was a deeper reason why I focused on business and continued with astrology even though I’d understood it wasn’t going to give me the answers I sought. By now, I knew without the shadow of a doubt that I wanted to give up the material world and walk the spiritual path. My hunger for God was stronger than anything else within me. Innumerable times, I'd thought of renouncing the world and going to the Himalayas to do austere penance. It was the soft eyes of my mother and her loving voice that always held me back. I didn’t think she would be able to bear the separation. Worldly activities helped me curb my inner desire and pull on. I did not know how else to channelize my energies or distract myself.
Whatever I tried my hand at though, I mastered almost effortlessly. Soon, it would cease to challenge me. Whether it was learning chess or playing a musical instrument, singing Vedic hymns or practising astrology, each activity stopped stimulating me after a while. I wanted a task to really engage me, test me, surprise me, but everything felt so easy.
Looking for something new, I decided to enroll in an advanced computer course at a private institution. At the end of the orientation on the first day, a young man wearing a turban and rather shabby clothes came up to me. I actually thought he was a motor mechanic because there were small stains that looked like oil or grease smears on his clothes.
Introducing himself as Harpreet Singh, he posed a question on the Bhagavadgita.
I don’t know why he asked me a religious question. I normally applied a tilak on my forehead, but hadn’t done so that day. I was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, which is what I normally wore. He had no idea I practised astrology or that I had studied many religious texts, yet he chose to ask me a question on the Bhagavadgita in a computer centre. Anyhow, the question was not outside my field of knowledge.
As I finished answering him, he suddenly asked, 'Where did you learn English?'
'How weird!' I thought. Rather than focusing on my answer, he only saw the language I used. Anyway, we chatted for a while. I told him I was doing that advanced computer course in order to build an application for the financial markets.
'Financial markets?'
'Yeah, I trade in both the primary and secondary market. And I want to code an investment monitoring tool.'
'Are you free for a few hours?' he said.
'Umm … now? Okay, but what do you do?'
'Have you heard of Chardikala ?'
'Of course.' Chardikala was a regional newspaper in the Punjabi language.
'I work there.'
Harpreet Singh took me to his office. He drove his scooter while I followed him on my moped. When we walked into the office, he took me into a cabin. The sign on the door said 'Chief Editor and Publisher'. He turned on the air conditioning, picked up the phone and asked for someone. A man came in and my new friend ordered some tea. I was curious now.
'Who are you? And how come you are in the chief editor’s cabin?'
He smiled. 'This is us,' he said pointing to a family picture on the desk.
'What do you mean?'
'Harpreet Singh Dardi. That’s my full name. My father owns this enterprise.'
'Oh really!'
'Now, tell me something,' he said. 'Would you like to write for our newspaper?'
‘I've never written for any newspaper. And I don’t write in Punjabi.
lso, what could I possibly write on?'
'We launched an English language financial publication last year called The Business Times and it’s doing well. I’m looking for a good columnist.'
And so it happened that I began writing a regular column for them with my stock picks. Pleased with my work, a few months later, they offered me the role of editor to run their weekly edition. I readily accepted. Soon, I was spending most evenings at the press. Writing editorials, selecting news items and editing the work of other journalists gave me an intellectual kick.
A couple of years later, I resigned and moved on to grow my part-time business of
Whatever I tried my hand at though, I mastered almost effortlessly. Soon, it would cease to challenge me. Whether it was learning chess or playing a musical instrument, singing Vedic hymns or practising astrology, each activity stopped stimulating me after a while. I wanted a task to really engage me, test me, surprise me, but everything felt so easy.
Looking for something new, I decided to enroll in an advanced computer course at a private institution. At the end of the orientation on the first day, a young man wearing a turban and rather shabby clothes came up to me. I actually thought he was a motor mechanic because there were small stains that looked like oil or grease smears on his clothes.
Introducing himself as Harpreet Singh, he posed a question on the Bhagavadgita.
I don’t know why he asked me a religious question. I normally applied a tilak on my forehead, but hadn’t done so that day. I was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, which is what I normally wore. He had no idea I practised astrology or that I had studied many religious texts, yet he chose to ask me a question on the Bhagavadgita in a computer centre. Anyhow, the question was not outside my field of knowledge.
As I finished answering him, he suddenly asked, 'Where did you learn English?'
'How weird!' I thought. Rather than focusing on my answer, he only saw the language I used. Anyway, we chatted for a while. I told him I was doing that advanced computer course in order to build an application for the financial markets.
'Financial markets?'
'Yeah, I trade in both the primary and secondary market. And I want to code an investment monitoring tool.'
'Are you free for a few hours?' he said.
'Umm … now? Okay, but what do you do?'
'Have you heard of Chardikala ?'
'Of course.' Chardikala was a regional newspaper in the Punjabi language.
'I work there.'
Harpreet Singh took me to his office. He drove his scooter while I followed him on my moped. When we walked into the office, he took me into a cabin. The sign on the door said 'Chief Editor and Publisher'. He turned on the air conditioning, picked up the phone and asked for someone. A man came in and my new friend ordered some tea. I was curious now.
'Who are you? And how come you are in the chief editor’s cabin?'
He smiled. 'This is us,' he said pointing to a family picture on the desk.
'What do you mean?'
'Harpreet Singh Dardi. That’s my full name. My father owns this enterprise.'
'Oh really!'
'Now, tell me something,' he said. 'Would you like to write for our newspaper?'
‘I've never written for any newspaper. And I don’t write in Punjabi.
lso, what could I possibly write on?'
'We launched an English language financial publication last year called The Business Times and it’s doing well. I’m looking for a good columnist.'
And so it happened that I began writing a regular column for them with my stock picks. Pleased with my work, a few months later, they offered me the role of editor to run their weekly edition. I readily accepted. Soon, I was spending most evenings at the press. Writing editorials, selecting news items and editing the work of other journalists gave me an intellectual kick.
A couple of years later, I resigned and moved on to grow my part-time business of
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