Today being Sunday, I heard a deeply impactful sermon online by a Rev Johnson from Bangalore. He spoke on faith, rational thought and emotions, and I thought I’d write a simple story on the same:

A celebrated architect, Aarav had built his career on steel, cement, and common sense. He designed the city’s finest high-rises, ensuring they wouldn’t collapse—even if the economy did. He was practical, methodical, and efficient, the kind of man who triple-checked structural integrity, but also loved creativity with new designs formed from the back of his head.

Aarav also had a deep faith in God.

Not the loud, dramatic kind that required Sunday affirmations and Bible poundings. No, Aarav’s faith was quiet, unshakable—like a well-laid foundation. He believed in something greater than himself, in a God who guided without interfering, who watched without micromanaging.

For years, Aarav had struggled with three selves—

Aarav the Rational, who built what made sense—efficient, practical, profitable. Aarav the Dreamer, who wanted to create something that mattered. And Aarav the man of faith!

And then came The Great Tower: The commission to build arrived from Vikram Malhotra, Mumbai’s real estate mogul, a man who confused capitalism with divine right.

“I don’t want just another building,” Malhotra announced, his diamond-studded watch flashing under the conference room lights. “I want a monument. Something that will make people stop and stare. Something that will make me feel immortal.”

Aarav almost laughed. A skyscraper as a shrine? It was absurd.

Buildings weren’t meant to be worshipped. But the money was too good.

For weeks, he sat in his Bandra office, staring at a blank drafting table, torn between two voices: Rational Aarav said, “Follow the blueprint. Don’t reinvent the wheel.”

Dreamer Aarav whispered, “Build something that will outlive you.”

But then, Faithful Aarav—the one who never spoke but always knew—simply waited.

And in that stillness, Aarav found clarity.

"If I have been given a gift, shouldn’t I use it for something meaningful?" he thought.

And so, The Great Tower was born.

At its base—logic and stability. Steel, reinforced concrete, the precision of engineering.

In its middle—artistry and imagination. Walkways that curved like riverbanks, sky gardens that breathed with the wind.

And at its peak—a quiet sense of purpose. Nothing flashy, nothing loud. Just a design that made people look up—at a window into heaven.

At the unveiling, Malhotra stood before a sea of journalists, adjusting his silk tie. “This tower,” he declared, “is a tribute to human ambition. To the visionaries who shape the future!”

Aarav smiled. Visionaries. That was one way to put it.

Later, a reporter turned to Aarav. "What inspired you to design something so… different?"

Aarav looked up at the tower—the place where reason, ambition, and faith had finally found balance. He smiled and said simply, "I stopped choosing..!"

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