8. A Personal Vigilance For The Journey Inward.

There is a very obvious form of ego.

"I am better than you."

"I have more money."

"I am more intelligent."

"I am more successful."

"I am more attractive."

"I have achieved more."

These forms are relatively easy to notice.

But there is another form of ego that is far more dangerous because it can become almost invisible.

It says:

"I understand more."

"I am more aware."

"I am more spiritual."

"I have better vivek."

"I have found the right path."

"I am more disciplined."

"I understand the difference between the body and the soul."

"I understand impermanence."

"I can see through maaya."

"I don't get carried away by worldly things."

"These people are still trapped."

"I am progressing."

"I am not like them."

This is a much more sophisticated ego.

The ego has not disappeared.

It has simply become spiritual.

And perhaps that is precisely why it deserves greater vigilance.

---

1. THE MOST DANGEROUS PERSON I CAN JUDGE

When I look at another person and think:

"How can this person behave like this?"

"Doesn't he understand anything?"

"She is wasting this precious human birth."

"Look at their attachment."

"Look at their anger."

"Look at their greed."

"Look at their show-off."

"Look at their ignorance."

"Look at how shallow their spirituality is."

I need to stop.

Not because their behaviour is necessarily right.

Not because discrimination between right and wrong is unnecessary.

Not because vivek means becoming intellectually blind.

But because something else may be happening inside me.

I may have converted their weakness into fuel for my superiority.

That is the real danger.

I am no longer merely observing another person's conduct.

I am constructing an identity for myself:

"I am the one who understands."

And simultaneously constructing another identity for them:

"They are the ones who don't."

The distance between "me" and "them" becomes larger.

The sense of "I" becomes stronger.

And the irony is extraordinary.

I may be studying spirituality to reduce the grip of "I, me and mine" while using spirituality to strengthen the very same "I".

---

2. THE BEGGAR OUTSIDE THE TEMPLE

I enter a temple.

I see a beggar outside.

A thought arises:

"He doesn't understand the value of this human birth."

"He is frustrated."

"He is creating more karma."

"Look at me. I am trying to understand the soul."

This needs immediate vigilance.

Perhaps he is suffering.

Perhaps he is creating karma.

Perhaps he isn't.

I do not actually know the inner state of his consciousness.

I can observe circumstances.

I cannot confidently measure another person's bhav.

And even if my assessment were factually correct, another question remains:

Why am I enjoying the position of the one who understands and he does not?

That is where the real examination begins.

Compassion is one thing.

Discrimination is one thing.

Judgement from a pedestal is another.

The beggar's external condition does not make him spiritually inferior to me.

And my knowledge of Jain philosophy does not make me spiritually superior to him.

I may have more information.

I may have better circumstances.

I may have access to a good teacher.

I may have developed better habits.

None of these automatically gives me the right to manufacture superiority.

---

3. THE SPIRITUAL PERSON I LOOK DOWN UPON

This is even more subtle.

I see someone attending pravachans, doing puja, participating in satsang and talking about spirituality.

Then I observe their behaviour.

They become angry.

They gossip.

They brag.

They display possessions.

They become attached.

They behave harshly.

And my mind says:

"After listening to all these sermons, look at their behaviour!"

"They are wasting their birth."

"They are doing so much paap."

"I may not be doing shudh bhav yet, but at least I have the right understanding."

This is a particularly dangerous thought.

Because now I have created a spiritual balance sheet:

Their paap versus my punya.

Their ignorance versus my knowledge.

Their attachment versus my awareness.

Their shallowness versus my depth.

Their mistakes versus my discipline.

And I may quietly conclude:

"I am ahead."

But what exactly is happening?

The mind that was supposed to become lighter has acquired a new possession:

spiritual superiority.

Even "I have the correct understanding" can become another possession of the ego.

---

4. PUNYA CAN ALSO BECOME AN EGO IDENTITY

This requires particular vigilance.

I may think:

"I am doing punya."

"I am following the right path."

"I have found the right guide."

"I am doing good things."

"I am more disciplined."

"I am taking care of my body."

"I am doing swadhyay."

"I am attending satsang."

"I am helping people."

"I am giving prabhavna."

"I am doing so much spiritual activity."

All of this may be valuable.

But another question must be asked:

What is happening to my inner state while I am doing it?

If punya becomes:

"Look how much good I do."

then punya has become material for ego.

If knowledge becomes:

"Look how much I know."

knowledge has become material for ego.

If discipline becomes:

"Look how disciplined I am."

discipline has become material for ego.

If simplicity becomes:

"Look how simple I am compared with these people."

simplicity has become material for ego.

If detachment becomes:

"Look how detached I am."

detachment has become material for ego.

If humility becomes:

"Look how humble I am."

even humility has become material for ego.

This is where vigilance has to become extremely fine.

---

5. THE "I AM NOT LIKE THEM" TRAP

Perhaps one of the most useful warning signals is this sentence:

"I am not like them."

Whenever this thought appears, stop.

"I don't show off like them."

"I don't waste money like them."

"I don't get angry like them."

"I don't chase material things like them."

"I don't need validation like them."

"I don't need attention like them."

"I don't behave superficially like them."

"I don't need to prove myself like them."

"I understand spirituality."

"I understand maaya."

"I understand that everything is temporary."

"I know the difference between the vehicle and the driver."

"I am disciplined."

"I am grounded."

"I am simple."

"I am aware."

Notice something uncomfortable.

Every one of these statements can be factually true.

And yet the mind can use the truth to manufacture ego.

Therefore the question is not merely:

"Is this statement true?"

The deeper question is:

"What is this statement doing to my sense of I?"

If it creates superiority, separation, self-congratulation or contempt, vigilance is required.

---

6. EVEN "I DON'T CARE ABOUT OTHERS" CAN BECOME EGO

Suppose I eventually become more sophisticated.

I stop advising people.

I stop correcting them.

I stop judging their behaviour externally.

I tell myself:

"Let them do whatever they want."

"Karma will take care of them."

"I am only concerned with my own growth."

