The Thread That Thinks, Feels and Acts: Returning to Our Origin

Thinking makes us different. Not better, not worse — just unique.

In a world that rewards copying, reacting, and fitting in, the simple act of truly thinking preserves our individuality. No two minds think alike, and that is not a flaw to fix. It is a divinity to protect.

Thinking is good — when it is aligned. An aligned thought strengthens us from within. It doesn't scatter, it gathers. It doesn't shout, it clarifies.

And when that thinking is connected with nature, it beautifies life. Watch a tree: it does not hurry, yet it grows. Watch a river: it does not force, yet it reaches the ocean. Nature thinks in rhythms, not in anxieties. When we connect our mind to that rhythm, we become self-aware, not self-conscious.

We should, we have, we need to get that divinity which enlightens us.

Let the divinity of that thread be with us — that connects thought to source. Let's be united with our origin, the very origin from where the mind gets the energy to think, to feel, to act and to work.

We did not create the mind and body. It's creator is nature itself.  So let the creator of mind and body be with us.

Let the nature be with us, for it gives us strength to think, to feel and to act — not in isolation, but in harmony.

When we remember our origin, thinking stops being a burden and becomes meditation itself.

Faith In Self, Not In People

People often place their faith in other individuals. A teacher, a leader, a friend, a saint. But this always brings pain.

Why? 

Because individuals have shortcomings and weaknesses. And that's why, they get afraid. They hide things. They play behind a veil. Sometimes they simply do not understand us.

When we depend on them fully, we break. But even then we should not be resentful. We should forgive them for they are human. Let them start their journey.

Let them think what they wish to think about you. Let them.

With the passage of time, they will comprehend. 

We all will. 

Sooner or later...

True spirituality is different. It is quiet. It is inner. It does not ask you to follow someone blindly. It asks you to listen to your own Self.

Trust the divine within you. People may change, but your inner Self will never leave you.

I strongly believe that Spirituality should come from the core of our inner Self, not from any outer doctrines.

True faith is inner. It does not depend on others.

Here is my old poem (written in 2023):

The Last Faith

(~ Sudhir Singh)

Faith is a poison,

Faith is a disease,

Faith can't enlighten

thy dead mind indeed.

Faith is quite dear,

faith causes ye fear,

Avoid this gear,

Otherwise thy life'll be full of tears.

Otherwise thy life'll be full of tears.

People whom you faith, they care not,

They put you in trouble & tell ye fear not,

So my dear just avoid this gear,

'cause it will cause ye fear,

Just be fair with you fear.

This should be your last faith,

let the faith be buried,

And live a life without faith,

else ye will lose thy fate,

So let it be your last faith.

So let it be your last faith.

Draupadi: The Fire That Held the Mahabharata Together

She is perhaps the most misunderstood woman in Indian History. TV serials turned her into a proud, sharp-tongued queen who "provoked" Duryodhana. WhatsApp forwards turned Karna into the tragic hero and Draupadi into the villain.

The truth is far deeper — and far more painful.

The Myth of "She Insulted Duryodhana"

We are told Draupadi laughed at Duryodhana and called him "blind son of a blind father," and that the vastraharan was his revenge.

But the critical editions of the Mahabharata do not support this popular dialogue. It was a later addition, a convenient excuse to justify a crime.

And what about Karna, the"misunderstood character"? 

Let's be honest. It was Karna who called Draupadi a veshya in the full sabha and ordered her disrobing. It was Karna who constantly instigated Duryodhana for war, playing the victim card while lighting the fire from behind because he wanted to prove that he is better than Arjuna.

This is how history works. Those who never come to the front lay the trap, and then decide who will be shown as culprit and who as victim.

Who Was Draupadi, Really?

She was not an ordinary woman. She was Agni-putri, born of fire.

Tradition says she was the incarnation of Chaya Sita. In Ramayana, when Ravana abducted Maa Sita, it was Chaya Sita — the shadow form, daughter of Agni — who went to Lanka, while the real Sita remained protected in fire.

After that trauma, Chaya Sita did intense tapasya of Lord Shiva, wishing for a husband like Shri Ram.

