Jyoti Se Jyoti Jale #9

Man is a possibility, not a truth; a seed, not a flower. A flower can happen, but there is no inevitability to it. The seed can also die as a seed. The seed can rot as a seed. Not all seeds become flowers; all seeds could have become flowers. Such is man.
All human beings can become Buddhas. All have the possibility. The descent of Paramatma can happen in everyone. But not all attain — do not forget this!
No one is born a Buddha. Buddhahood is a journey. The great opportunity that lies between birth and death — whoever uses it rightly, receives Buddhahood as a gift. It is an award given by existence. No one becomes a Buddha by being pushed and shoved around. Resolve is needed, surrender is needed, struggle is needed, sadhana is needed! Without passing through the process of sadhana, the seed will remain a seed. Let the seed fall into the soil, dissolve in the soil, efface itself — then germination happens.
So too a person needs the soil of sadhana — to dissolve, to efface oneself! Reduce your ego to ashes. Wipe away your self-importance. Then germination happens — of an incomparable grace, an incomparable bliss! Until you attain that sprouting within, keep remembering: you were certainly born, but life has not yet been received. Do not forget for even a moment — every moment forgotten, spent in forgetfulness, is wasted. Keep a ceaseless remembrance that time’s stream keeps flowing out of life’s hands. Who knows — the next moment death may knock at the door! Before death arrives, Buddhahood must come.
Make such a concentrated resolve! Awaken such a deep longing. Only then will your real birth happen. You will become dvija — twice-born. Your second birth will be. The first birth is birth in name only. The first is merely the preface to life, the a-b-c. Do not take that as the whole. From that alphabet, the Vedas can be composed, the Upanishads can be born. The Gita manifests — from that very alphabet! And remember: from the same alphabet that gives rise to the immortal words of the Upanishads, abuses too can be fabricated. The alphabet is the same.
The wealth of life which some change into the nectar of Buddhahood — others turn that very potential nectar into poison. Most people appear miserable; they have turned their lives into poison. Most live in sorrow and end in sorrow. In their lives no flower ever blooms, no fragrance ever rises — nothing but thorns. No bird sings within their innermost being. Their life-veena lies unplayed; they never pluck its strings.
Today you have gathered here near me — this is what I wish to remind you, and this is what I remind you every day. I tell you one thing continuously: you have an invaluable opportunity — do not lose it! Call to Paramatma, that your empty house may be illumined, that your empty pitcher may be filled!
And remember, if you truly long, a miracle is possible. Such a miracle that all other miracles fade before it. His whole ocean can pour into your little cup. For you only appear small on the surface. How small is a seed — and how vast a tree it hides! Nor does a seed hide just one tree; one seed becomes a tree, that tree bears infinite seeds, those infinite seeds bear infinite trees, and those infinite trees bear infinite-infinite seeds! A single seed has the capacity to green the whole earth! Why only the earth — the entire constellations, the moon and the stars could be clothed in green. If one seed keeps spreading, keeps using the opportunity, keeps turning possibility into actuality, never stops, the stream keeps flowing — then as the Ganges reaches the ocean, so the person reaches Paramatma.
Flow! Call! Seek! Do not remain stagnant puddles!
There is something within me greater than me
Do not lock eyes with it
There lies the seed of every trouble!
All the sorrow of life can be condensed into a small sutra —
There is something within me greater than me
Do not lock eyes with it
There lies the seed of every trouble!
He who sees himself has seen the essence of the world. And he who finds himself has found all that is worth finding.
Jesus has said: Even if you gain all the kingdoms of the earth, what meaning is there in that gaining if you lose yourself?
And this is exactly what is happening. People are busy gaining this and that — everything except the one thing. Attention never turns to the One. We have assumed that one as though it is already attained. As though merely being born — all is done! The seed has accepted: this is my fate. Then it will die as a seed. From this seed there will be neither trees, nor songs of the cuckoo upon those trees, nor the moon’s rays showering upon them, nor the sun’s coming and going, nor clouds gathering, nor rains falling, nor the winds dancing — nothing! A seed is lifeless. A seed is closed. What is the difference between a seed and a pebble? The difference arises only when the seed becomes a tree; otherwise there is none.
And let me remind you: on this earth ninety-nine out of a hundred come like this and go like this. Decide that you will not go like this! And if you decide, there is no reason you should go as the others go. Those who decided, they went fulfilled.
You — who have stitched stars into the blue vault of the sky,
You — who have given life to trees, birds, mountains, and man,
You — who have poured profuse monsoon over the ample earth for four months,
You — who have given a cooling night to every scorching day,
O You, today descend a little from Your vast empty divine sky
And come near the earth,
For the earth is rising up as if to touch You.
A revolution is stirring from surface to abyss in it,
Not a speck of it remains unmoved or unshaken.
Its roots seem shaken —
Its very Himalayan base trembles today.
A fear has entered the breath of river, city, and grove —
Will it remain or not?
Can such frenzy be endured or not?
Doubt has begun to arise even in the hearts of the faithful.
Today it seems to me You should descend from Your tranquil divine sky
And come near to it.
Shower a cool, generous drizzle of bliss —
You who have poured profuse monsoon on the ample earth —
Let this restlessness be drowned, be absorbed —
Let the whole arrangement of the defeated mind be submerged in one flood —
So that the barren land of my country, in the month of Ashadha,
May cry out: I am sky, I am bliss —
May it feel that it is no blind, futile riddle —
It has gone from darkness into light —
May it feel itself to be self-luminous.
Your body is made of earth. Your body is the earth. But if you call — if prayer is awakened — the sky will descend into you. Your body is a clay lamp. If you call, seek, search — light will descend too. And only when the flame descends into the lamp is the lamp truly a lamp. Otherwise it is a lamp in name only. And when into your body of clay the descent of the conscious happens — that very sky we call Paramatma, Moksha, Nirvana.
When into your earthen body the advent of the conscious occurs — know then that life has become meaningful — know then that life has begun! Then accept that you did not come in vain, and you are not going in vain. You go fulfilled. You go meaningful.
And the blessed one who becomes so — he not only lights the lamp within himself; the extinguished lamps that come near him — they too are lit. Let flame be lit from flame! Then a lineage is born.
Buddha awakened. Those who heard his voice awakened. Those who heard the awakened ones awakened. For thousands of years the chain continues — of the awakened.
