To a realized master, death and rebirth is in every breath. Death is that of body consciousness, ego and limits of the mind. Rebirth is that of the cosmic mind of being the Spirit. In this realization is liberation.When awake as liberated, each prayer and each moment of meditation is for humanity as there is no more individual ego or identity left. Such realized masters continually gift humanity with the grace of higher consciousness- so that each of us attain our fullest potential in goodness.

All pomp and show._ Anjali__ glare at the house would__e exploded bricks if she__ had superhuman powers. __ fat cow needs a big barn.

A country as such does not be good or bad, only the people are good or bad, that too change by generations and this scenario is same to any nations. what India really have is a rich legacy.. nothing else

I'm always homesick for the journey,_ I had once written in ink speckled script, adding almost as an afterthought, _...no matter what it may hold.

Back at the guest house I tried to acclimatise. A travel-worn adventurer had once told me that leaning with one's head dangling over the end of a bed was the best way to achieve this. It was while I was in this position, the blood rushing to my temples, that the door swung open.

...that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn__ know who I was__ was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I__ never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn__ know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn__ scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost. I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future, and maybe that__ why it happened right there and then, that strange red afternoon.