Echoes from “Autobiography of a Yogi,” held together by memory, love, and the persistence of a scar I can still remember that house, and that room where my mother died, with a clarity that defies the decades. Time usually blurs even our brightest joys, but certain memories remain untouched—as if they belong not to the … Continue reading The Room Where She Died
Tag: The Autobiography of a Yogi
When a Book Opened a Door
A Quiet Conversation Between the Living and the Loved. It was my friend Vasu who first told me about The Autobiography of a Yogi. He would quote little pieces from it during our conversations—especially whenever I wrote or spoke about my mother. More than once, he said, “You know, Mohan… the way you write, it … Continue reading When a Book Opened a Door
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