Awaken. The journey of awakening does not end with you. If you sleep, you end with yourself. If you awaken, your flame keeps flowing. The awakened become eternal. In awakening there is eternity. Then time cannot extinguish that flame. Then however fierce the storms and however dark the nights — that flame keeps burning. From Guru to disciple, from disciple to disciple; from one hand to another; from one heart to another — the flame keeps descending. People come and bid farewell, but the flame remains.
This is the treasure. If you must leave something behind, leave this treasure! Leave behind a few potsherds, a few houses, a few bighas of land — they have no value. If you must bequeath, bequeath light.
Call to Paramatma! And the moment He hears the call, He comes running. As if He is waiting only for your call. If prayer arises within you, Paramatma starts raining upon you. It does not take time.
This cosmos is law, not chaos. To trust this law is religiosity — that if I call with my whole life-energy, the answer will come. Otherwise people would run and run and fall into the grave and be finished!
I kept running
On this side of the wall.
Much I struggled,
Much I collided and fought.
To learn the piercing of labyrinths
I crossed some epochs’
Most arduous deserts;
Again, reckless running —
Climbed many a distant
Peak of dream —
Yet I am where I was,
And the wall is where it was —
Even today I search
For the vastness
On the other side!
Just look at the runners — at Timur and Genghis, at Napoleon and Alexander! Watch those who run — where do they arrive? As if they were running in a circle. And you too are nothing new — you too have run much. You too have gone round like the ox tied to the oil-press. Blindfolded, therefore you cannot see. You think there is journeying, that you are arriving somewhere.
Examine — test — analyze your daily twenty-four hours — what do you do? The same things, day after day! Let something new happen. The same anger, the same greed, the same attachment, the same vanity — only their outer forms change. As on the earth — the rains come, then cold, then heat, then again rains — a cycle repeating. So too in the climate of your mind — the same seasons keep repeating! Now angry, now filled with greed, now with lust, now terrified — thus you have been moving for how long!
And I tell you: you are not new — no one here is new. You have been going on through births without beginning. Your feet never tire! Your mind never seems to get bored! How many times have you done the same anger, and then again you do the same.
I have heard: A guest came to Mulla Nasruddin’s house — someone exactly like you. The guest chewed pan incessantly. And instead of spitting the red juice outside, he was spitting on the floor right where he sat. Seeing this, Nasruddin went inside and had a servant bring and place a silver, beautifully carved spittoon near the guest. The guest pushed the spittoon aside and again spat on the floor. The servant again lifted the spittoon and put it back at the first place. Again the guest slid it away and spat on the ground! Once more the servant set the spittoon at its place. But again the gentleman moved it away and spat on the floor. The servant again replaced it. Seeing this happen again and again the guest got very angry at the servant and said: If you don’t remove this spittoon from here, and keep placing it there again and again, then I will spit in it!
A silver spittoon! The guest must have thought: to spit in a silver spittoon! So he kept pushing it away and kept spitting on the floor.
If you search a little into your life you will find it exactly so! The same, the same you keep doing. Nor is it that you are not hurt by it, not pained by it. Who would not be pained! Whom does greed not make mean, miserable, low? Whom does anger not burn, scorch? In whose heart does it not leave wounds? When has ego ever given coolness to anyone? Every day it is the same anguish, and every day you decide: now enough! But tomorrow morning will come again, and you will again do what you have always done.
Break this circle! Leaping out of this circle is religion. Coming out of this mechanicalness is life.
Honor yourself! You are not a machine. A machine’s life is a false life. From outside it seems there is motion, but within there is no awareness. Your life runs as a machine runs. Have you found a life different from a machine?
I have heard: Mulla Nasruddin was very harassed by his wife — as all husbands are, and as all wives are. Who here is not harassed! Hide it as you may, it does not hide. On faces the pain is written. In eyes the tears are there. In hearts the thorns are stuck. Many times he thought: If somehow I get free this time, I shall never again enter this mess.
By chance — such chances rarely come; wives do not let such chances come! — the wife fell ill; as if the cat’s luck had broken the curd-pot! No signs of improvement. And Nasruddin began to feel secretly pleased. Finally the moment of death arrived. At the last moment the wife said: Nasruddin, if I die will you marry again?
Nasruddin said: It is hard to answer that question.
Wife asked: Why? — she was dying, but a spark leapt up — Why hard?
Nasruddin said: Because if I say yes, you’ll be upset — and if I say no, she will be upset.
All his life he had been thinking how to be free. He had not yet become free.
You do not slip out of one net before you start weaving another — lest the first should break and you be left with no net at all! You cannot come out of one misery before you start sowing the seeds of the next, so that by the time this crop is harvested, the next will be ready.
I am not speaking theory. Observe your life — you will find witnesses! Not one, but a thousand witnesses.
In this mechanicalness you are one on the surface and quite another within. For your consciousness cannot fit with this mechanicalness. So your life becomes at best a performance, a pretension, a fraud. There are masks on your face. You do not know your real face. What you say is not what you wish to say. And what you do is not what you wish to do, what you intended to do.
You think something, you do something else. You say something, you are something else. There is great deception in your living. The whole earth has become a false drama. There are no true men because there is no true life.
He who lives from within, consciously, only that person can be in unison. And where there is unison, there dwells sat-chit-ananda. Where there are many notes, where the surface is one thing and the inside another, where all is acting — there bliss cannot dwell.
“O Hanuman! I am greatly pleased with you. I grant you the boon you desire. Speak — what do you wish?” said Lord Ram to Hanuman.
This incident is from a play called “The Conquest of Lanka” presented by a drama company. The owner of the company himself played Ram. And a salaried actor played Hanuman. The company’s fortunes were waning because the public’s interest in plays was decreasing in comparison to cinema. For the last three months no actor had been paid. This pricked the actors’ minds continually. Why would it not — they too had families, children.
As soon as Sri Ramchandra Ji expressed the desire to grant a boon, Hanuman suddenly said: Manager-sahib, three months of salary are due. If we could get it, it would be great kindness. My children are dying of hunger, my master!
There was stunned silence among the audience. Manager-sahib! Three months of salary are due! Children are dying of hunger! What is this Hanuman saying? Those who had dozed off awoke. All became alert — what is happening! What kind of Ram-Leela is this! Breaths stopped. Without a blink people waited to hear that now Ramchandra Ji will say — “So be it!” But no, Ramchandra Ji did not say “So be it!” He tried to say something, but no sound came from his mouth. Only hissing came out. He reeled and fell! The play came apart. There was a scramble, some doctor from the crowd came. An injection was given to Ramchandra Ji. Seeing matters worsening Hanuman tried to run away; the crowd caught him, and in the pulling and tugging his tail came off.
