| Ashram 16th November 2025 |


That night, I called the driver who had come to pick up Bhola and told him, “Take Bhola back to the same place where he had come from. Maybe he’ll find his family again.”  

But somewhere deep inside, my heart refused to agree. Still, I convinced myself and told him to leave Bhola there. The man took him from the NGO and left for Shivpuri. Inside, my heart was weeping for Bhola. I was missing him. My mind kept asking, “What have you done? This is a sin.” But I kept brushing that thought aside.  


I returned to Kangra. Then, the driver called me and said, “Babaji, I tried to drop him off, but he wouldn’t get down. He keeps crying, pulling on my clothes. His eyes are full of tears! I can’t leave him behind. Please, Babaji, stop me from leaving him.”  

My heart shattered into pieces. I cursed myself, wondering what kind of awful thing I had done. I told the driver, “Can you bring him here to Himachal instead?” He asked, “To Himachal? That far, just for one child?”  

“Yes,” I said. “Bring him here. Leave him with me.”  


The driver agreed. That very night he set off, and by morning, Bhola was with me again. What a beautiful moment that was—when that child came running to me, clinging as though he had been waiting forever. And that was the truth. Such was his love—he had come all that way. I held him tightly, and he wouldn’t let go. Even as I write this, I can still recall that moment vividly. But no one knew what was about to come next.  


Thinking I would soon take Bhola to Dharamkot, I kept him in my room. He was so lovely—what can I say? At night, he would sleep beside my bed. As soon as I woke, he would run and follow me everywhere. Watching his little antics filled me with affection for him. Bhola stayed perfectly fine for about three days. But after that, he stopped eating.  

When he refused food the next day too, I took him to the hospital and told the doctor everything. They gave him medicine, but the following day his condition worsened. He began vomiting everywhere, his head shook, and he had seizures. I was terrified—broken. What had happened to my child?  

I rushed him back to the hospital. After tests, the doctors said Bhola would not recover. He was caught in a fatal illness. I was devastated. I couldn’t bear to hear those words. Bhola, lying in my lap, let me care for him completely—I cleaned him myself, gave him love, knowing his time was short. He didn’t want to leave me. It felt as though he had come only for this—to receive and offer love, to repay some karmic debt from a past life.  


Doctors would come to give him drips. One of them suggested admitting him to the hospital, since he couldn’t be treated properly at home. With a heavy heart, I agreed. They assured me he’d be kept on drips so he wouldn’t suffer. But the next day, my Bhola left me and went to the feet of God.  

I couldn’t stop crying. How could this happen? What divine play was this? After returning from Rishikesh, Bhola had stayed with me for just one week. And look at the timing—it was the first Monday of Sawan. Exactly one month earlier, on the same date, he had come to me. Our time together lasted only a month. But what Bhola left me with—you will soon read ahead.  

He came only to give. My child… ????  

(To be continued.)