As I wrapped up my office chores, a sense of relief washed over me. My mind was already celebrating my well-earned chutti when I remembered a message from Umesh Ji. He had misplaced his purse somewhere on campus while leaving in the morning and had asked for my help to locate it. Retracing his steps, I finally found the purse, tucked away in a corner of the bed, almost out of sight. I smiled as I held it, imagining Umesh Ji’s relief when he would hear the news.
With that little mission accomplished, I thought, Now I can finally retire to my room. I headed to the washroom to wash my hands. As the cool water touched my palms, I was reminded of how my Punjabi friends often teased me while shaking hands, saying my hands were as soft as a girl’s. I always responded with a grin, That’s because life has been kind to me. Everyone took such good care of me that my hands never had to harden through toil. I’d joke about living a luxurious life, and we’d all laugh together.
Today, though, as I stared at my hands, another thought surfaced: What a luxury it has been to serve in this beautiful place. My heart swelled with gratitude as I reflected on the journey. Soon, my time as a long-term server would come to an end, but instead of sadness, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction.
I arrived at this center as a lost young man in April 2018, seeking peace and purpose. By September of the same year, I found myself committing to long-term service. Over these years, the transformation I’ve undergone feels nothing short of miraculous. Now, as I prepare to step away on the 15th at noon, I am leaving with a heart full of joy and gratitude. The experiences I’ve had and the people I’ve met here are blessings I will cherish forever.
When I first came, I was weighed down by misery, searching for meaning. Today, as I prepare to leave, my heart feels like a ripe, sweet fruit—light, unburdened, and ready to embrace life as it is. This place has given me the tools to truly live, and for that, I will always be grateful.
I won’t miss the place, not because it wasn’t meaningful, but because once an experience is lived, it becomes a part of you forever. However, I will fondly remember the people who made this journey extraordinary.
Mr. Mehta, the man who gave me this opportunity to serve, allowed me to be myself. He accepted me as I was, gave me room to grow, and never gave up on me, even when I faltered. His unwavering belief in me is something I’ll carry forever.
Piko, my dearest saheli, has been my closest companion in this Dhamma circle. She’s witnessed the full spectrum of my moods and, even at my worst, has remained her kind and patient self. My own mother wasn’t as patient with me as Piko has been. Her grace and kindness are unmatched.
RK, the most fascinating person among us, has a knack for fixing anything with his “Srinath Ji dekh lenge” philosophy. We call him Jugadi Kabadi because of his resourcefulness. His quirky English often turned ordinary words into jokes, leaving us in splits. Piko and I would shamelessly raid his plate for tasty treats, and he’d graciously share with a smile.
RK never once spoke harshly to us, even in the worst of moods.
Ashu, fondly called Dev Purush, has a presence that soothes the soul. Lately, every time he enters the office, we share a grand hug that feels as comforting as a warm blanket. His build reminds me of my father, but his heart is as big as a child’s.
Sushama and I started off disliking each other, but over time, that transformed into a deep bond. She now gives off a motherly vibe, and I often tease her, saying, Didi, if you love me so much, why don’t you show it? We’ve changed each other—she’s become more accepting, and I’ve become more tolerant.
Pappy, our ever-dependable driver, is the oldest among us. I affectionately call him Budhau or Papli. On Day 9 of every course, he’d remind me about sweets, joking, Didn’t Dr. Gupta prescribe you fresh sweets?
Nitul, our story-fetcher, is a chatterbox. I call him Amma because of how he takes care of me. Whenever I needed something, I’d go to him: Amma, may I have some curd? or Amma, can I have a bit more sweet? And in his charming UP accent, he’d reply, ” are to Lei liyo” ” theek hai..lei liyo”.
Atin, the kitchen’s guardian angel, would always let me know where the day’s special dishes were placed way before they were served. Even when I was too full, he’d insist, arrre Sirji, aao na, yeh dekh lo.. wo choro aap to ye khao.
Chotu, who now serves at Nilaya, never misses a chance to offer me tea or snacks whenever I visit.
Amit always encouraged me to eat well, saying, Zindagi mein hai hi kya? Achhe se jiyo, khao!
Akhilesh, Kamlesh, and Murli made sure I was well-fed and cared for. Just yesterday, I checked my weight—it’s 75 kg now, thanks to them.
Gautam, our gardener, would knock on my door at 4 a.m. with a steaming glass of tea.
Asha Ji, our Rajmata, cared for us like a mother. We’d have playful spats..nok jhonk i say you always complaint..she disagree and we do not speak further, but the next day, she’d warmly offer me snacks or tease me with a smile. kamli dekh main there liye kya laayi.. kamli ye khayega ? kamli charger dega?
Snigdha Di, lovingly called Sujata/ Mata Annpurna, ensured we were well-fed, always, whenever we met her, and she does this so graciously that we often jokingly say that she has earned food for her hundreds of upcoming lives so that she can do other things now.
There are so many more wonderful people, and though I can’t name them all here, Now. I’ll surely make this list longer, later when I rewrite this post. their kindness and companionship have left an indelible mark on my heart.
Looking back, I realize how fortunate I’ve been to share these days. Though I came seeking peace and purpose, I leave with a heart ripe with gratitude, ready to embrace life as it is. Truly, this has been the most beautiful chapter of my life.
Apan Fer Milaange…
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