If you look closely at your life you will find exactly such a situation. But for how long will you hide the real? It keeps surfacing now and then. Against your wishes, despite you, what is within peeps out through your eyes. Waves of truth descend into you sometimes, breaking the acting; but for the vested interests of life, you suppress the truth again. You sit on its chest again. You paste back the torn tail again. The shifted mask — you pull it back on. You resume singing the praises of falsehood.
If you have truly come to me, then now — let go. Let these fake tails fall away. Let these masks slip. Decide about your life once again. The way you have lived, as you have lived, has gone wrong. Learn a new style. Sundardas is speaking of that new style. His words are straight and simple.
Truth is always straight and simple. The complications are in falsehood. Falsehood cannot be straight and simple, for if it is, it will be caught at once. Falsehood must be cunning. Falsehood is convoluted. Knots must be tied in falsehood. It must be wrapped in complex words — words that people cannot understand. If people speak Hindi, falsehood speaks Sanskrit. If people speak Urdu, falsehood speaks Arabic. If people speak English, falsehood speaks Latin.
The true saint always speaks in the people’s tongue. False religion always speaks in dead languages. False religion — Sanskrit, Arabic, Chinese; false religion — Latin and Greek — so that it does not enter people’s understanding. For if people understand, the net woven out of words and doctrines will break and fall. And the vested interests tied to that net will also fall.
The pundit always speaks in dead tongues — that is his punditry. Sundardas is a straightforward, simple man, not a pundit. Not that he was unfamiliar with the wondrous scriptures of Sanskrit. But he spoke in the folk tongue, in people’s simple language, which could be understood. Because it is people’s understanding that must be transformed. The words are not difficult. If you listen quietly, you will understand at once. But do not stop at that understanding — nothing will happen from that alone.
The understanding of the intellect is not enough until your innermost being is dyed. These are things to be dyed with. These people are dyers — these Sundardas, these Nanak, these Kabir — they are dyers. They have found a color — so fast a color that not life can wash it away, nor can death. In that very color they want to dye you too. Dip! Be dyed!
“Sundar manushya deh yeh, payo ratan amol.
Kaudi sate na khoiye, mani hamaro bol.”
This human body is a priceless jewel. You will find it hard to trust — how will you trust? You have known nothing but hell in this life. If someone says pebbles and stones — worth two cowries — that you will understand. Priceless jewel! How will you accept — you have not seen within anything of value. You are ready to sell yourself for two cowries.
A potter was digging clay, loading it on his donkey to make pots. His hand fell upon a diamond. A lovely diamond! A big diamond! But a potter has no way to recognize a diamond. His connection is with earth. Earth is his relation, earth is his language. First he threw the diamond away. Then he saw it shone a little, glinting in the sunlight, and thought: Let me hang it around the neck of my dear donkey. Who else did he have any relation with? How would a potter have any other connection! The donkey was his everything. So he hung it around the donkey’s neck. He was very pleased. He went on loading clay.
On the road a jeweler saw it. His eyes almost popped out. He had never seen such a big diamond. And tied around a donkey’s neck! It was clear that the potter knew nothing. The jeweler came near: What will you take for that stone? The potter had never thought anyone would pay anything for it. Now he said, as you wish — since you like the stone, give one rupee.
Even one rupee he asked with great courage. One rupee — you get after a day’s labor. But there was such a glow in the man’s eyes and such a taste rising on his tongue, saliva dropping, that the potter thought: he will give one rupee — he likes the stone.
But the jeweler said: One rupee? For that stone — one rupee? If you’ll give it for four annas, give it.
Greed knows no limit. It was a diamond worth lakhs, but greed thought: I can get it for one rupee — maybe for four annas — and he will still feel he has gotten a great price.
The potter said: Four annas! Not for four annas. It looks better around the donkey’s neck. And the children will play with it at home. Go on your way!
Eight annas, take eight — said the jeweler! Then he walked off a few steps, thinking: this man will come to his senses — who would give eight annas! Half a day’s labor. When the potter did not return, the jeweler came back — but in the meantime some other man had bought it for two rupees. Another jeweler had bought it. It was sold. The first jeweler beat his chest: O fool! Great fool! You sold a thing worth lakhs for two rupees?
The potter said: I am a fool — that is obvious. But you couldn’t buy a thing worth lakhs even for one rupee! I am a fool — I didn’t know. But you knew, didn’t you? Your foolishness is far denser than mine.
Look around — people are squandering life as if they have no idea what to do. Someone is playing cards — ask him: what are you doing? He says: passing time. Passing time means cutting life. It won’t cut! God has done a great mischief — given you life. You are cutting it. Someone is cutting it at a rotary club, someone in a hotel, someone in a cinema — here cutting, there cutting. Cut away. You do not know what you are cutting.
Such an invaluable opportunity — where the entire wealth of existence can rain! Where the supreme experience of life can deepen! Where the sun of suns may rise within you! Where a spring of nectar may flow within you, one that even death cannot overcome! Where you may be joined to the Eternal! — and you are cutting that time away in playing cards?
But you are at least honest; what to say of those who read shastras, who read the Upanishads, who have the Qur’an by heart, who remember the words of the Vedas — what to say of them? You are like the potter — you do not know, so you hang the diamond around the donkey’s neck. You cut life away playing cards. But what to say of those who return from Kashi as pundits? What to say of those who write commentaries on the Upanishads, who write thesis upon thesis? What to say of them — for they too cut life in the same way.
Well, if a foolish potter hangs a diamond around a donkey’s neck — let it be. But what to say of these great fools!
Do you see any difference between your ignorant and your learned? Between the one you call ignorant and your pundit — do you see any difference? Between yourself and the priest who comes to your home to perform worship — any difference? Between your greed and his greed, your anger and his anger, your lust and his lust — any difference? All the same. You will not see it.
Therefore Sundardas must say something that all saints have had to say —
“Sundar manushya deh yeh, payo ratan amol.
Kaudi sate na khoiye, mani hamaro bol.”
He says: Accept my word. Your understanding cannot grasp it yet. Accept my word. We too were like you. We too squandered many lives like this, lost many diamonds this way. You — do not lose them.
