Engineer forged in the crucible of Tata Nagar - Finding Grace in the Grind - Part 7
Canadian Journey of Manifestation
In January 1998, we decided to chart a
new course. We applied for Canadian Permanent Residency directly, no agents, no
middlemen, just our own resolve. When the embassy warned us of a four-year
wait, we didn’t fret. We simply tucked the dream away and waited. The Power of Will. The universe, it
seems, responds to clarity. What should have taken years moved with uncanny speed:
The Wave of the Hand: Within months, clarifications were made, and then the
unexpected happened—our personal family interview was waived.
The Final Taste of Royalty: Before leaving
our home ground, we went to Calcutta for our medicals. Though we had family on
Lower Circular Road, I chose a different path. I checked into the Grand Hotel.
I wanted my family to experience a taste of royalty, a peak experience to carry
with them as we prepared to start from scratch in a new land. The Arrival: By May 1999, less than a year and a half
after applying, we were ready to land in Canada.
The Great Leap across the Oceans
Though I passed the NDA exam to join
my brother in the Army, a higher calling for "Production Engineering"
led me to PEC Chandigarh. I topped my class as a merit scholar in the first
year itself. After a stint in the bamboo-rich jungles of Assam, I moved to
Faridabad, quickly crossing over to Calcutta & finally drifting towards Tata
Nagar. By this stage, I had reached a significant milestone in my career. I had
been promoted to the rank of Assistant Chief Industrial Engineer, a position of
authority and technical respect. I had mastered the "mantras" of
efficiency and managed the complex rhythms of the industry. Yet, as I looked at
the horizon, my focus shifted from my own professional trajectory to the future
of my children. I realized that
while India had given me my foundation, Canada offered a different kind of
canvas for their education and growth. And so, I made the monumental decision
to resign. It was a choice to trade the familiar comforts of the Tisco clubs,
the "credit card status" of our social circles, and my hard-earned
seniority for a leap into the unknown. We left behind the open-air theaters and
the monsoon rains of Jamshedpur, driven by a singular goal: to provide my
children with a global future. It was the ultimate application of my
engineering mindset, evaluating the long-term "output" of our lives
and realizing that the most valuable investment I could make wasn't in a
factory or a budget, but in their potential.
The Philosophy of the Hot air Balloon
People often ask me the
"silly" question: Why did you come to Canada? My answer is always the
same: I live my life like a Hot Air Balloon. I operate in neutral gear. I do
not fight the currents; I rise to the right altitude and let the Cosmic Winds
blow me where they will. Canada was not a calculated move of desperation, but a
manifestation of will and a willingness to be carried to the next great
adventure.
The Maritime Shift
My Canadian story began in Nova
Scotia, at Maritime Steel & Foundries Ltd. The journey started with a trip
to New Glasgow for an interview with the owner himself, a high-stakes meeting
for a newcomer. Initially, I was considered for the main foundries division,
but then, through what I can only describe as a mix of my own focused
manifestation and His Grace, I received the call to join the Steel Structural
Division in Halifax. The transition
was a test of my Industrial identity. When I met the Manager in Halifax to
discuss the role of Shift Manager, I felt a duty to be transparent. I have never worked in a hands-on manufacturing
environment, I admit, thinking of my years in R&D and Industrial
Engineering. The Manager
didn't blink. He looked at my credentials and replied with a confidence that
stayed with me: You have worked in Tata Steel. You will learn it on the job
itself.
With that vote of confidence, I
stepped onto the floor. Suddenly, the man who had been analyzing efficiency
from an office was now responsible for the daily output and safety of 35
welders and fitters. It was a baptism by fire, or rather, by arc-welding
sparks. I had to earn the respect of these seasoned tradesmen not just as a
manager, but as a leader who understood the weight of the steel and the heat of
the shop. True to the Manager's word, the discipline I had absorbed in
Jamshedpur became my compass as I navigated the complexities of Maritime
manufacturing.
The Shop Floor Healer
Managing thirty-five welders and
fitters in the Halifax structural division was a test of more than just
technical oversight; it was a test of leadership under pressure. One night, the
intensity of the job caught up with one of the men. He approached me, pale and
unsteady, complaining of sickness from the heavy fumes he had been inhaling. I need to go home, sir, he said, ready to abandon his
shift. I looked at him
and diagnosed the situation instantly. Drawing on the breathing principles I
had perfected at the United Club pool and perhaps a bit of the medical
intuition I’d absorbed by my brother, I decided to apply my own version of ICU therapy. I led him away from the sparks and the heavy air of the
shop floor into the crisp, cold night air of Nova Scotia. Stay with me, I told him. Deep breaths in, and full
exhalations out. I coached him
through the rhythmic breathing, forcing the fresh air to flush his system while
I gave him a glass of water to rehydrate. We stood there in the quiet for
fifteen minutes, a Slow-Motion intervention in the middle of a high-speed
shift. To his amazement, the dizziness vanished. He felt as rejuvenated as if
he had just started his day. He didn't go home; he went back to his station and
worked at full steam for the rest of the night.
Word of that night spread quietly
among the men. They realized that their new manager from Tata Steel didn't just
understand the strength of the beams we were building, he understood the
well-being of the men building them.
