Friday, October 2, 2026

No one knows what tomorrow's scene will be

No One Knows What Tomorrow’s Scene Will Be

Harinath and Lalitha, a couple living in Vijayawada, were very fond of movies.

They would watch a movie on Friday and discuss it on Saturday.

«“There was absolutely no logic in what the hero did.”

“If that girl had told him just one thing earlier, the whole story would have changed.”

“The director just forced that twist in for the sake of having a twist.”»

One day, Lalitha said with a smile:

«“Maybe we are also blaming the director of our own lives in the same way!”»

Harinath laughed.

«“Who is the director of our lives?”»

“That is exactly what we need to find out.”

---

When Harinath was twenty-eight, he got a job opportunity abroad.

Everyone told him to go.

But he didn’t.

His father was running a small business at the time.

«“I’ll stay with Dad for a few more years,”»

he decided.

Within two years, the business shut down.

Harinath was furious with himself for the decision he had made.

«“If I had gone abroad then, my life would have been completely different today.”»

Years later, that same father fell seriously ill.

During his final years, Harinath stayed by his side.

On the day his father passed away, he said to Lalitha:

«“If only I had gone to America back then...”»

Lalitha gently asked:

«“Then would you have been there with him now?”»

Harinath fell silent.

---

Lalitha had another story of her own.

When she was very young, her beloved elder sister passed away.

For years, she had only one question:

«“Why did it have to happen to her?”»

Later, she came to know something her mother had told her.

After her sister’s death, the family moved to another town. Because of that move, Lalitha was able to continue her education. Otherwise, she too might have had to discontinue her studies at a young age.

Lalitha felt somewhat comforted.

«“Perhaps that incident is what led my life in this direction.”»

But her thoughts did not stop there.

One day, another question arose in her mind:

«“But how can I say that my education was the reason my sister died?”»

She had no answer.

---

A few days later, the two of them met an elderly man at an ashram.

Harinath told him his story.

«“Now, when I look back, everything seems to have happened for some reason or the other.”»

The old man asked:

«“Do you know that?”»

“What do you mean?”

«“Do you really know the reason? Or have you simply connected everything that happened later and created a meaningful story out of it?”»

Harinath remained silent.

Lalitha too said nothing.

The old man said:

«“Once a movie is over, the whole story appears very logical because we know the final scene as well. In life, however, we are sitting right in the middle of the movie.”»

After a brief pause, he continued:

«“There is no need to look back and say, ‘This had to happen.’ It is enough if you can say, ‘This happened. I do not know its complete reason. Yet I can remain at peace with it.’”»

---

On their way home, Harinath asked:

«“Then, if everything is already decided, why should we make any effort?”»

Lalitha immediately replied:

«“But we don’t know whether our movie has already been written, do we?”»

Harinath smiled.

“That's true.”

«“That is why our job is not to know tomorrow’s scene. Our job is to play our part properly in this scene.”»

“And what about the result?”

«“We should do whatever is within our hands. The rest belongs to life.”»

---

A few months later, Harinath got a major business opportunity.

This time, he thought carefully and made the decision as cautiously as he could.

The business failed.

For three months, he was deeply distressed.

One day, Lalitha asked him:

«“Are you going to say that this too happened for your own good?”»

Harinath smiled.

“No.”

“Then?”

«“I suffered a loss. It hurts. I don’t completely know why it happened. But I also don’t think my life has gone wrong because of it.”»

Lalitha said nothing.

For the first time, she saw a quiet peace on his face.

---

That night, sitting on the balcony, Harinath said:

«“All these years, the two of us have been writing a story for our lives.”»

Lalitha said:

«“Yes. Giving a reason to everything that happened.”»

“And now?”

«“Now I feel there is no need to completely understand the story.”»

“Then?”

Lalitha looked at the sky for a while and said:

«“It’s okay if we don’t know what tomorrow’s scene will be. Perhaps it is enough to know who it is that is watching this scene.”»

Harinath looked at her.