I have heard: One morning a fisherman rose very early and went to the riverbank to catch fish. He arrived a little too early — night still dark and clouds gathered, the sun not yet up. He sat to wait — when it lightens a little, he would push the boat and go fishing. Sitting, he noticed a small bag lying nearby. What else to do to pass time — he groped and found the bag full of stones. Sitting idle, he began to pass time — took out a stone, threw it into the water. Splash! The ripples rose. Then another stone — splash! He kept throwing, kept throwing. Then the sun began to rise. When the sun rose, the last stone in the bag came into his hand. Sunrays fell — it wasn’t a stone, it was a diamond. Imagine what passed over his chest! He clutched his chest and sat down — so they were all diamonds that he had been throwing away in the dark, listening to splash-splash in the water!
What appears a stone in the dark becomes a diamond in the light. Those who awaken, who clarify their attention a little, who tidy up a little patch of inner land — cut the wild growth, remove the debris — who light a small wick within — they find it is a diamond.
Therefore Sundardas says: “Accept my word.” It is a compulsion. Your own experience will not agree, for you have known nothing in life. You have lived in darkness. In your life you have only recognized stones. No meeting with diamonds. So Sundardas says: Hear my word and accept it.
This life is priceless. And this human body is obtained with great difficulty. After journeys of many births, through countless wombs, this body is attained! For unknown births you have prayed to become human! The prayer has now been fulfilled. Now do something! You have become human — now use this good fortune! Turn this opportunity into a greater opportunity.
“Sundar manushya deh yeh, payo ratan amol.
Kaudi sate na khoiye, mani hamaro bol.”
Do not squander it for cowries. Yet people are squandering it for cowries. People heap piles of paper currency and think their life is becoming meaningful! People increase their bank balance and think life is becoming meaningful. Or someone climbs the ladder of position and thinks life is becoming meaningful.
Beware! These are the ways by which people waste life. You will find nothing here. There is much running around, much hustle and bustle — but there has never been true gaining here, nor can there ever be.
One night Mulla Nasruddin’s wife dreamed. In the morning she told Mulla: Last night I dreamt that you and I went to a jeweler’s shop. There you bought a necklace for me for nine lakh rupees.
Mulla began to sweat and tremble! Mulla said: Keep in mind — these things are dreams. The wife said: The moment you bought the necklace I knew it was a dream. That’s why I awoke. As soon as you bought the jewel, I knew it was a dream — it cannot be true. In that shock my sleep broke!
In this life nothing can be bought. In this life you will gather nothing. Yes — in gathering you can lose yourself.
“Kaudi sate na khoiye, mani hamaro bol.”
You did not call with all your life-breath
To the dawn of warmth, of light, of strength —
That is why you stand in emptiness,
And now you will weep in the void,
You will wake in darkness,
You will sleep in darkness!
Thus life passes in darkness upon darkness. Groping in the dark, how do people come out of the mother’s womb — groping — and then how do they enter the grave — groping — only these two events happen; nothing else happens. So how will you believe? I too tell you that life is priceless, this jewel comes with great difficulty, through great good fortune — accept my word.
Therefore all religions have emphasized shraddha — trust. What is shraddha? That which is not yet in your experience, but has come into someone’s experience — if from that person’s experience some things begin to appear to you as direct signs… His inner experience cannot become your direct experience. What I have found within, I have no means to show to you — nor does Sundardas, nor Buddha. But if you have a little sense there are certainly ways to infer. Look at Buddha’s peace. Look at the grace that shadows Buddha’s life. See the spring that has arrived around Buddha! In his rising and sitting, in his speaking and his silence — a note is resounding. Listen! Look into Buddha’s eyes. If your eyes meet his eyes, perhaps in their depths some hint begins to happen to you! Hold Buddha’s feet — perhaps some energy flowing from those feet stirs you, makes you vibrate!
Just sit by Buddha — only sit! Keep company — satsang! Perhaps, by sitting near, the waves of what has happened in his heart will touch your heart too, make it tremble. That is why satsang has such value in this land. Because what has happened to Buddha, we cannot see from the outside. We must find indirect ways to experience it. Direct seeing is not possible — but perhaps we can recognize by circling around.
As you come near a garden, even if the garden is not yet visible, the air grows cool. From that you can infer that the garden is near, that you are moving in the right direction. The garden may not yet be seen, but a fragrance begins to come in the wind. The jasmine must have bloomed, and the breezes have brought the scent — your nostrils begin to feel: in the direction I go, there must be flowers. As you move closer, the fragrance grows. Still the garden is unseen, but one thing becomes certain: I am going in the right direction, because the fragrance is increasing — my steps are on the right path. This is satsang.
As you come nearer to the Guru, the fragrance increases. Life’s music grows. A notion of grace begins to arise within you. Something new begins to happen within you that never happened before.
This inference is shraddha — that though it has not yet happened to me, it has happened to someone. I am receiving indirect proofs.
Ramakrishna was dying — of cancer. Throat cancer. He could not drink even water, nor take food. The final days were full of pain. But the physicians were astonished, for there was no suffering in Ramakrishna’s eyes. These are indirect signs. Physicians could not believe — with so much pain a man should fall unconscious. And especially a man like Ramakrishna, who would slip into samadhi at the smallest event. If someone uttered the name Ram, he would fall, faint. He would remain unconscious for six hours. It was difficult to take him on the road. His disciples had to hold him while crossing, lest someone casually say “Jai Ram Ji” — hearing the word Ram was enough. That one drop would fall — he would be intoxicated, begin to dance in the street, or fall there in ecstasy.
Such a man — whose throat is rotting, who cannot swallow a drop of water, who has had no water or food for days — dreadful pain, the whole body aflame — yet Ramakrishna’s eyes are as tranquil as if he were in supreme bliss. The doctors who attended him began to become believers. They had not come to become religious, they had no desire for satsang — they came accidentally. But faith began to be born. Even if you pass by a garden accidentally, the scent of flowers will fill your nostrils.
Ramakrishna’s devotees said: Why don’t you ask Mother? You are such a devotee of Kali; if you ask once, all will be well.
Ramakrishna said: But if I felt pain, I would ask. If I felt suffering, I would complain.
Finally the devotees found a trick. They said: The suffering is ours, not yours. Pray for us!