This can indeed be a healthier orientation.

But even here, the ego can enter through the back door.

"I am too evolved to bother with these people."

"I don't need to explain anything."

"Let them remain where they are."

"I have understood something they haven't."

"I don't care because I am spiritually mature."

Again:

the behaviour has changed, but the centre may still be "I".

Therefore the solution is not:

"Judge people."

Nor is it:

"Never judge people."

Nor is it:

"Don't care about anyone."

The solution is vivek without superiority.

Discernment without contempt.

Clarity without self-congratulation.

Compassion without interference.

And silence without spiritual arrogance.

---

7. UNSOLICITED SPIRITUAL ADVICE

This deserves its own alarm bell.

Someone shares a problem.

Immediately my mind starts constructing an answer.

I know what they should do.

I know what their attachment is.

I know what their ego is.

I know what their karma is.

I know what they have misunderstood.

I know what their spiritual mistake is.

And I start advising.

Sometimes the advice is genuinely useful.

But before speaking, I need to ask:

"Am I helping them, or am I enjoying being the person who knows?"

That question can expose a lot.

Even when advice is correct, the intention can be contaminated.

There is a huge difference between:

"I may have something useful to share."

and

"You need to understand what I have already understood."

The first can arise from compassion.

The second can arise from ego.

And sometimes the wisest response is not to speak.

---

8. THE TEMPLE, THE FLOWERS AND MY SUPERIOR VIVEK

I see a beautifully decorated idol.

Flowers everywhere.

Someone says : 

Wow what a beautiful decoration!

My mind says:

"Why are people decorating the purest soul with all these flowers? God is barely visible. Why don't people understand this?"

Then something else happens and I feel that I need to think something superior.

Then mind again says:

God is everywhere. See the God even in flowers"

(Now this comes up as a new avenue for the boasting) 

At one level, the observation may contain philosophical truth.

But now comes the harder examination.

Am I simply seeing something differently?

Or am I waiting for the opportunity to say something profound?

Am I thinking:

"If I say this (boasting avenue about seeing God even in flowers), people will realise how deeply I understand Jain philosophy"

"Aha, he sees beyond rituals."

"What vivek!"

"Hats off!"

If I am waiting for that reaction, then I need to be extremely careful.

Because now even my criticism of ritual has become a ritual of ego.

I have rejected one form of external display and created another:

the display of my own spiritual discernment.

That is a beautiful trap.

And it is still a trap.

---

9. THE SAME TRAP CAN ENTER EVERY PART OF ORDINARY LIFE

This vigilance cannot remain confined to temples, satsang and swadhyay.

If the goal is purification, then the entire day becomes the laboratory.

WAKING UP

"I am more disciplined than others."

"I wake up early."

"I have better routines."

"I understand the value of the body."

Stop.

Do I need the comparison?

Can I simply wake up and perform what needs to be performed without creating an identity around it?

---

BRUSHING MY TEETH

Even here, there can be irritation.

Someone is using the bathroom.

Someone has left something messy.

Someone is wasting water.

Someone is careless.

I immediately become internally superior.

Pause.

Can I see the fact without manufacturing a superior self?

---

TAKING CARE OF THE BODY

I exercise.

I eat carefully.

I sleep properly.

I maintain fitness.

These are useful.

But watch the transition:

"I take care of my body."

becomes

"I am disciplined."

becomes

"I have more awareness than people who neglect themselves."

becomes

"Look at those people."

The exercise was not the problem.

The identity created around the exercise is the problem.

---

EATING

"I eat better."

"They eat junk."

"I understand nutrition."

"They don't understand the body."

Again, distinguish practical discernment from egoic comparison.

I can choose what is appropriate for my body without needing another person to become inferior.

---

USING THE WASHROOM

Even the most ordinary human functions can become occasions for irritation, impatience, cleanliness judgements and superiority.

The test is not whether these reactions arise.

The test is:

How quickly do I see them?

Vigilance is not the absence of every thought.

Vigilance is the ability to catch the thought before I turn it into identity, judgement and further reaction.

---

10. WORK

This is probably one of the richest laboratories.

A colleague makes a mistake.

"I knew this would happen."

A team member does something poorly.

"These people need so much hand-holding."

Someone gets promoted.

"I deserve it more."

Someone gets credit.

"They don't even understand what they are doing."

A boss disagrees with me.

"How can someone at that level think like this?"

A junior challenges me.

"Who does he think he is?"

A senior praises me.

"Yes, they finally recognised my capability."

Someone ignores my contribution.

"They don't value me."

Someone criticises me.

"They don't understand me."

Someone succeeds.

"Let's see how long that lasts."

Someone fails.

"I could have done this much better."

These are not merely workplace thoughts.

They are mirrors.

Praise, blame, recognition, disrespect, comparison, status, authority and competence can all become fuel for ahankar.

The workplace therefore becomes an extraordinary test of spiritual maturity.

Not the temple.

The meeting room.

---

11. MANAGING A TEAM

Someone reports to me.

I have authority.

Now watch.

Do I need to dominate?

Do I enjoy being obeyed?

Do I become irritated when someone doesn't follow my instruction?

Can I admit that a junior knows something I don't?

Can I change my opinion publicly?

Can I say "I was wrong" without feeling diminished?

Can I give credit without wanting some in return?

Can I correct someone without humiliating them?

Can I praise someone without secretly comparing myself with them?

Can I delegate without thinking:

"Nobody can do this as well as me"?

Can I listen without mentally preparing my superior response?

These are not minor matters.

Authority is an ego laboratory.

---

12. SPEAKING TO BOSSES AND HIGHER MANAGEMENT

Here the ego may become more subtle.

I may become overly submissive because I want approval.

Or overly assertive because I want to establish importance.

I may want them to know that I am intelligent.

I may strategically display my knowledge.

I may exaggerate my contribution.

I may subtly undermine someone else's contribution.

I may wait for an opportunity to demonstrate that I know something they don't.

I may feel inferior in one meeting and superior in another.