Shiva smiled and said, "There is no one like Ram."

So she cleverly asked for five qualities instead: a great archer, a truthful man, a physically strong man, an intuitive man, and a handsome man.

Shiva granted the boon.

In Dwapara Yuga, she received exactly what she asked:

Arjuna — the great Dhanurdhar

Yudhishthira — the embodiment of Satya

Bhim — the immensely strong

Sahadeva — the intuitive, wise

Nakula — the most handsome

She got what she prayed for. But fate rarely gives without a test.

And here is the subtle twist few know: Arjuna himself was Nara, the partial amsha of Vishnu in his previous life. Draupadi's life was thus intertwined with divinity itself.

Why Didn't She Just Destroy Them?

Draupadi was fire. In her rage, she could have cursed and burnt the entire Kaurava army to ashes.

She didn't.

If she had, society would have learned a dangerous lesson: Only the strong have the right to justice, the weak must remain submissive.

That is why Krishna also did not end the war single-handedly. If God does everything, humans learn inactivity and fatalism.

Draupadi chose to become the sutra — the thread — of the Mahabharata. Without her suffering, there would be no questions of dharma, no lessons on morality, no mirror to a sinful society.

She endured humiliation so that dharma could be re-established not by miracle, but by struggle, choice, and sacrifice.

Draupadi was not the cause of the war. She was the reason we still understand what justice means.

The Boy Who Was Late to Walk, But Early to the Gita

They say life is a race. I lost it at the starting line itself.

My heels were thin as a child, so walking was an adventure sport for me. While other toddlers were running around at 1, I made my grand debut at 3 — with full assistance, shivering legs, and zero confidence. The doctor checked me thoroughly and gave the most philosophical diagnosis of my life: "There's no physical issue. It's just fear."

But....

Thank God for Lal Chand Uncle, the carpenter and my father's friend. While others got toys, I got a custom-made vehicle. Elon Musk builds Teslas; Lal Chand Uncle built my first mobility scooter made of wood. Necessity may be the mother of invention, but in my case, the carpenter was the father.

School? I joined late too. Nursery at 5 or 6 didn't remember exactly. But here’s the twist — I was that annoying kid who was too good at letters. After Nursery, the teachers looked at me, looked at KG, and said, "Skip it." I jumped straight to 1st. I couldn't walk on time, but I could fast-forward classes.

Cycling came in Class 9. Scooter at 26. My friends learned balance on two wheels; I was still negotiating how to balance? How can they ride it? Why don't they fall? People get license at 18, I got courage at 26. Better late than never, right?

But while my legs were hesitant, my mind was sprinting.

In 2nd class, while others were suffering to complete their syllabus, I was reading the Gita. Did I understand it? Not completely. It was like watching Avengers' movie at age 7 — you enjoy the music and action, story comes later. By Class 9, around 13-14, it finally clicked.

At 9, my favorite evening pastime wasn't cartoons because we have only Doordarshan. So I like watching Shree Krishna, Mahabharata and Chandrakanta. I did debate about Mahabharata characters with my father. "Was Karna right or wrong?" "Was Arjuna stronger than Karana?" "What is the Self about which Shree Krishna is talking about?" "Who is a true Yogi?" "What is his state?" "How does he look?" "If Soul and Brahm (God) are same then why don't I have Super powers like that of Lord Krishna?" My father must have wondered...

Fear delayed my steps, but it could never stop my questions.

And maybe that's the real lesson — some learn to walk first, some learn to wonder first. I just did things in my own order.

Late walker. Early reader. Lifelong learner.

Let Sanatan Choose

Durga Puja in Bengal has never been only about rituals. It is about devotion and rituals. They do what they are being taught in their doctrines and beliefs. So let's just respect their path and belief. Let them continue their journey. Who are we to tell them that this is right and this is wrong? 

The recent appeal by the VHP (Vishwa Hindu Parishad) and preacher Dhirendra Shastri to keep non-vegetarian food away from pandals has sparked a storm. The VHP later clarified it issued no fatwa and only sought cleanliness and traditional sanctity. Now such statements again spark communal violence. He is indirectly mocking a specific religion. 

