Musings and reminiscences

In 2005 an article written by me on Vastushastra was published was published in US.  It introduced me somewhat like this: 

“… he (Arun Naik) is a scholar with a wide spectrum of interests, each of which he pursues with zeal and enthusiasm. Besides a Vãstu Consultant, he is a certified Pranic Healer, a certified NLP practitioner, a certified Yoga Teacher, a hypno-therapist, an astrologer, and a repertoire of knowledge on Oriental philosophy.”

I draw my lineage from the scholastic and spiritual tradition of India.  In 2008 I went on a spiritual odyssey: Narmada Parikrama.  Narmada Parikrama entails walking from the source of rive Narmada in Madhya Pradesh to its confluence point with Arabian sea in Gujarat, and then walking back by the other bank.  The journey was approximately 2800 Km long.  During this strenuous spiritual odyssey I lived the life of a monk: walking, living and meditating on the banks of Narmada, sustaining on whatever was provided by Nature. In 2009 I trekked to Bramha gufa, a good 10-12 km km ahead of Kedarnath, where Bramha himself had done his tapasya.  I also trekked to the 5 shrines of PanchKedar, totalling 190 km of trek in Upper Himalayas.

By profession I am a Vastu Teacher who is also striving to be a holistic corporate trainer, because I like to teach. But I prefer to think of myself as a seeker of truth and an aspirant of the Divine Consciousness.   I was born in Varanasi in 1954 to an engineer father and a poet mother during Ashwin Navratri.  The house where I was born is still there, flanked by the shrines of Shava-Shiva Kali, Tara, 64 Yoginis, and the Ganga. 

Some memories are etched forever. My childhood memories are full of reminiscences of the visits to Shri Vishwanath temple, Ganga ghats, religious festivals, rituals, holy men, worships, stories from mythology, a hindu religious milieu, and doting uncles.  I remember when, as a first born, I was made to offer Lotus flowers and Vilva leaves made in gold at Sri Vishwanath Temple in Varanasi. I was an infant, and was so attracted towards the Vishwanath Shivling that I nearly fell into the little pool around the Shivlingam.

When the Sino-India war of 1962 broke out I was 8 years old.   I remember that I had read the headlines about the war, but the meaning was unclear to me.  I did not know what a war was. 

But things were different when the 1965 Indo-Pak war broke out.  I was in Class V, had seen the movie ‘Haqeeqat’ at Jagat Talkies and knew the meaning of war.  Blackouts were eerie, but fun.  Almost every night the sirens announced the arrival of enemy aircrafts.  People had dug up trenches in our lane to take cover in case of an aerial attack, but no one ever jumped into one when the sirens sounded – almost everyone used to climb to the rooftop to see the enemy. AIR’s Radio Jhoothistan and war news were keenly heard by all.   Like the squirrel of Ramsetu, I too had done my bit then: I had opened a First Aid Dispensary where, besides some bandages and medicines, all important Emergency Telephone Numbers and my hand-drawn maps to the nearest hospitals were on display.  And yes, I had begun to carry with me a Toy Pistol.  The play had changed from street games to Target Practice, and my preferred target was our domestic help Rampyari.  Patriotism ran high in the tiny body.

Gradually, around same time, my leaning towards spiritualism and philosophy began to grow. The ‘existence’ of this world intrigued and baffled me; I used to wonder who I was, why I lived and why did the world exist. These questions gave me sleepless afternoons and perhaps my first attempt was to look at the walls of our house and try to understand the magical way in which they held our living space and us. Little did my innocent mind realize that it was trying to unravel world’s most complex mystery. 

My favourite pastime was reading:  I read all that I could lay my hands upon.  I read the entire library of my neighbourhood in one summer break, from biographies to classic novels.  Gradually my ancestral lineage and tradition began to pull me, and this pull came as a process of growing up, like any natural biological process.  At appropriate times in life I came across different masters who initiated and guided me…when I decided to study my tradition of Vãstu, God sent two dazzling Suns to initiate me and give me the Knowledge. I shall be ever indebted to them.