Sweet Success and a Legacy of Kindness
As I settled into my disciplined role
at the Halifax International Airport, my wife reached a milestone of her own
that filled our home with joy. She secured a position at the Hershey’s
Chocolate Factory. For a woman who had spent her life in India as a dedicated
homemaker, this was a profound accomplishment. She was soon earning more than I
was, and the pride she felt in her newfound financial independence was a
"sweet success" in every sense of the word. This transition was particularly striking when we looked
back at our life in India. There, we had been blessed with a full-time live-in
maid. But we never saw her through the lens of social hierarchy; we treated her
as our own daughter. Our commitment to her didn't end when we moved to Canada.
Even from across the ocean, we looked
after her. We took on the responsibility of arranging her marriage and ensured
she would have a permanent foundation by building her brick-and-mortar house in
her village in Cuttack, Orissa. To this day, we provide her with a lifetime
pension, a "built-in charity" that reflects our family's values. While my wife was mastering the industrial rhythms of a
Canadian chocolate factory, we were quietly ensuring that a daughter of our
household in India would never have to worry about her future. It was the
ultimate balance: building a new life in the West while honoring the sacred
bonds of the life we left behind in the East.
The Chocolate Aunty of Ludhiana
Life at Hershey’s factory brought more
than just a steady paycheck; it brought a legendary status within our extended
family. As an employee, my wife was entitled to the factory outlet discount
staggering four pounds of seconds for just seven dollars.
Our home in Halifax became a literal
treasure trove of chocolate. We had stacks of every variety imaginable, almond
bars, kisses, and dark chocolates, all meticulously stored and ready to be
transported across the world. When the time came for our annual trip to India,
our suitcases were heavy with more than just gifts; they were filled with the sweetest
exports of Canada.
In Ludhiana, my wife’s arrival was the
highlight of the year for our nephews. They didn't just see their aunt; they
saw the Chocolate Aunty. To them, she was the magical relative from the West
who arrived with mountains of Hershey’s chocolate, a luxury that turned every
visit into a celebration. It was a
beautiful full circle: the woman who had never worked outside the home in India
was now the primary provider of a legendary chocolate stash, earned through her
own hard work in a Canadian factory. Those stacks of chocolate were a symbol of
our new life, plentiful, rewarding, and meant to be shared.
The Shift to the Shipyards
The industrial landscape can be as
unpredictable as the North Atlantic weather. Within a year of my arrival,
Maritime Steel fell short of orders and was forced to pull down its shutters.
For the first time, I found myself "laid off," navigating the
Canadian safety net of Employment Insurance. While the government covered 60%
of my salary, I didn't sit idle; I was manifestation my next move. That move brought me to the Irving Shipyard as a Planning
Engineer. This role felt like coming home to my true professional self. It was
an elegant puzzle: using specialized software to coordinate maintenance crews
across the shipyard, balancing workloads, and optimizing the flow of labor.
After the physical intensity of managing the welding floor, this was a
"clean" job that I found both easy to master and deeply satisfying. While I planned the shipyard's operations, my family was
building their own foundations. My wife joined the workforce, finding steady
work in the newspaper industry, and our children truly began to thrive. They
enrolled in Dalhousie University, one of Canada's top institutions, balancing
their rigorous studies with part-time jobs. In just a couple of years, they graduated, transforming
our initial sacrifice into tangible success. The "Slow Motion" days
of our transition were over; life in Halifax had found its steady track. We
were no longer just newcomers; we were a family of professionals and scholars,
firmly rooted in our new home.
The Pivot to Persuasion
The stability of the shipyard lasted
two and a half years before the cycle of industrial work dipped again. Facing
another round of Employment Insurance, I decided not to wait for the next
engineering firm to call. Instead, I pivoted into the world of direct sales. I took a job selling the Filter Queen, a specialized
vacuum cleaner that you couldn’t find in any mall or department store. It was a
high-end machine that required a personal touch live demonstration in the
prospect's living room. To maximize our family's income during this gap, I
negotiated a strategic arrangement: I would collect my government EI while
receiving my sales commissions in cash. It was a necessary bit of "unaccounted"
ingenuity to ensure my children’s education stayed on track. The Filter Queen was an impressive piece of equipment. As
an engineer, I could speak with genuine conviction about its suction power, its
filtration system, and its durability. I wasn't just a salesman; I was a
technical demonstrator. I went from home to home across Halifax, showing
families the "magic" of the machine. It turned out that the same
voice that had instructed children in the pool and managed welders on the shop
floor was quite persuasive in the living room. The machines sold well, and the
cash commissions kept moving forward without skipping a beat.
The Engineering of the Sale
My pitch for the Filter Queen was as
meticulously planned as any industrial project. The demo was highly effective
because it appealed to the logic of the consumer. I would open the machine to
reveal its unique design, demonstrating why the filter never clogged.
"Because of this airflow," I would explain, "you receive 100%
suction power, 100% of the time." To an engineer, it was a beautiful piece
of design; to a homeowner, it was a revelation.
However, these door-to-door visits
often provided a different kind of education. During one demonstration, I asked to be introduced to the
family of four gathered in the living room. Coming from a traditional Indian
background where the family unit was straightforward, I was momentarily baffled
by the introductions.