Both can come from the same root:

"What does this interaction say about me?"

The external behaviour may differ.

The egoic centre remains.

---

13. WHEN I AM SHOWING MY SKILLS

This is another difficult one.

There are situations where I genuinely need to demonstrate competence.

An interview.

A presentation.

A client meeting.

A leadership discussion.

A professional negotiation.

A competition.

A project review.

There is nothing inherently wrong with communicating one's capabilities.

The question is:

Can I demonstrate competence without becoming attached to being seen as competent?

Can I present facts without embellishment?

Can I accept that someone else may be better?

Can I lose without feeling diminished?

Can I win without internally becoming superior?

Can I receive appreciation without feeding on it?

This distinction is critical.

Competence is not ego. Attachment to the identity of being competent is.

---

14. MONEY

Earning money is not itself the problem.

Using money responsibly is not the problem.

Saving, investing, spending and providing for oneself and one's family are part of ordinary life.

But observe the mind.

"I earn more than them."

"I understand money better."

"Look at how financially irresponsible they are."

"Look at how simple I am."

"Look at how much I have achieved."

"I don't need expensive things."

Or the reverse:

"I deserve better."

"I should have more."

"Why do they have this?"

"They don't deserve what they have."

Money can produce superiority.

Money can produce inferiority.

Both can keep the mind revolving around the self.

---

15. FRIENDS AND RELATIONSHIPS

Someone does not behave as I expect.

"They should understand me."

Someone doesn't call.

"They don't value me."

Someone receives more attention.

"Why them?"

Someone disagrees.

"How can they think like this?"

Someone behaves foolishly.

"People are unbelievable."

Someone behaves impressively.

"I wish I had that."

A relationship can become an enormous field of Raag and Dwesh.

And sometimes I can even become spiritually attached to being "the understanding one."

"I am always there for people."

"I understand everyone."

"I don't expect anything."

Even this can become identity.

Therefore I must ask:

Am I actually free of expectation, or have I simply become proud of how little I expect?

---

16. SOCIAL GATHERINGS AND PARTIES

I enter a gathering.

People discuss clothes, cars, holidays, money, achievements, food, relationships and possessions.

The mind says:

"How superficial."

"I am glad I am not like this."

"They are all caught in worldly things."

Again, perhaps the conversation really is superficial.

But why is my mind so pleased about noticing it?

Can I participate without attachment?

Can I listen without contempt?

Can I leave without creating a story about how spiritually superior I am?

Detachment does not require disdain for attachment.

---

17. MOVIES, OUTINGS AND HAPPINESS

I watch a movie.

I go on an outing.

I laugh.

I enjoy food.

I travel.

I play sport.

I spend time with friends.

I experience pleasure.

Then another spiritual ego can appear:

"Am I becoming attached?"

"Am I being too worldly?"

"Look at these people chasing pleasure."

Or alternatively:

"I know how to enjoy life without attachment."

"Even while enjoying this, I understand maaya."

Now I have turned even enjoyment into evidence of my spiritual sophistication.

The point is not to manufacture guilt around ordinary life.

The point is to observe the inner movement.

Can I enjoy without needing the experience to prove something about who I am?

---

18. SATSANG AND SWADHYAY

This may be the most dangerous territory of all.

I listen to a profound pravachan.

I read a powerful text.

I understand a subtle concept.

I experience clarity.

Then:

"Wow, I understand this."

And slowly:

"I understand this better than most people."

And eventually:

"People around me don't understand this at all."

The very knowledge intended to dissolve ignorance becomes an instrument of self-definition.

Therefore after every profound spiritual insight, another question should arise:

"Has this understanding reduced my Raag, Dwesh, krodh, maan, maya and lobh, or has it merely increased my vocabulary?"

This is a brutal but useful test.

If my spiritual vocabulary is growing much faster than my inner freedom, something needs examination.

---

19. THE MOST SUBTLE FORM: "I AM WATCHING MY EGO"

This may be the final trap.

I catch myself judging someone.

Then I think:

"Aha! I caught my ego."

And immediately I feel proud of how aware I am.

Now I have become proud of catching my ego.

Then:

"I am becoming very vigilant."

"I can see extremely subtle ego."

"I have reached another level of self-awareness."

And the ego has successfully survived the investigation.

Therefore even vigilance itself must be watched.

The observer must also be observed.

---

20. VIVEK IS NOT THE SAME AS SUPERIORITY

I must not misunderstand this reflection.

The answer is not to stop discerning.

I need vivek.

I need to distinguish:

Right from wrong.

Helpful from harmful.

Raag from non-attachment.

Dwesh from equanimity.

Awareness from unconsciousness.

Truth from falsehood.

Wisdom from ignorance.

Appropriate action from inappropriate action.

But vivek does not require:

"I am better."

It simply says:

"This is what I see. This is what I should do."

The moment it becomes:

"Therefore I am better than the person who does otherwise,"

vivek has been mixed with maan.

This distinction must become extremely clear.

21. THE BAROMETER

I need a simple internal barometer.

Whenever I experience a thought, action, achievement, interaction or spiritual insight, I can ask:

1. Is there comparison?

"Me versus them."

2. Is there superiority?

"I am better."

3. Is there inferiority?

"They are better."

Both keep the ego alive.

4. Is there a need to be seen?

"Will they notice?"

5. Is there a need to be right?

"Do they have to accept my view?"

6. Is there a need to advise?

"Do I need to fix them?"

7. Is there contempt?

"How can people be like this?"

8. Is there self-congratulation?

"Look at me."

9. Is there identity?

"I am disciplined."

"I am spiritual."

"I am simple."

"I am intelligent."

"I am detached."

"I am aware."

10. Is there Raag or Dwesh?

Do I want something because it strengthens my self-image?

Do I reject something because it threatens my self-image?

11. Is there insistence?

"Things must happen my way."

12. Is there hurt when my image is challenged?

If someone punctures my image of myself, how quickly does agitation arise?

This may be one of the most accurate tests of ego.

