The power of prayer

I have a friend who doesn’t believe in God. Well he claims he’s not an aethist but an agnostic. This post is for him and the likes of him!

Today I got my results… My 3rd semester exams got over in January and I’d done reasonably well in all subjects and particularly done well in the internals and practicals, except in one subject. I was positive I would fail the subject.
All my days after the exam were spent praying to all kinds of  Gods to pass me in Mechanics of materials. I was actually pretty good at the subject and had scored 23/25 in the internals. I just screwed the entire paper because I just got too tense. Well I don’t even know why I got so nervous.

I had mentally prepared myself that I would fail the subject, but had refrained to tell my parents, my mum I knew would be devastated and I didn’t have the heart to tell her beforehand and I didn’t even know how to face my parents who had expected so much out of me. I knew how much me scoring a good mark meant to them.

I was out when I recieved the result and got to know I had failed in M.O.M, but had still managed to get a 61%. And I called my dad and told him. He didn’t really react. Initially I burst into tears, I got really scared as to how to face my parents.
But as I was riding back home I was contemplating what I had done, I realised I had done pretty well cos I’d scored more than a lot of my counterparts considering I’d passed only 5 subjects. I suddenly didn’t seem too sad or scared.

I believe all my prayers have paid off. Probably not in the same way as I expected but though God didn’t pass me, he gave me courage to face my parents, he gave me assurance that I had done well this time too. And most importantly he gave me hope that there is a much brighter next time.

When I got back home, my parents said nothing, they sort of understood. And I have the belief that I can do a lot better in the subject the next time around.

Anyway, there is no point in denying the existence of a God, because a person like me to have taken my failure well is rather a miracle!

Lost in the crowd

(This is my first work of fiction. Well it’s not too much of fiction! Anyway tell me how you liked it! )

I was standing on the footboard of the crowded bus. I had to push and work my way through the extreme crowds of the bus. Phew. Among the flurry of faces I found 2 familiar faces. Glad to see them they waved to me. I waved back.

One of them Maya. A dancer. Graceful and elegant, she had big and beautiful eyes and long tresses. She was gentle and moved like a swan. Maya was a popular girl in college. She was talented and dedicated to her art. She had a lot of credits to her name and was a brilliant performer.

The other girl I saw, Vidya. A frail girl. She was top of the college at her field. A “nerd” as other people would call her. But I would call her a hard worker. She was dedicated to her books. Her bespactacled face would always search for a book. She found utmost happiness in studies.

As I looked at them, I wondered… Who I was? I was intimidated by the beauty of Maya and her talents. And Vidya’s ability to always do well. I wasn’t as poised as Maya or as good a scorer as Vidya…

But that day as I was watching them, also getting pushed around in the Bus I realised they’re also part of the crowd. They also got lost in the crowd. But the entire mob of people were all special in their ways. There was a Maya and a Vidya hidden in each one of them.

I was enlightened, though we’re all equals, we are all special in our own ways. I didn’t have to Maya or a Vidya to be special. My uniqueness lies in the fact that I am me.

unexplained…

There are a lot of things science cannot explain… A LOT of profound questions remain unanswered. But Man still hasn’t learnt that it’s not a good thing to oppose nature. It’s only going to harm us adversely. I don’t think examples are needed to prove this statement. One can blatantly see what’s happening to the world.

There is one phenomenon that occurs in the South of India every year. A very popular one that too. As we celebrate Sankranti or Pongal here. There’s a world famous temple in Sabrimalai, dedicated to Lord Ayappa, who is believed to be an incarnation of Lord  Subramanya, another son of Lord Shiva and Parvati. Every Sankranti, that is on the 14th of January, at sunset, there appears a light in between two hills. It rises and shows itself. It appears like a small fire burning. It’s not a torch or anything… It’s just a small fire called as makara jyothi, jyothi or vilakku.

It’s remained largely disputed by blasphemers, cynics and atheists. They say it’s an artificially created light. Well it’s just upto what you want to believe. Because some men constantly want to oppose everything nature has to offer.

I personally believe the existence of a God and this for me is proof. I think it’s true. A lot of people however don’t want to believe it. It’s choice. After all faith can move mountains. It’s wise to have faith in something rather that being too critical of everything. Our existence hasn’t come out from nothing. There should be some reason why we’re here right?