This time, neither of them spoke about the movie.

---

Commentary

The mind wants a reason. So it creates a story around the past.

But just because we find a meaning later does not mean that meaning was the actual cause of the event.

Advaita does not stop at the comforting idea that “everything is God’s plan.” It takes us deeper.

- “Why did this happen?” — Sometimes, there is no answer.
- “It was bound to happen.” — That may simply be our interpretation.
- “It happened; I will face it.” — This is titikṣā (patient endurance).
- Letting go of the urge to completely control the future — this is vairāgya (non-attachment).
- Vairāgya does not mean giving up action; it means giving up the insistence that the result must completely belong to me.
- Rather than justifying the past, being at peace with it even when its complete cause is unknown is a deeper form of maturity.
- Ultimately, the question is not “Who wrote my movie?”

«“If the movie keeps changing, is the one who knows it changing too?”»

That is where the sādhanā (spiritual practice) begins to move from trying to understand destiny toward knowing the sākṣī (the witnessing consciousness).

Letter found in trunk

The Letter Found in the Old Trunk

There was a small village called Venkatapuram, near Warangal. A retired postmaster named Narasimhamurthy lived there. His wife had passed away five years earlier. His two children were living in Hyderabad.

Narasimhamurthy had one particular habit.

There was an old trunk box in his house. He kept everything in it—old letters, photographs, bank passbooks, his children's school report cards, greeting cards people had given him, and all sorts of such things.

One day, his son Shashank came home and asked,

“Dad, why are you still keeping this trunk? It's all useless old papers, isn't it?”

Narasimhamurthy smiled.

“They aren't useless, son. They are my life.”

“Is this what life is?”

“At least, this is what I see when I look at it.”

Shashank said nothing.

---

One Sunday, while sorting through the old papers, Narasimhamurthy found a letter.

It was a letter written twenty-eight years ago.

It was from his younger brother, Ramachandram.

The two brothers had fallen out over a property dispute and had not spoken to each other for fifteen years.

There was one sentence at the end of the letter:

“Anna, whether we win or lose, this property is not coming with us. Let us sit down and talk once.”

Narasimhamurthy sat there holding the letter for a long time.

Ramachandram had been dead for eight years by then.

He suddenly leaned back in his chair.

“Ahh…”

That was all he could say.

The property had remained with both of them.

The quarrel had remained too.

But the life they had as brothers never came back.

---

Seeing that letter brought another old incident back to Narasimhamurthy's mind.

When the property dispute had started, the two brothers had said many harsh things to each other. One day, Ramachandram had angrily asked,

“Anna, do you want the money, or do you want to defeat me?”

Narasimhamurthy had not backed down.

“Justice is on my side. Why should I step back?”

Ramachandram had then said,

“You are trying to make justice win. But the relationship between the two of us as brothers will lose.”

At that time, those words had only made Narasimhamurthy angry.

Now, those same words went straight into his heart.

Did justice win?

Even today, he did not know.

But one thing was absolutely clear to him:

Both of them had lost something in that quarrel.

---

After coming home that day, Shashank asked,

“What happened, Dad?”

Narasimhamurthy showed him the letter.

“Your uncle called me toward the end. I didn't go.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to prove that I was right.”

Shashank remained silent.

Narasimhamurthy smiled.

“Now when I look back, I don't even remember whether I won or lost that property. But one thing I remember very clearly—the fifteen years I spent without speaking to my brother will never come back.”

That night, he took a small piece of paper.

He wrote:

“Being right in an argument is less important than protecting a relationship when it truly matters.”

He folded the paper and put it inside the trunk.

“This is what I learned. The rest is just rough work,” he told himself.

---

A few months later, Narasimhamurthy had a quarrel with an elderly neighbour named Satyavathi.

It was over something very small.

They had an argument about water being poured in front of the house.

The matter became bigger than it needed to be.

They stopped speaking to each other for three months.

One day, Satyavathi's blood pressure suddenly shot up and she collapsed.

