The Wealth of Remembrance
Over the years, many things in my life have changed.
I have lived longer. I have accumulated more wealth. I understand relationships better. I have greater clarity about my purpose, my work, and the impact I wish to create in this world. I understand money more clearly than I did before. I am less afraid of life than I once was.
Yet when I look back over the last decade and ask myself what has been the greatest gain of all, the answer surprises me.
It is none of these things.
The greatest wealth that has entered my life is remembrance.
Not remembrance of an event, a person, or a memory.
Remembrance of Him.
Ever since Indian scriptures became part of my daily life, something subtle began to shift. It did not happen overnight. It happened page by page, verse by verse, morning after morning.
The Bhagavad Gita, the Bhagavatam, the Upanishads, the stories of the sages, the songs of the saints, the teachings of yogis across centuries all seemed to be pointing towards the same truth.
You are not merely the doer.
And you are not merely the enjoyer.
For most of my life, like many others, I believed that my happiness depended upon doing more, achieving more, becoming more.
But gradually I began to see the limitation of that identity.
Even the idea that “I am the enjoyer” started losing its grip.
This does not mean life became inactive.
I still work. I still write. I still sketch. I still travel. I still lead teams. I still pursue meaningful goals.
But something fundamental has changed.
The centre of gravity has shifted.
Instead of constantly asking what I can get from life, I find myself increasingly drawn towards the One who gave life itself.
And strangely, that remembrance brings a joy far deeper than any accomplishment.
The scriptures repeatedly emphasise this.
Remember Him.
In all circumstances.
While awake.
While asleep.
While working.
While resting.
While succeeding.
While failing.
While living.
And even while dying.
Not mechanically.
Not blindly.
But consciously.
With awareness.
With observation.
With inquiry.
With the witness present.
One part of you participates in the world.
Another part watches.
And gradually your attention turns towards the mysterious force behind everything.
Who is causing all of this?
Who is breathing through this body?
Who is thinking these thoughts?
Who is moving the planets, the stars, and the cells within us?
Who is the invisible intelligence behind all experience?
That becomes the meditation.
Not for an hour.
But throughout the day.
As understanding deepens, surrender begins.
You realise the limitations of human control.
You see how little is truly yours.
And then a beautiful shift happens.
Life is no longer something you are carrying.
Life is carrying you.
You begin to feel as though the Divine is living through you rather than you living life on your own.
There is tremendous relief in this.
Fear starts dissolving.
Struggle begins softening.
The need to force outcomes gradually weakens.
You still act.
You still care.
You still participate fully.
But there is less anxiety around results because you understand that there is a greater intelligence unfolding the story.
Things arrive when they are meant to arrive.
Things leave when they are meant to leave.
And somehow, everything finds its place.
The whole universe begins to feel less like a marketplace and more like a family.
You see wealth everywhere.
Not because you own anything.
But because you belong to everything.
The trees are yours.
The rivers are yours.
The sky is yours.
The people around you are yours.
The world is no longer separate from you.
And in that sense, you become the wealthiest person of all.
To me, this is true wealth.
Not what sits in a bank account.
Not what is written on a balance sheet.
Not what can be gained or lost.
Real wealth is the ability to remain in remembrance.
Because if remembrance is present, gratitude is present.
If gratitude is present, peace is present.
And if peace is present, life is already complete.
Perhaps this is why the sages placed such importance on the final moment of life.
One day, every one of us will take our last breath.
Everything accumulated will remain behind.
Every title.
Every possession.
Every achievement.
Every identity.
Only one question remains.
What occupies the heart in that final moment?
If remembrance is there, what more is needed?
The scriptures tell us that the energy we hold onto throughout life is the energy we carry beyond it.
For me, that remembrance finds its form in Krishna.
Through the Bhagavatam especially, His presence seems to appear everywhere.
In joy.
In sorrow.
In beauty.
In loss.
In silence.
In action.
Everywhere.
And so my practice is simple.
I wake up and remember Him.
I step onto my yoga mat and remember Him.
I sketch and remember Him.
I write and remember Him.
I speak and remember Him.
I work and remember Him.
Not perfectly.
Not continuously.
But increasingly.
And perhaps that is enough.
Because the greatest wealth I have discovered is not something I possess.
It is a presence I return to.
Again and again.
And in that remembrance, I find a richness beyond measure.
I find the wealth of Krishna.