22. A DAILY VIGILANCE CHECK

At the end of the day, instead of asking:

"How spiritual was I today?"

I should ask:

"Where did I strengthen the I today?"

Where did I compare?

Where did I judge?

Where did I seek recognition?

Where did I feel superior?

Where did I feel inferior?

Where did I give unsolicited advice?

Where did I enjoy proving someone wrong?

Where did I need to be right?

Where did I become defensive?

Where did I secretly want appreciation?

Where did I boast?

Where did I pretend not to boast while secretly wanting someone to notice?

Where did I feel irritated because my importance was not recognised?

Where did I use spirituality to judge another person?

Where did I use my knowledge as identity?

Where did I turn discipline into superiority?

Where did I turn simplicity into superiority?

Where did I turn detachment into superiority?

Where did I turn silence into superiority?

Where did I turn even self-awareness into superiority?

And finally:

Where did I genuinely become lighter?

23. THE REAL MEASURE OF PROGRESS

Perhaps I need to stop measuring spiritual progress by how much I know.

Instead, look for these signs:

Am I becoming less reactive?

Less defensive?

Less judgmental?

Less dependent on recognition?

Less interested in proving myself?

Less disturbed when someone disagrees?

Less disturbed when someone gets credit?

Less disturbed when someone criticises me?

Less interested in correcting everyone?

Less attached to being right?

Less interested in comparing?

Less fascinated by my own spiritual progress?

More compassionate?

More equanimous?

More capable of admitting "I don't know"?

More capable of saying "I was wrong"?

More capable of remaining silent?

More capable of allowing another person to walk their own path?

More capable of seeing my own faults without collapsing into guilt?

More capable of doing the right thing without needing anyone to know?

If these are increasing, perhaps something real is happening.

If my spiritual knowledge is increasing while my maan is increasing alongside it, I need to be very careful.

24. THE FINAL IRONY

There is an especially subtle irony here.

I want to get rid of ego.

But the thought:

"I want to become egoless."

can itself become an ego project.

"I will become more spiritually advanced."

"I will purify myself faster."

"I will achieve liberation sooner."

"I will be more vigilant than everyone else."

"I will leave no stone unturned."

All of these intentions can contain something beautiful.

But they can also contain:

"I will become someone extraordinary."

Therefore even the desire for liberation needs vivek.

The goal cannot become another achievement for the ego.

Liberation is not another trophy that "I" will acquire.

The very movement of clinging to "I" is what must ultimately be understood.

25. SO WHAT SHOULD I DO?

Not suppress thoughts.

Not become paranoid about every thought.

Not stop functioning.

Not stop earning.

Not stop exercising.

Not stop enjoying life.

Not stop speaking.

Not stop advising when advice is genuinely needed.

Not stop distinguishing right from wrong.

Not stop having standards.

Not become passive.

Not become indifferent.

Not become artificially humble.

And certainly not start judging myself every minute for having an ego.

That would simply create another ego project.

Instead:

SEE.

See the thought.

See the comparison.

See the judgement.

See the superiority.

See the hurt.

See the desire for recognition.

See the need to advise.

See the need to be right.

See the subtle satisfaction of being "more aware."

And then do not feed it.

The thought may arise.

I don't have to become the thought.

The judgement may arise.

I don't have to build a story around it.

The ego may arise.

I don't have to protect it.

The desire for praise may arise.

I don't have to act on it.

The desire to correct someone may arise.

I can pause.

The desire to demonstrate my knowledge may arise.

I can ask whether speaking serves the other person or serves me.

This is where vigilance becomes real.

26. ONE QUESTION TO CARRY THROUGH THE ENTIRE DAY

Perhaps I do not need fifty rules.

Perhaps I need one question that follows me everywhere:

"What is happening to the 'I' right now?"

While brushing my teeth:

What is happening to the I?

While exercising:

What is happening to the I?

While eating:

What is happening to the I?

While earning money:

What is happening to the I?

While spending money:

What is happening to the I?

While managing my team:

What is happening to the I?

While speaking to my boss:

What is happening to the I?

While receiving praise:

What is happening to the I?

While receiving criticism:

What is happening to the I?

While talking to friends:

What is happening to the I?

While attending a party:

What is happening to the I?

While watching a movie:

What is happening to the I?

While travelling:

What is happening to the I?

While enjoying myself:

What is happening to the I?

While angry:

What is happening to the I?

While hurt:

What is happening to the I?

While helping someone:

What is happening to the I?

While giving advice:

What is happening to the I?

While remaining silent:

What is happening to the I?

While doing puja:

What is happening to the I?

While listening to pravachan:

What is happening to the I?

While doing swadhyay:

What is happening to the I?

While understanding a profound spiritual principle:

What is happening to the I?

27. THE HIGHEST VIGILANCE

Perhaps the deepest vigilance is not:

"I must become a better person than others."

Nor even:

"I must become a better spiritual person."

It is:

"Let me see clearly whatever is happening within, without turning even that seeing into an achievement of the ego."

I don't need to become superior.

I don't need to become spiritually impressive.

I don't need people to recognise my vivek.

I don't need to demonstrate my detachment.

I don't need to prove that I understand maaya.

I don't need to prove that I understand the soul.

I don't need to prove that I am simple.

I don't need to prove that I am disciplined.

I don't need to prove that I am progressing.

I don't even need to prove to myself that I am progressing.

I need to see.

Again and again.

Clearly.

Honestly.

Without decoration.

Without self-deception.

Without contempt for others.

Without fascination with myself.

And whenever the mind says:

"Look at them."

I can gently turn the mirror around.

"No. Look here."

Not with guilt.

Not with shame.

Not with self-hatred.

With vivek.

Because the purpose is not to become obsessed with my faults.

The purpose is to stop feeding them.

28. MY PERSONAL REMINDER

I have been given this human birth.

I do not know how much time is available.

I do not know how much spiritual opportunity I will have.

Therefore I want to use this life with extraordinary vigilance.

But even that aspiration must be watched.

I do not want:

"I will become liberated faster than others."