Narasimhamurthy himself took her to the hospital in an auto.

After she recovered, she asked him,

“What about our quarrel?”

Narasimhamurthy smiled.

“I left it at the hospital gate.”

“Was it that easy?”

“No. After carrying it around for three months, I finally understood—it was heavy, and it was of no use.”

Satyavathi laughed.

“What if we quarrel again?”

“We probably will. We are human beings, after all!”

They both laughed.

---

But Narasimhamurthy did not simply leave that incident at that.

That night, he wrote one sentence in his diary:

“Not reacting immediately when anger rises in the mind is also a form of learning.”

That's all.

He did not write how the quarrel started, who said what, or who blamed whom.

Shashank asked,

“Such a big quarrel, and you wrote only one line?”

Narasimhamurthy smiled.

“That was the incident. This is its capsule.”

“Capsule?”

“Yes. We don't carry an entire bottle of medicine around with us, do we? We take what is needed in the form of a small tablet. In the same way, from a hundred pages of an experience, we should take out one small truth that is useful to us.”

“If you don't learn that one thing and instead keep carrying the hundred pages of pain, it is like carrying your rough work on your shoulders for the rest of your life.”

---

A year later, Shashank suffered a huge loss in his business.

Nearly thirty lakh rupees.

He went to his father and said,

“Dad, my whole life is finished.”

Narasimhamurthy looked at him for a while.

“You lost thirty lakhs. But you are saying your whole life is finished?”

“Then what?”

“The money is gone. Did your life go with it?”

Shashank remained silent.

“Look carefully at what happened. Find out where you went wrong. Remember what you should not do again. Try to recover from the loss. But don't turn the loss into your identity.”

“What do you mean?”

“‘I am a man who lost everything’ is another story. ‘I suffered a loss’ is an event. There is a big difference between the two.”

---

Shashank went through all his business accounts again.

He found one major mistake.

He had trusted a friend's word and bought a huge quantity of goods in advance without properly checking when the customers' payments would actually come in.

The real reason for the loss was not the market.

It was his haste, his excessive trust, and giving more importance to a person's words than to the actual numbers.

He went back to his father.

“Dad, the loss was thirty lakhs. But I learned one sentence.”

“What?”

“You can trust people. But when it comes to money, check the numbers yourself.”

Narasimhamurthy smiled.

“That is your capsule. Keep it. You don't have to keep replaying the entire thirty-lakh story every day.”

---

After some time, Shashank got back on his feet.

His sister Madhuri, meanwhile, had gone abroad and settled there.

At first, Narasimhamurthy found it very difficult.

“The children don't live nearby anymore. For whom did I struggle all these years?” he would think.

One day, Madhuri told him over the phone,

“Dad, only now I understand how hard you worked to educate us when we were young.”

Narasimhamurthy's eyes filled with tears.

After ending the call, he sat quietly for a while.

Then he told himself,

“I thought I lived for them. But their childhood belonged to them. My responsibility was mine. Now their lives belong to them.”

That thought brought a great lightness to him.

He continued to love his children.

But he stopped looking at their lives as an extension of his own.

---

Another small incident changed his thinking even more.

Once, Madhuri came to the village during the summer holidays with her children. Her young son Aditya spent the whole day following his grandfather around.

“Grandpa, when I grow up, I want to become a postmaster just like you,” he said.

Narasimhamurthy laughed.

“You become whatever you feel like becoming.”

“Won't you feel bad?”

“Why?”

“If I don't become like you?”

Narasimhamurthy gently touched the boy's head.

“You don't have to become like me. Your life is yours. I am your grandfather. I am not your owner.”

Madhuri heard those words too.

She looked at her father.

Narasimhamurthy said nothing more.

But something became clear to him inside.

Even the list of sacrifices we made for our children should not one day be placed around their necks like a debt note.

---

One day, an elderly man in the village died.

His two sons were fighting over the property.

The dead man's body was inside the house.

Outside, the two sons were shouting,

“That field is mine!”

