Raag dwesh Quotes

“When everyone in the family is united, when they resolve their issues with each other and unite; it is called vitarag bhav, attachment-free intent. And to disunite is to have raag-dwesh, attachment-abhorrence remain.”

“There should not be opinion regarding anything. Opinion means you are supporting it. ‘Know’ the wrong as wrong, ‘Know’ right as right. There should not be any attachment (raag) towards the right, and abhorrence (dwesh) towards the wrong. There is no such thing as right or wrong. Right and wrong is a duality, it is illusionary vision, it is a societal belief. God does not see it that way. In God’s view, having a dinner on the table or going to toilet, they are both the same.”

“To say ‘I’ where I’ is not - is the greatest illusory attachment (raag).”

“The Lord says that abhorrence is beneficial. Love-attachment [Prem-raag] will never leave. The entire world is trapped in the suffering due to love-attachment (prem-parishaha). Just say your greetings from afar and become free.”

“Water begins to boil in the kettle; it starts as a private, secluded sound, pure as rain, and grows to a steady, solipsistic bubbling.”

“Years ago, my mother and I fell in love with Busybee’s voice, its calm, even tone, and a smile which was always audible in the language. My father, meanwhile, is clipping his nails fastidiously, letting them fall on to an old, spread-out copy of the Times of India, till he sneezes explosively, as he customarily does, sending the crescent-shaped nail-clippings flying into the universe.”

“At the base of her ankle is a deep, ugly scar she got when a car ran over her foot when she was six years old. That was in a small town in Bangladesh. Thus, even today, she hesitates superstitiously before crossing the road, and is painfully shy of walking distances. Her fears make her laughable. The scar is printed on her skin like a radiant star.”

“While reading the Times of India each morning, my father spares a minute for the cartoon by R. K. Laxman. While my mother is, like a magician, making untidy sheets disappear in the bedroom and producing fresh towels in the bathroom, or braving bad weather in the kitchen, my father, in the extraordinary Chinese calm of the drawing-room, is dmiring the cartoon by R. K. Laxman, and, if my mother happens to be there, unselfishly sharing it with her. She, as expected, misunderstands it completely, laughing not at the joke but at the expressions on the faces of the caricatures, and at the hilarious fact that they talk to each other like human beings.”

“The armchairs, with their flat, sedentary cushions, were designed for society, but the bed was made for solitude. It had a straitened and measured narrowness, an austere frame made to contain the curves of a single body, to circumscribe it, carry it, give it a place, and when I slept at night, I possessed it entirely.”