I want:

"Let me remove whatever obstructs liberation within me."

I do not want:

"I will become more spiritual."

I want:

"Let me become less bound."

I do not want:

"I will know more."

I want:

"Let what I know actually transform my bhav."

I do not want:

"I will be better than others."

I want:

"Let me stop using others as a measuring scale for myself."

I do not want:

"I will become someone spiritually extraordinary."

I want:

"Let the unnecessary 'I' become lighter."

And perhaps the most important reminder of all:

The person outside the temple is not my spiritual measuring scale.

The person sitting beside me in satsang is not my spiritual measuring scale.

My colleague is not my spiritual measuring scale.

My friend is not my spiritual measuring scale.

My family member is not my spiritual measuring scale.

The person who is more worldly than me is not my spiritual measuring scale.

The person who is more spiritual than me is not my spiritual measuring scale.

The only examination that truly belongs to me is:

What is happening within this consciousness, right now?

That is where the work is.

That is where the vigilance is.

That is where the battle is.

And that is where freedom has to begin.

7. Tweaked version of the immediate previous blog.

 The below write-up is a tweaked version of the immediate previous one (https://so-what-dilip.blogspot.com/2026/09/6-walking-watching-deviating-returning.html)

Paryushan Day 5: From Daman to Shaman, From Identification to Saakshibhaav

It is so critical to be calm amid the chaos.

But perhaps the deeper question is not merely:

"How do I remain calm?"

Perhaps the deeper question is:

"What is it that makes me disturbed in the first place?"

The more I contemplate this, the more I see two very different approaches.

One is Daman.

An effort to control the reaction.

Someone says something unpleasant, I try not to react.

A situation goes against me, I try to remain calm.

Something unexpected happens, I tell myself to stay composed.

There is value in this. Restraint is certainly better than an uncontrolled reaction.

But there is a vulnerability here.

If calmness depends primarily on my ability to control the reaction, then the calmness remains somewhat conditional. When the stimulus becomes stronger than my capacity to control it, the reaction can break through.

The other approach, as I experience it, is Shaman.

Not forced calmness, but the subsiding of the very basis of the disturbance.

And that requires understanding.

The disturbance is not merely caused by what happened outside.

It is caused by my identification with what happened.

What is happening to whom?

This is where Saakshibhaav becomes important for me.

The body is experiencing something.

The mind is producing thoughts.

Emotions are arising.

The ego is interpreting an event as "my insult", "my loss", "my success", "my failure", "my problem".

Circumstances are continuously changing.

But the Jiva is not identical to any of these temporary manifestations.

The body is Ajiva.

The mind, in its material aspect, belongs to the realm of Ajiva.

Circumstances are Ajiva.

Thoughts and emotions arise as states associated with the interaction of the Jiva with karmic and material conditions.

The more clearly I understand this distinction, the more naturally a certain witnessing awareness begins to arise.

A simple example makes the point.

Suppose someone insults a stranger in front of me.

I may feel empathy.

I may understand that the person has been hurt.

I may even feel disturbed by the injustice.

But I generally do not experience the insult as an attack on "me".

Why?

Because I am not identified with it.

Now suppose exactly the same words are directed towards me.

Suddenly the mind says:

"He insulted me."

And the reaction changes.

The words may be identical.

The external event may be almost identical.

But identification has changed.

That is worth observing.

Perhaps the real problem is not merely the event.

Perhaps the deeper problem is the Mamata and identification with the body, mind, ego, role, possession, reputation and circumstance that makes the event "mine".

And that is where Saakshibhaav becomes much more than simply "staying calm".

It becomes an exercise in right seeing.

From reaction to awareness

This also changes my understanding of Shaman.

Shaman is not:

"I should suppress my anger."

It is not:

"I should pretend I am unaffected."

And it certainly is not:

"Nothing matters."

That would simply be another form of Daman, or perhaps indifference.

Instead, the movement is towards seeing the arising of anger, hurt, fear, attachment or ego with increasing clarity.

The emotion may arise.

But I begin to see:

This is a state arising in the mind. It is not the entirety of what I am.

The anger can be observed.

The hurt can be observed.

The desire can be observed.

The fear can be observed.

Even the ego's insistence that "I am right" can be observed.

And once something is being observed with sufficient awareness, identification with it begins to loosen.

This is where I see a beautiful connection between Saakshibhaav and Upayoga.

The question is not merely whether my mind is quiet.

The question is:

Where is my awareness directed?

What am I identifying with?

What am I repeatedly dwelling upon?

What is occupying my consciousness?

The journey therefore is not simply from an agitated mind to a calm mind.

It is from unawareness to awareness.

From identification to discernment.

From Kashaya-driven reaction towards increasing equanimity.

And ultimately, from bondage towards the conditions that support Samvara and Nirjara.

The strange paradox of spiritual understanding

The more I explore Jain philosophy and the scriptures, the more fascinating this becomes.

There appear to be layers and layers of depth.

Yet the deeper I go, the simpler the essential understanding seems to become.

That feels almost paradoxical.

More understanding.

Less complication.

More awareness.

Less reaction.

More discernment.

Less insistence.

More clarity.

Less identification.

And somewhere underneath all this lies a thought that genuinely makes me stop:

What have I been doing since the beginningless state of time?

If the Jiva is intrinsically different from the body and Ajiva, and if bondage is sustained through the mechanisms of Kashaya and karmic bondage, then perhaps my greatest challenge is not discovering something completely new.

Perhaps it is recognising what I have repeatedly failed to recognise.

And perhaps that is why the path can simultaneously feel extraordinarily deep and extraordinarily simple.

Walking matters

But understanding alone is not enough.

Walking matters.

Purusharth matters.

Knowing the direction matters.

I need to walk on the path that leads towards the purpose I am serving.

And I also need the humility to accept that I may deviate.

I may take a detour.

I may forget.

I may become identified.

I may react.

I may fall back into old patterns.

But a deviation does not have to become a destination.

The moment discernment recognises the deviation, the next Purusharth is simply to manoeuvre back.