“That house is mine!”

Narasimhamurthy stood there and watched.

He did not lecture either of them.

After returning home, he wrote in his diary:

“The moment a man dies, his claim over his property ends. Yet on that very day, his children start a new fight over it. Sometimes it takes another person's death for a man to realise how short life really is.”

Then he changed that sentence and wrote a shorter one:

“Everything we hold on to will eventually go. It is the mind that suffers because it keeps holding on.”

“This is the capsule,” he said.

---

One day, Narasimhamurthy had a small argument with his daughter Madhuri.

Madhuri said angrily,

“Dad, please don't compare everything with the way things were in your time. Our times are different.”

Those words hurt Narasimhamurthy deeply.

“Even my own daughter doesn't understand me,” he thought.

They did not speak for two days.

On the third day, Madhuri called him herself.

“Dad, I spoke too harshly. I'm sorry.”

Narasimhamurthy replied,

“I was also too proud of my own opinion. I'm sorry.”

After ending the call, he smiled.

This time, he did not open his diary.

“If I write this down too, I'll be creating another file. This time, the capsule can stay in the mind itself,” he thought.

---

A few days later, an old acquaintance met Narasimhamurthy near his shop.

Years ago, that man had borrowed money from Narasimhamurthy and never returned it.

After all these years, he began,

“Sir, about that money from back then…”

Narasimhamurthy smiled.

“That money is gone.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You don't need to apologise. The one thing I need to remember is this—when lending money, get it in writing.”

The man smiled.

“That's all?”

“That's all. If I keep hating you, will I get my money back?”

It was then that Narasimhamurthy understood something clearly: forgiveness does not mean declaring the other person innocent.

It means clearing the space you have given that person inside your mind.

---

One night, Narasimhamurthy sat looking through the old account books in the cupboard.

Thirty years of accounts.

How much he had taken from whom.

How much he had given to whom.

Where there had been profit.

Where there had been loss.

Where he had been cheated.

Where he had made mistakes.

He turned the pages one by one and finally said,

“These are not the accounts of my life. They are the rough work of my life.”

Shashank was sitting beside him.

“Then what is the fair copy?”

Narasimhamurthy remained silent for a while.

“Not how much money I earned.”

“Not how much I lost.”

“Not even who loved me and who cheated me.”

“Not even what I became because of all those people.”

Shashank looked at him.

Narasimhamurthy slowly said:

“After seeing all of this, perhaps the real fair copy is to find out who this ‘I’ is that is still sitting here holding on to everything.”

Shashank said nothing.

Narasimhamurthy closed the old account book.

The next day, he did not throw it into the rubbish.

He put it back in the cupboard.

But he never opened it again.

---

The old trunk, however, remained.

A few days later, Shashank asked again,

“Dad, there is nothing left in the trunk now. You can throw it away too.”

Narasimhamurthy said,

“No. Let it remain.”

“Why?”

“Because it reminds me of something.”

“What?”

Narasimhamurthy touched the trunk gently.

“Once, I thought my whole life was inside this trunk. Now it is empty, and I have lost nothing.”

Shashank stood there silently.

---

A few days later, Narasimhamurthy fell ill and took to bed.

Shashank and Madhuri both came.

That night, he slowly said,

“I want to tell you both something.”

“Tell us, Dad.”

“Whatever story you create about my life is up to you. You may remember my mistakes. You may remember the good things I did too.”

He paused for a while.

“But don't make my life a burden on yourselves.”

“You should love me. But you don't have to carry my memory around for the rest of your lives.”

Both their eyes filled with tears.

Narasimhamurthy smiled.

“I don't want to become something you have to carry as a memory either. You should live your own lives.”

He closed his eyes.

The room became quiet.

Outside, someone started a bike in front of the house.

Far away, a temple bell rang.

Life continued doing what it always does.

---

Commentary

The events that happen in our lives have two parts.

One is rough work.

Who said what, who cheated us, who left us, where we lost money, where we lost, where we won, who humiliated us—all of this is rough work.

