The Quiet Gift of Gratitude: Learning to See What We Already Have

Tu Sometimes, a film does more than tell us a story. Sometimes, it tells us something about ourselves. While watching Hanuman Ansh recently, I found myself unexpectedly travelling back— not to a place, but to a time. Certain scenes, the quietness behind the story, and its sense of faith and inner strength stirred something within me. Suddenly, I was back in my Vipassana days. I could almost feel those long hours of silence again—the stillness, the breath, the restless mind slowly settling, and the strange intimacy of sitting alone with oneself. I realised that I had not merely remembered Vipassana; I had remembered a part of myself that had become quiet beneath the noise of everyday life. Years ago, while preparing for the Civil Services Examination, my life was filled with books, uncertainty, ambition and expectations. I was constantly preparing for the next examination, the next challenge, the next milestone. Somewhere between striving and exhaustion, I went to Vipassana. I thought I was going there to learn meditation. Instead, I learnt something about life. For days, there was silence. No conversations to distract me, no constant information, no escape from my own thoughts. There was simply the breath, the body, sensations and the mind. Slowly, I began to understand that the mind is always moving— towards something it desires or away from something it dislikes. Vipassana taught me to observe without immediately reacting. That simple act of observation has a profound place in Buddhist wisdom. The Buddha’s teaching of sati, or mindfulness, invites us to remain aware of the present moment. The Dhammapada beautifully says: “Appamādo amatapadaṃ, pamādo maccuno padaṃ.” Heedfulness is the path to the deathless; heedlessness is the path to death. For me, the deeper meaning was not philosophical. It was wonderfully practical: be awake to your own life. Notice it while it is happening. Indian spiritual traditions have repeatedly reminded us of this inward awakening. Jain philosophy, too, places great emphasis on meditation, selfobservation and equanimity. Sāmāyika invites us to cultivate a state of inner balance, while prekṣā dhyāna encourages us to observe the body, breath and inner processes with awareness. Different traditions may use different words, but the invitation is remarkably similar: become still enough to see yourself clearly. And then there is the beautiful Sanskrit wisdom that has always resonated deeply with me: