In Appreciation of Lucknow, India

Arrival and Purpose

Lucknow was the first stop on my journey through India, but I did not arrive as a tourist. I came because of a friendship that began years earlier in Rishikesh. In 2018, I met a mutual friend while traveling through Dehradun and Mussoorie. We stayed in touch over the years, and eventually she invited me to Lucknow to visit the NGO TaraSri and see the service work being done in Barabanki District, in a town called Satrikh.

Satrikh is an ancient town with deep roots in Hindu mythology, historically known as Saptrishi. It is revered as the place where Guru Vashisht taught the Suryavanshi kings, including Lord Ram – though there are no historical facts to substantiate the mythology. Today, it is described as a developing area with a mix of residential, commercial, and rural characteristics. The literacy rate is approximately 56%.

The mission of TaraSri is to offer a five-year Fellowship program for adolescent girls studying in Government Inter Colleges, in Barabanki. The girls receive scholarships, mentoring, and learning opportunities and they are encouraged to give back to their communities. It was an honor to participate as volunteer and witness the work being done in this community.

The Environment: Contradiction in Plain Sight

To say my time in Lucknow was meaningful does not capture the depth of my experience. I stayed with a family who are active teachers at Goenka Vipassana centers around India. I experienced hospitality and generosity that felt sincere and asked for nothing in return. India embraces the philosophy of “Guest is God,” rooted in ancient Hindu, Buddhist, and Jain traditions. It shapes Indian social life here, service to humanity is seen as service to the divine.

In the early mornings I could hear the call to prayer from the nearby mosque while the hospital down the street sent the occasional ambulance. Just beyond, at Shri Sagreshwar Samsaan Ghat, funeral pyres burned in plain sight. Street vendors were already setting up their stalls for the daily market, cows moved slowly through piles of garbage near the drainage canal, and the smell of dust and diesel hung in the air. Prayer, illness, death, and commerce were all unfolding at once. Life was already moving long before I even left the house.

India, and Lucknow in particular, lives comfortably with contrast. Deep devotion to culture and religion is expressed publicly and confidently, yet it exists alongside visible pollution, sewage, garbage and extreme poverty that no one can dismiss or pretend it away. Warmth coexists with systemic struggle. This is the “in your face” and naked truth of real life, and India does not hide or soften the tension. These things simply exist together.

This is part of what makes India feel so alive. Life here does not pretend to be orderly. The friction between devotion, struggle, generosity, and hardship is visible everywhere. No culture escapes contradiction. The question is not who is spiritually advanced, but who is integrated — whose beliefs, behavior, and relationships are in conversation with one another.

Being here brought three questions into focus for me: how faith lives alongside contradiction, how mission relates to human relationship, and what compassion actually requires of us in practice.

The Inner Test

But the external chaos is not the real test. The real test is what is activated inside of myself.

A child steps into my space grabbing my arm asking for money or food, and I do not always know what would truly help. These moments are not about moral certainty, quick judgment or ego. It’s about how I am able to slow down and be present enough to listen internally and remain steady and peaceful, without forcing a reaction.

I stepped into this environment open to whatever it would require of me, and I leave knowing I gave what I could. I contributed to work that matters. I witnessed dedication to missions and spiritual teachers that is not casual but life-organizing. I shared meals, conversations, and effort. I felt welcomed and the organization benefited from the gifts I had to offer. I feel complete in what I did.

Faith, Blind Faith and Psychological Maturity

At first, I found myself reacting to what I was calling “blind faith.” How can deep devotion coexist with corruption, poverty, pollution, or hierarchy? There is profound dedication to Hindu deities, spiritual teachers, and humanitarian purpose. Missions are strong. Lives are structured around commitment and service. It’s all magnificently intertwined, without anything being neatly resolved. It simply exists together.

Over time I realized my discomfort was not simply about religion or gurus. It was about integration — the alignment between personal belief, behavior, purpose, and psychological maturity. When belief and day to day life do not appear aligned, my instinct is to scrutinize. I am wired for logic and coherence. I want faith — any faith — to produce psychological depth and ethical accountability. Not just spiritual devotion.

