Rodevra Republic

A symbolic moment from the film where the daughter finally enters the water in search of her father Here is my attempt at a simple explanation of the ending of this beautiful video. In the beginning, when the father leaves the little girl, there is the deep pain of separation. Through the different stages of her life, she never quite comes to terms with it. There remains a constant yearning within her to seek him again. This yearning is almost spiritual in nature. Her devotion is one-pointed and does not give in to the distractions that life presents along the way. As an old woman, she can no longer restrain this powerful longing to be united with her father. And so she takes the plunge, she enters the water. It is a symbolic step that, at some stage in life, each of us must take in order to meet our father, our creator. There she finds the boat her father had taken when he left her. The boat becomes the symbol of the invisible thread that had always linked her to him. She lies do...

Suffering is one of the most universal experiences of human life. Yet the way we understand it varies widely. Some see it as misfortune, some as fate, and others as a test of faith. Spiritual traditions often speak of endurance — not merely as the ability to bear pain, but as the inner strength to remain steady, compassionate and aware through life’s trials. The following reflections explore what endurance means on the spiritual path, and why saints and seekers have always regarded it as one of the soul’s quietest but greatest strengths. Q1: We know Christ endured and sacrificed for the world. But what do ordinary people endure, and why? A: All of us face trial, illness, loss, disappointment, injustice and loneliness. These may not look as exalted as Christ’s sacrifice, but the essence is the same. Endurance is the measure of how we hold steady in life’s storms without losing faith or love. Ordinary endurance becomes extraordinary when it is met in the spirit of surrender, patience an...

Kami-Shirataki Station—where a timetable paused for a single life When we view all living beings as an extension of ourselves, acts of kindness arise naturally, often in quiet, unpublicized ways. One remarkable example is from Kami-Shirataki Station  in rural Hokkaido, Japan. By 2013, it had just one regular passenger, a high school girl who relied on it to commute to her classes. The railway company, JR Hokkaido, could have closed the station as planned, but instead it kept it open for three more years, running trains solely according to her school schedule. When she graduated in March 2016, the station was finally closed. This was not the kindness of an individual, but what we might call institutional kindness, a rare instance where an organization, often perceived as faceless and governed by profit or efficiency, chose empathy over economics. It quietly upheld the dignity and needs of a single life. This is the essence of kindness, not driven by recognition or gain, but flowing ...

The song “O Rangrez” evokes the Sufi and Bhakti idea of dissolving the self in the colour of the Divine The song is almost a spiritual revelation. To truly receive its essence, it must be heard not merely with the mind, but with the ears of the soul. On the surface, O Rangrez is a song of love. But this love is stripped of all worldly claim. It is a longing not for possession, but for dissolution. The defining moment arrives with these extraordinary lines: माला में आ, तुझको पिरो लूँ, तुझे पहनूँ सजन Come into my garland, let me thread you in, so that I may wear you, beloved. होठों में आ, सरगम सा बोलूँ, तुझे रट लूँ सजन Come onto my lips like a musical note; let me chant you, beloved. टेसू मेरी पीस दे, मुझमें ही घुल जा, मिल जा, मिल जा सजना Grind the Tesu flower of my being; dissolve into me, melt and merge. पिघल के मिल जा, अपने ही रंग में... Melt into me, in your own colour. There is no demand for reciprocation. Only a plea: come so close that nothing remains of me. Let me wea...

One question often arises when reflecting on inner stillness: if our lives are filled with activity, responsibilities, and constant engagement with the world, can we ever truly be free from thoughts? Many contemplative traditions suggest that when thoughts momentarily fall silent, the surface of the mind becomes clear and undisturbed. In that stillness, there may appear brief glimpses of something deeper—an awareness that feels sacred, quiet, and expansive. But does this mean that in the midst of everyday life we are cut off from such moments? Perhaps the answer lies in understanding the nature of thoughts themselves. Not all thoughts arise from the same place within us. Some emerge from the restless layers of the ego—shaped by fear, anxiety, comparison, or desire. These are the thoughts that disturb the mind, much like ripples spreading across still water. They arise from self-centred concerns and tend to fragment the mind’s clarity. Yet there is another kind of thought. When the ...

