You must be an elevated and evolved soul for life to run smoothly. Since I am not one, I’ve had my share of challenges. One of them I’ve already shared—the Tirupati experience. My health issues began, unsurprisingly, with my eyesight.

It started with lattice degeneration of the retina. I had to look up the word “lattice,” though I was familiar with the term “retina.” The retina weakens in multiple areas and is sealed with cryotherapy, a treatment involving cold nitrous oxide, which creates tiny scars to seal the retina. There may be other treatments, but this was my experience. What followed was a series of eye-related issues: cataracts, glaucoma, retinal detachment, and macular degeneration—all labeled "juvenile," though I was neither a child nor a youth by then. And that wasn’t the end; more health issues followed.

But the point is, friends, colleagues, family members, relatives, and even casual acquaintances would always have ready-made solutions. These might stem from their own experiences, what they’ve heard, or what they’ve read. The most common suggestion was to write "Sri Ramajayam" a specific number of times daily. This practice runs deep in many South Indian families. I dutifully bought a notebook and, using various pens, wrote this every day during my morning prayers. I still do, though now, due to my eyesight, I type it on my iPad with an external keyboard. In fact, when I experienced retinal detachment, this very notebook alerted my wife to the severity of my condition. My handwriting that day was all over the place—on top of itself, at angles, almost like a scribble.

Sometime during the final stages of my career, a well-meaning colleague suggested I chant or at least listen to the Aditya Hrudayam. At the time, I didn’t take it up, but years later, I began listening to it regularly. Many such suggestions followed. "Chant the Gayathri Mantra." "The Hanuman Chalisa will protect you." "The Kanda Sasti Kavacham will act as a shield." Having faced several health setbacks, I paid attention. These were not just straws to clutch at—they were expressions of faith. One former colleague, after my retirement, advised me to distribute food packets whenever I visited my family deity’s temple. I’ve followed this advice to this day.

At some point, the list of things to chant became so long that I struggled to find time for all of them each day. I tried to organize it by day of the week, but it became overwhelming. I had to make a decision. With my limited ability to read, I could only listen and internalize. So, I selected a few prayers that resonated most with me. We have countless stothrams dedicated to various Gods and Goddesses, but I chose the ones I felt most connected to and recite them in a specific order.

This isn’t to boast about my level of devotion. Friends, colleagues, and family offer these suggestions with the best of intentions. I felt that giving them respect, choosing what felt right for me, and sincerely reciting those prayers was the appropriate response. It gives me peace. I leave everything to Him.

Continued in 125. Doordarshan