Ramakrishna could not refuse. He was a simple man; the argument felt right: I have no suffering — true. I cannot complain — also true. But they are certainly suffering — all are weeping. So he said: I will pray for you; today I will say it with closed eyes. He closed his eyes — and burst into laughter. In that moment laughter could not come — it was impossible. These are the signs. The devotees asked: Why are you laughing? He said: I told Mother: Look, I have no problem; I will remain as You keep me. I have always been as You kept me; I have never wished otherwise, there is no question of wishing otherwise. What You give is joy. What You give is auspicious. When I needed anything, You gave it. If You have given this, there must be a need — whether I know it or not. But these who love me are very unhappy, they are weeping. For their sake allow one sip of water to pass my throat, one morsel of food to go down, so they may be pleased.
The devotees asked: Then why did you laugh? He said: I laughed because I knew She would say exactly this. I knew beforehand what answer would come. You didn’t agree — unnecessarily you made me look foolish. She said: You know very well that I am drinking through their throats too, I am eating through their throats too! Why insist on this particular throat now?
Why did you laugh? asked the devotees. Ramakrishna said: I laughed because I knew She would say this. You did not agree. She said: From this throat I have taken enough food, enough water; now take from other throats — take from your lovers’ throats; all throats are yours.
These signs say something. Faith arises on such signs.
Shraddha is not belief. Shraddha is indirect inference. Direct understanding is not yet there, clear vision has not yet happened — but far away a star has begun to twinkle; from a great distance a note of music has become audible. Who plays — I do not know. Why he plays — I do not know.
To sit in satsang means: to sit near one to whom it has happened, who has known the worth of life — in his company, in his color, something may begin to be seen by you too. Sitting with a jeweler, one learns to appraise diamonds.
“Kaudi sate na khoiye, mani hamaro bol.”
What should not be seen
To be unable to see that
One needs a different eye.
Where one should not fly
For wings not to open there
One needs a different wing!
There is one eye that sees the visible. To see the invisible another kind of eye is needed — that very eye is called shraddha. For flying in this outer world there is one kind of wing; for flight in the inner world another kind of wing is needed — that very wing is called shraddha.
What should not be seen
To be unable to see that
One needs a different eye.
Where one should not fly
For wings not to open there
One needs a different wing!
And what appears within is not like seeing. And the flight within is not like flight. We say flight because we know outer flight. We say darshan — Atma-darshan, Ishwar-darshan — because such language is within our grasp. But what kind of seeing is there — there the seer and the seen become one. What kind of flying — and into what? There sky and wing become one. But for that, another wing is needed, another eye is needed. That different wing, that different eye — is shraddha.
Therefore Sundardas says:
“… mani hamaro bol.”
“Sundar sanchi kahat hai, mati anai kachu rosh.
Jau tai khoyo ratan yeh, tau tohi kau dosh.”
Sundardas says: I am speaking truly, speaking the truth. Do not get angry!
He has said something very significant. Saints have always been concerned that whenever they speak the truth, people will be offended. People have become so soaked in falsity, so false, that truth pricks them like a thorn. They are so accustomed to falsehood that they will not be able to bear truth. That is why people are offended. People are angry with me — how many are angry!
“Sundar sanchi kahat hai, mati anai kachu rosh.”
Sundar says: Do not be angry. Do not be unnecessarily filled with rage. I am telling you the truth. I am saying it as it is. Not otherwise by even a hair.
But if you say it as it is, people get angry. We do not call an blind man blind — we call him Surdas-ji! He is very pleased. When someone dies we say he has gone on a “great journey.” He is going to the cremation ground — we must call it a great journey. Even when politicians die, we say “the late, the heavenly one.” Then who goes to hell? Whoever dies becomes “heavenly”! Even in Delhi, if you die, you become heavenly!
A politician died. When he opened his eyes he thought naturally, being a politician, that he must be in heaven. He looked around — the conditions appeared exactly like Delhi. He was a bit startled. The same noise and uproar, the same demonstrations, sieges, beating — Parliament in full tumult! Chairs flying, mikes hurled, tumult and strife, people pulling one another’s legs, wrestling and scuffling. He asked a man standing nearby: Brother, heaven seems to be exactly like New Delhi. The man replied: Sir, come to your senses — this isn’t heaven, it’s hell.
When a politician dies we say he has gone to heaven. We are used to speaking nice things. We use nice words. So when a saint speaks straightly with us, it hurts. We did not crucify Jesus for nothing. We were very angry — then we crucified him. Mansoor’s head we cut off — not for nothing. One does not cut off a head for nothing. We were very angry — he said something that touched our heart and wounded it.
Socrates — we made him drink poison. The matter crossed the limit — beyond tolerance.
“Sundar sanchi kahat hai, mati anai kachu rosh.
Jau tai khoyo ratan yeh, tau tohi kau dosh.”
Sundar says: This I wish to tell you — if you lose this life, none but you is responsible. Do not be angry. Do not be pained by hearing this.
People always wish to put the blame on someone else. That is their habit. Whenever there is suffering in life — someone says fate; someone says God. The words change, the times change — then people say society, the state’s system. In old days people said fate; then Marx came and said: No question of fate — the economic structure of society is bad, therefore people’s lives are bad. Therefore there is no happiness in people’s lives.
People liked it. They had liked fate too — they liked Marx too. Then Freud came and said: Children are being reared wrongly — hence all the trouble. That too everyone likes: right — until children are brought up properly, until education is right, everything will be muddled. Education must be right. Society must be right. The system must be right. Everything must be right. Only no one should tell you that you are responsible! Responsibility must be someone else’s.
We too do the same. If you are unhappy the husband says it is because of the wife — what fate to be tied to this shrew! And your so-called mahatmas also say the same. There is no difference between you and your mahatmas. Both calculate alike. The wife thinks it is because of the husband. If there are children people think — because of children we are in hell. And if there are no children they think — because there are no children we are suffering.
Both kinds come to me. One comes and says: I am in great trouble — I’ve gotten entangled in children! Another comes: There are no children at all — bless me! But no one is willing to see this: if my life is going to waste, none but I am responsible! Religion begins with this sutra.
The person who accepts that he alone is responsible — in his life a revolution can happen. In no one else’s does it happen. All else are excuses. Devices to postpone! Devices to throw off the burden. Keep throwing it off — but if you do not accept the root cause, you will remain what you are, and die as you are!
