Clueless Ink

Every morning on my way to breakfast, I’d pass a church and think, One day, I’ll go in, light a candle, as it’s been a while since I’ve even seen a church.

For someone like me, it’s never been about the color of these walls. 

I just want to step inside, take in the silence, sit for a minute or two, and leave. 

If it were a mandir or a masjid instead, I’d do the same. 

My only need is a quiet space, five minutes without the shuffle of footsteps and whispered prayers.

Cut to, I’m there. No crowds, just silence. And it’s vast, beautiful.

Tried meditating, but my mind was already writing its next thought.

Why don’t we have one space for stillness, a place where namaz, aarti, and whispered prayers all exist under the same roof? A shared hall for quiet, with spaces for rituals.

And imagine, when the prayers are done, the pandits, maulvis, and priests sitting together, debating faith over sacred water—high on devotion, rather than division.

Amen.