This is where Vivek and discernment become crucial.

Perhaps spiritual progress is not merely accumulating more beliefs.

It may actually require me to question some of the beliefs I already have.

To attack my own insistences.

To examine the things I defend most strongly.

To ask:

"Is this really understanding?"

"Or is this simply my attachment to my understanding?"

"Am I seeking truth?"

"Or am I seeking confirmation of what I already believe?"

That distinction can be uncomfortable.

But perhaps genuine openness requires exactly this.

If the exploration is honest, the results can be phenomenal.

The milestones become marvelous not because I have acquired something to display, but because something within me has genuinely shifted.

Paryushan, restraints and the instrument

Paryushan naturally places considerable emphasis on restraints.

And I understand why.

Restraints are tangible.

They are visible.

They make these eight days externally different from ordinary routine life.

They give expression to an internal intention.

But precisely because they are visible, I need to be careful.

The restraint is an instrument.

The transformation is the purpose.

If the instrument itself becomes the destination, something fundamental may be missed.

I am certainly not saying that restraints are wrong.

That would be a misplaced conclusion.

Restraint is deeply relevant to the Jain path.

Austerity, vows, control of the senses, fasting, limiting possessions and various other forms of disciplined conduct can have profound spiritual value.

But their value cannot be measured merely by their external appearance.

What is happening to my Raag and Dwesh?

What is happening to my Kashaya?

What is happening to my attachment?

What is happening to my ego?

What is happening to my awareness?

What is happening to my relationship with the things I call "mine"?

That is where I need to look.

Otherwise, I may possess the right instrument and still use it for the wrong purpose.

I may have a hammer in my hand and use it as a paperweight.

The problem is not with the hammer.

The problem is that I am not using the hammer as a hammer.

Similarly, the question is not whether I am undertaking enough restraint.

The deeper question is:

Is the restraint helping me move in the direction for which the restraint exists?

And here again, perhaps quality begins to matter more than quantity.

Not because quantity is irrelevant.

But because the inner comprehension behind the restraint determines whether it is merely an external discipline or whether it is actually contributing to the larger spiritual journey.

If the understanding is becoming deeper, the restraint becomes meaningful.

If Raag and Dwesh are reducing, the restraint becomes meaningful.

If identification is reducing, the restraint becomes meaningful.

If awareness is increasing, the restraint becomes meaningful.

If Samvara is being supported and the causes of further bondage are being weakened, the restraint is serving its purpose.

Then the path becomes clearer.

The footwear is set.

The navigation is known.

The direction is established.

The pace may vary.

Pit stops may happen.

Detours may happen.

But I know where I am going.

Purusharth without unnecessary burden

Life, meanwhile, will continue to happen.

There may be unexpected issues at the workplace.

There may be challenges within the family.

There may be situations in the outer world that genuinely require action.

Saakshibhaav cannot become an excuse for passivity.

If something needs to be solved, I need to solve it.

If something needs to be corrected, I need to correct it.

If Purusharth is required, I need to give it fully.

Perhaps even more than 100 percent.

But there is an important distinction between complete Purusharth and complete ownership of the outcome.

I can give my best without carrying the entire universe on my head.

I can act intensely without creating unnecessary pressure.

I can take responsibility without creating unnecessary anxiety.

I can make every possible effort while remembering that the final unfolding is not entirely in my control.

And this is where a line that I repeatedly come back to becomes meaningful:

"Gnaani na gnaan ma je aavyu chhe te j thashe."

For me, this does not mean:

"Do nothing because everything is predetermined."

That would be a dangerous misunderstanding.

It means:

Do your Purusharth completely, but do not confuse Purusharth with control over the entire outcome.

My responsibility is the effort.

The karmic arrangement and its unfolding are not mine to command.

That understanding does not reduce Purusharth.

It purifies the relationship with the result.

And perhaps that itself is a form of freedom.

The beautiful arrangement

When I step back and look at the larger picture, one thought fills me with a very different kind of gratitude:

Sat, Dev, Guru, Dharma ni aseem krupa chhe.

Eternally. Forever. Always.

And alongside this:

Karmo ni fantastic arrangements chhe. So far.

The two together make the journey strangely beautiful.

The grace of Sat, Dev, Guru and Dharma provides the direction, the discernment and the opportunity.

The karmic arrangement provides the field in which that Purusharth unfolds.

I do not have to like every circumstance.

I do not have to call every difficulty pleasant.

I do not have to deny pain.

But I can perhaps learn to see the larger arrangement without constantly fighting the fact that it is unfolding.

That brings a different kind of peace.

Not the peace of:

"Everything will happen the way I want."

But the peace of:

"Everything does not have to happen the way I want for me to continue walking correctly."

That is a very different peace.

And perhaps this is where Daman gradually gives way to Shaman.

I am not repeatedly telling myself:

"Do not react. Do not react. Do not react."

I am beginning to understand:

"Why should I identify with this reaction in the first place?"

That question changes everything.

Perhaps the shore is closer than I think

I strongly feel:

"Ek ansh shaata hi karine purnamkaamta sudhi ni sarva Samadhi nu kaaran Sat, Dev, Guru ane Dharma chhe."

This is not merely an emotional statement for me.

There is a logic behind it.

The discernment that I have today did not appear from nowhere.

Whatever understanding has brought me to this point has itself emerged through the journey so far.

Which makes me wonder:

Perhaps I am closer to the shore than I realise.

I am not claiming that I have reached the other side.

Far from it.

There is still plenty to see.

Plenty to understand.

Plenty to unlearn.

Plenty of Raag and Dwesh to observe.

Plenty of identification to catch.

Plenty of Purusharth to make.

Plenty of times when I will forget the witness and become the experience.

But perhaps the direction is becoming clearer.

And perhaps that clarity itself is a blessing.

So I want to keep walking.

Not obsessing over the pace.

Not becoming arrogant about the distance already covered.

Not becoming despondent about the distance that remains.

Just walking.

And when I realise that I have deviated, returning.