Time for Gandhigiri!

 

It’s been long, after a very stressful time, I’m feeling better now and have returned to update my blog!

Today is Gandhi Jayanthi… Mahatma Gandhi’sbirthday. Now how many of us really “celebrate” Gandhi Jayanthi? Most of us just welcome the holiday and while away our time at home. But stop and think for a few seconds. The man who gave us our freedom, after sacrificing his life… We don’t even remember him. I personally think Gandhi’s principles should be followed everywhere. He is the father of our nation and he should be respected and hence be followed.

Gandhi was popular for Ahimsa- Non violence. The UN has declared 2nd October to be the International Non violence day. All I hope for is that there is never violence in the world. There is so much of terror and we’re living under constant threat… You never know, you could be the next one whose head explodes in a bomb blast. No kidding… It could happen to you.

Everybody knows that it’s Mahatma Gandhi’s birthday today… But how many of you know that it’s alsoLal Bahadur Shastri’s birthday today?

These freedom fighters encouraged the usage of Khadi and asked us not to export things… Well today’s youth are doing exactly the opposite. I got this interesting message yesterday which read:
38% of the doctors in USA are Indians.
12% of the scientists in USA are Indians.
36% of the scientists in NASA are Indians.
34% of Microsoft’s employees are Indians.
17% of Intel’s employees are Indians.
28% of IBM’s employees are Indians.
Indians are intelligent but India is still not a developed nation.

What is the root cause of this problem? Why are these individuals running off to improve the US economy? Is it mere selfishness or is it because the Indian government is not providing them with enough opportunities and encouragement?

Whatever it is… It is up to the people to make this nation a better place to live in. Otherwise aren’t we letting the freedom fighters of this country down. Those fighters who gave their lives so that we could have a better future.

(P.S: I don’t know how this post got unpublished… Sorry was away for a long time!)

The NEWS!

A beautiful little Aarushi in her happier times

Why I haven’t updated in quite sometime is 1) I’ve had exams (which are STILL not over. They’re taking forever!) 2) Whatever free time I’ve had I’ve wasted playing absolutely useless games on facebook… Besides I’ve not found anything interesting to write about… I’ve been leading a rather mudane life.

Till today. I was watching the news and I saw that the Aarushi Talwar murder case has been solved. And a certain Krishna, Vijay Mandal and Rajkumar have been convicted of the murder. I was glad to hear about the guilty being punished…

A month and a half ago I’d written this post and I, like everybody else thought Dr.Talwar had murdered his own child.

The Noida police “cracked” the entire case with such reassurrance and the chief of the Noida police made statements like “The father was as characterless as the daughter.” and etc… The media published it all over the place, soon everybody was talking about it, people were writing about it… Everybody thought What a ruthless father that man must have been, to have murdered his own child. And it wasn’t any fault of the people who spoke. They were given the wrong information. And it was thrust into their face in a rather convincing way…

Then, amidst all the confusion, the CBI took over and thankfully solved the case revealing to the world the true culprits. But in all this there has been so much loss, so much tragedy, so much trauma.

That little child is dead and gone forever. She was prey to the dirty lust of some antisocial elements, that are still so rampant in today’s society.

The parents, who had to not only go through the trauma of the loss of their only child, but also the shame and humiliation that the society imposed on them for no fault of theirs… I mean imagine if you were the parent, (god forbid.) But it’s scary to even think hypothetically of putting yourself in their shoes.

The media, the oh-so-powerful media played it’s part, some say it helped the situation, some say it ruined it… I only say it did it’s part, whoever it be, the print, broadcast or even bloggers for that matter. All they did was spread awareness and create more opinions, isn’t that what they’re here for…

In conclusion, all I would like to say is that, may God bless the people who were innocent and had to see the worst side of this gory murder. And that little child that lost her life to the most savage inhuman thing in the world. May her soul rest in peace.

What is joy?!

Today, I’d a very touching experience that I thought I should share.

 I had my physics practical exam and I was as usual very tense and didn’t eat anything all day! So by the time it got over I was famished… My friends and I decided to go to our usual ice-cream joint. MTR! So we landed there and among the 3 of us we had 90 bucks! We bought a hot chocolate fudges costing 20 bucks each and 2 samosa packets for ten bucks each! We ate till I thought I was ok! Then one of my friends left.

