Author: ashish.k.chowdhury@gmail.com

  • Anna & Scent Of Bread

    Anna & Scent Of Bread

    A story inspired by The Alchemist, with Anna as the modern seeker, weaving in symbolism, dreams, omens, fear, and the heart’s quiet calling—just like Santiago’s journey toward his treasure Is the Soul’s Journey — And Why It Is Needed Now

    Anna had the kind of life people admired on LinkedIn. A well-paying job at a global consulting firm, a tidy apartment in the city, tailored suits, back-to-back meetings, and a rising LinkedIn profile that read “Strategic Lead – Performance & Optimization.” But none of that made her heart beat faster.

    Each morning, she awoke with the same dream lingering on her tongue like the aftertaste of honey. In the dream, she stood in a sun-drenched bakery. The shelves were filled with golden loaves, braided challah, crusty sourdoughs, and pastries dusted with powdered sugar. She wasn’t just buying them. She was making them—with her own hands. The warmth of the oven, the scent of rising dough, the laughter of a little girl nibbling a croissant—all felt real. Every detail repeated each night.

    For weeks, she ignored it. Dreams are dreams, she told herself. Nothing more than the brain’s attempt to stitch meaning into chaos. But the dream came again—and again. It always ended the same way: an old woman with flour-dusted hands would whisper, “The recipe is inside you. Follow the scent.”

    One sleepless night, Anna typed “Bakery near the Seine” into her browser. She had no idea why she chose Paris—perhaps it was the poetry of it. She clicked through images of old boulangeries with tiled floors, copper pots, and sunlight cascading through tall windows. Her heart stirred.

    That was the night she remembered The Alchemist, a book she had read in college and loved, though it felt naïve then. Santiago had a recurring dream too. A treasure buried at the base of the pyramids. A shepherd who risked everything to follow it.

    Was her dream a calling?

    Omens in the Office:

    The following Monday, Anna arrived early for a leadership meeting. A junior analyst had brought pastries from a new local bakery. She picked up a pain au chocolat—and nearly dropped it. It tasted almost exactly like the one from her dream. She turned to ask where they were from, but the analyst was already gone.

    That day, her computer froze. Her boss, for the third time, “forgot” she was on the promotion list. And during lunch, she overheard a conversation between two strangers on the street:

    “Sometimes, it’s not about certainty. It’s about courage. The calling doesn’t shout—it whispers.”

    Anna stopped walking.

    The universe, it seemed, was nudging her. Santiago called them omens.

    A Leap into the Unknown:

    She didn’t quit immediately. First, she signed up for a weekend baking course. Just to “explore.” On the first day, she burnt the sourdough. On the second, she cried while kneading brioche—unexpectedly overwhelmed by joy. On the third, the instructor said, “You have good hands. You feel the dough. That can’t be taught.”

    That night, she made a list of fears:

    • Will I lose everything?
    • What if it fails?
    • What if this is just a phase?

    Then she made another list:

    • What if I never try?
    • What if the dream never stops chasing me?

    She remembered a line from The Alchemist:

    “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

    Anna handed in her resignation three weeks later.

    Following the Scent:

    She flew to Paris. She rented a tiny apartment above a bookstore in the Marais and enrolled in an artisan baking course. She woke before dawn, learned to mix, knead, rest, and shape. She burned more loaves. She made friends with a soft-spoken Algerian woman named Leïla who said, “Bread is memory. You must bake with your whole story.”

    The more Anna baked, the more alive she felt. It wasn’t easy. She missed the comfort of paychecks, the illusion of certainty. Some nights, fear whispered, “What are you doing?”

    But then the dream would return. Now, she stood confidently in the bakery. This time, it was her own. People smiled. Children clutched sticky fingers. And the old woman no longer whispered. She simply smiled—and nodded.

    Coming Full Circle:

    Two years later, Anna opened her own small bakery in a quiet corner of her hometown. She named it “Le Coeur Levé”—The Rising Heart.

    Locals were curious. “Weren’t you the one in consulting?” they’d ask.

    “I still am,” she’d smile. “I just consult with dough and dreams now.”

    She kept a copy of The Alchemist near the register. And sometimes, when young professionals wandered in with tired eyes and hopeful questions, she would hand them a loaf, warm and crusty, and say:

    “The treasure isn’t out there. It’s wherever your heart is most alive. You just have to follow the scent.”

    ✨Reflection:

    Like Santiago, Anna discovered that the dream wasn’t just about bread. It was about listening. Trusting. And daring. The treasure was not only a bakery, but the rediscovery of herself.

  • The Best Place To Visit

    The Best Place To Visit

    Step Into the Land of Miracles — Your Own Mind

    The way is not in the sky. The way is in the heart.”

    — The Buddha

    We often dream of faraway places — mountaintops, oceans, cities bathed in golden light. We chase beauty, inspiration, and meaning across the world. But the most sacred journey is not outward. It is inward. The best place to visit, the one that truly transforms, is the self.

    In the Buddhist tradition, the path of awakening is not about escape — it is about coming home. The Buddha reminds us: “The way is not in the sky.” Not in external destinations, not in the future, not in something out there. “The way is in the heart.” Right here. Right now. Within you.

    This journey to the self isn’t about ego or self-importance. It’s about presence. About meeting the truth of who you are — beneath the layers, the noise, the roles you play. It’s about sitting still long enough to hear your own breath, to feel your own aliveness, to befriend your own silence.