The husband began, I am so-and-so, and
these are my two children. Then the wife followed, And I am so-and-so, and
these two are my children. I stood there, Filter Queen in hand,
trying to solve the math in my head. Were there four children? Or were they
both claiming the same two? Seeing my confusion, they kindly clarified the
modern North American reality: the children were from their respective previous
marriages. It was my first
real encounter with the "blended family" and live-in relationships, a
far cry from the social structures of Ambala Cantt or the Tisco clubs. I
realized that day that while I was in their home to sell them a vacuum, I was
also there to observe the changing fabric of the world I now call home. I
adjusted my mental "blueprint" of a family, closed the sale, and
moved on to the next house.
From Living Rooms to used Car Showroom
The sales world turned out to be more
than just a temporary stopgap; it was lucrative, engaging, and provided a
unique "circus" of personalities that I genuinely enjoyed. While my
EI provided a safety net, the cash from the Filter Queen sales ensured our
comfort. However, a new opportunity soon appeared on the horizon. The manager of our sales group was the son of a used car
dealership owner, and through him, I caught a glimpse of the automotive trade.
I decided to trade the vacuum demonstrations for the showroom floor. I joined
the dealership under Mr. Burnie, a cool and reasonable owner. I approached him
with a pre-condition that flew in the face of industry standards: I want a
fixed salary, not a commission. Mr. Burnie looked
at me and, recognizing something unique in my background, agreed. Just for you,
he said, I will break the rule. I was trained by his son on the art of
the pitch not for selling, but for consignment of cars. My job was cold-calling
people who were trying to sell their cars privately and convincing them to
bring their vehicles into our showroom. We will display it for you, no
promises, but no hassle, was the angle. I applied the
same focus I once used in the Value Engineering department to these phone
calls. My disciplined approach and rehearsed pitch worked flawlessly. Soon, I
was breaking all the company records, filling the showroom with a constant
stream of new inventory. I had transitioned from engineering steel structures
to engineering social trust over the phone, proving that a Tata-trained mind
could optimize any system, even a used car lot in Nova Scotia. A brilliant look at how I engineered a win-win-win
scenario. I wasn’t just selling a service; I was selling a logical, financial
solution. To a car owner, my pitch made the $300 fee seem like an absolute
bargain compared to the value of advertising, detailing, and insurance savings. And for me, the "share" of $200 in cash per car
was a masterstroke of financial planning, allowing me to maximize my income
alongside my EI. I had essentially created my own high-yield Industrial Process
within the car dealership.
The Toy Store Strategy
My success at the dealership wasn't
due to luck; it was due to a pitch that was logically unassailable. I wasn't
just asking for their car; I was offering a financial package. Thinking of it this way, I would tell the sellers over
the phone. We will advertise your vehicle in Auto Trader every month, that’s a
$50 value. We will perform a professional detail cleaning worth $150. Most
importantly, you can cancel your car insurance immediately and save a
significant monthly expense. We provide all of this for a one-time fee of just
$300. I framed the
showroom as a "Toy Store," a destination where hundreds of eager
buyers flocked daily, far more than would ever visit a private driveway. The
logic was so sound that I began breaking records for consignments. From a personal standpoint, the arrangement was equally
optimized. Out of that $300 fee, my share was $200, paid in cash. It was the
perfect supplement to my Employment Insurance, providing a level of comfort and
"unaccounted" security that allowed us to keep our focus on the
children's future. I had taken the principles of efficiency and value-proposition
from the R&D labs of Jamshedpur and applied them to the used cars lots of
Halifax, turning a "cold call" into a lucrative engine of success.
The Fragility of the "Toy
Store"
The business was booming. Because of
the sheer volume of cars being consigned by me and another colleague, Mr.
Burnie was forced to move the operation to a much larger location. On the
surface, it looked like an industrial success story, but underneath, the
foundation was rotting. I began to see
the "dark side" of the show business. Mr. Burnie had hired a young,
beautiful secretary and was embroiled in an affair that was quickly leading him
toward a divorce from his wife. Observing this from my perspective, rooted in a
different set of values and a disciplined background, it was deeply upsetting. I realized then a fundamental truth: in the world of
commerce, everything is interconnected with human relationships. I began to see
these volatile human dynamics as a form of human bacteria unseen forces that
can infect and eventually destroy even the most profitable systems. This realization brought a sense of detachment. I
understood that the success of the "Toy Store" was temporary, bound
by the whims and moral failings of the people running it. I saw the writing on
the wall. Not long after I decided to leave for another field, the store,
despite all its record-breaking numbers, succumbed to the chaos and pulled its
shutters down for good. It was a stark lesson that no matter how prescient the
process, a system cannot survive if its leadership lacks a steady moral
compass.
The Master Stroke of the NCC
While the Toy Store was crumbling
under the weight of human drama, I was looking for a more stable foundation. I
walked into a job fair and found myself at the booth of a semi-government
security organization. Their mandate was strict: they only recruited retired
armed forces personnel. I presented my credentials, my engineering background,
my management experience, and my promise of dedicated service, but the
recruiters remained firm. Our hands are tied, they told me. Unless you have a
military background, we cannot consider you.
