Jyoti Se Jyoti Jale #11

Date: 1978-07-21
Place: Pune

Sutra (Original)

मन कौं राखत हटकि करि, सटकि चहूं दिसि जाइ।
सुंदर लटकि रु लालची, गटकि बिषैफल खाइ।।
सुंदर क्यौं करि धीजिए, मन कौ बुरौ सुभाव।
आइ बनै गुदरै नहीं, खेलै अपनौं दाव।।
सुंदर यहु मन भांड है, सदा भंडायौ देत।
रूप धरै बहु भांति कै, राते पीरे सेत।।
सुंदर आसन मारिकै, साधि रहै मुख मौन।
तन कौं राखै पकरिकै, मन पकरै कहि कौन।।
तन कौ साधन होत है, मन कौ साधन नाहिं।।
सुंदर बाहर सब करै, मन साधन मन मांहिं।।
मन ही बड़ौ कपूत है, मन ही महा सपूत।
सुंदर जौ मन थिर रहै, तौ मन ही अवधूत।।
जब मन देखै जगत कौं, जगत रूप ह्वैं जाइ।
सुंदर देखै ब्रह्म कौं, तब मन ब्रह्म समाइ।।
सुंदर परम सुगंध सौं, लपटि रहयौ निश-भोर।
पुण्डरीक परमातमा, चंचरीक मन मोर।।
छुटयौ चाहत जगत सौं, महा अज्ञ मतिमंद।
जोई करै उपाय कछु, सुंदर सोई फंद।।
बैठौ आसन मारि करि, पकरि रहयो मुख मौन।
सुंदर सैन बतावतें, सिद्ध भयौ कहि कौन।।
कोउ करैं पयपान कौं, कौन सिद्धि कहि बीर।
सुंदर बालक बाछरा, ये नित पीवहिं खीर।।
कोऊ होत अलौंनिया, खाय अलौंनो नाज।
सुंदर करहिं प्रपंच बहु, मान बढ़ावन काज।।
कोऊक दूध रू पूत दे, कर पर मेल्हि विभूति।
सुंदर ये पाखंड किए, क्यौं ही परै न सूति।।
केस लुचाइ न हवैं जती, कान फराइ न जोग।
सुंदर सिद्धि कहा भई, बादि हंसाए लोग।।
Transliteration:
mana kauṃ rākhata haṭaki kari, saṭaki cahūṃ disi jāi|
suṃdara laṭaki ru lālacī, gaṭaki biṣaiphala khāi||
suṃdara kyauṃ kari dhījie, mana kau burau subhāva|
āi banai gudarai nahīṃ, khelai apanauṃ dāva||
suṃdara yahu mana bhāṃḍa hai, sadā bhaṃḍāyau deta|
rūpa dharai bahu bhāṃti kai, rāte pīre seta||
suṃdara āsana mārikai, sādhi rahai mukha mauna|
tana kauṃ rākhai pakarikai, mana pakarai kahi kauna||
tana kau sādhana hota hai, mana kau sādhana nāhiṃ||
suṃdara bāhara saba karai, mana sādhana mana māṃhiṃ||
mana hī bar̤au kapūta hai, mana hī mahā sapūta|
suṃdara jau mana thira rahai, tau mana hī avadhūta||
jaba mana dekhai jagata kauṃ, jagata rūpa hvaiṃ jāi|
suṃdara dekhai brahma kauṃ, taba mana brahma samāi||
suṃdara parama sugaṃdha sauṃ, lapaṭi rahayau niśa-bhora|
puṇḍarīka paramātamā, caṃcarīka mana mora||
chuṭayau cāhata jagata sauṃ, mahā ajña matimaṃda|
joī karai upāya kachu, suṃdara soī phaṃda||
baiṭhau āsana māri kari, pakari rahayo mukha mauna|
suṃdara saina batāvateṃ, siddha bhayau kahi kauna||
kou karaiṃ payapāna kauṃ, kauna siddhi kahi bīra|
suṃdara bālaka bācharā, ye nita pīvahiṃ khīra||
koū hota alauṃniyā, khāya alauṃno nāja|
suṃdara karahiṃ prapaṃca bahu, māna baढ़āvana kāja||
koūka dūdha rū pūta de, kara para melhi vibhūti|
suṃdara ye pākhaṃḍa kie, kyauṃ hī parai na sūti||
kesa lucāi na havaiṃ jatī, kāna pharāi na joga|
suṃdara siddhi kahā bhaī, bādi haṃsāe loga||

Translation (Meaning)

When you hold the mind by sheer insistence, it sticks then darts to all four directions.
Sundar, clinging and greedy, it gulps the poisonous fruits of sense.

Sundar, why indulge it? The mind’s nature is ill-natured.
However you try to make or mend it, it plays its own gambit.

Sundar, this mind is a jester, forever making you a laughingstock.
It takes on forms of many kinds, dyed red, yellow, white.

Sundar, strike your posture, keep the mouth in silence.
You may grip and steady the body, who can claim to seize the mind?

There are devices for the body’s training, there are none for the mind.
Sundar, all outward acts are outward, the mind is trained within the mind.

The mind itself is a great wastrel, the mind itself a great true heir.
Sundar, if the mind abides steady, the mind itself is an Avadhut.

When the mind beholds the world, it turns into the shape of the world.
Sundar, when it beholds Brahman, the mind dissolves in Brahman.

Sundar, to the supreme fragrance it clung, all through the night till dawn.
The lotus is the Supreme Self, the honeybee is my mind.

To be rid of craving for the world—great ignorance, a dulled mind.
Whoever contrives some means, Sundar, that very thing is the snare.

Sit, legs-locked in posture, clamp the mouth to silence.
Sundar, by telling such routines, who ever became a Siddha?

Someone quaffs milk, what “siddhi,” O brave, is that?
Sundar, children and calves drink milk every day.

Some go without salt, and eat unsalted fare.
Sundar, they stage many pretenses, to swell their name and pride.

Some “grant a son from milk,” and smear sacred ash upon the palm.
Sundar, with such impostures done, how would one not be lulled to sleep?

By plucking out the hair one does not become a jati, by slitting the ears, not a yogi.
Sundar, what siddhi has there been? Empty wrangling makes folk laugh.

Osho's Commentary

One of my sannyasin poets, Swami Yog Pritam, has sent me this song—