“Sundar sanchi kahat hai, mati anai kachu rosh.
Jau tai khoyo ratan yeh, tau tohi kau dosh.”
“Bar-bar nahin paiye, sundar manushya deh.
Ram-bhajan, seva, sukrit, yeh saudo kari leh.”
This life will not be found again and again. Make this bargain now. With two things this bargain is struck. Within — the remembrance of Ram, the feeling of devotion, meditation; and outside — service to the many forms of Ram. In these two little words all has been said. Simple and straight. Within — the peace of meditation, remembrance of the Divine; without — serve, as much as you can, the infinite forms of the Beloved!
“Ram-bhajan, seva, sukrit — yeh saudo kari leh.”
If you can fulfill these two, the bargain is done! The diamond is yours. You have attained the wealth of life. You have attained the real treasure — which cannot be snatched from you, which no bandit can loot, no thief can steal, which even death cannot destroy. You have attained the wealth of the Eternal!
“Sundar sanchi kahat hai, jau manai tau mani.
Yahai deh ati nindya hai, yahai ratan ki khani.”
A most precious utterance. In this very body there is poison, and in this very body — nectar. All depends on you. If you are wise, turn poison into medicine. If unwise, turn even nectar into poison. In the hands of the unwise, poison is poison and nectar too becomes poison. In the hands of the wise, nectar is nectar and poison too becomes nectar. All depends on you.
Therefore those who told you the body is sin, the body is contemptible, the body is hell — do not stop with their words; they spoke only half the truth. They missed the other half — in this very body the Divine is hidden. In every pore of this body the stream of love is concealed. In this very heart the unstruck sound must arise. From this very body one must set out in search of nectar. This very body must be made the ladder to heaven.
When the heart is wounded,
Those of heart smile the more.
Seeing your intoxicating eyes,
The tavern itself begins to sway.
O sorrow of life, do not be sad —
Come, let me embrace you.
Those of heart, in life’s darkness,
Light lamps with the blood of the heart.
We are those wayfarers of life
To whom even the highwaymen
Show the way.
If there is understanding, even bandits become guides for you.
We are those wayfarers of life
To whom the highwaymen show the way.
We are such pilgrims that even robbers become guides. Only learn the art of drinking, the style of drinking. Neither nectar is nectar, nor poison poison — all depends on your way of drinking. One may pick up a veena and smash someone’s head with it — killing someone — and from that very veena an incomparable music could have risen.
A moment comes
When everything becomes simple —
But that moment comes only when
You stake all you are —
Or you can say,
When you place the head of your life
At the feet of death.
Then all becomes simple,
And the bitter becomes sweet nectar,
All that till now was poison.
The day you consciously stake your total energy, that day poison becomes nectar; death becomes the doorway to the Divine; and in the very body union happens.
This body is divine too. This body is not only the house of the world; it is also the temple of the Divine. All depends on you — how you will use it.
“Yahai deh ati nindya hai, yahai ratan ki khani.
Sundar sanchi kahat hai, jau manai tau mani.”
But he says: If you can accept it, accept! There is no way to prove it. Do you see the helplessness of the saints! Their predicament! They can see. They see you falling into the pit. They cry out — Do not go that way, there is a pit! But to you, in the pit you see treasure. In serpents you see friends.
“… jau manai tau mani.”
Sundardas says: If you can accept, accept. If you can hear, hear! If you can come to me, come. If you can taste this a little, taste it.
“Sundar nadi pravah main, milyo kath-sanjog.
Aapu apako lai gaye, tyau kutumb sab log.”
Those in whom you are lost and deluded — friends, loved ones, brothers, mother-father, husband-wife, children — the family in which you are entangled — it is only time being wasted. Do not take this entanglement to be all of life. Do not take this play as the essence of life.
“Sundar nadi pravah main, milyo kath-sanjog.”
It is as if two pieces of wood in the river flow, meet suddenly, and then separate.
“Aapu apako lai gaye…”
Then they will bid farewell and be gone — each to his own path.
“Sundar baithe nav main, kahun-kahun te aai!
Par bhaye, katahun gaye — tyau kutumb sab jai.”
As in a boat travelers sit, coming from who knows where, and the company lasts a little while; then the river is crossed, and each gets off to go his own way.
Had you known your wife before? Do you think you will meet her again?
Just days ago a justice of the Supreme Court came to see me — a good and gentle man. His wife has died — he is very sad. Two years have passed, and his wound of grief burns and dries him. He is a straightforward man. He said to me: I have come only for one thing — will there ever be a meeting with my wife again?
I asked him: Tell me this — had you met your wife before this birth? He had never thought of it that way. If you had not met before, why would you meet later? We are seated for a little while in the boat. You came from somewhere, I came from somewhere — from far, far places. Our paths are different, our life-journeys are different. For a little while we sit in the boat — friendship happens, companionship, husband-wife, children — everything happens. Then the boat touches the bank. All alight, each goes on his path. Death bids all farewell. Birth joined us — death will send us off. Think of birth as this bank, death as the opposite bank. In this life we sit a little while in the boat — only this much. Don’t get entangled in it — remember a little of before.
Zen masters say: Remember the face that was yours before you were born, before your mother and father were born. Remember the face that will be yours when you die. Recognize your original — for that face is the face of the Divine.
“Sundar pakshi vriksh par, liyo basera ani.
Rati rahai, din uth gaye — tyau kutumb sab jani.”
At evening we see birds alight upon trees — great noise. Great squabbles — who has taken whose place, who sits on whose branch! Then, in a while, all is quiet — night, all have slept. Morning will come, the sun will rise, the birds will awaken — then they will go on their journeys. Such is this world.
“Sundar yeh ausar bhalo, bhajilai sirjanhar.
Jaise tate loh ko, let milai luhaar.”
Understand and see that this meeting is for four days — do not spend all in this — use this supreme opportunity. And there is only one use — to seek the One who made all. To find that which I am. To find the foundation of this life, my nature, my swarupa.
“Sundar yeh ausar bhalo, bhajilai sirjanhar.
Jaise tate loh ko, let milai luhaar.”
Watch the blacksmith — he heats the iron till it glows like fire, and then he joins two pieces of iron. So use this life. Life is energy, heat. If you wish it can unite with Paramatma. But now — not when cold. Not when cooled will it join.
