Kalyan Singh picked up the note from the table once again.

“Please do not search for me. I have left this place, never to return. Please leave me alone.”

He read the words for what must have been the fiftieth time since discovering the note on his teenage son Kartik’s desk that morning.

His mind spiralled into a vortex of memories and regrets. “My limited education restricted me to ordinary jobs,” he reflected bitterly. “I struggled just to make ends meet. We couldn’t afford anything beyond the bare necessities. I overworked myself. All our hopes were pinned on Kartik. I dreamed of him becoming a software engineer, earning a good salary, and bringing us a better life.”

But Kartik had not scored the marks needed to get into an engineering college. Kalyan Singh had felt that disappointment even more deeply than Kartik himself. He tried to explain to his son that life still offered many routes to stability and success. Kartik eventually enrolled in a Bachelor of Business Management program, a course Kalyan Singh saw as promising. His son even seemed to recover from the disappointment, embracing the new path.

Then why? Kalyan Singh wondered. Why this sudden disappearance? Why abandon everything and shatter all our dreams?

He contacted Kartik’s friends, probing for signs of distress or clues. He asked if Kartik had expressed any unusual ideas or shown signs of romantic involvement. But every friend assured him that Kartik was decent, focused, and driven by a desire to achieve something exceptional. No one had sensed anything alarming.

Meanwhile, Kartik was already far away. Anticipating that someone might come looking for him, he had crossed the Ganges in a small boat, worried about being discovered and dragged back home. Once he reached Rudra Prayag on the opposite bank, he felt a deep sense of relief. He waited at the small village bus station for four long hours before boarding a bus to Jamnagar in Gujarat, from where he would continue to Dwaraka.

The bus was nearly full, but Kartik managed to find a seat beside an elderly man. As the journey began, Kartik was lost in thought.

His interest in Indian philosophy and Sanatan Dharma had begun in high school. He devoured religious texts and was drawn deeply into spiritual study. His father, however, insisted that the key to a good life was academic success and a stable profession. Kartik tried to meet those expectations but couldn’t muster enough interest in conventional studies. Consequently, he failed to secure the marks needed for engineering.

He knew his father would never approve of his true passion—religion and philosophy. Kartik decided to follow his calling, without his father’s consent. His destination: Dwaraka Math.

At 8:30 AM the next day, Kartik arrived at Dwaraka Math. He inquired about various programs and chose one focused on the Vedas and Indian philosophical systems. The Math provided free lodging and education, and Kartik embraced its austere lifestyle.

After a few days, Kartik gave a man bound for Delhi a letter addressed to his parents. It contained only a single line:

“I am fine. Don’t worry about me. Please do not search for my location.”

Though it lacked details, it gave Kalyan Singh relief to know that Kartik was alive and safe.

Kartik began studying Sanskrit and English alongside deep dives into the Vedas. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. His intelligence and inquisitive nature soon made him popular among the faculty. Time flew.

To maintain minimal contact, Kartik sent similar one-line letters from different towns over the year.

By the end of that year, he had completed multiple courses and had developed a sound understanding of the Vedas and philosophies like Sanatan Dharma, Buddhism, and Jainism. His fluency in Sanskrit and English improved dramatically.

He began giving discourses in Hindi to the local population. His popularity grew quickly, and his name was the first to be suggested whenever a speaker was needed. Though Gujarati was the regional language, Kartik’s oratory in Hindi—enriched with Sanskrit verses and powerful expression—deeply resonated with listeners. Eventually, he began delivering speeches in Gujarati too.

An invitation came from Mumbai. There, the audience was cosmopolitan and well-educated, with English as the common medium. Kartik confidently delivered his lecture in fluent English and received great appreciation.

Soon, he began traveling across India.

As per Math protocol, Kartik never set a price for his services. However, deeply moved attendees generously donated money. After the Math deducted its share, the remainder was deposited into Kartik’s account.

Requests for his discourses came from towns and cities alike. Then came an invitation to represent Sanatan Dharma at an international conference in New York. Kartik participated in intellectual discussions with global religious leaders and articulated the core philosophies of Sanatan Dharma so seloquently that many expressed interest in learning more. He directed them to Dwaraka Math.

Invitations followed from countries like the UK, France, Italy, and Australia. With the Math’s approval, Kartik toured abroad and earned significant honorariums.

After a month, he returned to Dwaraka Math.

One evening, sitting by the Arabian Sea, he thought, “Should I return home and seek my parents’ blessings? I want them to know that I am happy—though not in a way they had imagined. I want to give them all the comforts they dreamt of. That way, I’ll feel free to fully embrace my spiritual path.”

After discussing with Math authorities, he boarded a bus home.

There was a knock at the door that morning. Kalyan Singh opened it—and there stood Kartik.

Overcome with joy, Kalyan Singh embraced him, tears streaming down his face. Kartik’s mother burst into sobs the moment she saw her son.

“It’s been over three years,” Kalyan Singh murmured. “We got your short letters, yes—but do you realize how deeply you hurt us? Where have you been? What have you been doing?”

Kalyan Singh was brimming with questions, but Kartik’s mother interrupted.

“Let him rest. Let me cook his favourite halwa-puri. Kartik, freshen up. Your meal will be ready soon. We’ll talk afterwards.”

Kartik, though happy to be home, felt guilt gnawing at him. He had never fully considered the pain his parents endured. After lunch, he answered every question they asked.

That evening, he took them to a nearby mall and bought everything they had once considered out of reach. In a few days, they shifted to a large, well-furnished house. Kalyan Singh was proud that his son had fulfilled every dream.

Still, he was anxious. Where had Kartik been? Where did this money come from?

One night, Kartik spoke openly.

“Pitaji, are you happy now that I’ve earned enough for a good life?”

“Yes, Kartik. I feel peace. But tell me—how did you earn it? Was your path honest?”

“Pitaji, I have never compromised on principles,” Kartik assured him. Then, he shared his entire journey.

Kalyan Singh and his wife listened, stunned.

“Ma, Pitaji,” Kartik continued, “I’m glad you’re proud of me. But truthfully, these things don’t satisfy me. I wish to walk the path of spiritualism. I know it leads far from conventional happiness. That’s why I left—I didn’t want to disappoint you by pursuing a path you wouldn’t understand.

At Dwaraka Math, I realized that the world does honour spiritual seekers. They give generously—not because we seek wealth, but because they value wisdom. That money supports others who wish to break from materialism.

But my love for you both pulled me back. I wanted to give you comfort before fully committing myself. Now, with peace in your lives, I can return to my spiritual mission without guilt.

I travel the world sharing knowledge of Vedanta and spiritual thought. I feel fulfilled when I help others, regardless of their beliefs, understand the wisdom of the Vedas. My goal is to help every soul, irrespective of their faith, find peace and purpose.”

Kalyan Singh was speechless. Then he embraced Kartik.

“My son, you have enlightened us. These material things mean little now. We will support your mission. Our blessings are with you.”

Kartik’s mother hugged him tightly, reluctant to let him go. That night, the family slept with heavy but contented hearts.

The next morning, Kartik prepared to leave. His mother packed ‘gajar ka halwa’ and ‘puri’ in his bag. Kartik touched their feet, picked up his duffel, and stepped outside. Without turning back, he hailed an auto-rickshaw and headed to the bus stop.

By afternoon, he was on his way to Jamnagar, his heart lightened by his parents’ blessings and strengthened in his path.

Vijay Likhite