But the debate remains: who decides what to do and what not to do?

In Sanatan, we have always had two paths: Vaam Marg and Dakshin Marg. Vaam Margis perform rituals with offerings and sacrifices. Dakshin Margis follow strict vegetarianism. Both are accepted in our scriptures, as per one’s nature and sadhana.

I am vegetarian myself, but I do not criticise non-vegetarian traditions during Puja. For me, it is an individual choice. Our scriptures clearly allow us to choose, yet they also remind us of the law of karma — we must pay back for whatever we do.

Let sanctity be maintained, but let choice remain too.

Reference:

1. The Hindu: Call to keep Durga Pujas in West Bengal vegetarian kicks up a storm

My Brain is Not a Godown II -- Preferring Psychology Than Numbers

Should a teacher become a walking attendance register? I mean, I know all of their names so they feel connected, but should I need to memorize their Roll Nos. too?

I doubt it.

I have a simple policy: if a piece of data is already sleeping peacefully in a file, I will not invite it to stay rent-free in my head. Why crowd my thinking space when the register is sitting on my desk, fully employed and waiting to be opened?

We should know a teacher's priority.

What should a teacher actually remember?

Not the headcount. The heart-count.

I underline the Heart-Count.

I would rather use my memory to notice who is fighting a battle at home, who has gone quiet after being cheerful, which one dreads speaking in public, who is sitting idle, who is inattentive in my class, etc. etc. But what should I do thereafter?

Should I announce their names, flexing that I am a strict and alert teacher?

Will it reform them? No, I beg to differ.

Rather, if we do so, they will become stubborn.

Then, should I talk about him or her in the staffroom, or should I point them out in class?

No, a big no!

Rather, I will do the opposite. I will ignore it as if I didn't see. And then, I will talk to him in person during recess or before the morning assembly.

And bullies? I have seen their art closely. They are great psychologists in reverse. They wait, they watch, they pick the exact second when no adult is looking, and then they enjoy that cheap, cruel thrill. That hollowness inside them loves company in misery. No percentage or total will ever reveal that drama. Only observant eyes will.

So let papers handle the numbers. That is their duty; let them feel useful.

I want my mind free for the real syllabus — the one not printed in books: a child’s mood, his struggles, his home story.

Yes, I know what I am doing isn't that visible, and that's why I am a teacher with a difference. My teaching does not solely depend upon syllabus and facts; it's more about life lessons, values, and self-enquiry.

Male Talk: Full of Humour

Male talk is full of humour and nonsense. Yes, it is. At least for someone who listens to us for the first time.

We really bother — or burden — our minds too much. Sometimes we become so serious that you would think the UN has called a special session on our tea stall. We start talking about nations, politics, economy, isms — Theist, Atheist and Agnostic — philosophies and different writers. Ten minutes of pure rationality. You would think, “Wow, these guys should be on a news channel.”

And then, in the next ten minutes, the same intellectuals start discussing cars.

Gurkha, Maruti Suzuki Jimny, Thar, Bolero, Tiago, Tigor, Rubicon and many more expensive and adventurous cars. Full comparison. Which has better ground clearance, which looks more macho, which can climb a mountain.

But none of us can afford any of them. 

We talk which hardly has any sense. Complete paradox. And you can't imagine that he is the same person who was talking so rationally ten minutes before about Karl Marx and the economy.

It's just like a game. And then we enjoy even struggle.

We look at each other and say — “How’s your face looking? What happened to you, why are you looking like Babbu Maan today?”

No context. No reason. Just pure fun.

Sometimes, there are context too. Satwinder Sir knows it better. 

Perhaps we are built in a different way. We laugh even in pain because we were all told not to show our weak side, no matter how much desperate we are from inside.

“Be a man. Don’t cry. Handle it.”

And I think this stereotype no one wants to break, not even us.

So we convert pain into JOKES. Stress into car discussions we CAN'T AFFORD. Philosophy into friendly insults.

It’s nonsense. It’s humour. It’s therapy.

And honestly it works.