In 1971 I joined Hindu College.  My mentor was Vimal Bhan, always smiling and charming.  Under his influence I signed up with National Service Scheme.  I also joined Rajghat School of Non-violence, and in the same year led a team of 30 volunteers from various colleges of Delhi University to work in Refugee Relief Camp in Bongaon. We dug pits, distributed medicines, buried the dead, did several gory tasks..we were the Shanti Sena: Gandhiji’s Peace Army.

How some of us sneaked across Ichhamati river to meet the guerillas of Muktivahini is another story!

In February 1972 I went to Mumbai for the first time and stayed in a Rs.20 per day hotel in Khetwadi.  Right below my window was a Matka centre and a street temple where during an evening arti the pujari stopped playing the ghanti to slap a boy and then restart his arti, and I had found it very funny.  But for me that trip has become memorable, because I had returned to Delhi via Shirdi where I had slept on the first floor of the Sai Temple - Shirdi was a little village in those days, and had stopped at Chalisgaon to pay my respects to Keki Moos, the great artist.  My father and Keki were friends, and he wanted me to visit Keki. 

Keki’s family had come to Chalisgaon in 1920.  Keki had studied art in England and was a member of  Royal Photographic Society.  He was a painter, a photographer, and a sculptor.  My father had mentioned to me that since 1938, excepting when his mother had passed away, Keki had not stepped out of Chalisgaon.


Locating house was not difficult at all.  I spent the entire day with him, and Keki showed me his work.  I remember vividly Keki's tabletop photograph titled 'Winter in Chalisgaon' and the sculpture 'Ganga Yamuna'. He was very happy to see me carrying my father's camera "Semi Pearl - made in Occupied Japan"  and allowed me to take his pictures with it.


Keki had introduced my father to the worship of Sai Baba. Upon my request he narrated to me how he had got to know about Sai Baba, and how he had the first 'vision' of Baba.  When I took leave of Keki, he actually walked a little distance with me to the Chalisgaon Railway Station.  What a great artist, humble and in self-imposed internment!   


I want to mention here that my father had turned a great devotee of Sai Baba. He later introduced many others to the worship of Sai Baba.  Our house was named Sai Kuteer.  We as children used to have frequent visions of an old man in white walking through the house, of strong fragrance of Rose filling our rooms, and no one mentioned a word of it to anyone outside the family.  These things stopped abruptly one day when a visiting relative ran out of the house shouting that a thief had entered the house.    


After I completed my studies I joined Richardson Hindustan Limited as a Sales Trainee.  I trained under Vijay Thapar, Salim Hararwala and Mr. Dansinghani.  Things were fine, I slogged and worked hard, the future looked bright, until one letter from my dad made me resign and return to Delhi.

Much has happened since then.  I worked for many organizations, set up NSC, and finally came to the Consulting business.

I am quite grounded and deep rooted. Cloud Nine is not for me. I live a normal life - I like to travel, to talk, to listen, to rub shoulders with the humorous side of life, to laugh at myself. Like everyone, I am fascinated by the majesty of Sun and the softness of Moon. I like the mountains, its streams and rivulets, I like the fog entering my room through the window, I like the rolling thunder, the electric blue of the lighting, the innocence of a child, the beauty of a flower, the flow of Tri-tapa-harini Ma Ganga, the very memories of Narmada, and the divine music which plays constantly in my head.

I have a long wishlist, because I like to dream. My dreams are alive and kicking. I want to be a singer, a travelogue feature writer, a footloose freelance photographer, a soldier, a professional healer, a sanyasi, a clairvoyant, a poet, a musician, a percussionist, a post-graduate in Sanskrit, a hypno-therapist, an actor…quite a potpourri… I wish I had several lives at one go to be all that I want to be. Inshallah! Kabhi to hoga.

I respect and look for perfection in detail, in thought, in implementation, in works. The Book of Gita cast a significant influence on me in my formative years, because of which I have handled abuses and garlands with equal indifference (well, almost), but I find it difficult to adjust with  incompetence, negligence, carelessness, and shoddiness. Perhaps that is the reason why I love hand tools and machines for their accuracy, power, deliverance and what one can do with them.

I love people. Each one of us is so different, so unique, so exclusive and one of its kind, so bizarre and peculiar; yet, each one of us is a face of the Divine.

But like all of us, there are times when I wish to be left alone, just to be with myself, to be me.

Arun Naik, Worshipper of the Mystic Fire