Unmukt

Tag: life

  • Timepass on Earth: Why Life Is an Illusion According to Indian Wisdom

    What if life is just a timepass — a play of illusions called maya? We chase dreams, collect things, fight battles, but all of it fades when death finally arrives. This essay explores why life feels urgent yet impermanent, and how we can live mindfully through it all.

    There is one truth no one can deny — death is certain. Whoever is born must one day die. Whether it is an emperor who ruled nations or a beggar who slept under the sky, both have the same destination. No one escapes.

    And yet, knowing this truth, we still live as if we are here forever. We run after things. We fight over land, money, power, pride. We spend our lives trying to control or protect what we think is “ours.” But in the end, we take nothing with us — not even our name.

    Some say we live to survive. Others say we are here to succeed. But I say — maybe, we are just here for some time. Just passing through. Till the moment comes when we leave — quietly, without warning. This life is timepass.

    But in this timepass, something strange happens. We forget the truth. We start believing we will stay here forever. We worry endlessly. We cry, we get angry, we fear, we compare. But if we stop and look closely — even the emperor cries, and even the beggar laughs. Joy, sorrow, anger, fear — all emotions live in every heart. The reasons may differ, but the feelings are the same.

    This is the maya of life — this illusion that some are greater, some are smaller, some are meant to suffer, others to shine. But beneath the clothes, titles, or homes, we are all just souls — walking the same path, toward the same end.

    And yet, we fight. We sometimes even destroy ourselves or others for things we cannot keep. Isn’t it laughable?

    So what do we do?

    We remember.

    We remember that this life is temporary, and so everything in it should be held lightly. We still live, we still love, we still work — but not with attachment, not with ego. We play our role in this world — but with kindness, with calmness, and with awareness.

    If this life is a journey from breath to breath, then let it be a graceful timepass. Let us live not in greed, but in gratitude. Not in fear, but in friendship. Not in hurry, but in harmony.

    Because when the end comes — and it will — the only thing that will matter is not how much we had, but how deeply we lived and how gently we touched the lives of others.

  • Timepass on Earth: The Maya of Living

    “Everyone who is born must die. This is the only truth beyond all doubt.”

    We live our lives chasing dreams, collecting things, fighting battles, but in the end, death comes for all. The emperor who ruled with power and pride, and the beggar who begged for bread under the open sky, both meet the same end. No one escapes.

    So what is life really?
    Some say — “we live to survive.”
    Others say — “we live to succeed.”

    But I say — we are here just for a while. Till the time comes.
    This life is timepass.

    The Illusion We Call Life

    Even knowing death is certain, we act as if we’re here forever. We fight over land, over relationships, over money and pride. We lose sleep protecting things we can never truly own. Isn’t it strange? We forget that one day, all of this — our worries, our victories, our names — will fade into silence.

    What we call “mine” is not really ours. This is the maya — the great illusion — of life. We hold on so tightly to what is temporary. Sometimes, we even take lives or end our own, for the sake of things that are dust in the wind.

    We All Feel the Same Emotions

    But look closely, even the emperor cries, and even the beggar laughs.
    Joy, sorrow, anger, love, the emotions are the same. Only the triggers are different.

    No one is spared from pain. No one is denied moments of joy.
    Rich or poor, famous or forgotten — we all carry the same beating heart.

    We are all playing our parts in this grand play of life. And just like actors, we leave the stage when our role is done.

    So What Should We Do?

    We should live — yes — but not with ego.
    We should love — but without attachment.
    We should work — but without greed.

    Let us live this life as graceful timepass — with kindness, with awareness, with lightness in our hearts. Let us not be trapped in the illusion that this world is forever, or that we must fight for every piece of it.

    Because when our time comes — and it will — the only thing that will matter is not how much we had, but how truly we lived.

    Hold things lightly. Walk gently.
    Speak truthfully. Love deeply.
    And remember:

    This life is not yours to keep. It is only yours to live — fully, mindfully, and with peace.

  • What Are You Curious About?

    Daily writing prompt
    What are you curious about?
    View all responses



    We live in a world that celebrates knowing — the degrees, the titles, the answers. But I believe life is not about what you know. It’s about what you long to understand, what makes you pause, question, and feel deeply.

    I’m Curious About Humanity — Not Just in Crowds, But in Individuals

    Not the kind of humanity we post on banners during international days. I mean the quiet humanity of the mother who wakes up before dawn to boil water because clean water is still a luxury. Of the boy who teaches his younger sister with chalk and patience under a broken streetlight. Of the old man who sits by a closed factory, watching it like a memory.

    I am curious: How do they still smile? How do they still believe?

    I’m Curious About Love — Especially the Kind That Doesn’t End in Togetherness

    Love that doesn’t need a stage. Love that survives in silence.

