English Literature – Articles ☆ Buddham Saranam Gachhami: My Slightly Wobbly, Wildly Wonderful Walk to the Dhamma ☆ Shri Jagat Singh Bisht ☆

Shri Jagat Singh Bisht

(Master Teacher: Happiness & Well-Being, Laughter Yoga Master Trainer, Author, Blogger, Educator, and Speaker.)

Authored six books on happiness: Cultivating Happiness, Nirvana – The Highest Happiness, Meditate Like the Buddha, Mission Happiness, A Flourishing Life, and The Little Book of Happiness. He served in a bank for thirty-five years and has been propagating happiness and well-being among people for the past twenty years. He is on a mission – Mission Happiness!

🌻Buddham Saranam Gachhami: My Slightly Wobbly, Wildly Wonderful Walk to the Dhamma🌻

You know, when people talk about a “spiritual awakening,” they often speak in the tone one uses while describing a Himalayan sunrise—golden light, misty mountains, soul-stirring violins in the background. Not me. My spiritual journey didn’t begin with a flash of inner illumination. It began, quite unromantically, with a thud—on the hard bedrock of disappointment, loneliness, confusion, and a sincere inability to make sense of a world where phone batteries die faster than friendships.

There I was, wobbling through life like a three-legged table, hoping to find something—anything—that might fix the wonky legs. The quest began with a certain desperation, a deep-seated sense that there must be more to life than emails, EMIs, and existential dread.

Once I recognised that I needed a spiritual path, I entered the curious spiritual supermarket. Shelves lined with teachings, masters, promises of bliss, chants, beads, bells, retreats, and recipes for “instant peace” (just add silence and stir). It was dazzling—and utterly disorienting.

So, like any confused consumer with a shopping basket of hopes, I chose the most popular route: the eclectic combo-platter.

A little of this, a little of that.

Buddhist mindfulness in the morning (with green tea).

Hindu mantra recitations in the afternoon (with incense).

Christian prayer in the evening (with a whiff of grace).

Sufi whirling on Sundays (with mild dizziness).

Kabbalistic meditations and Tibetan visualisations on alternate days.

It was a potpourri of paths, a spiritual salad.

Delightful? Yes.

Deep? Not quite.

It felt like I was hopping across stepping stones, never resting long enough to absorb the wisdom underfoot. A fine halfway house, yes—but a house doesn’t become a home until you stop wandering.

And then, on a quiet afternoon (perhaps the incense was working overtime), I stumbled upon a verse from the Dhammapada. Just four plain lines—no special effects, no thunderclaps. But something clicked.

“Abstain from all unwholesome deeds,

Perform wholesome ones,

Purify your mind—

This is the teaching of the Buddhas.”

No frills. No philosophies tangled in metaphors. Just the distilled clarity of a mind that had seen through everything.

It struck me—not with fireworks, but with the calm finality of truth. This was not another item on the buffet. This was the recipe. Three ingredients:

Don’t be a nuisance.

Try to be kind.

Clean up the mental mess.

Simple. Terrifyingly so. No rituals, no robes, no rituals wrapped in robes. Just direct instructions, like a cosmic Post-it note stuck to your forehead.

And something in me responded. The noise settled. The inner traffic jam eased. And from somewhere deep inside, a soft voice rose:

“Buddham saranam gachhami…”

I go to the Buddha for refuge.

Not as a tourist. Not as a dilettante. But as someone who’s finally stopped looking for shortcuts.

The Buddha didn’t promise a quick fix. He offered something better: a clear path, trodden by the wise, free of gimmicks and glitter, where joy lies not in the arrival but in the journey itself—when walked with mindfulness, compassion, and the courage to look inward.

And so here I am. Not floating in bliss. Not enlightened (yet). But walking—with fewer detours, a lighter backpack, and a heart that hums a little more gently with each step.

Dhamma, it turns out, isn’t just a philosophy. It’s a way to live, a way to smile, and—on most days—a way to stay sane in an increasingly insane world.

Buddham saranam gachhami, indeed.🙏