    The world will always offer distractions — another task, another desire, another reason to stay busy. But when you turn inward, something sacred begins to unfold. You begin to see your thoughts not as truths, but as passing clouds. You witness emotions arise and fall, like waves that no longer drown you. You begin to taste the quiet clarity that has always been there — patiently waiting.

    To visit the self is to remember that you are not broken. That peace is not found somewhere else. That the answers you seek are already living in the stillness of your own heart.

    No passport required. No ticket needed. Just a willingness to pause. To breathe. To feel. To listen.

    And as you do, you’ll discover that the most extraordinary place you could ever explore is not the Himalayas, not ancient temples, not foreign lands — but the vast, sacred space within you.

    So let this be your next journey. Not a journey of distance, but of depth. Not of sightseeing, but of soul-seeing.

    Because the best place to visit is not a place at all.

    It is your own awakened, luminous self.

    And it is always… right here.

  • Soul’s Journey

    Soul’s Journey

    What Is the Soul’s Journey — And Why It Is Needed Now

    “What you are is God’s gift to you. What you become is your gift to God.”

    — Christian Wisdom

    In every age, in every heart, there comes a moment — a quiet turning point — when something within begins to stir. A longing. A whisper. A sense that life must be more than deadlines, transactions, and the endless loop of doing. This stirring is the beginning of the Soul’s Journey.

    But what is the Soul’s Journey?

    It is the inner pilgrimage each of us is called to take — from distraction to presence, from fear to love, from fragmentation to wholeness. It is not about becoming someone new, but remembering who you truly are beneath all the masks.

    The Soul’s Journey is not religious, but deeply spiritual. It honors the sacred wisdom passed down across traditions — the invitation to awaken, to align with truth, to live with depth and meaning.

    From the Upanishads, we hear:

    “Tat Tvam Asi” — Thou art That.

    A reminder that the divine is not distant, but lives within the very center of your being.

    In the Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzu whispers:

    “Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom.”

    The Soul’s Journey begins with this turning inward, not as escape, but as discovery.

    In Sufism, Rumi sings:

    “You wander from room to room, hunting for the diamond necklace that is already around your neck.”

    he Journey is not a path of getting, but of unveiling.

    So why is this journey needed now — perhaps more than ever?

    Because we are living in loud times. Times of relentless speed, rising anxiety, and a deep hunger for something real. Technology has connected us more than ever, yet left many feeling more isolated inside. We’re surrounded by information, but starving for wisdom. We’ve mastered outer achievement — and yet, many lie awake wondering, Is this it?

    The Soul’s Journey is the antidote. It is the return to meaning. To stillness. To a life lived not just from habit, but from essence. It doesn’t reject the world, but teaches us to walk through it with awareness, with compassion, with a deeper center.

    It is not about renouncing your responsibilities — it is about transforming your relationship with them. Doing from a place of being. Acting from stillness. Speaking from truth. Living from soul.

    As St. Teresa of Ávila wrote,

    “It is foolish to think that we will enter heaven without entering into ourselves.”

    The heaven she speaks of is not a faraway realm — it is the deep peace found when we become intimate with our soul.

    To embark on the Soul’s Journey is to begin walking the most important road of your life. A path of inner unfolding that doesn’t lead away from life, but into its heart. It calls for honesty, for courage, for moments of silence, for practices of reflection and love.

    And the beauty? You don’t need to go anywhere. You simply need to begin — here, now, with a single breath, a soft turning inward, and a willingness to listen.

    Because beneath all the noise of the world, your soul is still whispering:

    Come home.

    And that home — is you.

    This is the Soul’s Journey.

    A return to essence. A remembering of wholeness.

    And a path that this world — and each of us — desperately needs now.

  • You Are Full

    You Are Full

    You Are Full — A Truth Forgotten, A Grace Remembered

    “From His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.”

    — John 1:16

    There’s a quiet ache that many carry — a sense of something missing. We look outside ourselves to feel whole: in relationships, in accomplishments, in the next purchase or the next praise. But no matter how much we gather, the emptiness returns. Why? Because we’re searching in the wrong direction.

    The Christian tradition, in its tender wisdom, reminds us: You are not empty. You are full.

    Not someday. Not when you “fix” yourself. Not after achieving more.

    Now. Already. Always.

    John 1:16 speaks this timeless truth: “From His fullness we have all received.” Not just a part, not a fraction. But grace upon grace — an overflow. The Divine is not stingy. The soul is not hollow. The presence of God is not something we need to earn. It is the deep current already flowing within us, often unnoticed, yet always present.

    We forget this because the world constantly tells us the opposite. That we are lacking. That we must prove our worth. That our value depends on productivity or perfection. But that’s not the voice of God. That’s the noise of fear.

    God whispers: You are My creation. My dwelling place. My beloved.

    You are full — of light, of dignity, of sacred potential.

    To live from fullness doesn’t mean pretending everything is perfect. It means knowing that even in your sorrow, you are not alone. Even in your doubts, you are still held. Even in your moments of weakness, you are not less worthy.

    When we begin to trust this truth — that we are already full — something changes. We stop grasping. We start giving. We move not from lack, but from overflow. Our presence becomes a gift, not a plea.

    So today, pause and remember:

    You are not a beggar in your own soul.

    You are not an outsider to grace.

    You are the vessel God chose to fill — with love, with light, with purpose.

    Let that knowing rise gently in your heart.

    You are full.

    Grace upon grace, breath upon breath, always full.