Fear. Faith. Choice.

“Are you religious?” she asked. I answered, “Depends on what you call religion. For me, my religion is my relation to the essence of every element in this universe.” She replied, “How do you worship then? Tell me about your God.” I said, “Let me tell you a story. It was a wintry night in the foothills of the Himalayas. A dark, dense, forested region. For some unknown reason, I preferred the foothills and the valleys to small towns on higher altitudes. The place belonged to a kingdom of innumerable variety of uncountable forest species. A journey amidst the forest would mean being witness to the magical phenomenon of dark roads being lighted up by millions and billions of fireflies. A kind of welcome, any stranger would be grateful to experience. My only shelter was a tent with a transparent rooftop, located right beside the river and amidst some massive rocks. Since it was off-season for tourism to these places, I had limited company. To be more precise, limited in quantity but un

In a calm voice, he said, “Buy a leather journal and a calligraphy pen with changeable tips. You don’t have to spend much. At my place, it costs 15-20$. The idea is that you want the aesthetic of what you’re doing to match the importance of what you’re doing, which is very important since it reflects your personal attempt for a better understanding.” Confused by the introduction of calligraphy pens in the discussion, I replied, “Why calligraphy pens?” He smiled and answered, “I did not tell you to learn calligraphy. The goal is to never spill the ink and get none of it on your hands. Eventually, you will also observe your own words and know what I mean by coherent expression.”