My white sands — the silent gift of abundance !

This Diwali ; I want to share something that my father taught me ;

We lived in a small quarters in Bengaluru provided by my father’s employer. My Father was a civil engineer, and our neighbourhood was filled with families like ours — simple, hardworking, and hopeful.

While my father struggled to meet the education expenses of his five children, our neighbour, who had three children, was building a new home.

Curious, I once asked him:

Me: “Acha (Father), are our neighbours working harder than us? They seem to be prospering more.”
Acha (Father): “Daughter, our salaries are the same. But he accepts black money. I do not.”

That day, my father taught me one of life’s most profound lessons —
Effort and Goddess Lakshmi are not always connected.

He said, “Never measure your worth by how much you earn, but by how much you can give.”

Goddess Lakshmi does not merely bless through money —
She blesses through generosity, integrity, and the ability to give without fear.

This is my mother’s ancestral land, now entrusted to me.
Though she once asked me to sell it, my heart chose otherwise.

I’ve preserved it as a living prayer — land meant for fishing and farming now serving a Shakti Temple as a vacant space for Annadanam and chariot building. The temple authorities maintain and cleanse the space regularly, as it has become part of their sacred routine.

Here, grace flows like water — carrying the blessings of my ancestors and the eternal spirit of giving that never ceases.

My white sands — the silent gift of abundance.
I own white sands of Arabian Sea below sea level.

You can hear the lullaby of the Arabian Sea from here — its waves whispering stories of time, loss, and grace. I had an elder brother who passed away when he was born.

Have you ever wondered — when the sea takes everything from us — our homes, our loved ones, our very means of living — why it still returns sand to our shores from its deepest depths?

Because even in loss, the divine ocean gives back.
It reminds us that what is surrendered in faith is never truly lost — it returns, reshaped by grace, softened by time, and blessed with renewal.