When there is nothing, it is a beautiful thing to experience.
Strangely, it doesn’t come easy. Oddly, it is an earned one. For the semantics of it alone, one has to earn nothing.
How can nothing be beautiful?
When I once inquired about fear due to loneliness and the pitch-dark ambience in the caves of the Himalayas that saints live in, my father told me something that stayed with me. He said there is no fear when there is nothing. Not even the fear of ghosts. When a person is completely alone, fear goes away.
How did my father know this? He wasn’t just well read, but had also evolved into a very wise person — at least to my biased mind.
This thought came back to me recently when I attended a house-warming event. I do not know much about the financial status of the owner, but I do know that he spends his money very consciously and thoughtfully. Much of the interior and exterior work that is usually outsourced to skilled workers, he does himself.
The house stands on a small plot on which there was already a home he was living in. He constructed three floors on top of it, including a penthouse on the top floor. The way he used the limited space was striking. Every corner was planned. The concealed furniture, the simplicity of lines, the absence of clutter — all of it impressed me deeply.
The new construction has one floor with an ultra-large living room and an open kitchen within that space. His children have grown up and are living their own lives, just as in my own case. With only two people — husband and wife — they have the company of just one another at any time.
It suddenly seemed unnecessary to allocate space to rooms that are rarely used. Instead, the design allowed them to spend the entire day in one shared area, enjoying each other’s presence.
Even the puja space was almost seamlessly absorbed into the living room. Both husband and wife, being spiritually inclined, included the puja area as part and parcel of daily living rather than isolating it as a separate room.
They have a single bedroom on this floor, and that is enough for the two of them.
The upper floors have two bedrooms and a living area, meant to be used only when the children come to visit. This means the upstairs (entry through the balcony) remains mostly locked, unused, and free from constant maintenance. This was exactly how I felt our own house should have been — no need for a large duplex that becomes more of a hindrance than a convenience.
With this design, he has even managed to include large balconies, a green terrace, and a top floor with a penthouse and a dedicated space with a dome and chutta for his spiritual practices. The dome protects from rain and debris, while allowing smoke from the fire in the yagna saala to escape. Such a well-thought-out design for his needs.
I was left thinking that this is one of the best examples of functional architecture I have come across. What makes it even more remarkable is that he has done all this at a fraction of the cost of what most people spend on building homes today.
Functional.
Beautiful.
Easy to maintain.
When someone sees less as an advantage, this is how one actually benefits from it. This is what mastery of small space feels like.
This simplicity does not come easy. It is earned. With experience, we understand what does not matter and move towards what truly does. And when even that core is gone, it becomes even more beautiful — when seen through a trained eye.
Not many of us have had the opportunity to experience such a state of nothing yet. But the words of those who have, and who share their experience, make sense to me now.
A state of nothing is freeing.
I am none.
I am in everything.
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