My other friend Sneha and I decided to use the 10 bucks we had usefully! By buying more Icecream… 2 softy’s costing us 6 rupees each. We dug Sneha’s bag and voila… we found it!!! (why is this a “touching experience?” You must be wondering… I promise I’ve a point to make!)

As we sat outside and ate, two small kids, a boy aged around 5 and in his arms a girl aged around 2 came to us and begged us for some money! (US!!!) Well we were broke, but we felt sad and dug in and all we found was 2 samosas, so we gave it to them. But they looked at us longingly as we ate the ice cream.

The poor kids shared the samosa. The brother was very sweet. He offered the small girl a larger portion even though he didn’t have much.

Our hearts went out to them. Suddenly I put my hand into my pocket and found 10 bucks! But that wasn’t enough to buy us 2 softy ice-creams. So we just rummaged everything and with difficulty found 2 bucks! We bought them both one softy each. We gave them the ice-creams. They weren’t expecting it. They were elated! As Sneha and I went and sat, we observed how the siblings ate the ice-creams. The girl was too small to even eat the ice-cream! And probably had never eaten one in her life.

That set us thinking… My dad reckons I’ve eaten around 2 trucks of ice-creams in my life! And there we saw those kids enjoying one of those rare luxuries of life. The joy on their face knew no bounds. The joy I saw that joy on those faces was a lot sweeter than all the ice-creams I’d eaten, put together.

I’ve a lot more to say about this tiny, and almost forgettable experience… But I’ve no words! It’s just a feeling. A good feeling. It’s these little experiences that enrich life.

An ode on the death of a favourite teacher

Mrs. Raju was not just another teacher but she was one of the greatest women that I have ever seen, today as I write this ode to her I am deeply grief stricken as I miss her presence.

She joined Baldwin Girls High school as a young geography teacher, with fresh ideas and dynamism to implement them. She taught batches and batches of girls who passed out of Baldwins… not only geography, but the way of life.

She was a great lady and she took up every task with such zest and made sure it was a grand success, be it the school choir, a play, a cultural or literary event… Everything had to go perfectly if she was there.

But she went through a lot of problems in her personal life, widowed at a young age, she had to bring up her only daughter single-handedly. A few years later, she was diagnosed with kidney failure. She struggled to manage her finances. She was on dialysis thrice a week, for the last 9 years. She was weak and frail, yet she came to school and not only taught what she was supposed to but also made sure that everything in the school was going on perfectly. She was so enthusiastic about every activity in the school, she was the first to undertake it, inspite of all her sickness.

She put her life and soul into the service of the school. But God never let her feel the burden as there was always some old girl who would come up to finance her.

She lead a life of utmost discipline and was meticulous in everything that she did, she left behind a mark on every person she came across. Even today ask any Baldwinian who the best teacher in school was and without a doubt the answer would be Mrs. Raju.

I’d a very special attachment to her, as when I was in standard 10 in baldwins, she was not only my geography teacher but also my house advisor… Delima house, she was so proud of it! She is one lady who has played a pivotal role in moulding my life, hats off to Mrs. Raju. Today if I stand proudly and say “I’m a Baldwinian” It’s to a very large extent due to Mrs. Raju. She is an inspiration and a role model to anyone who has given up on life.

Mrs. Vilma Rabinder Raju- May her soul rest in peace.

Mother Nature’s perfect child.

I have a lot of nieces and nephews now (a result of having too many cousins who got married almost altogether!) rather obvious (!)
I was at my cousin’s place, he has a 7 month daughter named Tanvi. I think it would be too cliche to call her exceptionally cute and adorable. That made me wonder… Why are children so cute.

I looked at little Tanvi, she touched my face and smiled. That melted my heart, that innocence on her face was priceless.
A child is so unexposed to the atrocities of the world, so untouched by the terrible reality. Children live in their own world. Trying to learn new things and minding their own business.
All children are born so perfect. Not a single flaw. Have you ever obsereved… children have such good habits, like getting up early in the morning, eating just right. Unlike adults who eat not because they are hungry but because they want to.
As children grow up the world teaches them all the bad things. It teaches them lies, bad habits like smoking, drinking, deceit and everything that makes the world a bad place to live in.
Have you ever wondered that even Osama Bin Laden was once an innocent child who was content when he slept on his mother’s lap.
Why does the world transform us into such bad things? We ourselves are creating the anti-social elements, out of such innocent beings that were born with absolutely no imperfections. Why do we do this, aren’t we the root cause of all the pain that we go through?

