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| Kiran Meets Ganesh: The First Conversation |
Kiran Meets Ganesh: The First Conversation
Introduction
A powerful story of a my first crush, heartbreak, and inner awakening—discover the difference between attraction and true love.
Table of Contents
- Badly Mamaboy's Sutli
- A fool chases food, not girls
- Why Chase Girl, Not Food?
- Madness of Word — Sarika
- First Proofread — Love Letter
- Trauma of Crush, Crash My Mind!
- Sarika Left, Ganesh Came In
- The Game of Attraction
- Caring is Love, Not Kissing
Badly Mamaboy's Sutli
I grew up in an orphanage in Pune. Among all the children there, I was the most mischievous, so a warden Mangala, beat me almost every day.
I
loved my mother deeply. If anyone swore by her or abused my mother—even by
mistake—I flew into a rage and felt a strange fear, as if something terrible
would happen to her. I would fight until the offender said “Sutli” (“I
take my words back”). The moment I heard “Sutli”, my anger and fear
vanished instantly.
The
boys in the orphanage cursed every second sentence. It didn’t bother them, but
if anyone directed even mild abuse at me, I attacked. Because of this, no boy
ever became my friend, and I never managed to befriend any boy either.
A fool chases food, not girls
I was greedy for food as a child. The girls ate less; some girls did not eat eggs, so I hovered around them, befriended only girls, and managed to snatch their leftovers. Whenever
the orphanage girls visited village women, those women offered snacks. I tagged
along with the girls just to get something to eat.
Being around girls all the time, I became obsessed with their style and emotional drama—and slowly, I began to prefer their drama over food.
Why Chase Girl, Not Food?
I
was eleven years old and studying in sixth standard at a government school in
Wadgaon Budruk, Pune. One day I saw a seventh-standard girl and, for the first
time in my life, fell in one-sided love. Her face was innocent, almost divine,
with a typical Maharashtrian charm, as if she performed her morning prayers
every day. I couldn't stop staring at her.
Until
then, talking to girls had never been difficult—I lived with them. But suddenly
I couldn’t find the courage to ask this girl her name. My tongue tied itself in
knots. Too ashamed to ask anyone, I hovered near her for five whole days,
waiting for a friend to call her by name.
Madness of Word — Sarika
On
the fifth day, someone whispered, “Sarika.”
The
name rang in my ears like temple bells. My heart raced. I felt as if I had won
a war. To make sure I never forgot it, I kept murmuring “Sarika… Sarika…”
under my breath. I had never imagined that simply knowing someone’s name could
make a person so happy. That day I was the happiest boy in school.
After
that, Sarika seemed even more beautiful and innocent. My eyes hunted for her
everywhere. My lips repeated her name all day. On every book, bench, wall and
tree I saw her face; I wrote “Sarika” wherever I could. The days I
didn’t see her, I felt like crying.
First Proofread — Love Letter
For
three months I loved her silently with my eyes alone. Then one day I decided to
write her a love letter. My handwriting was terrible, and my grammar was worse.
Still, I wanted the letter to be completely mine, straight from my heart. I
took ten full days to write one small letter.
When it was finally ready, I showed it to Parveen, a friend from the orphanage, and asked her to correct the mistakes. She smiled sweetly, took the letter, ran straight to warden Mangala and announced, “Madam! Kiran has written a love letter to some girl!” Within three hours the warden had beaten the love out of me.
Trauma of Crush, Crash My Mind!
The next day when I saw Sarika in school, instead of bliss I felt fear. The pain of the beating came alive again. The same eyes that had ached to see her now looked away. For the first time I wondered what strange mechanism inside me could flip feelings so quickly.
I
was only eleven—wildly emotional and restless, but I had no names for any of
the emotions. So, I had no way to answer my own questions. For a month I argued
with myself: Can love be so weak that one beating kills it? Before Sarika,
I had never felt anything like this. While I saw her, I floated in peace and
sweetness. After the beating, the same face brought only memories of pain. How
could that happen?
Sarika Left, Ganesh Came In
Then,
suddenly, a quiet inner voice spoke inside me: “This was not love. This
was attraction.”
Every
child talks to himself—about right and wrong, arguing with his own mind. But
this voice was different. It felt as if another child—calmer, wiser, completely
unlike me—had quietly stepped forward inside my head.
For
the first time, I sensed my dual nature. Until that moment I had thought with
one mind; now a second mind had woken up. I started talking to it, trying to
understand who this stranger was.
He
was nothing like me. I was a greedy, restless, food-obsessed boy; he was a
silent seeker of knowledge. In fact, every curious question I had ever felt in
my life had been planted by him.
I
asked his name; the way you ask any new person you meet.
Ganesh: “I am Ganesh.”
I
froze. I was an eleven-year-old atheist orphan. I had never met a boy called
Ganesh, and I knew nothing at all about God Ganesh. To test him, I asked.
The Game of Attraction
Kiran: “What is attraction?”
Ganesh: “When someone is
fascinated by the outer form of a person, animal, or thing, the desire to keep
seeing it arises—that is attraction. Most people mistake it for love. The day
that same form starts reminding them of something ugly or negative, the
attraction vanishes as if it never existed.”
Kiran: “I don’t understand your
teacher language.”
Ganesh: “Okay, you saw Sarika
and felt she was a thousand storeys taller than you. Suddenly that
thousand-storey girl was standing only ten metres away. The pull you felt to
keep staring at her—that pull is attraction. Staring all day because of that
pull is wrong. And that’s exactly what you were doing.”
Kiran: “Was it a crime?”
Ganesh:
“You have committed a very big crime; now the police will catch you and take
you to the police station. Until now warden Mangala used to beat you; now the
police will also beat you.”
(I
got scared. Seeing me scared, Ganesh started laughing.)
Ganesh: “Relax, no police are
coming for you! But yes, staring too much is bad manners.”
Caring is Love, Not Kissing
Kiran: “Then what is love?
Didn’t I love Sarika?”
Ganesh: “Love is when you are
impressed by someone’s nature and qualities, and you feel like serving and
helping them so those qualities stay alive and grow. If the nature turns bad,
love fades too.”
Kiran: “You’re talking like a
teacher again!”
Ganesh: “Fine, a simple example:
Sister Rekha takes care of everyone and tells beautiful stories. You like her
nature, so sometimes you feel like helping her or doing something to make her
smile. That repeated wish to help, serve, and keep her happy—that is love.”
Kiran:
“But I don’t want to kiss
Sister Rekha!”
Ganesh: “Wanting to kiss is not
love, idiot! Wanting to help, serve, and keep someone happy again and
again—that is love.”
Conclusion:
At the
age of eleven, one simple question— “Was it love or just attraction?”—introduced
me to the second voice living inside me: Ganesh. That is how Kiran and Ganesh
first met.
Note: This content represents the 2nd chapter of Kedi Purana, a 64-chapter work authored by Kedi Ganapati.
Kedi Purana is a modern Purana of the present and final Kaliyuga of the current Kalpa.
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