The second is the learning capsule.

It is the one small, clear piece of wisdom we take out of the entire experience.

The rough work may run into a hundred pages.

The capsule may be just one sentence.

But it is that one sentence that is useful for the rest of our life.

Were you cheated?

“Evidence matters more than words.”

Did you lose money?

“Decisions should be made with clear calculations, not excitement.”

Did a relationship go wrong?

“Not every disagreement has to become a lifelong war.”

Did someone move away?

“Love them, but don't hold them as if you own them.”

Did you make a mistake?

“Seeing the truth matters more than proving that I am right.”

That is the learning capsule.

Once you have taken the capsule, there is no need to keep reading the rough work again and again.

This is exactly what many people fail to do in life.

A man cheated you ten years ago.

The man is gone.

The money is gone.

The incident is over.

Yet every month, we keep remembering it and continue paying that same person a salary inside our own mind.

That is not detachment.

That is holding on to memory.

On the other hand, saying, “Everything is maya,” and refusing to learn the lesson is not detachment either.

The money is gone. You learned nothing. You make the same mistake again.

That is not detachment—it is lack of discrimination.

So the right sequence is:

Event → Observation → Learning → Capsule → Release.

Not chewing the same incident again and again.

Take the lesson and move forward.

And if you look even deeper, the capsule itself is not the final destination.

Because initially:

“This happened to me.”

Then:

“This incident taught me this lesson.”

Then:

“I am also able to observe this lesson.”

That is where self-inquiry (atma-vichara) begins.

Until then, we are trying to improve our life.

Here, the question becomes:

Who is it that is observing this entire experience called ‘life’?

Childhood came—and went.

Youth came—and went.

A job came—and changed.

Money came—and went.

People came—and left.

The body changed.

Thoughts changed.

Even our opinions changed.

Yet the consciousness (chaitanya) because of which all these changes are known is present before, during and after every experience.

That is the real subject of inquiry.

So ultimately, there is no need to hate the rough work.

Without the rough work, you would not have found the capsule.

But there is also no need to carry the capsule around in your hand for the rest of your life.

At some point, even that has to be released.

Rough work is experience.

The capsule is wisdom.

The one holding even the capsule is the mind.

To look at who is aware of that mind—that is self-inquiry.

Living your whole life carrying everything that happened and finally becoming exhausted is not wisdom.

Taking what is useful from what happened, leaving the rest there, and walking lightly—that is maturity.

In the end, the fair copy may not contain a long story at all.

It may contain just one sentence:

“Whatever came, went; I learned what had to be learned; but who, truly, am I—the one who knows that all this has happened?”

Desire sold in name of growth

The Desire Sold in the Name of Growth

In a small town near Nalgonda, there lived a cloth merchant named Ramachandraiah. He had been running the same shop for thirty years. A wife, two children, a house of his own, no debts, and enough income to get through the month comfortably.

One day his son Sharath said,

“Dad, how long are we going to continue with this shop? We should put up a big showroom right next to it. AC, glass front, new furniture... our level has to go up.”

Ramachandraiah smiled.

“We’re getting enough for our needs, aren’t we?”

“That’s the problem with your generation, Dad. If you keep saying ‘enough for our needs,’ there’ll be no growth in life.”

Those words stayed in Ramachandraiah’s mind.

Within three months, he demolished the old shop and built a new showroom.

The showroom became bigger.

But so did the debt.

“If we open one more branch, this debt will be cleared,” Sharath said.

The second branch came.

Then the third.

Every time he opened a branch, Sharath said the same thing.

“This is the last one, Dad. After this, we’re settled.”

But that “last one” never came.

-On the day the third branch opened, all the town elders were invited. Garlands, band, photographs, sweets... Sharath was moving around excitedly.

-After everyone left at night, he sat alone inside the empty showroom.

-His father came and asked, “What happened, son?”

-“Nothing, Dad...”

-“Then why are you sitting like this?”