William Wordsworth has written a beatuiful poem about mother nature’s child

THREE years she grew in sun and shower;
Then Nature said, ‘A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
This child I to myself will take;
She shall be mine, and I will make
A lady of my own.

‘Myself will to my darling be
Both law and impulse; and with me
The girl, in rock and plain,
In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,
Shall feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.

‘She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.

‘The floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend;
Nor shall she fail to see
Even in the motions of the storm
Grace that shall mould the maiden’s form
By silent sympathy.

‘The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.

‘And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her virgin bosom swell;
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
While she and I together live
Here in this happy dell.’

Thus Nature spake — The work was done –
How soon my Lucy’s race was run!
She died, and left to me
This heath, this calm and quiet scene;
The memory of what has been,
And never more will be.

Let us be child like in our hearts forever, that is what will make our lives most content.

A truly inspiring speech!

Address to the Class of 2006 at the IIM, Bangalore on defining success by Subroto Bagchi (Past VP, Lucent Technologies; VP, Wipro Presently COO, Mind Tree Consulting) (All with just Political Science BA degree from Utkal University).

I was the last child of a small-time government servant, in a family of five brothers. My earliest memory of my father is as that of a District Employment Officer in Koraput, Orissa. It was, and remains as back of beyond as you can imagine. There was no electricity; no primary school nearby and water did not flow out of a tap.
As a result, I did not go to school until the age of eight; I was home-schooled. My father used to get transferred every year. The family belongings fit into the back of a jeep – so the family moved from place to place and without any trouble, my Mother would set up an establishment and get us going. Raised by a widow who had come as a refugee from the then East Bengal, she was a matriculate when she married my Father.
My parents set the foundation of my life and the value system, which makes me what I am today and largely, defines what success means to me today.
As District Employment Officer, my father was given a jeep by the government. There was no garage in the Office, so the jeep was parked in our house.
My father refused to use it to commute to the office. He told us that the jeep is an expensive resource given by the government – he reiterated to us that it was not ”his jeep” but the government’s jeep. Insisting that he would use it only to tour the interiors, he would walk to his office on normal days. He also made sure that we never sat in the government jeep – we could sit in it only when it was stationary.
That was our early childhood lesson in governance – a lesson that corporate managers learn the hard way, some never does. The driver of the jeep was treated with respect due to any other member of my Father’s office. As small children, we were taught not to call him by his name. We had to use the suffix ‘dada’ whenever we were to refer to him in public or private. When I grew up to own a car and a driver by the name of Raju was appointed – I repeated the lesson to my two small daughters.
They have, as a result, grown up to call Raju, ‘Raju Uncle’ – very different from many of their friends who refer to their family driver, as ‘my driver’. When I hear that term from a school- or college-going person, I cringe.
To me, the lesson was significant – you treat small people with more respect than how you treat big people. It is more important to respect your subordinates than your superiors. Our day used to start with the family huddling around my Mother’s chulha -an earthen fire place she would build at each place of posting where she would cook for the family. There was neither gas, nor electrical stoves. The morning routine started with tea. As the brew was served, Father would ask us to read aloud the editorial page of The Statesman’s ‘muffosil’ edition – delivered one day late.
We did not understand much of what we were reading. But the ritual was meant for us to know that the world was larger than Koraput district and the English I speak today, despite having studied in an Oriya medium school, has to do with that routine. After reading the newspaper aloud, we were told to fold it neatly.
Father taught us a simple lesson. He used to say, “You should leave your newspaper and your toilet, the way you expect to find it”. That lesson was about showing consideration to others. Business begins and ends with that simple precept.
Being small children, we were always enamoured with advertisements in the newspaper for transistor radios – we did not have one. We saw other people having radios in their homes and each time there was an advertisement of Philips, Murphy or Bush radios, we would ask Father when we could get one. Each time, my Father would reply that we did not need one because he already had five radios – alluding to his five sons. We also did not have a house of our own and would occasionally ask Father as to when, like others, we would live in our own house. He would give a similar reply,” We do not need a house of our own. I already own five houses”. His replies did not gladden our hearts in that instant.
