Aspiration-Ground, Now and Then

by Animesh Harrington

It is late afternoon in New York – high summer – and the humidity of the day is just beginning to break. I am grateful to find a cool and restful sanctuary from the city heat and the uncomfortable rhythm of the streets. The voice of the poet has drawn me here to “the green and the dense groves.” There is a gentle whisper in the breeze beckoning me. “Smiles call me, tears call me. A faint melody calls me,” as I move inexorably towards an oasis of the soul. Read more…


The Religion of Humanity Practiced at the Sri Chinmoy Centre

by Mr. Momtazuddin Ahmed

At the end of the night, I saw beyond the high walls the moon against a dark blue sky. A bright moon! The silver moonlight washed the sky, but it did not come rolling onto my bed. The roads and buildings of New York are full of light. I could not have imagined in Bengal that the glow of the neon bulbs could so ungraciously drown the light of the moon. I have on many occasions lay immersed in the moonlight of autumn nights. I love the moon, not because it circles the earth but because the soft light of the moon can completely moisten our hearts and Souls. Read more…