Surrender

Does God exist? Does He really reward the righteous? Does He forgive? Does He punish? What can we do to attract His blessings? How do we cultivate trust in Him?

The questions are endless. And the answer is: I don't know. I'm as confused, as skeptical, and perhaps as curious as most of you.

But I'd like to believe that leaving some things in His hands can help us sleep peacefully. Yeah, I know. It's not easy.

I remember an incident from my college days.

There was a small Hanuman temple right across the bus stop. It stood tucked into a corner of a busy shopping street, next to a main road.

As I waited for my bus, I couldn't help but look towards the sanctum. I would greet God whenever I crossed the temple. Sometimes, while waiting for the bus, I'd simply walk in, or while returning, spend a few minutes there, and then head home, which was just a few metres away.

One day, I had some time before my bus, so I decided to enter the temple. As I crossed the road, I noticed a beggar sitting right at the entrance. He looked physically and mentally unwell. He didn't utter a word. He seemed completely lost in his own world, staring at the ground. He didn't ask me for alms as I entered.

I spent some time inside. There were no visitors that day. The garbha griha was locked, so I saw the idol through the grill door, took some kumkum, and walked out.

And there he was. Still sitting quietly. Still not asking anyone for money. It felt a little strange. Beggars usually ask. Sometimes desperately. Sometimes repeatedly. Some even curse people who refuse to give. I assumed he simply wasn't in his senses. My bus arrived, and I left.

A few days later, I visited the temple again. The same thing. He didn't ask. This time, I must admit, my ego was a little hurt. This fellow doesn't care about money or what? I thought. I left.

Eventually, I found myself visiting that little temple almost every day. It was never crowded. The sanctum was usually locked. But there was something peaceful about the place. And the man was always there.

He never asked. Never annoyed anyone. Never cursed anyone. He simply sat there. I was beginning to admire him.

I had this habit of collecting the change from my bus fare and putting it all in one place. I wasn't exactly accumulating capital for my multi-million-dollar business 😂 I just had the habit.

One day, I had all that change in my bag. A few tens, maybe a few hundreds. I don't remember. I visited the temple as usual. Finished my little rituals. Walked out.

And almost involuntarily, I reached into my pocket, took out all the change, and offered it to the man sitting at the entrance. And what he did next stayed with me.

He had always seemed lost and disinterested. But the moment he received the money, something changed. He didn't look at me. Didn't smile. Didn't thank me. Didn't even do a namaste to me.

Instead, he immediately turned towards the idol inside the temple and began bowing his head again and again. Namaskar. Again. And again. And again.

Perhaps he knew something I was yet to understand.

Perhaps he believed that when it was his time to receive, what he needed would somehow reach him.

That day, I think I caught my first glimpse of what surrender might actually mean. Not knowing. Not controlling. Not demanding. Not even being certain. Just trusting.

Maybe it's about believing that we don't have to carry everything ourselves. And perhaps that's where the peace comes from.

We work, we plan, we hope, we pray, we worry, we try to secure the future, and yet, there is so much that remains beyond us. At some point, perhaps all we can do is do our part and release our claim over the outcome.

What struck me most about that man was that when he received something, he didn't seem to stop at the person who gave it to him. His gratitude belonged where he believed the gift had truly come from. God.

But it made me wonder if perhaps that is one way surrender can look:

to receive without believing that we control the source.

to be grateful without demanding an explanation.

and to accept that some things may remain unanswered.

We are all beggars, after all.