and even awaken questions we never thought to ask. But nobody can undertake our inner journey for us. It is not a collective achievement, a competition or something that can be validated through recognition. It is an individual process of understanding and evolution.

Indian philosophy has contemplated this question for centuries. The concepts of karma, samsara and moksha invite us to consider existence beyond the boundaries of a single lifetime. 

If life is part of a larger spiritual journey, are we here merely to fulfil our worldly desires, or is there a deeper evolution taking place? Are we learning, becoming aware and moving towards liberation, or are we caught in an endless cycle of desires, attachments and consequences?

The idea of moksha introduces an especially profound possibility: that the ultimate destination may not be another achievement, another experience or another lifetime, but liberation from the very cycle of repeated existence.

It is worth contemplating what that means for the way we live today.

We devote years to acquiring knowledge that advances our careers, but how much do we explore knowledge that expands our understanding of existence? We invest in our physical well-being, nurture relationships and protect our material interests. But do we give the same importance to the evolution of our consciousness?

Perhaps the question is not whether we should pursue worldly ambitions or spiritual growth. We can do both. The question is whether we have allowed one to completely overshadow the other.

Spirituality, and the rituals that have survived long beyond their original intent, deserve a discussion of their own. For now, the more fundamental question is whether we are making a conscious effort to advance ourselves, evolve in our understanding and become better versions of who we are. 

A lifetime can be filled with achievements and still leave the most fundamental questions unanswered. We can become successful by every worldly measure and remain strangers to our own deeper existence.

When we eventually look back, the positions we held, the businesses we built, the wealth we accumulated and the recognition we received will tell one part of our story. But they may tell us very little about the journey that matters beyond those visible accomplishments.

We are so busy becoming somebody in the world that we rarely pause to discover what we are becoming within.

Perhaps it is time to look beyond the business of living and pay attention to the purpose of existence. To learn, question, understand and evolve. To recognise that the soul has a journey that cannot be measured by the world's definitions of success.

The life we build may be witnessed by many. 

The journey of the soul is ours alone. 

And somewhere between all that we strive to become in this world and all that we are yet to discover within, lies a journey worth pausing to contemplate.

 

Navaratri: Celebrating the Shakti Within

 

Today marks the beginning of Navaratri, nine nights celebrating Shakti, the energy that permeates the universe, sustains existence, and makes creation and transformation possible.

Over the next nine days, we worship the feminine divine in nine forms, each revealing a different expression of this universal energy.

Seasons change.

Life emerges, evolves, and renews itself.

Nothing remains unchanged, yet existence continues.

Perhaps there is a parallel in our own lives. We, too, carry the energy to create, to nurture what matters, to find strength in adversity, and to transform when life calls us to change.

Sometimes Shakti expresses itself as courage.

Sometimes as compassion.

Sometimes as the wisdom to release what no longer serves us and the strength to begin again.

The nine forms of Shakti remind us that power has many expressions. It can be fierce or gentle, protective or nurturing, still or dynamic. Each has its place in the cycle of existence.

This Navaratri, beyond worshipping Shakti in the divine feminine, may we recognise and celebrate the Shakti within each of us.

The energy to create.

The strength to sustain.

The courage to transform.

May these nine days be a reminder of the power we carry within us, and the possibilities that emerge when we learn to recognise it.

This Navaratri, let's celebrate the Shakti within.

#Navaratri #Shakti #Energy

 

The Archer Effect: A Lifetime of Stories

My love for reading probably began with my mother, Mrs. Rajalakshmi Kannan. 

Growing up, I would see her reading Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra, and then discussing it with my grandfather. Those images stay with you. There was something about watching them talk so passionately about a book, its characters and its ideas that made me want to be part of that experience too.

Going to the library during the holidays became a ritual through my childhood and teenage years. I would carefully browse through the shelves, deciding what to bring home, and then disappear into my books.

My mother and I would often go together. 

We would each pick a book, come home and start reading. Inevitably, one of us would finish first and have to wait for the other to finish so we could exchange books. Eventually, we decided two books were clearly not enough. We started taking four books on every visit, two each, and still somehow ended up waiting for each other to finish the ones the other had picked.

And of course, the books became conversations. 

We discussed the characters passionately, argued about their choices, speculated about what they would do next, and sometimes spoke about them as though they were people we actually knew.

Jeffrey Archer was one of the authors who became part of those years of reading. I read many of his books, but Kane and Abel was always special.

Like many readers, I was completely drawn into the lives of Kane and Abel. The ambition, rivalry, fortunes, setbacks and sheer sweep of their lives made the story unforgettable. More than anything, the characters stayed with me.

Some characters belong to the time in which they were written. Kane and Abel somehow seem to belong to every generation of readers.

Then came 2007, when I moved to Atlanta, US.

The bookworm in me developed a new weekly ritual. Monday evenings meant a trip to the library, followed by taco takeout and, more often than not, staying up far too late reading whatever book I had brought home.

It was during one of those library visits that I spotted The Clifton Chronicles.

Jeffrey Archer. A new series. And, in my mind, the next Kane and Abel.

I grabbed it.

Clearly, I had learned nothing about moderation.

I patiently worked my way through the first book, Only Time Will Tell, all 600-odd pages of it. And, just as I had hoped, I was completely hooked. Archer had once again created characters whose lives became more interesting than whatever I was supposed to be doing with mine.

The story moved beautifully. The suspense kept building. Every chapter seemed to have another revelation waiting.

So naturally, I reached the end expecting some sort of conclusion.

Instead, Archer left me hanging right in the middle of an unexpected twist.

I turned the page.

Nothing.

No resolution.

No answers.

Just the unmistakable feeling that the author had packed up his belongings and left me alone with the suspense.

I immediately searched our local library database for the next book.

Nothing.

That was when I finally Googled the series and discovered the truth. Only Time Will Tell was the first of five books in The Clifton Chronicles.

Five.

Apparently, I had not picked up a book.

I had signed up for a long-term relationship.

And yet, even my frustration was a compliment to Archer. The reason I was desperate for the next book was simple: I cared about what happened to those characters.

That, perhaps, is what has kept me coming back to Jeffrey Archer for so many years.

His greatest strength was not merely suspense. It was his ability to create characters who remained alive in the reader's mind long after the book was closed.

From library visits with my mother, waiting impatiently for each other to finish a book and then exchanging them, to passionately discussing fictional characters as though they were people we knew, to Monday evenings in Atlanta with a library book, tacos and a very questionable bedtime, Jeffrey Archer became part of my reading life.

Some books are finished when the last page is turned.

Some stories stay.

Kane and Abel stayed.

And now, with Jeffrey Archer gone, I realise something even more meaningful.

 

Writers may leave us. Words don't.

Extraordinary writers do something even more remarkable. They create people who never existed and give them lives so vivid that they outlive the person who created them. They leave behind characters, thoughts, choices and conversations that continue to live in the minds of readers they will never meet.

They remain immortal.

Jeffrey Archer may no longer be here to write another page.

But Kane and Abel are.

Harry Clifton is.

And somewhere, years from now, someone will still pick up one of his books, become hopelessly invested in a fictional life, argue about a character with someone they love and turn one more page long after they should have gone to sleep.

His new novel, Adam & Eve, was scheduled to be released just a day after he passed away. A new Jeffrey Archer book arrives in the world, even as the writer himself has just left it. Perhaps that is the most fitting way for a writer like Jeffrey Archer to remain part of the conversation. 

Readers still picking it up. Discussing it. And, inevitably, talking about him.

What a career. What a legacy of stories.

Thank you, Jeffrey Archer, for all those worlds.

Your stories remain.