Sharath remained silent for a while.

-“Dad... I should be very happy today, right? But I’m thinking about how much tomorrow’s sales will be.”

Ramachandraiah said nothing.

The opening day was over.

But Sharath had not really lived that day either.

One day Sharath came home and said,

“Dad, let’s open a showroom in Hyderabad. That’s where the real growth is.”

Ramachandraiah remained silent for a while.

“Is it wrong to be happy with what we already have?”

Sharath smiled.

“We should be happy, Dad. But we shouldn’t stop moving forward.”

They sold the old farmland to build the Hyderabad showroom.

The business ran well for two years.

Now Sharath had another desire.

“Our brand should cross the borders of the state.”

By then, the conversations at home had changed.

“Is this enough?”

“It would be nice if we had a little more.”

“He has three cars. We have only two.”

“They bought a new villa.”

“Our children should study in an even better school.”

“Our name should become bigger.”

The moment one desire was fulfilled, another was born.

And once that was fulfilled, another one.

No matter how much they earned, something always seemed to be missing at home.

-One day Sharath got the idea of building a new house.

-“The house we have now is quite good,” said his wife, Sowjanya.

-“Being good isn’t enough. It should match our status.”

-Three years later, a three-storey house stood there.

-On the housewarming day, all the relatives came.

-“Wow! What a house!”

-“Building a house like this in Hyderabad is no small thing!”

-Pride was clearly visible on Sharath’s face.

-That night, after everyone had left, Sowjanya asked him a question.

-“Why do we need such a big house?”

Sharath had no immediate answer.

-She continued,

-“There are five of us. This house has twenty rooms. We use only four every day. For the rest, we need a maid to clean them, money for maintenance, money for electricity, money for taxes...”

-Sharath became irritated.

-“Then what do you want me to do?”

-“Nothing. I’m only asking you to think once. Did we build this house? Or has the house put us to work looking after it?”

-He didn’t like what she said.

-But whether we like the truth or not, truth remains truth.

-The house was an asset.

-At the same time, it was also a responsibility.

-The bigger house brought bigger expenses. The bigger business brought bigger problems.

-Ramachandraiah smiled and said,

-“Sharath... behind every asset there is its own work. We think we own it. Sometimes it starts owning us.”

-Sharath said nothing.

-There was something like an old saying hidden in his father’s words:

“What you think is an asset can take very little time to become a responsibility.”

-The house became bigger.

-The business became bigger.

-The files in the locker became thicker.

-Registration papers, share papers, loan documents, insurance papers, tax papers...

-One day, looking at all those papers jokingly, Sharath told his wife,

-“If we have so many papers, we must be very rich!”

-Sowjanya smiled.

-“The papers have increased. Has peace increased?”

-Again, there was no answer.

---

-One day his father spoke very directly.

-“Sharath, a man spends twenty years of his most energetic and enthusiastic adult life building a big house or a big business. Why? Some of it is genuinely for the children’s needs. But many times there is another desire hiding behind it — ‘Everyone should know who I am.’”

-Sharath looked at his father. His father continued.

-“A big house increases our name. A big business increases our name. But just because our name has become bigger, have we really become bigger?”

-Ramachandraiah paused and said,

“There is a saying in the world.

It is called POP — Problems Of Plenty.”

-If the problems that come from having no money are one kind,

-the problems that come after having plenty of money, property and business are another kind.

-Where should we keep it?

-How do we protect it?

-Whose name should it be in?

-Who should receive it?

-How do we reduce the taxes?

-How do we maintain it?

-Who will look after the business?

-After I am gone, will the children divide everything properly, or will they fight?

-What if there is a quarrel among the brothers?

-As wealth increases, the questions around it increase too.

-We should stop and ask ourselves:

“Am I accumulating wealth? Or am I giving my life away just to protect the wealth I have accumulated?”

-“The papers in the locker have increased. But has stillness increased inside the person? That is the real calculation.”

-Those words struck Sharath deeply.

