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Story behind Dhyanasetu

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This is the place where I grew up

My Childhood

I was born in a small, quiet village in Daswar, Uttar Pradesh—a place where even today, the simplest things like electricity and a steady water supply are hard to come by. Life in my village is slow and humble, with limited access to the conveniences that many people take for granted. But despite these challenges, my childhood there was filled with something far more valuable. Surrounded by fields and houses made from mud and wood, I found a sense of belonging and purpose that continue to shape my way.

Growing up, my grandfather was my guide: a gentle wise soul who carried the spirit of our culture and the wisdom of our ancestors. He exposed me to the richness in the simplicity of our life and taught me how to view the world with a perspective of honour and awe. He used to tell me stories about our heritage, stories regarding deities and sages, and familiarize me with all the rhythms of life so deeply connected with nature. My grandfather didn’t need books or fancy words; his presence and the stories he shared were more than enough. It was through him that I first encountered the depth of life and understood that there is something far beyond what we can touch and see.

 

In my small village, I came to appreciate those things that can't be bought. My childhood was spent following the rising and setting sun, feeling the earth beneath my feet and listening to soft whispers of trees. It was a place with just the basic facilities that became the canvas of my tour, which planted the seeds of curiosity and discovery in me.

Dhyanasetu

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Journey as a Seeker and Identifier

As my curiosity grew, I found myself drawn towards community service and mindfulness. I started practicing yoga at a very young age, and I was the youngest medalist in my state in 2014. Yoga channeled a different perspective on life. I have always been fascinated by knowing the in-depth meaning of life through my personal exploratory experiences. In search of solitude, I explored most of India for 8-10 years. From visiting northeastern forests to staying up with the monks, I explored life in every possible aspect. From staying weeks in the noble silence in Shravasti to visiting monasteries, I practiced gratitude and self-exploration in the best possible way. More than the latest gadgets, I started finding joy in engaging with marginalized communities. There was something so pure and beautiful about the way they engaged with life. Small things—a good harvest, a cool breeze, or even a simple joke—brought such genuine excitement and happiness to their days. I began to see how their lives were woven with moments of gratitude and joy, and it taught me more than any classroom ever could.

But during my journey, I lost my grandfather, it felt as if a guiding light had dimmed. He had been my compass, my connection to the roots and life I was trying to understand. His loss was deep, but it also placed a sense of responsibility to carry forward the wisdom he had passed. What began as a journey of curiosity became a serious pursuit, a mission to understand not only what life had to offer but also what I could offer to life.

I wanted to know what meaning I could bring to this society and what purpose I could fulfill that would honor the simplicity and richness of the life my grandfather had shown me. I wanted to understand what lay beyond the endless chase for more—something deeper, something timeless. And so, with his memory as my guide, I set forth on a path of self-discovery and service, searching for a way to live that would make him proud and help others find the same joy and fulfillment I had glimpsed in the eyes of my grandfather, monks, and various people. This journey, one that had begun with curiosity, had now become a quest for purpose, a pursuit of something greater than myself.

A Small Gallery of My Journey

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Beginning of Inquiry

Since there were no schools in my village, I moved to the city so I could have a chance at a better education. But no matter how far I travelled or how much time passed, the village always called me back. Every year, without fail, I spend my summers with my grandfather, among familiar faces.  Until I was sixteen years old, I lived in two different worlds—one foot in the fast pace of city life, the other in the quiet, timeless soil of my village.

In the city, I still remember the excitement when 4G internet was launched, opening up a world of possibilities, yet back in the village, many still waited for the day when electricity would light their homes. On one side people were enjoying Facebook and on the other hand, few people were still waiting for mobile networks. It was a very unique experience, growing in these two worlds. On one side, there was a hunger for more. And on the other, there was a simple joy, a quiet acceptance that what little they had was enough. 

I saw people were moving so fast that they almost forgot the beauty of life. In this fast-paced life,  I always found a sense of freedom and joy, sitting and chatting with my grandfather. His presence speaks volumes. I could feel his quiet acceptance of life, his peace that came not from what he had, but from how he saw the world. He didn’t need to chase after happiness; he wore it like an old, comfortable coat, woven from years of simple, meaningful living. And as I was growing in two spectrums, these questions would begin to bubble up from somewhere deep inside me. “Where does this life truly fit? What is the source of joy?”

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