Often people wait for old age — then they think they will remember God. By then the iron is cold. Some think — when I am on my deathbed — then I will remember — what’s the hurry? Let me enjoy now, see four days of color and song. When dying people are given Ganga water — the man is dying; he has no awareness what you are pouring in. When dying, people are read the Vedas — he hears nothing now. His ears are sinking. When life is hot, when life is young — seek then.
People come to me and say: You give sannyas to the young. I say: Sannyas is originally the quality of youth. For when the iron is hot, when life is molten and full of energy, when the capacity for storm is there, the urge for exploration, the courage to accept the challenge of a quest — then! When cold, when dead — then? Then you will not be able to say Ram-Ram — others will say it. They will carry you on the bier, they will shout Ram-naam satya hai. And these gentlemen never said all life that Ram-naam is truth. This is a fine joke! When there was life, Ram-naam was not truth — everything else was truth, except Ram’s name. Now you are dead, now others shout: Ram-naam is truth. They are not saying it for themselves either. Cooling you off, they will return and call true what you called true all your life. They too will wait until four men carry them, and then they will say — Ram-naam satya hai. Have you kept Ram on loan?
You must call yourself!
“Sundar yahi deh main haari jeet ka khel.”
Within this body is the play of loss and gain. The board is set. The dice are cast. What does Sundar call loss? What does he call gain?
“Sundar yahi deh main haari jeet ka khel.
Jeetein so Jagpati milai, haarein maya mel.”
He who knows in life that “Ram-naam is truth” — he has won! And he who knows something else — position is truth, wealth is truth, prestige is truth — he has missed, he has lost. Here even Alexanders die as beggars. If you wish to die as an emperor — learn to live like Buddhas.
“Sundar sauda kijiye, bhali bastu kachu khaat.
Nana vidhi ka tangra, us baniya ki haat.”
Sundardas says: In that shop of the Divine everything is available — good and bad, right and wrong, poison and nectar.
“Sundar sauda kijiye, bhali bastu kachu khaat.”
Consider, test and then bargain. A man goes to buy a pot worth two coins and knocks and taps it before taking it. And you squander the whole of life without testing — who will be more mad than you!
“Nana vidhi ka tangra, us baniya ki haat.”
Sundardas says: In that Divine marketplace all kinds of things are being sold. What is not sold there? Everything is on the counter. Here men are sold, women are sold. Honor is sold, love is sold, bodies are sold. Everything is sold. Only one thing is not sold — Paramatma is not for sale. Do not get entangled in this bazaar. Do not lose yourself in its noise. Attain that which, once held, nothing is lost; that which, once attained, leaves nothing else to be attained.
“Diya ki batiyan kahai, diya kiya na jai.
Diya karai saneh kari, diye jyoti dikhai.”
These lines are lovely — with a noble play of double meaning.
He who talks about lamps — by talking will he ever light a lamp? By speaking of light no light comes, by speaking of bread no hunger is satisfied. How long will you lie in scriptures? How long get entangled in words? Not shastra — seek shasta, the living One. Not words — wherever there is a living truth, take refuge there. Buddham sharanam gachchhami! Wherever a ray of the Divine has descended — befriend that ray. Tie your connection to it!
“Diya ki batiyan kahai, diya kiya na jai.”
If you only keep talking, the lamp will never be lit. The darkness will remain as it is.
The second meaning: By talking about giving, one does not give! If you wish to give — give; do not keep talking. And the wonder is: in whom the inner lamp is lit, giving flowers on the outside of its own accord.
Hence the poetic double: Where there is light within, there one distributes light without. For what else will one do? Paramatma gives him — he gives to others. The more he gives, the more the inner treasure grows. The more he shares, the wider his empire becomes.
“Diya karai saneh kari, diye jyoti dikhai.”
And if you wish to light the inner lamp, search for the oil. The lamp within — the inner light — is lit by the oil of prayer. And when it is lit, everything within becomes visible — just as it is. Then Ram-naam satya hai — while alive Ram-naam is truth.
The second meaning: “Diya karai saneh kari.” If you give, give with love. Only what is given with love carries light in it. If given for some other reason, the gift is wasted. If you give in order to gain heaven, you have missed. If you give to gain prestige, you have missed. You build a temple and engrave your name on a stone — you have missed. If you give, give for the joy of giving. Give out of love for the one you give to. Give only for love’s sake — no other motive, no desire to gain — then there will be great light in your life.
A miser was drowning in a pond. A man on the shore extended his hand: Brother! Take my hand — I will pull you out.
Astonishingly, the man did not extend his hand. Then Mulla Nasruddin who stood nearby explained: Brother, all his life he has only taken from others — he has never given anyone anything. You should say: I am giving you my hand — take it. Then he will hold your hand.
And so it happened. As soon as it was said, I am giving my hand — take it — instantly he grabbed on.
Life has its styles and modes! We become habituated to one language. The greedy one even “gives” only to make another deal — in heaven perhaps. If he gives a penny he thinks what he will get.
A man died and reached heaven. The account book was opened — examined. The man was asked: There is nothing here in your name. Did you ever give anything to anyone? Because only the givers’ names are recorded here.
He said: Yes, I gave. I gave three paisa to an old woman. Much searching — they found it. He had given three paisa indeed. The angel was a little embarrassed — for three paisa how to give residence in heaven? Heaven would become very cheap. He asked his assistant: What shall we do? The assistant said: Return his three paisa and send him to hell. Only three paisa. The angel took three paisa out of his pocket and gave them to the man. The man said: Interest?
“Diye ten sab dekhiye, diye karo saneh.
Diye dasa prakasie, diya kari kin leh.”
By the lamp, all is seen. Therefore the most important question is: how shall my inner lamp be lit? If there is anything to seek, if your love must be centered somewhere, your attention concentrated at one point — then this one thing: how shall the light be kindled within?
Call: O Light, descend into me!
The rishis of the Upanishads say: Lead us from darkness to light — Tamaso ma Jyotirgamaya!
That is the essence of prayer. For by the lamp alone is all seen. Therefore love the lamp!
The second meaning: He who gives — he alone sees. He who shares — he alone sees. The miser becomes blind. The giver has eyes.
Have you seen — when you give something to someone without any reason, what joy there is! What lightness! How the mind becomes unburdened! Wings seem to grow on you — as if you could fly into the sky! And when you snatch from someone — how heavy you become! And when you cannot give — what pain gnaws at the mind!
Have you known any joy greater than giving? Any bliss greater than giving? Therefore the miser never knows bliss — only the giver knows.
