English 
I never thought a Christian leader would leave such a mark on my heart.
I was born into a Hindu family, raised among incense, rituals, and the sound of temple bells. Faith was familiar, yes, but Pope Francis brought something new into my life something I didn’t expect from a man so far from my world. He didn’t speak my language or follow my tradition, yet he spoke directly to my soul.
The first time I heard of him, it was a photo. He was kneeling, washing the feet of refugees Muslims, Hindus, prisoners, the forgotten. I stared at that image for a long time. In his white robe, bent low in humility, I saw something powerful: not religion, but compassion. Not dogma, but dignity.
He made me believe again not in a different God, but in the beauty of humanity.
In a world where leaders demand applause, here was someone who whispered simplicity. When the world sought power, he chose poverty. I remember hearing his words: “A poor Church for the poor.” I’m not Catholic, but those words made me pause. They pierced something deep inside me. He reminded me of the saints of my own land those who walked barefoot, lived among the people, and embraced pain to comfort others.
I would listen to his speeches, not for theology, but for truth. When he spoke about climate change, it wasn’t political. It was parental. As though the Earth were a child, sick and crying, and he an old man with tears in his voice was begging us to love her.
He didn’t need to embrace people like me. But he did. Quietly, without headlines. He said, “Who am I to judge?” when asked about homosexuals. And I thought if this man, leading millions, could let go of judgment, couldn’t I try a little harder to love without conditions?
When he passed, I felt it like a loss in my own home. Not because I shared his religion, but because I shared his hope. The simple wooden coffin, the wish for no titles on his grave just “Franciscus” was his final sermon. Humility, till the very end.
He taught me that you don’t have to look like me, speak like me, or pray like me to inspire me. You just have to love — deeply, genuinely, and like you truly mean it.”
Mr. Prasad
Bhimavaram, Andhra Pradesh
