12/09/2025
My grandfather lived for 99 years, almost a century of wisdom, discipline, and simplicity.
He was a retired school teacher, a Vedic priest, and a yogi in his own right. He lived by mithaahara—moderation in food—and strict discipline. Waking every day at 4:30 am, he began his rituals before the world stirred.
Unlike many of his generation, he was never admitted to a hospital until the last two months of his life. He had no hypertension, diabetes, or “common” diseases we now almost accept as normal. Looking back, I see how his invisible discipline—what he ate, when he rested, how he lived—was his real medicine.
For me, he was my first Veda teacher. At age 8, I began learning from him, and he patiently sowed the seeds that would later anchor me back to my roots—away from the chaos of the IT world, toward the Vedic traditions and yogic knowledge I now carry forward.
In his last month, he chose his path with quiet dignity. Doctors themselves called it iccha marana—a conscious departure. He slowly withdrew from food, from speech, and eventually from life itself. On the 23rd, with all of us around his bedside, I witnessed his final breath.
The past days have been filled with remembrance and rituals. In our tradition, the 13 days after death are not only to guide the soul onward but to anchor the grieving family. They have given me rhythm and meaning as I navigated the ache of loss.
I owe much of who I am today to him. His discipline, his values, and his love for tradition will continue to guide me, and I hope to pass forward a part of his legacy through my work.
May his soul find peace. May we live with the same grace and simplicity that defined his long, beautiful life.
Om Shanti 🙏