“Diye ten sab dekhiye, diye karo saneh.”
Learn the art of giving. And note — Sundardas is not saying: Give so that you may gain heaven. Sundardas says: In giving there is heaven. Giving is heaven. Leave aside the talk of reward — there is no future. In the present moment, whenever you have given anything to anyone with love, then and there you have known — heaven’s doors opened!
“Diye dasa prakasie, diya kari kin leh.”
By light you will know your real state — who you are. You are Paramatma! Tat Tvam Asi! You are not an inch less than the Divine, not a grain less — not at all smaller!
The Upanishads say: From the Full the Full is born; into the Full the Full merges; and when from the Full, the Full is taken, the Full alone remains.
Do not think that the Divine is present only as a fraction within you. Each one of you is wholly the Divine. Paramatma has descended whole. But where to recognize this? Within, there is darkness.
Light the lamp! And how will this recognition happen? Within we have become very miserly. We have forgotten how to give. And because we have forgotten how to give, the Divine cannot give to us.
If from a well no one draws water, new springs will not bring water in. The springs will close. Draw water — and new springs open. Keep drawing water and the well will be replenished. If you do not draw, the water will stagnate — die. If you keep drawing, it remains alive, fresh, flowing.
So — give what you have: if you have love, share love; if you have knowledge, share knowledge; if you have meditation, share meditation. Whatever you have — share it! Do not clutch. Death will anyway come and take all. Before that, share. Then you will begin to sense your original nature, for the springs of the Divine will begin to flow within you.
“Diya rakhai jatan saun, diye hoi prakas.
Diye pavan lagai aham, diye hoi vinash.”
The lamp must be guarded — with care!
Have you seen a woman carrying a lamp to place on Tulsi’s altar — how she shields it in her veil as she walks! That is called care. Lest it blow out if a gust of wind comes. The lamp is small. And when it is first lit it is very small.
“Diya rakhai jatan saun, diye hoi prakas.
Diye pavan lagai aham, diye hoi vinash.”
What wind blows out this lamp? The gust of ego blows it out.
No other wind can extinguish the inner lamp — only the wind of ego can. And ego is very cunning — it catches you quickly. Sit with closed eyes for a moment of meditation — and ego catches: see, what a great meditator I am! Give two coins to someone — ego says: what a great donor I am! Pull a thorn from someone’s foot — ego says: what a great servant of humanity I am!
Beware of this! Be humble.
Nothing is as humble
As a blade of grass —
Or absolute trust.
Absolute trust means: I am not — only the Divine is.
“Diya rakhai jatan saun, diye hoi prakas.”
And the second meaning: Whatever you give, give with care! Do not give in such a way that the other is insulted. Do not give so that the other feels small. Do not give in a manner that proclaims — see how much I am giving! Give with such delicacy that no hurt is caused. Let the one who receives not feel he is made a beggar.
The greatest givers in this world are those who give — and those to whom they give do not even come to know! Not a whisper in their ears that anything has been given.
“Diya rakhai jatan saun, diye hoi prakas.”
If you give in this way, there will be great light through your giving.
“Diye pavan lagai aham, diye hoi vinash.”
And be alert — lest the wind of ego catch hold of your giving: see how much I gave! how much I did! People often say: I kept doing good — and people keep doing me harm!
Sufi fakirs have said: Do good — and throw it in the well. Do it — and forget it. Do not keep it in memory — if you remember, it is spoiled. Doing good is to be done — and forgotten. Do not even remember it later — or the ego will seize upon it. And just as wind blows out the lamp, so ego smears your charity with mud, turns it into rubbish.
“Saiñ diya hai sahi, iska diya nanh.”
Remember — whatever has been given is His gift.
“Saiñ diya hai sahi…”
All is given by the Divine. What is mine to give? What did you bring with you? You yourself are His donation. You yourself are a stream of Him. He has given you so much, and you become stiff in giving a little.
“Saiñ diya hai sahi, iska diya nanh.”
One meaning — all is given by the Divine, what is mine to give — so ego will not arise.
The second meaning: “Saiñ diya hai sahi” — all light is His, the radiance is His — we are darkness. What light can be ours?
Where “I” is, there is darkness. Ego is darkness. Where there is no ego — there is light. In egolessness descends the light of the Divine. When you become empty, the Full descends.
“Yeh apna diya kahai, diya lakhai na manh.”
Do not make a clamor that I gave! Look within — all is His gift. What you give is also His gift. You are only an instrument in between. The light that will burn within you — it is not lit by you, it is lit by Him. You had only forgotten. You had turned your back upon the lamp. The lamp has always been burning. Turn toward yourself — and you will find the flame was present all along. I had only forgotten.
To attain the Divine is not that we had lost Him and must now find Him; rather, we are sitting with Him already, and have fallen into forgetfulness. Only remembrance!
“Saiñ aap diya kiya, diya manhin saneh.
Diye diye hot hai, Sundar jiya deh.”
He Himself gives. He Himself fills the lamp of our life with oil. He Himself fills our hearts with love. He Himself distributes. He Himself is the light.
“Saiñ aap diya kiya, diya manhin saneh.
Diye diye hot hai, Sundar jiya deh.”
He gave to my Guru, the Guru gave to me, I am giving to others —
“Diye diye hot hai…”
Let lamp be lit from lamp!
“… Sundar jiya deh.”
And Sundar says: I have become a part of this process of giving — blessed am I! I too have become a link in this chain — blessed am I! I too am a hollow bamboo flute through which His notes have descended — blessed am I! The songs are not mine — the songs are His. He has sung. At most my virtue is that I did not obstruct. My Guru awakened me; I awakened others. I will say to others — awaken others. Keep awakening!
But all light is His. His one stream is flowing. All love is His — His love is being distributed. This whole world is the descent of His light and His love.
The sutras are simple. There is no difficulty that the intellect cannot grasp, but in satsang their secret opens. In satsang these very sutras will become the sugar-candy on your tongue. Their taste will blossom, their flavor unfold.
Till now you have understood with the intellect — you must also understand with the heart. Only then do all these words become existential. Then they are no longer someone else’s. Then it feels as if someone has stolen your own words from your mouth and spoken them.
Meditate on these sutras. Be absorbed in them. Dance in them, be intoxicated in them! In these sutras are hidden the keys that can open the door of His temple.
Enough for today.