When I realise that I am identified, observing.

When I realise that I am reacting, understanding.

When I realise that an insistence has taken over, questioning.

When Purusharth is required, acting.

When the outcome is beyond my control, letting go of the unnecessary burden of ownership.

And throughout it all, attempting to remain in Saakshibhaav.

Perhaps this is what I am increasingly beginning to understand:

The goal is not to escape life.

The goal is to see life correctly.

To know the difference between the Jiva and what is not the Jiva.

To recognise the arising of Raag and Dwesh without becoming their servant.

To use restraints as instruments rather than trophies.

To undertake Purusharth without arrogance about the result.

To cultivate discernment without becoming attached even to one's own understanding.

And to keep walking towards that state where the disturbances do not merely get controlled, but gradually lose their foundation.

The deeper I go, the simpler it seems.

And the simpler it seems, the more astonishing the question becomes:

If this understanding is so simple, what have I been doing since beginningless time?

Perhaps Paryushan is not asking me to become someone else in these eight days.

Perhaps it is asking me to see, even for a few moments, what I have always been failing to see.

And perhaps that one moment of seeing is worth far more than everything I may externally manage to demonstrate.

Keep walking.

Keep observing.

Keep discerning.

Keep doing the Purusharth.

And whenever I wander away from the path,

return.

Then walk again.

6. Walking, Watching, Deviating, Returning.

Paryushan Day 5: Walking, Watching and Returning to the Path

It is so critical to be calm amid the chaos.

The more I think about it, the more I feel that there are predominantly two ways of approaching this calmness.

One is Daman.

An effort to control the mind, control the reactions and somehow remain calm in the middle of a difficult situation.

This can certainly work. At times, it works beautifully.

But there is a limitation. When calmness is an effort, the possibility of fumbling always remains. The moment the pressure becomes greater than my capacity to control, the suppressed reaction can surface.

The other is Shaman.

Not forced calmness, but a natural settling.

And perhaps the difference between the two lies in understanding rather than effort.

When the logic is truly understood and becomes deeply settled within, peace does not have to be manufactured. It begins to happen naturally.

The logic, for me, is awareness.

Awareness that what is happening is happening to the body, the mind, the ego, the circumstances and the identities associated with them.

And "I" am the one witnessing it.

I find a simple example useful.

If someone insults a stranger in front of me, I may feel empathy. I may understand the pain. I may even feel disturbed by the injustice.

But somewhere within, there is clarity that the insult is not happening to me.

I can witness it without becoming the victim of it.

The moment the same insult is directed towards me, however, something changes.

Why?

The event has not fundamentally changed.

My identification with the event has changed.

And that, perhaps, is where Saakshibhaav begins becoming more than an idea.

It becomes a way of seeing.

A way of living.

A way of remembering that there is a distinction between what is happening and the one who is witnessing what is happening.

The deeper I explore the scriptures, the more fascinating this becomes.

There seem to be layers and layers of understanding.

And strangely, the deeper I go, the simpler it seems to become.

That itself feels almost paradoxical.

More understanding, less complication.

More clarity, less struggle.

More awareness, less reaction.

And somewhere underneath all of this lies a thought that repeatedly makes me stop and wonder:

What have I been doing since the beginningless state of time?

Perhaps this is why the journey matters so much.

Walking is important.

Walking on the path that leads towards the purpose I am here to serve is important.

But perhaps equally important is having the clarity that if I deviate, or take a detour, I can recognise it and manoeuvre my way back.

A detour does not have to become a destination.

A mistake does not have to become an identity.

A deviation does not mean the path has disappeared.

I simply need enough discernment to recognise where I am and enough Purusharth to return.

And this discernment seems to play a crucial role.

Perhaps spiritual growth is not merely about collecting more beliefs.

It may actually require me to attack some of my own beliefs.

To question my insistences.

To examine the things I hold on to so tightly.

To ask myself:

"Is this really true?"

"Or do I simply want it to be true?"

"Is this understanding?"

"Or is this another form of attachment to my own understanding?"

If the exploration is undertaken with openness, something remarkable can happen.

The exploration itself becomes transformative.

The milestones become more meaningful because they are not milestones of achievement. They are milestones of understanding.

Restraints and the real purpose of Paryushan

Paryushan naturally brings a greater focus on restraints.

Perhaps that is understandable.

Restraints are visible.

They make these eight days look different from our routine lives. They provide an external expression to something that is essentially an internal journey.

And because I live within a social setup, I inevitably participate in that external expression too.

But this also makes me wonder:

What happens when the restraint becomes more important than the transformation it is supposed to facilitate?

If the journey is internal, and the experience can ultimately only be experienced rather than explained, then an external restraint can become either a powerful tool or merely an external display.

The difference lies in what is happening within.

I am certainly not saying that restraints are wrong.

Far from it.

A restraint can be an incredibly powerful instrument.

But an instrument has value only when it is used for the purpose for which it exists.

I may have a hammer in my hand, but if I use it as a paperweight, the problem is not with the hammer.

I am simply not using the hammer as a hammer.

Perhaps the same applies to restraints.

If a restraint becomes a means of proving something, showing something, or accumulating a sense of spiritual superiority, its deeper purpose may get diluted.

There may still be some punya involved. There may still be some discipline. There may still be some benefit.

But is that what the restraint was really meant for?

This is where introspection becomes important.

And there is another thought that has been coming to me.

Perhaps, as understanding deepens, the quantity of restraints matters less than their quality.

Not because quantity is irrelevant, but because the real value of a restraint lies in whether I am comprehending and aligning with the purpose behind it.

If that alignment is happening, then bingo.

The path becomes clearer.

The footwear is set.

The navigation is known.

The direction is established.

The pace may vary.

Pit stops may happen.

Detours may happen.

I may even stumble.

But that is okay.

What matters is that I know the path and, more importantly, I know the purpose.

Purusharth and what is not in my hands

Of course, life will continue to bring situations.

There may be unexpected issues at the workplace.

There may be challenges in the family.