    I’ve known love that was never mine to hold — and yet, it shaped me. I’ve seen people carry memories like sacred fire: not burning, but glowing. I’ve realized love isn’t always about presence. Sometimes, it’s about persistence. It lives on in blessings unspoken, in letters never sent, in lives rebuilt without bitterness.

    I am curious: How can the heart remain so generous even when it breaks?

    I’m Curious About Compassion — The Kind That Isn’t Loud

    The kind that sits beside a grieving friend and doesn’t try to fix the grief. The kind that sees a stranger struggling and helps without taking credit. The compassion of those who fight for justice not to be seen as heroes, but because they can’t look away.

    In a world where outrage is often mistaken for care, I’m drawn to those who act with kindness when no one is watching.

    I am curious: What does it take to choose empathy over ego, again and again?

    I’m Curious About Integrity — Especially When No One Is Looking

    True integrity isn’t in public declarations. It’s in the choices made in solitude. In the refusal to cut corners when no one would know. In speaking the truth, even when it costs you applause. In saying no when yes would be easier.

    I’ve seen people rise with power and lose their soul. I’ve also seen people stand firm in storms, choosing honesty over advantage.

    I am curious: What gives some people the strength to stay rooted while the world trades virtue for validation?

    I’m Curious About Wisdom — Not Just Intelligence

    Intelligence can win debates. Wisdom listens first.

    I don’t want just data; I want discernment. Not just answers; but meaning. I’m fascinated by the kind of wisdom that comes from life — from failure, from silence, from service. From people who’ve lost everything and yet say, “I’m still grateful.”

    I am curious: How can we grow wiser without growing bitter?

    So… What Am I Really Curious About?

    I’m curious about what makes us human — and keeps us human.

    In an age of artificial intelligence and synthetic emotions, I want to stay real. To remain soft without being weak. To hold fast to dignity without needing validation. To walk with my mind sharp and my heart open.

    Because curiosity — real curiosity — isn’t about chasing trends. It’s about pursuing truth with compassion, love with integrity, and wisdom with humility.

    What are you curious about?

    Not just in books, or jobs, or markets — but in people? In pain? In beauty? In your own story?

    Ask yourself. The answers may not come easily. But the journey itself — that sacred, stumbling search — is the most human thing there is.


  • A Love That Asked for Nothing

    Daily writing prompt
    Write about a random act of kindness you’ve done for someone.
    View all responses

    There was a time when I loved a woman so deeply that I thought destiny itself had written our story. She wasn’t just someone I admired; she was the kind of person whose presence quietly changed your world. Her laughter had a rhythm, her dreams carried fire, and her soul… it was the kind you don’t meet twice.

    But she loved someone else.

    I never resented that. I never tried to win her over, never stepped beyond the boundary of her happiness. I wanted her to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. That’s what real love does. It gives, even when it doesn’t receive.

    But life, cruel in its own ways, brought her pain. The man she trusted, the one she chose, broke her heart. Betrayal is a quiet kind of death, and I saw her slowly disappear into her own shadows.

    By then, I was married. Not out of compromise, but out of genuine love. My wife is everything a man could ask for—understanding, strong, and kind. She knows about my past, about her. And yet, she never once questioned my loyalty. Because she knows I love her fully, with everything I have. My heart never left my marriage—not for a moment. But that other part of me, the one that once loved truly and selflessly, still remembers.

    When she—the first girl—was struggling to rebuild her life, I stood by her again. Not as a lover, not as a hopeful man, but as a friend who cared. I helped her heal, supported her family’s wish to see her settled again, even helped her find a good man who saw her worth. I guided her when she needed a hand with her career, gave her the confidence to rise again.

    And no—never once did I ask for anything in return. I did it not because I expected love back. I did it because I had loved her. Deeply. And real love never demands.

    Sometimes, when we talk—rare as it is—she asks me,
    “Why did you love me so much? What did you gain out of it?”
    And my answer is always the same:
    “Even today, I love you. Not at the cost of anyone else. Not against my wife. Not in conflict. But in spirit. Quietly.”

    She doesn’t understand it fully. Maybe she never will. But that’s okay. Not all truths need to be understood—some are just meant to be felt.

    Our conversations now aren’t frequent, but when they happen, they’re honest, warm, and full of respect. We don’t talk like exes. We talk like two people who once touched the essence of something pure—and chose not to ruin it by expectation or ego.

    Others may cut off from their past, afraid of stirring memories. I didn’t. Because my past never became a burden. It became a quiet prayer I carry—one of love, kindness, and strength.

    This love—this act of kindness—I never used it as a tool. Never as leverage. Never as a secret. I gave it freely, and it freed me.

    Because sometimes, loving someone isn’t about having them.
    Sometimes, it’s about standing beside them when the world falls apart, and walking away once they’re strong enough to stand on their own again.

    And when I look back, I gain peace in knowing—
    I loved.
    I helped.
    I never harmed.

    And maybe that’s what real love is:
    A kind act that asks for nothing
    And leaves behind everything good.