Contact And Conenction

It was April 2009.   I was returning from Delhi by flight with a monk of the RamaKrishna Mission sitting next to me and a journalist from the US sitting on the third seat . The journalist started
interviewing  the monk as planned earlier.

Journalist - Sir , in your last lecture, you  told us about Jogajog ( contact ) &  Sanjog (connection ). It's really confusing. Can you explain ?

The Monk smiled and apparently deviating from the question   asked the journalist:Are you from New York?
Journalist - Yeh...
Monk - Who are there at home ?
The Journalist felt that the  Monk was trying to avoid answering his question since  this was a very personal and unwarranted question. Yet the  journalist  said:    "Mother has expired. Father is there. Three brothers and one sister. All married..."
The Monk, with a smile on his  face,   asked again: - "Do you talk to your father?"
The  journalist looked visibly annoyed...
The Monk  - "When did you talk to him last?"
The journalist, supressing his annoyance said:  "May be a month ago."
The Monk:  "Do you brothers and sisters meet often ? When did you meet last as a family gathering?"

At this point, I saw  sweat on the forehead ok the journalist. I wondered who was conducting the interview, the Monk or the Journalist. It seemed that the   Monk was interviewing the Journalist.

With a sigh , the Journalist said: "We met last at Christmas two  years  ago."
The Monk: " How many days did you all stay together ?"

The Journalist ( wiping the sweat on his brow) said : "Three days..."
Monk: "How much time did you  spend with your Father, sitting right  beside him ?"
I saw the journalist looking  perplexed and embarassed and scribbling something on a paper...
The Monk:  "Did you have breakfast, lunch or dinner together ? Did you ask how he was? Did you ask how his days are passing after your mother's death ?"
I saw drops of tears coming out from the eyes of the journalist.

The Monk held the hand of the journalist and said: "Don't be embrassed, upset or sad. I am sorry if I have hurt you unknowingly...
But this is basically the answer to your question about "contact and connection ( jogajog and Sanjog)".  You have 'contact'  with your father but you don't have 'connection' with him. You are not connected to him. Connection is between heart and heart... sitting together , sharing meals and caring for  each other ; touching , shaking hands, having eye contact,  spending some time together...You  brothers and sisters have 'contact'  but you have no  'connection' with each other...."

The journalist wiped his eyes and said : "Thanks for teaching me a fine and unforgettable lesson"

This is the reality today.
Whether at home or in the society everybody has lots of contacts but there is no connection. No communication...   . Everybody is in his or her own world.

Let us not maintain just "contacts" but let us remain "connected" ; caring , sharing and spending time with all our dear ones.


- Unknown

The Cookie Thief

A woman was waiting at an airport one night, with several long hours before her flight. She hunted for a book in the airport shops, bought a bag of cookies and found a place to drop.

She was engrossed in her book but happened to see, that the man sitting beside her, as bold as could be. . .grabbed a cookie or two from the bag in between, which she tried to ignore to avoid a scene.

So she munched the cookies and watched the clock, as the gutsy cookie thief diminished her stock. She was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by, thinking, “If I wasn’t so nice, I would blacken his eye.”

With each cookie she took, he took one too, when only one was left, she wondered what he would do. With a smile on his face, and a nervous laugh, he took the last cookie and broke it in half.

He offered her half, as he ate the other, she snatched it from him and thought… oooh, brother. This guy has some nerve and he’s also rude, why he didn’t even show any gratitude!

She had never known when she had been so galled, and sighed with relief when her flight was called. She gathered her belongings and headed to the gate, refusing to look back at the thieving ingrate.


She boarded the plane, and sank in her seat, then she sought her book, which was almost complete. As she reached in her baggage, she gasped with surprise, there was her bag of cookies, in front of her eyes.

If mine are here, she moaned in despair, the others were his, and he tried to share. Too late to apologize, she realized with grief, that she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief.

Always be pleasant...
Don't be judgmental...

Never Prejudice anyone...
Enjoy the life.... :)