A man was sitting with his friends in a local inn. After a couple of drinks, he asked his friends, `Do. You love me?" "Of course, we do," they replied. "So do you know what I need?" No one answered. If you don't know what I need then how can you say you love me?"

To love and to be loved is the most basic human need. No wonder we are attracted to people who give us attention, care about us, and love us. Yet, love also remains the greatest challenge in most relationships. Why?

A Fistful of Love is a collection of insightful, thought-provoking nuggets of wisdom appreciated by millions around the world. This book is full of humour and narratives most beautifully woven into 'earnings of life that will make you stop and think.

Om Swami is a mystic living in the Himalayan foothills. He has a bachelor’s degree in business and an MBA from Sydney, Australia. Prior to his renunciation of this world, he founded and ran a multimillion dollar software company successfully. He is the bestselling author of The Ancient Science of Mantras, Kundalini: An Untold Story, A Million Thoughts and if truth be told A monk’s Memoir.

Once upon a time, Buddha was walking along a riverside with nine of his disciples. In his quiet and graceful manner, the sage was talking to Ananda about mindfulness when suddenly almost all the monks stopped in their tracks and looked the other way, across the river, in great awe. A yogi was crossing the waters and coming towards them. Ordinarily, this would not have been a distracting sight. Especially, considering that Buddha was delivering a sermon on mindfulness. This yogi, however, was not crossing the river in a boat; he wasn't even swimming across; he was simply walking on water.

The monks couldn't contain their surprise, and interrupting Buddha, they said, "Do you see that, Lord? This is a miracle of miracles. That yogi must be a siddha too."

Buddha remained unimpressed and choosing not to answer their question, he kept walking. All but Ananda stayed behind.

As soon as the yogi crossed over, the monks fell at his feet to seek his blessings.

"Tell us, 0 Perfected One," they spoke, "how did you attain the supernatural power of walking on water? Can we too walk on it like you?"

The yogi beamed with pride. "Yes, you can," he answered.

"If you tread my path with discipline for 20 years, you too can walk on water like me."

"Twenty years!" They exclaimed in unison. Their enthusiasm died right away. Who on earth would have the tenacity to lead an austere life for 20 years? The payoff was attractive, no doubt, but two decades of discipline was too big a price to pay. Two of them joined the yogi nevertheless while the rest offered their obeisance quickly and ran towards Buddha who was now quietly and gently walking towards a boatman.

"0 Sage!" they said, "that great yogi said we can walk on water by practicing austerities for 20 years. It was very impressive indeed. But, we thought you must know of an easier method."

Buddha paused for a moment, looked at their excited faces with his perfected gaze, and resumed walking.

"Will you take us across the river, 0 noble men?" he requested the boatman.

"Yes, sir," he replied, "but, it will cost you a fistful of rice.

"They agreed and boarded the boat. In the middle of the river, Buddha broke his silence. "That is all it is worth, my spiritual sons," he said. "That great yogi's 20 years of austerities are worth a fistful of rice.

"The monks dropped their heads in shame. No, not because they were impressed with the yogi, that was natural. They felt ashamed because just one simple distraction could make them forgo their master.

"You have to choose," continued Buddha, "you have to make choices in life, monks. Everything depends on your choices and subsequent actions. You can hanker after some powers to impress a few or you can lead a life of meaning and help everyone in the universe. It is entirely up to you."

"Forgive us, Tathagata, for our mistake. We don't deserve to be your disciples because we witnessed just one siddhi and called that yogi Perfected One too."

Buddha maintained his silence. When they got off the boat, Ananda handed the boatman his dues — a fistful of rice.

There are many such disciples among us. We notice one good quality in someone we just met and forget about those who stood by us all along. We are eager to put the new person on the same pedestal as our near and dear ones. In doing so, we forget the years of care, bond, and memories we created with our loved ones. We forsake the wise, selfless Buddha for a fancy display of power by a newcomer, someone we just met.

It works the same way in relationships too. When a man or a woman talks to you nicely, pays you some attention for a few minutes, you go home and tell your partner how nice this person was and how he should aim to be like your new acquaintance. By acting this way, we reduce their years of effort to a mere handful of rice. Most of us, like Buddha's disciples, are forever getting impressed with the siddhis of other yogis and asking Buddha to behave like them.

I am not talking just about the disciples. Many of us, like the yogi in the story, spend our entire life working on stuff worth no more than a fistful of rice — ignoring the sermon of love, disregarding our personal happiness, trampling over our emotional needs, at the cost of our health — we are working hard to gain, to attain, to be.

Most of our actions, I may add, stem from our need to impress those who don't matter to us, those who care the least about us, to gain the attention of those for whom it will never be good enough. Even worse, we indulge in such behaviour at the expense of those who actually do matter.