In that moment of impasse, a memory
from my college days in India surfaced like a hidden blueprint. I remembered my
time as an NCC cadet. I produced the certificate and pointed to a single,
crucial column: Military Training – 12 Months.
That was the master stroke. In the
eyes of Canadian bureaucracy, those twelve months of disciplined cadet training
were the bridge I needed. It was as if the manifestation had happened
automatically; the obstacle vanished. I was hired, and my first assignment was
at the Halifax International Airport.
This wasn't just another job; it was a
career that set me for life in Canada. I moved from the chaos of the used car
lot to the high-stakes, disciplined environment of airport security. Standing
at the gateway to the province, I was no longer a salesman or a newcomer, I was
an officer of the law, ensuring the safety of the very skies I had flown
through to reach this country.
The Social Pulse of the Airport
If the Hershey’s factory was my wife’s
domain of sweet success, the Halifax International Airport became my stage for
a vibrant and youthful second innings. Security work can often be seen as a
series of rigid protocols, but I chose to see it through a social lens. Stationed at the heart of the terminal, I became a
familiar and friendly face to the community that makes an airport breathe. I
built lasting friendships with the women at the car rental counters and the
passenger screening staff who worked alongside us. But perhaps the most
entertaining part of my day was interacting with the flight attendants. As I performed the necessary security checks before
allowing the crew into the secure zones, it wasn't just a matter of procedure, it
was a moment for lighthearted conversation and professional charm. There was a
built-in entertainment to the role; the constant flow of people and the
high-energy environment of international travel kept me sharp. I found that
this daily interaction with diverse, energetic professionals was the "secret
sauce that kept me young at heart and body. While I was there to ensure safety, I was also there to
enjoy the rhythm of life. Those years at the airport weren't just a job; they
were a rejuvenation, proving that even in a serious profession, a zest for life
and a friendly word can make the clock turn backward. Halifax International
Airport is a unique environment, especially for someone who values systems and efficiency.
Working at an airport often feels like being in a city within a city.
The Secret Agent of Halifax
International
My reputation at the Halifax
International Airport followed me long after I had moved on to other roles.
Whenever I traveled to India or Boston as a passenger, I was treated like a
visiting dignitary. My wife would look on in bewilderment as the female screening
staff would break into wide smiles, greeting me like an old friend and whisking
us through with special treatment.
What is happening? she would wonder. I
would just smile; I was simply reaping the harvest of the friendships I had
sown during my years on the force. However, there
was a more clandestine side to my relationship with the airport. On several
occasions, I was requisitioned by the Commissionaires Nova Scotia to act as a
Decoy Passenger. My mission was to test the vigilance of the new screening
staff. Under the watchful, but hidden eye of the RCMP, I would attempt to pass
through security with concealed knives and guns. I approached these exercises with the same precision I
used in the R&D labs. I knew the mechanics of the scanners and the
psychology of the screeners. I was so "smart" at concealing the items
that, often, the staff failed to find what they were supposed to. It was a
high-stakes game of hide-and-seek that provided immense thrills and a handsome
paycheck. I wasn't just a retired officer; I was the ultimate stress test for
the nation's security systems. It was the perfect blend of my two worlds: the disciplined
professional and the youthful entertainer, still playing the game at the
highest level.
The Cosmic Sentry and the First E-Book
My second innings in Canada continued
to unfold with a grace that felt entirely orchestrated by higher forces. After
five vibrant years at the airport, I moved into a role at the Naval Dockyard
for another five-year stretch. It was a period of physical rejuvenation; the
free membership of the gym and swimming pool was a blessing that allowed me to
maintain the "Miracle of the Body" I had been preaching since my days
at the United Club.
But the true manifestation of my
life’s purpose occurred when I took a position at the Crystal Crescent Beach
satellite site. Here, giant dishes stood like silent sentinels, pulling signals
from the heavens to serve the telecom giants. While technicians managed the
machinery during the week, the site required a guardian from Friday evening
until Monday morning. It was a
solitary, weekend vigil, and it was here that I realized I was being given a
divine gift: Time. Surrounded by the
natural beauty of the Nova Scotian coast and the rhythmic hum of satellite
data, I became an instrument for a higher message. The silence was not empty;
it was filled with the insights of a lifetime. In those quiet hours, I began to
write. What emerged was my first e-book, "MAGIC OF THE MIND & MIRACLE
OF THE BODY." I wasn't just guarding a facility; I was anchoring the
wisdom of the East with the technology of the West. The cosmic forces had
brought me to this remote beach so that I could share the secrets of mental
power and physical health with the rest of the world. My career had come full
circle—from analyzing the properties of metal to exploring the infinite
potential of the human spirit.