Before You Begin This is not a test, nor does it come from any claim of knowing better. I share this as a fellow seeker, one among equals, simply exploring where we stand in our inner journey. These questions are not meant to evaluate or rank anyone. They are offered as prompts for self-inquiry, perhaps to stir reflection, or simply to sit with in silence. Some may resonate; others may not. That itself can be revealing. There is no “right” answer, only the answer that honestly arises within you at this moment. Q1. In your definition of completeness, which of the following feels most true? A1. If something feels unfulfilling, you pause and ask: Is there something deeper that truly satisfies me? A2. A well-settled life with material well-being, freedom and security. A3. A relaxed life where there is contentment and no more seeking. Q2. What is consciousness? A1. The silent witness (sakshi) behind all experiences. A2. The thinking, observing mind that knows it exists. A3. The state of be...

An unsigned portrait that invites connection through presence rather than identity There are moments when words feel unnecessary. In fact, they can sometimes come in the way—standing between us and what we truly experience. Art, perhaps more than anything else, asks for silence. Not the silence of absence, but the silence of presence. The kind where we simply stand before something and allow it to speak in its own way. To “review” or “comment” on such work feels almost inappropriate. When art arises from a place of quiet joy, the most natural response is not analysis, but receptivity. Art is meant to be felt , not dissected. And often, the deepest appreciation does not need expression at all. Yet, as viewers, we do respond in our own way. In this particular painting, what draws one in immediately is the woman’s gaze. It is direct, yet gentle—filled with warmth and an unspoken assurance. There is a quiet dignity in her presence, a sense of being completely at ease with herself. He...

Between self-doubt and self-worth, a “nut” finds his place in the world Today’s story is of a nut, not the edible type, but a person one would call a nutcase. Some would also call him an idiot. He lived in a world of his own, believing, perhaps too fondly, in the brilliance of his talents. He thought he was well read, urbane, and knowledgeable  and took it upon himself to ‘educate’ the world with his long, preachy treatises, which were mostly nonsense. He even assumed a patronizing sort of attitude. He was daft and equated his own limited intelligence with that of others and felt it necessary to go on explaining in an unending and meandering flow of words, where just a few would have sufficed. Naturally all this made him quite unpopular. After all, there is a limit to the nonsense one can endure. He was told so many times, sometimes with some suggestive hints, sometimes directly, just short of saying, ‘Shut up!’ However the nut he was, he carried on with his essays, convinced he ...

A life that soared high, yet stayed gently anchored to the ground This week’s edition features the translated biography of Mr. Dilip Kapadia, father of Deepak Kapadia. The original article appeared in the Diwali 2001 issue of the Marathi magazine, Sahitya Jaagar.   About a year ago, Deepak approached me with a request to translate the piece into English. It was a long article, around ten pages, and I started earnestly, translating the first couple of pages for approval. His father liked it and encouraged me to continue. But, as life would have it, the project languished, and I eventually forgot about it. It was only after I heard the sad news of his father’s passing last month that I was struck by a deep sense of regret. I realized that completing the translation would have meant so much to him. The feeling was all the more acute when I attended his prayer meeting. To make amends, and as a tribute to his life, I decided to complete the translation. Working line by line, I ab...

The inspiration for this edition of Saturday Art is a friend's visit to Hampstead Heath yesterday and the lovely pictures he took there. They reminded me of John Keats, who as we know lived in Hamstead, and who himself was inspired by the nightingale’s song when he wrote his famous poem, Ode to a Nightingale . The poem captures that deep, universal longing to escape suffering for a while, to dissolve into something greater: art, nature, love. And yet, there’s that bittersweet recognition that such transcendence is always fleeting. Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret. Keats envies the nightingale—so free of human pain. Words like fade, dissolve,  and forget  express a yearning for release.   The fever and the fret  may reflect his own suffering and declining health. The contrast between the bird’s eternal song and Keats’ own brief, fragile life makes the poem deeply melancho...