Nonetheless, we learnt that it is important not to measure personal success and sense of well being through material possessions. Government houses seldom came with fences. Mother and I collected twigs and built a small fence. After lunch, my Mother would never sleep. She would take her kitchen utensils and with those she and I would dig the rocky, white ant infested surrounding.
We planted flowering bushes.
The white ants destroyed them. My mother brought ash from her chulha and mixed it in the earth and we planted the seedlings all over again. This time, they bloomed. At that time, my father’s transfer order came. A few neighbors told my mother why she was taking so much pain to beautify a government house, why she was planting seeds that would only benefit the next occupant. My mother replied that it did not matter to her that she would not see the flowers in full bloom. She said, “I have to create a bloom in a desert and whenever I am given a new place, I must leave it more beautiful than what I had inherited”.
That was my first lesson in success. It is not about what you create for yourself, it is what you leave behind that defines success. My mother began developing a cataract in her eyes when I was very small. At that time, the eldest among my brothers got a teaching job at the University in Bhubaneswar and had to prepare for the civil services examination.
So, it was decided that my Mother would move to cook for him and, as her appendage, I had to move too. For the first time in my life I saw electricity in homes and water coming out of a tap. It was around 1965 and the country was going to war with Pakistan. My mother was having problems reading and in any case, being Bengali, she did not know the Oriya script. So, in addition to my daily chores, my job was to read her the local newspaper – end to end.
That created in me a sense of connectedness with a larger world. I began taking interest in many different things. While reading out news about the war, I felt that I was fighting the war myself. She and I discussed the daily news and built a bond with the larger universe. In it, we became part of a larger reality. Till date, I measure my success in terms of that sense of larger connectedness. Meanwhile, the war raged and India was fighting on both fronts. Lal Bahadur Shastri, the then Prime Minster, coined the term “Jai Jawan, Jai Kishan” and galvanized the nation in to patriotic fervor.
Other than reading out the newspaper to my mother, I had no clue about how I could be part of the action. So, after reading her the newspaper, every day I would land up near the University’s water tank, which served the community. I would spend hours under it, imagining that there could be spies who would come to poison the water and I had to watch for them. I would daydream about catching one and how the next day, I would be featured in the newspaper. Unfortunately for me, the spies at war ignored the sleepy town of Bhubaneswar and I never got a chance to catch one in action. Yet, that act unlocked my imagination.
Imagination is everything. If we can imagine a future, we can create it, if we can create that future, others will live in it.
That is the essence of success. Over the next few years, my mother’s eyesight dimmed but in me she created a larger vision, a vision with which I continue to see the world and, I sense, through my eyes, she was seeing too. As the next few years unfolded, her vision deteriorated and she was operated for cataract. I remember, when she returned after her operation and she saw my face clearly for the first time, she was astonished. She said, “Oh my God, I did not know you were so fair”. I remain mighty pleased with that adulation even till date. Within weeks of getting her sight back, she developed a corneal ulcer and, overnight, became blind in both eyes. That was 1969. She died in 2002.
In all those 32 years of living with blindness, she never complained about her fate even once. Curious to know what she saw with blind eyes, I asked her once if she sees darkness. She replied, “No, I do not see darkness.
I only see light even with my eyes closed”. Until she was eighty years of age, she did her morning yoga everyday, swept her own room and washed her own clothes. To me, success is about the sense of independence; it is about not seeing the world but seeing the light. Over the many intervening years, I grew up, studied, joined the industry and began to carve my life’s own journey.