The Beachfront Sanctuary
My time at the Crystal Crescent
satellite site felt less like a job and more like a high-end retreat,
orchestrated entirely by His Grace. While most people paid small fortunes to
rent cottages on the Nova Scotian coast, I was paid to inhabit one of the most
serene locations in the province. I turned the
facility into my personal training ground. All day, I would roam the grounds,
collecting hundreds of hard green pinecones. These became my endless supply of
golf balls. I would spend hours with my golf club, driving pinecones in the
distance without the slightest fear of losing an expensive ball. It was a
perfect blend of pleasure and physical workout. When I wasn't practicing my swing, I reached for my
tennis racket. The giant, windowless wall of the satellite building became my
opponent, the most consistent and tireless partner I had ever had. I would play
strenuous games of "Lawn Tennis" against that wall, the salt air
filling my lungs and keeping my body in peak condition. The technicians, who had become like friends, gave me a
free hand in their kitchen and pantry. I lived in the house, nourished by good
food and the quiet majesty of the Atlantic. It was in this state of total
luxury and peace that my mind became a clear vessel for writing. I realized
that my "Second Innings" had brought me to a place of perfect harmony,
where the body was a miracle, the mind was magic, and every pinecone I struck
was a celebration of a life well-lived.
Across the Ocean: New Projects in
Boston
The
family tree continues to grow with Arjun, and it seems your reputation as a
master craftsman has traveled all the way to Boston! The third branch of the
family tree is Arjun, my son’s son. At just one and a half years old, he is a
whirlwind of energy, "running about" and discovering the world on his
own two feet. While Victoria’s world in Halifax was built on innovative toys,
Arjun’s world in Boston is where my craftsmanship meets the maintenance of a
legacy. There is a wonderful contrast here: in Jamshedpur, you were scavenging
shovel handles from AGRICO; in Boston, you are applying those same skilled
hands to a "million-dollar home."
The "Consultant" on Call
Whenever the summer swimming season
arrives and I visit my son in Boston, I don't just bring my luggage, I bring my
expertise. My son always has a "project list" waiting for me. In an
old, million-dollar home, there is always a need for a craftsman’s touch to
keep the character of the house alive.
My "summer shifts" often include Refurbishing and Painting: Giving new life to the
weathered parts of a grand old home. Custom
Improvements: Making the structural changes necessary to turn a historic house
into a modern family home. The Fun Side:
Even in Boston, the workshop follows me. I find myself working on golf putts
and other recreational projects, ensuring that even the leisure time in the
house is "custom-built." Arjun may be too young to handle a lathe yet, but just as
Victoria grew up surrounded by my wooden wonders, Arjun is growing up seeing
his grandfather’s hands at work, constantly improving the world around him.
The
Halifax Hub: A Mantle of Service
Our home in Halifax was never intended
to be just a residence; it evolved into a vital hub for the entire clan. It
reminded me deeply of Uncle Raj Pal’s home when I first arrived, a sanctuary
for those finding their footing. In a natural way of our family legacy, Rekha
and I effectively took over the mantle of settlers, guiding others as they
transitioned into new lives. Over the years, we have had the privilege of
helping six different families settle and find their path. Among them, the
journey of Yogi Raj and Ruchi’s family stands out with particular significance.
A
Spiritual Connection
Our affinity for this family is deep
and multi-layered. Ruchi is exactly the age our first daughter would have been,
a coincidence that immediately created a profound, soul-level bond between us.
Furthermore, she is a dedicated follower of Brahma Kumaris, a spiritual
path that resonates with our own values. This shared "Gyan" has
forged an unbreakable connection; I share a special bond with Ruchi that
transcends mere family ties, it is a recognition of shared spirit and purpose.
The
Next Generation
Watching their children grow has been
a source of immense pride. Their home is a testament to the diversity of human
potential: Shivam, their eldest, is a true mathematical prodigy, possessing a
mind that moves with the precision of the most complex engineering. Pinacki,
their youngest daughter, carries a different kind of strength, a profound spiritual
power that seems to ground the family’s intellectual brilliance. By opening our
doors in Halifax, we didn't just provide a roof; we continued the tradition of
building a foundation where the next generation of our clan could thrive and
innovate.
The
Migration of the Narang’s: Rebuilding from Loss
The strength of a family is tested
most in the wake of tragedy. When Rekha lost her brother in India at the young
age of forty-seven, the loss left a profound void, leaving behind his wife, Ranjana,
and their two young sons. We knew that our home in Halifax had to become their
harbor. We did everything in our power to bring them to Canada, inviting them
to live under our roof so we could rebuild their future together.
The
Foundation: Ranjana’s Resilience
While the boys were still in school,
Ranjana showed the depth of her own grit. Leveraging her extensive experience
from Convent schools in India, she secured a prestigious, high-paying teaching
position. Watching her establish herself was like watching a well-engineered
plan come to fruition; she provided the stability that allowed her sons to
soar.
Walking
the Father’s Path: The Accountants
It was a proud moment to see both boys
walk in their father’s footsteps, both earning their Chartered Accountant (CA)
designations.
Rohan, the youngest, displayed a
sharp, disciplined mind, earning his CA degree on his very first attempt. He
secured a position with the CRA, but true to our family’s hunger for growth, he
realized that higher education was the key. He moved to the U.S. to complete
his master’s in business management, eventually landing a niche placement
through campus interviews that recognized his specialized talent.
Rajat Narang, the eldest, proved to be
a master of professional equilibrium. He managed a variety of high-stakes
roles, serving as an accountant for the RCMP while simultaneously navigating
the worlds of real estate and automotive entrepreneurship.
Talking
Shop: Engineering the Garage
In Rajat, the Narang discipline and
the industrial spirit of Halifax met perfectly. As he ventured into the world
of auto workshops, our bond took on a technical dimension. As an Industrial
Engineer, I couldn't help but talk shop with him.
