Where forgotten roots bloom again

A Journey from Questions to Blossoming

Although I have travelled through life as an explorer, there came a time when the answers to my questions were no longer found outside. The maps failed, the signposts blurred, and the road dissolved. That is when my life found admission in silence.

This silence did not speak in words—but it showed me everything. It explained the truth not through logic but through experience. It whispered through moments, hinted through dreams, and echoed through feelings. Was it showing me something or making me do it? It is difficult to say—just as one cannot count how many drops of rain fall in a monsoon storm or where they land. It was all happening, and I was happening through it.

From that silence, many buds of experience began to bloom. So many that it became impossible to tell when autumn would arrive—because every day was spring. These blooming moments found their way into words, and the words became books.

Journey of the words

Every book I wrote is an answer to a question I once held in my breath. Each helped me uncover a layer of truth and purified my journey. These books are not fiction, not imagination. They are my biography in the language of existence. They carried me from the world to the divine and introduced me to the five sacred elements—through my five inner doors.

When I wrote Why?, it was not to demand answers from the world. It was to sit beside the universal “Why”—the ache, the wound, the question that quietly lives in every heart. I wrote not to explain, but to breathe with that question.

Roots started blooming again:

When I wrote Another Truth: Beyond Mr. Trump, I realized that I was not writing about politics. I was writing about power, presence, and the leader that lives in every human being. This book became a sutra—not of political strategies, but of inner leadership. It became a sacred space where one is free from both the illusion of the world and even the concept of God. In it, you do not follow a leader—you blossom as your own.

Through writing, healing, and deep listening, something unexpected emerged: The Lost Garden. It is not a physical place but a sacred one—a space within and around us. A space where you are not taught but remembered. A space where you do not study—but sprout.

The Lost Garden is for those who are tired of answers and ready to listen to silence.
For those who are not looking for success—but for soul.

It is for you if, somewhere inside, you still remember the root you once were. And are ready to bloom again.