A young man is navigating through a web of traffic near Kabuthar Khana at Dadar. With exquisite Bombay driving skills, might I add. Not an inch given, not an inch taken. The perfect balance.
As he approaches Hanuman mandir, he slows done, takes both his hands off the wheel, pulls his handbrake, closes his eyes, takes his right hand over his right cheek, then over his left cheek and repeats this action in rapid succession. Finally, he cups his hands together, says goodbye to Hanumanji, opens his eyes and drives off. The perfect drive through experience. Efficient and fulfilling.
Nothing fazes him while he's carrying out this deeply spiritual procedure. Car horns blaring because of the build up, the policeman wildly gesturing him to move ahead with his arms, a BEST bus driver screaming. Nothing. This is his pious corner, or centre. His own private sanctuary. Would Thyagaraja Swamy have been distracted while singing Bala kanaka maya? Would Gautam Buddha have been distracted while sitting under the tree? Would Mother Teresa have been distracted from serving people?
One must understand that there are different roads to God. And this was his favourite route.
It's about the higher purpose. The intent. In the pursuit of this higher purpose, if a few people face some minor troubles, that's just collateral damage.
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