We often found ourselves discussing
the knowhow of the garage, applying principles of operational efficiency,
workflow optimization, and logistical precision to his workshops. For us, an
auto workshop wasn't just a place to fix cars; it was a system of inputs and
outputs that required the same mathematical balance I applied to my own
engineering projects. Seeing him succeed as an entrepreneur was the final proof
that our efforts to bring them to Halifax had created a legacy that would
endure for generations.
The Global Sage of the Digital Age
The initial release of my e-book
taught me a valuable lesson about the modern world: writing the wisdom is only
half the battle; the other half is ensuring it reaches the hearts that need it.
Rather than being discouraged by modest sales, I applied a strategy. I launched
a blog.emotionalblockages.blogspot.com & deconstructed my book into 250
digestible, powerful posts. I gave my life's
work to the world for free. The response was
a digital manifestation of "His Grace." To date, over 140,000 people
from every corner of the globe have read those posts. My most favorite post is:
Eves dropping on God & Angels. My message of mental clarity and physical
miracles had finally found its wings. I realized that in the world of
authorship, volume is the key to visibility. One does not simply write a book;
one builds a library.
Today, I have nine more titles
available on Amazon, tackling the most vital structures of human life. From No
Schooling in Parenting, Yet Bringing Up Children, to my deep dives into the causes
of poor mental health. Another book that needs mention is Spirituality – Fact or
Fiction. I have dedicated my "Third Innings" to being a consultant
for the human soul. I have traded the blueprints of steel factories for the
blueprints of healthy families and resilient minds. As I look back from the vantage point of 2026, I see that
my entire journey, the discipline of Tata Steel, the "Slow Motion"
laps in the pool, the records broken at the "Toy Store," and the
quiet vigils at Crystal Crescent Beach, was all preparation. I am no longer
just an engineer or a security officer; I am a lighthouse, using the
"Magic of the Mind" to guide others toward their own "Miracle of
the Body."
The Second Innings and the Glue of
Karma
It is the fuel for my body. I am not just
alive; I am staying "in the game" because, like him, my work, this
storytelling, this reflection, this passing of wisdom, has become my religion. Whether it’s writing these memories or mentoring others, I
feel that same "twenty-hour energy" that my father had? In the
industrial world, once a project is commissioned and the savings are realized,
the engineer moves on. But the human soul operates on a different timeline. I
have come to realize that I am still here, one of the few of my generation, not
by accident, but because my Gross Karma is still in production. I often think of Karma as the ultimate Industrial
Adhesive. It is the glue that keeps the soul and the body together. If there is
a debt to be paid, a lesson to be taught, or a story to be told like this one,
the glue holds firm. The body remains a vessel for the Will. If my First Innings was about building the external world,
the coal tubs, the mansions, and the Tata special projects, my Second Innings
is about the internal completion. To play this inning well, I must maintain the
"structural integrity" of my health. I look back at my father, who outlived them all. He
wasn't just "lucky"; he was Karma-efficient. He didn't accumulate the
"rust" of unnecessary mental tensions. He fulfilled his service to
his "Brothers and Sisters" daily, keeping his karmic ledger clean. I
am doing the same now. My "Gross Karma" involves: Fulfilling the legacy: Carrying the ethics of the Steel
City into the modern world. Completing the
narrative: Ensuring the stories of the "Sea Frog" and the
"Mansion of Foresight" are not lost to the red dust of time. Preserving the Machine: Staying healthy not out of fear
of exit, but out of respect for the work that remains.
Manifesting in these Second Innings.
Perhaps it’s this book, or perhaps
it’s the wisdom I am passing down to the next generation of
"engineers" in my family?
It adds the most crucial layer to my
father’s "shadow" presence. It reveals that his "built-in
charity" wasn't a religious obligation, but a spiritual passion. When the
line between what you do and who you wish to do vanishes, then you no longer
need "holidays" because you are not "working", you simply exist
in your highest state. He didn't need a
temple because the clinic was his sanctuary, and his patients were his
congregation.
The Final Commissioning
In Tata Nagar, we never left a site
until the final inspection was passed. I view my life the same way. I will not
exit until the "inspection" of my karma is complete. Until then, the
glue holds. The engine runs. The "Engineer from Tata Nagar" is still
on duty, navigating the Second Innings with the same Will and Grace that built
the 4-million-rupee weld. Philosophical Blueprint for Life. It is a part of
that "Gross Karma" that must be completed. It ties the Steel, body/industry to the Spirit, karma/soul
in a way that only an Engineer from Tata Nagar could.
A MERCHANT OF HAPPINESS
& TRADER OF PEACE
Venture
out where the spirit thrives,
And
trade in the currency of changing lives.
The
Market of the Soul Leaves behind the frantic race for gold, for stories
bought and spirits sold.
Instead,
set sail on a different tide, With nothing but a generous heart as guide.
Venture
out as a Trader of Peace & a Merchant of Happiness,
To
ultimately become a Billionaire of Bliss & Joy.
Pack
your bags with kindness, Set your sails for grace.
Be
the one who brings the light to every weary face.