---

Once, Sharath’s daughter asked him to attend a programme at her school.

“Dad, you must come this time. I’m going to speak on stage.”

“I’ll definitely come.”

That morning, a major client called.

Another meeting in the afternoon.

The deal had to be finalised in the evening.

Sharath couldn’t make it to his daughter’s programme.

By the time he came home at night, the girl was asleep.

-On the table, he noticed a small piece of paper she had written.

“Dad didn’t come. But I spoke very well.”

-Sharath held that paper in his hand and sat there for a long time.

-He didn’t stop working the next day either.

-Because he had one belief:

“If I work hard now, later I can spend plenty of time with the children.”

-That “later” never came.

---

One Sunday, Ramachandraiah went alone to his old town.

There he saw Mallayya sitting at a small tea stall.

“Oh, Ramachandraiah garu! After so many years!”

They had tea together.

Mallayya asked,

“How is your shop?”

“It has now become a big chain of shops.”

“Oh! You have grown so much.”

Ramachandraiah didn’t smile.

“Mallayya... how much have you grown?”

Mallayya thought for a moment.

“Me? I make tea in the morning. Go home in the evening. Sometimes I take my grandson and sit near the lake. That’s all.”

“What more do you want?”

Mallayya put his tea glass down and said,

“That’s the thing, son... I don’t know what more I want.”

Ramachandraiah fell silent.

-A little later, Mallayya smiled and said,

-“Do you remember when you first started your shop here? You used to calculate the day’s sales and go home in the evening. Now you deal with crores. But the peace I used to see on your face then... I don’t see it now.”

-Ramachandraiah looked up.

-“That’s true, Mallayya. Back then I had less. But whatever I had felt enough.”

---

That night he spoke to his son.

“Sharath... since when have we been earning?”

“Why, Dad?”

“I don’t know. But do you know since when we have been postponing our life?”

Sharath said nothing.

Ramachandraiah continued.

“First we thought we would be happy if the shop became bigger. Then three shops. Then Hyderabad. Now the whole state. Tomorrow the country. Where do we stop?”

Sharath said softly,

“If we stop, we’ll fall behind.”

“Behind whom?”

Sharath had no answer.

-That night Sharath couldn’t sleep.

-He looked back at his life.

-Small shop → big shop → three branches → Hyderabad → the state...

-On every step, he heard the same word.

-“A little more.”

-Suddenly it struck him — he wasn’t climbing the steps. The steps were climbing him.

-He picked up his phone and looked at his calendar.

-There wasn’t a single full day free in the next three months to spend with his family.

-He closed the calendar.

The next day he set out to finalise a major deal.

Halfway there, he stopped the car and simply sat there for a long time.

Messages kept coming on his phone.

“Confirm the deal.”

“Send the expansion plan.”

“What’s the next target?”

He switched off the phone.

For the first time, he simply sat in the car without going anywhere.

Outside, a little boy was riding a bicycle.

He fell.

He got up.

He rode again.

There was no hurry in him to reach anywhere.

Watching him, something became clear to Sharath.

The boy was riding a bicycle.
But I have spent my whole life searching for a destination.

-A little later, his driver asked,

-“Sir, shall we go?”

Still looking outside, Sharath said,

-“Stay here for a while.”

-That “little while” became a very big pause in his life.

He did not cancel the deal.

He did not shut down the business either.

But from that day, he made one small change.

He stopped mortgaging today for the next target.

The shops continued.

Money came.

Some projects happened. Some did not.

But he slowly stopped looking at everything with the hunger of “I need more.”

-He did not sell the big house.

-He did not give up the business either.

-But before buying a new property, he would ask himself one question:

-“Is this useful to me? Or is it just another paper for my name?”

-Before opening a new branch:

-“Is this really necessary? Or do I simply want to show that I have become bigger?”

-Once he started asking these questions, his decisions changed.

-He let some opportunities go.

-He took some.

-The difference was simple — earlier, desire made the decision. Now, need made the decision.

