A Few Steps from Home, A Lifetime of Faith

Some bonds are formed not in conversation, but in quiet trust.
Some companions never speak — they just walk beside you,
through every chapter of life.

Hanuman Temple

As you grow older, simple things begin to hold deeper meanings. When I was a kid, I would visit the Hanuman temple near the Malleswaram Railway Station almost every day. I’d do my pradakshanams — the quiet circumambulations — and whisper to Lord Hanuman to help me do the right thing. Over time, the visits became less of a request and more of a rhythm — part of the everyday music of life.

Just a short walk from home, the temple stood like a familiar friend. And yet, it became more than a place — it became a witness. Every important moment in my life was somehow tied to that small shrine.

• Before paying my exam fee, I would stop there.
• Before collecting my hall ticket for the tenth and twelfth board exams — it went straight to Hanuman’s feet first.
• Before campus placements.
• Before my first job.
• Before my first visa interview.

Every milestone began at the temple.

Road leading up to the temple

Somewhere along the way, my prayers changed. I stopped asking for specific things. It didn’t make sense anymore. Hanuman already knew what I needed far better than I did. Asking for something felt like doubting His wisdom — or the order of things.

Coming from a family of limited means, I remember how torn I was when I had to decide whether to quit my job and pursue higher education in the U.S. I’ve always been someone who overthinks decisions, and that time was no different. Finally, I did what I had always done — I went to the temple and spoke to Hanuman like I would to a family member.

“You know everything. Just do what is right for me.”

That was it. No elaborate prayer, no demand — just trust. And somehow, things began to move. I got my visa. Life seemed to unfold more smoothly, as if some invisible current had started flowing in my favor.

Years later, that same current seemed to guide me again — on the day of my engagement. In spite of having spoken to Hema several times over video, it was at that very Hanuman temple that I met her in person for the first time. Looking back, it feels as if Hanuman Himself had chosen the place and moment for our paths to truly cross.

Even now, when I face difficult moments, I go back to that feeling of unshakeable trust. If Hanuman had to let go of my hand, He would have done it twenty-five years ago. After carrying me through so many storms, why would He let me down now? That thought alone brings peace. It’s a kind of faith that never wavers — quiet, steady, and deeply comforting.

Malleswaram Railway Station

It’s far easier to trust a power beyond us than to place all that pressure on ourselves. There’s comfort in knowing someone is looking out for us — guiding unseen, even when we falter.

The way my brother and I grew up in the nineties was different too. Faith wasn’t something you practiced privately; it was part of the air we breathed. Festivals brought the whole neighborhood together. We’d visit each other’s homes, wait eagerly for the prasadam, and sit for hours in the apartment courtyard talking about everything and nothing. Life was simpler. Maybe that’s why places like Sringeri or Kalady still bring such peace — they remind us of a time when devotion was effortless.

For decades now, I’ve been chanting the Hanuman Chalisa and Aditya Hrudayam in the mornings. Later came Rudram and the Suktams, and, more recently, a deeper love for Advaita Vedanta. Yet, every now and then, my mind drifts back to that small temple near the railway station — the one constant companion in my journey toward understanding life, faith, and the quiet grace that has always guided me.

Perhaps faith isn’t about asking for what we want,
but trusting that what unfolds is already blessed.
You know everything — just do what is right for me.