For
the richest man is not the one with silver in his hand.
But
the one whose Joy is infinite, Spread across the land.
To
be a Billionaire of Bliss is a quiet art.
The
dividends are paid directly to the heart.
Your
legacy isn't written in a ledger or a name.
But
in the warmth of a world, you helped to inflame.
DAILY
LEDGER SUGGESTS TRADES FOR A WEALTHY SOUL
The
Karmic Trade off, Offer a hand instead of a fist.
Exchange Regret
for Forgiveness.
At
the end of the day, do not carry "bad debt" into tomorrow.
Forgive
your mistakes and the slights of others.
Liquidate
your grudges so you can sleep with a heart that is light and solvent.
Exchange Hurry
for Presence.
We
often lose our Peace by living in the next hour.
Stop
and "buy" the present moment.
Observe
the light, the breath, or a smile.
This
is the Merchant’s secret; the best goods are always right in front of you.
Exchange
your Anxiety for Stillness.
Before
the world asks for your time, sit in the quiet.
Trade
the "to-do" list for a "to-be" list.
By
securing your inner peace first, you ensure you aren't trading from a place of
debt.
Exchange Judgment
for Curiosity.
When
you meet a difficult person, don’t "buy" their anger.
Instead,
sell them a moment of understanding.
Curiosity
is a low-cost investment that yields the highest dividends of Happiness.
Exchange Complaints
for Gratitude.
Complaints
are a "depreciating asset" they lose value the more you use them.
Gratitude,
however, is compound interest.
Every
time you acknowledge a blessing, your Joy-account grows automatically.
As
a Trader of Peace in a world of noise, Exchanging calm for the hollow
toys.
Where
others sow discord, you plant the seed, Of quiet grace and the helping deed.
TO
INCREASE BLISS, YOU MUST SPEND JOY FIRST
As
a Merchant of Happiness, your wares are bright, Spreading laughter through the
darkest night.
You
give away joy, yet your stock only grows, the more you provide, the more the
heart knows.
When
the sun sets on the path you’ve trod, Beyond the reach of the earthly facade,
You’ll
stand in the light of a wealthy truly buoyant, A Billionaire of
Bliss, and a master of Joy.
The
Golden Rule of the Merchant, in this market, you only keep what you give
away.
In
the Alchemy of Abundance, why gather coins that turn to dust, in iron
safes that succumb to rust?
The
Valuable Sale: Give a smile that won't be missed.
The
Cosmic Profit: A soul that is light and free.
Real
Wealth: A life lived in harmony.
AS
THE RESTLESS DANCE ABOVE, SO THE CHAOTIC INTERPLAY BELOW,
The MINDFUL
WIND is rogue with a bitter tongue
Lashing
at spirits, both old and young.
He
tears at the leaves with a jealous hand
A
restless traveler with no homeland
Howling
his malice through the shivering pines
Breaking
the order of the world’s designs.
The INANIMATE
SEA in a turbulent rage
Paces
like a beast in a liquid cage.
She
tosses her mane of white salty foam
Swallowing
the paths that lead us home.
With
a thunderous heart and a crashing beat
She
drafts the shore into a cold retreat.
The THOUGHTFUL
CLOUDS are naughty, drifting in play
To
smudge the gold from the face of the day.
They
mimic the mountains, then melt into grey
Spilling
their secrets in a mist of spray.
They
tease the horizon and hide the sun
Leaving
their shadows to frolic and run.
But
high above the riot and the cry,
Resides
the SOULFUL SKY, the witnessing eye.
A
vast, quiet temple of infinite blue
Where
the light of the stars comes filtering through.
He
holds the chaos in a silent embrace
With
a fathomless peace and a motionless grace.
ROHIT
KHANNA IN-TRUDER
Peace of mind - The Architecture of the Inner Self
Peace
of mind, I have discovered, is not the absence of conflict but the presence of
absolute clarity. Over the last decade, my mornings have been anchored by
Brahma Kumaris. Through meditation and the Murli lectures, I began to apply the
same analytical precision I learned in my youth to the landscape of the spirit.
I found that the sisters at the center were often surprised by my approach.
Where others saw abstract concepts, I saw systems. I began to translate their
spiritual truths into the language of flow charts and diagrams, mapping out the
mechanics of the self. The Garden of the Soul. I visualized the Soul as a
self-sustaining ecosystem comprised of three distinct components: The Mind (The
Soil): The fertile ground where every thought is planted. The Sanskar’s (The
Seeds): Our deep-seated habits and tendencies. The Intellect (The Gardener):
The faculty of discernment that decides which seeds to water and which to pull.
It is the ultimate law of the harvest: What you sow, so shall you reap. If the
gardener is asleep, the soil becomes overrun with weeds; if the gardener is
awake, the harvest is peaceful.
The
Possessor and the Possessions
I noticed that newcomers and skeptics
often struggled with the very existence of the Soul. They looked for it in the
anatomy, but I looked for it in the syntax of our daily lives. My
"nail-in-the-head" argument for the soul took only a minute: "You
say this is your watch. You say this is your iPhone. You even say this is your body.
