What We See Within Ourselves

I am not exactly a movie buff. I watch movies occasionally, usually when I feel like it, without following releases or keeping track of what is playing.

Over the last few days, however, my social media feed kept showing me reviews and reels from Hanuman Ansh. Something about them caught my attention. So yesterday, almost on a whim, I booked tickets and went to watch the movie with my wife and kid.

What followed was not quite what I had expected.

It was a profound experience.

The movie offered a glimpse into the life and works of Maharaj-ji, Neem Karoli Baba. But for me, it was less about the story of a saint and more about getting a glimpse of something deeper—the power of devotion, faith and love.

I don't want to give away any spoilers. Yet there were a few moments in the movie that stayed with me long after I left the theatre.

One such moment was when a follower of Baba sees the form of Lord Shiva in him. The experience overwhelms him; he becomes nervous and almost frightened. Baba later consoles him and tells him, in essence, that he had only seen what was already inside him.

What a profound thought.

Perhaps we don't really see people as they are. Perhaps we see them through the lens of what we carry within ourselves.

If there is anger within us, we find reasons to be angry with others. If there is suspicion within us, we see things to be suspicious about. But if we fill ourselves with love, perhaps we begin to see love everywhere.

The world outside may not have changed at all. What changes is the lens through which we see it.

Another thing that struck me about Baba was that he didn't seem to go about telling people what was right or wrong. He didn't necessarily preach or give elaborate sermons. Instead, he somehow held up a mirror.

And when people saw their own reflection clearly, they often knew what they had to do.

There is something deeply powerful about that.

We are so accustomed to being told what to think, what to do, what is right and what is wrong. But perhaps the most meaningful transformation happens when someone simply helps us look within—and allows us to discover the answer ourselves.

And then there was the train scene.

This was perhaps one of the moments where I was struck not just by the story, but by the sheer acting prowess of the cast—particularly Shobinaw Satyaa, who plays Baba.

Baba is humiliated and forced to get off a train. The intensity of his gaze in that moment was extraordinary. And then, almost immediately, came that gentle smile.

It reminded me of putting water on burning-hot steel—the intensity of the moment suddenly met with a calmness that seemed to absorb it all.

The scene beautifully captured something about Baba's character. There was no apparent need to retaliate, no dramatic display of anger. There was simply that look, followed by that smile—as though he already knew what was about to unfold.

And indeed, the train would not move.

Eventually, the very people who had forced him off the train had to come back and apologise to him. Only then did the train move.

And Baba's response was perhaps even more telling. He did not take credit for what had happened. He simply said, it wasn't me; it was Lord Hanuman's blessings.

That, to me, was the essence of the character the actor was portraying—immense power, yet complete absence of ego.

It made me wonder: perhaps true strength does not always announce itself. Sometimes it is simply a quiet gaze, followed by a smile.

And then I realised another beautiful coincidence.

I watched this movie on 5th September—Teachers' Day.

A day meant to remember and celebrate teachers, and here I was, sitting in a theatre watching the life of someone who, for countless people, was much more than a spiritual figure. A teacher in the truest sense—not necessarily one who stood before people and delivered lessons, but one who taught through his presence, his actions and the mirrors he held up for others.

Perhaps there was something fitting about that coincidence.

On a day dedicated to teachers, I happened to watch the life and teachings of a great teacher—and came away carrying a few lessons of my own.

I went to the theatre yesterday expecting to watch a movie.

I came back with a few questions to sit with.

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