I began my life as a clerk in a government office, went on to become a Management Trainee with the DCM group and eventually found my life’s calling with the IT industry when fourth generation computers came to India in 1981. Life took me places – I worked with outstanding people, challenging assignments and traveled all over the world. In 1992, while I was posted in the US, I learnt that my father, living a retired life with my eldest brother, had suffered a third degree burn injury and was admitted in the Safderjung Hospital in Delhi. I flew back to attend to him – he remained for a few days in critical stage, bandaged from neck to toe. The Safderjung Hospital is a cockroach infested, dirty, inhuman place. The overworked, under-resourced sisters in the burn ward are both victims and perpetrators of dehumanized life at its worst. One morning, while attending to my Father, I realized that the blood bottle was empty and fearing that air would go into his vein, I asked the attending nurse to change it. She bluntly told me to do it myself.
In that horrible theater of death, I was in pain and frustration and anger. Finally when she relented and came, my Father opened his eyes and murmured to her, “Why have you not gone home yet?” Here was a man on his deathbed but more concerned about the overworked nurse than his own state. I was stunned at his stoic self.
There I learnt that there is no limit to how concerned you can be for another human being and what the limit of inclusion is you can create. My father died the next day. He was a man whose success was defined by his principles, his frugality, his universalism and his sense of inclusion.
Above all, he taught me that success is your ability to rise above your discomfort, whatever may be your current state. You can, if you want, raise your consciousness above your immediate surroundings. Success is not about building material comforts – the transistor that he never could buy or the house that he never owned.
His success was about the legacy he left, the mimetic continuity of his ideals that grew beyond the smallness of a ill-paid, unrecognized government servant’s world.
My father was a fervent believer in the British Raj. He sincerely doubted the capability of the post-independence Indian political parties to govern the country. To him, the lowering of the Union Jack was a sad event.
My Mother was the exact opposite. When Subhash Bose quit the Indian National Congress and came to Dacca, my mother, then a schoolgirl, garlanded him. She learnt to spin khadi and joined an underground movement that trained her in using daggers and swords. Consequently, our household saw diversity in the political outlook of the two. On major issues concerning the world, the Old Man and the Old Lady had differing opinions.
In them, we learnt the power of disagreements, of dialogue and the essence of living with diversity in thinking. Success is not about the ability to create a definitive dogmatic end state; it is about the unfolding of thought processes, of dialogue and continuum.
Two years back, at the age of eighty-two, Mother had a paralytic stroke and was lying in a government hospital in Bhubaneswar. I flew down from the US where I was serving my second stint, to see her. I spent two weeks with her in the hospital as she remained in a paralytic state. She was neither getting better nor moving on.
Eventually I had to return to work. While leaving her behind, I kissed her face. In that paralytic state and a garbled voice, she said, “Why are you kissing me, go kiss the world.” Her river was nearing its journey, at the confluence of life and death, this woman who came to India as a refugee, raised by a widowed Mother, no more educated than high school, married to an anonymous government servant whose last salary was Rupees Three Hundred, robbed of her eyesight by fate and crowned by adversity was telling me to go and kiss the world!
Success to me is about Vision. It is the ability to rise above the immediacy of pain. It is about imagination. It is about sensitivity to small people. It is about building inclusion. It is about connectedness to a larger world existence. It is about personal tenacity. It is about giving back more to life than you take out of it. It is about creating extra-ordinary success with ordinary lives.
Thank you very much; I wish you good luck and God’s speed. Go kiss the world !!

Subrato Bagchi

The Occult

This is one of the first few poems I’ve written. Tried my hand at it! Tell me what you think about it
It’s a sonnet (that is a poem consisting of 14 lines)

I was forsaken in the midst of strife,

The tempest humbling me,

the languish bleeding into me.

Solitude and melancholy blanketed me.

As I felt tainted and wretched

I witnessed an aura

Its dazzle outshining the daystar

bringing concord to my innate senses.

Making me see the splendour of the vale

and the brook gladdened heath.

My horizon was broadened,

My jubilince regained

What was the occult I percieved

that metamorphose me?

This is the interpretation I had in mind when I penned this poem.

It can always be looked in different shades of light!

I was in deep trouble, the storms were overpowering me, I felt pain and sadness. I was alone forever. I was overcome grief and a sense of not wanting to live.

Then I witnessed someting, that changed my entire perspective. Describes as a positive light. I realised the beauty of nature. I was motivated to think optimistically as I felt happy and optimistic.

The last two lines ask a question. A question that is left for you to answer

What was the one incident that changed a lot for the better in your life! A philosophical awakening…

Have you seen your occult yet? Introspect and you will find it, If not…you can always start off now!