One day his son asked,

“Dad, what’s your target now?”

Sharath smiled.

“Today should be lived completely as today. Tomorrow’s target can wait until tomorrow.”

-A few months later, his daughter had another programme at school.

-This time Sharath reached early and sat in the first row.

-After the programme, the girl asked,

-“Dad, why did you come this time?”

Sharath smiled.

-“Because I wanted to listen to you speak.”

-The girl said nothing much.

-She simply held his hand.

-In that little hand, Sharath felt he had found something he had been searching for all these years.

-It wasn’t a new achievement.

-It wasn’t a new possession.

-It wasn’t about getting ahead of anyone.

-It was the ability to be completely present in one moment without having to acquire anything.

A Small Commentary

Desire is often made to look respectable by giving it the name “growth.”

“If I earn a little more, it will be better.”

“If I get a little more recognition, it will be better.”

“If I grow a little more, my children will have a better future.”

“If I earn a little more now, I can finally be peaceful later.”

That is how a person gives a respectable name to his desire.

But changing the name does not change its nature.

Desire is still desire.

I want → I must achieve → I need a little more → I must achieve a little more...

That is endless seeking.

-There is a strange calculation in human life.

-Youth, health, enthusiasm and time — these are forms of wealth that can never be bought back.

-Yet many people spend twenty of their strongest adult years building a bigger house or a bigger business.

-The hard work itself is not wrong.

-Earning for the family is not wrong.

-Growing a business is not wrong.

-But after a certain point, if it is no longer mainly about genuine need and becomes about identity elevation — the desire for others to see one’s status and importance — that is where the trouble begins.

-“I want this” slowly becomes,

-“I must have this, otherwise people won’t know who I am.”

-From that point, an asset is no longer merely an asset.

Every asset can become a liability in disguise.

-An asset may look like wealth from outside, but behind it can come maintenance, expenses, responsibility, fear, decisions, family disputes, taxes and the constant work of protecting it.

-An asset is not wrong.

What matters is our relationship with the asset.

-Papers keep increasing in the locker.

PIL — Papers In Locker.

-And as wealth increases:

POP — Problems Of Plenty.

-We often think, “A person with nothing has problems.”

-But it is also not completely true that “A person with plenty has no problems.”

-Where should it be kept?

-How should it be protected?

-Whose name should it be in?

-Who should inherit it?

-How can the taxes be managed?

-Who will maintain it?

-Who will run the business?

-What happens after I am gone?

-Will the children divide everything peacefully?

-What if brothers fight?

-As wealth increases, the questions surrounding that wealth can increase too.

So the real question is not:

“How much do I have?”

It is:

“How much does what I have possess me?”

-A house should exist for us.

Our life should not exist for the house.

-A business should serve us.

Our whole life should not burn in the service of the business.

-Money should be useful.

Protecting and managing money should not become the main purpose of life.

We think that once a desire is fulfilled, the mind will become peaceful.

But very often, the moment one desire is fulfilled, another one appears.

So the problem may not always be “too little.”

It may be the word “more.”

A person gives today’s life in exchange for tomorrow’s happiness.

When tomorrow arrives, it becomes today.

Again he runs towards tomorrow.

That is relentless desire.

That is perpetual seeking.

And that is what slowly exhausts a person from within.

Stillness does not mean giving up work.

Work can continue.

Money can be earned.

Assets can exist.

A business can grow.

Children’s futures can be taken care of.

But somewhere inside, there needs to be one simple understanding:

“Even without this, I am not incomplete.”

Then earning becomes just a task.

Losing becomes just an event.

Growing becomes just an opportunity.

Declining becomes just a situation.

Nothing has to completely drag the mind along with it.

The point is not to stop growth.

The point is to stop postponing life in the name of growth.

Desire says:

“If I get a little more, I will become complete.”

Contentment says:

“I do not need anything else to become complete.”

That is where the running slows down.

That is where, for the first time, a person stops staring at the destination and begins to see life itself.