If all these valuables are your possession, then who is the Possessor?" In
sixty seconds, the realization usually hits. We are not the machine; we are the
operator. We are not the garment; we are the wearer. This logic is a
masterstroke of clarity. It shifts the perspective from a biological mystery to
a simple matter of ownership. If the body is "mine," then who is the
"I" doing the claiming?
While my mother taught me how to manage the material world, the clothes and the
schooling, and my uncle taught me how to master the physical world, the vice
and the file, my time with Brahma Kumaris gave me the tools to master the
internal world. This transition from the "generous margins" of my
sister's skirt to the "margins of the soul" creates a very cohesive
life story. I am showing a lifelong journey of looking beneath the surface, whether
it's a hemline, a metal vice, or the human body, to find the hidden truth.
The
Geometry of the Divine
A striking
visual metaphor. The Circle represents the ultimate symmetry and perfection, no
beginning, no end, and no distortion. In contrast, the Tear Drop perfectly
captures the gravity of the human condition; we are pulled downward by the
"weight" of our baggage, losing our true shape under the pressure of
the world. I took a complex theological concept and turned it into a
high-impact engineering blueprint for the soul. My most significant
contribution to the center’s visual teachings was a diagram that distilled the
difference between the Divine and the Human. I realized that if I could map our
spiritual state, the path to purification would become self-evident. The
Supreme Soul (The Circle): I depicted God as a perfect Circle. In geometry, a
circle is the most efficient shape, representing absolute purity, constant
stability, and a soul that is never "weighted" or distorted by the
physical world. The Human Soul (The Tear Drop): I drew us, the seekers, as tear
drops. The shape itself tells the story: we are pulled out of our natural,
circular state by the gravity of our vices, fears, and "stone-dull"
intellects. We are heavy, sagging under the weight of negativity, always being
pulled toward the earth. I explained to the newcomers that the journey of Gyan
is the process of shedding that weight, evaporating the impurities, until the
tear drop regains its lightness and returns to the perfection of the Circle. This
chart resonated so deeply with the sisters and the students that it was
laminated for posterity, becoming a permanent fixture of the center’s teaching
toolkit. It was my way of filing the metal of the spirit until it reached a
fine, flat finish.
My signature - Before Gyan Insane,
After Gyan IN-SANE.
AFTERWORD
REFLECTIONS ON A WELL-TRAVELED JOURNEY
As I look back on the path detailed in
these pages, I am struck by one prevailing theme: resilience. Life has a way of moving in cycles. We saw companies rise
and merge, we watched as our children moved away to find themselves and then
returned to their roots, and we felt the bittersweet transition of saying
goodbye to the generation before us. Through it all, the principles of the mind
and body have not just been words I wrote, but the very way I have lived. To my children: You were the motivation for every
struggle and the highlight of every success. As I sit in our home in Halifax, the
walls fresh with new paint and the shelves filled with memories, I realize that
an autobiography is never truly finished. It is simply a collection of moments
that prepare us for the next day. I hope that by sharing my story, you see that
change is not something to be feared, but a renovation of the soul. The journey continues, and I face the future with a heart
full of gratitude and a mind still eager to learn.
I remember sitting in perhaps a quiet
office, a park bench, or a hospital room during the height of the Summit
period, looking at my hands and realizing that I no longer recognized the
person I had been just ten years prior. The certainty of my youth had been
replaced by something much more fragile, but also much more resilient. We often spend our lives trying to build
fortress-collecting titles, gathering security, and mapping out a perfect
future. But the real story isn't found in the blueprints. The real story is
found in the moments when the fortress crumbled, and I had to decide what was
worth saving from the ruins. I have been a
student of my own mistakes, a survivor of my own ambitions, and a witness to
the strange, beautiful way that the smallest decisions can ripple across a
lifetime. In these pages,
I’m not just sharing a timeline of events. I’m sharing the "why"
behind the "what." I’m pulling back the curtain on the moments of
silence, the bursts of noise, and the long, slow climb toward the person I am
today. If you are
currently in the middle of your own "Ascent," or perhaps standing in
the heat of your own "Crucible," I hope these words serve as a
reminder: the horizon is further than you think, and the roots you are planting
today are stronger than you know. Let’s begin at
the start, before the noise begins.
Author’s Final Mantra
To Riya, Victoria & all those who
read these words: Remember that your life is a manifestation of your thoughts.
Stay young in heart and body, treat your "humanity" as your greatest
asset, and never fear a change in direction. Every "Slow Motion" step
is part of a much larger, divine dance. That is a
profound and powerful "Industrial Engineer’s" logic applied to the
human soul. It perfectly bridges the gap between the emotional world and the
physical world, the "Magic of the Mind" and the "Miracle of the
Body." I am giving my
readers & grandchildren the ultimate warning and solution. It explains why my
"ICU therapy" and breathing techniques were so vital: I was fixing
the "Broken" parts before they could become "Damaged"
parts. Because a medical
doctor can repair a DAMAGED heart, but not a BROKEN heart. However, if you live
long enough with a broken heart, you will end up with a damaged heart, go
figure. This is the core
of my philosophy. My work, whether through my ten books or my blog, is
dedicated to helping people heal the "Broken" before it becomes the
"Damaged." It is the ultimate preventative maintenance for the human
spirit. If we manage our emotional blockages, our physical structures will
follow.