But skepticism has its own blind spots. I can confuse analysis with maturity and assume that visible devotion and claims of spiritual advancement equals naivety. I sometimes forget that Western societies live with their own contradictions as well — cleaner streets perhaps, but often fractured relationships and quiet loneliness.

Integration, to me, means that devotion/belief, behavior/action, and relationships are intertwined and in direct conversation with one another. Dedication should deepen humility and presence, not simply reinforce the certainty of personal beliefs.

Work as Worship and Relational Reciprocity

My reflection on faith became personal through my experience with TaraSri and my friend who leads the organization. I witnessed a level of commitment that is rare. For her, the mission is not a project but a calling. It shapes her time, her travel, and the structure of her life.

In many ways this reflects a deeply Indian idea: work is worship. This idea expresses the idea that our efforts and sincerity are as valuable as religious devotion. Honest service work fulfills the role of worship by benefitting others and spreading happiness and gratitude. It is not separate from spirituality, it’s one of its expressions. The girls in the Fellowship program are not only receiving scholarships and mentoring. They are being shaped by a vision of purpose and responsibility. I respect that deeply.

Being close to that level of mission-driven commitment also clarified something about myself. I can commit to meaningful work and give generously, but I am wired for relational reciprocity. I value the simple human exchange of presence – being asked how something is landing, having space for reflection about our shared experience that is not only about mission, strategy or outcomes.

Contributing to a cause without those kinds of relationships eventually wears me down and I love my interest. After years of government work where those kinds of human interactions were often missing, I recognize how important that balance is to me. Contribution without relationship eventually narrows me. Relationship without contribution feels incomplete. I am most alive when purpose and relationship move together.

This realization is not a criticism of anyone here. It is simply an acknowledgment of my own internal alignment. Some people organize their lives almost entirely around mission, and I respect that. I need purpose and relational depth to exist side by side.

There were moments during my time here when I noticed this difference quietly inside myself. Conversations often returned quickly to the work – re-explaining the inspiration, what program is coming up, dealing with the challenges, the next plan. I respect that focus. It is what allows organizations like TaraSri to exist and grow. But I also realized that I was listening for something else as well: the simple human pause where two people step out of the mission for a moment and acknowledge one another.

That recognition helped me understand something about myself more clearly at this stage in my life.

Compassion Is Empathy in Action

Compassion starts with empathy, but it is revealed in our actions.

I saw compassion expressed in practical ways here—in classrooms, mentoring relationships and long-term commitments to girls who might otherwise be overlooked. I experienced generosity in homes that opened their doors to me without hesitation.

But compassion becomes more meaningful when it is grounded in self-awareness and emotional maturity. It means seeing the people around us—and ourselves—as whole human beings, not just extensions of a mission. It allows us to give to a cause without losing ourselves in it, to serve without turning people into instruments of that cause, and to respect our differences without demanding agreement.

Lucknow did not give me answers about faith. It gave me a mirror. I saw spiritual conviction, intensity and contradiction. While I continue to see my own reactions to them.

Varanasi will most likely be Lucknow on steroids.

Much Gratitude

I came to Lucknow to see the work of an organization. I leave having seen something just as important about myself. Lucknow has not disappointed me. It has helped clarify some of the things I am looking for in this next stage of my life.

I gave with an open heart everything that I could give. I respect the work of my friend and all the volunteers inside TaraSri. I am deeply honored and grateful to the people who welcomed me into their homes and their lives.

I leave Lucknow with great appreciation for the experience and affection for the friendships formed here.

I also leave with a clearer understanding of the environments where I feel most aligned. I want to stand in rooms where purpose and relationship grow together, where devotion allows inquiry, and where presence and attention go both ways.

This is not a rejection of what I experienced in Lucknow. It is simply an honest recognition that this chapter has reached its natural conclusion.

I leave with a clearer understanding of the kind of integration I am seeking — where purpose, relationship, and presence are able to live in the same room.

For that, I offer my gratitude.