There may be situations in the outer world that demand my attention.

I cannot use Saakshibhaav as an excuse for passivity.

If something needs to be done, it needs to be done.

If a problem needs to be solved, it needs to be solved.

If Purusharth is required, I need to put in 100 percent, perhaps even more.

But there is a subtle difference between giving 100 percent and carrying 100 percent of the outcome on my head.

That distinction feels important.

I need to put in my Purusharth fully.

But at the same time, I want to keep reminding myself:

Gnaani na gnaan ma je aavyu chhe, te j thashe.

What is destined to unfold according to the understanding of the Gnaani will unfold.

This does not reduce my effort.

It simply reduces my unnecessary ownership of the result.

I can work intensely without inviting unnecessary pressure.

I can act completely without becoming consumed by anxiety.

I can give my best without believing that the universe has appointed me as the sole manager of the outcome.

Perhaps this too is Saakshibhaav.

Doing what is mine to do.

Witnessing what unfolds.

And maintaining the discernment to know the difference.

The larger picture

When I step back and look at all of this, one thought keeps returning:

Sat, Dev, Guru and Dharma ni aseem krupa chhe. Eternally. Forever. Always.

And alongside that:

Karmo ni fantastic arrangements chhe. So far.

There is something deeply peaceful in seeing both together.

The Grace is infinite.

The karmic arrangements are precise.

And within this combination, everything begins to look strangely beautiful.

Even the difficult parts.

Even the detours.

Even the situations that I initially want to resist.

Perhaps the serenity does not come from believing that everything will happen according to what I want.

It comes from understanding that everything does not have to happen according to what I want.

That is a very different kind of peace.

And perhaps this is where the journey from Daman towards Shaman begins.

Not by trying harder to remain peaceful.

But by understanding more deeply why I need not be disturbed in the first place.

The body will experience.

The mind will react.

The ego will claim.

Circumstances will change.

Karmas will unfold.

I will continue to do my Purusharth.

And through all of this, there is an invitation to remain a witness.

Not indifferent.

Not irresponsible.

Not detached from the world in the sense of becoming insensitive.

But aware.

Participating fully, while remembering that I am not merely the participant.

Perhaps I am closer than I think

I strongly feel:

"Ek ansh shaata hi karine purnamkaamta sudhi ni sarva samadhi nu kaaran Sat, Dev, Guru ane Dharma chhe."

Even a small fraction of true peace, when understood and lived rightly, can become a cause for moving towards completeness and ultimate Samadhi.

And this is not merely an emotional statement for me.

There is a logic behind it.

The discernment that exists today did not appear from nowhere.

Whatever understanding has brought me here has itself emerged through the journey so far.

Which makes me wonder whether I am perhaps much closer to the shore than I realise.

I may not have reached the other side.

There may still be a lot of walking left.

There may be many more detours to recognise.

Many more beliefs to question.

Many more insistences to drop.

Many more restraints to understand.

Many more moments in which I will forget the witness and identify with the happening.

But perhaps that is okay.

I know the direction.

I know the purpose.

I know that I need to keep walking.

And whenever I realise that I have wandered away, I need to simply turn back and continue.

No drama.

No despair.

No unnecessary guilt.

Just awareness.

Just discernment.

Just Purusharth.

And above all, Saakshibhaav.

Perhaps that is the real beauty of the path.

The deeper the understanding becomes, the less complicated the journey becomes.

And one day, perhaps, I will look back and realise that the path, the walker and the destination were never as separate as I imagined them to be.

5. Parigrah: The Possession I cannot see.

PARIGRAH: The possession I cannot see!

WHAT AM I STILL CALLING "MINE"?

(Day 4 of Paryushan)

When I hear the word Parigrah, my mind normally goes towards possessions.

How many clothes do I have?

How many pairs of footwear?

How much money?

How much property?

How much do I really need?

And rightly so.

External Parigrah does require restraint. Limiting possessions, reducing unnecessary accumulation, simplifying our needs, looking at wealth carefully and becoming conscious of how much time and energy we spend in earning and collecting are all important steps on the spiritual path.

But does the buck stop there?

Is Parigrah only about what I possess outside?

Or is there something much deeper that I need to look at?

---

The Parigrah that I can see

External Parigrah is relatively easy to understand.

Kshetra: land and property

Vastu: houses and buildings

Hiranya: silver and coins

Suvarna: gold

Dhana: wealth and money

Dhanya: grains and food

Dasa-Dasi: servants

Chatushpad: animals and other such possessions

Kupya: clothes and garments

Shayyasana: beds, seats and furniture

These are visible.

I can count them.

I can measure them.

I can reduce them.

I can even renounce them.

And that is exactly where I need to be careful.

I may reduce my possessions outside and still remain full of possessions inside.

I may have fewer clothes but more pride.

Less wealth but more attachment.

A smaller house but a bigger ego.

Fewer possessions but greater fear of losing the few that remain.

Less accumulation outside, while continuously accumulating inside.

Then what exactly have I renounced?

---

The Parigrah that I cannot see

The internal Parigrahas are far more difficult to notice.

Mithyatva: wrong belief or wrong understanding

Krodha: anger

Maan: pride or ego

Maya: deceit

Lobh: greed

Hasya: laughter or mockery out of contempt

Raati: attachment and pleasurable indulgence

Araati: discontent or dejection

Bhay: fear

Shok: sorrow

Jugupsa: disgust or aversion

Purusha-veda: male sexual urge

Stree-veda: female sexual urge

Napunsaka-veda: neuter sexual urge

Now Parigrah becomes much more personal.

Because I cannot simply leave these at home.

I carry them everywhere.

I cannot put them in a cupboard.

I cannot donate them.

I cannot sell them.

I cannot count them.

They silently travel with me into every thought, every interaction and every reaction.

And perhaps the most uncomfortable realisation is this:

I can give up an object and still remain deeply attached to it inside.

---

What exactly am I holding?

If Parigrah is connected with Mamatva, the feeling of "mine", then I need to ask myself a much deeper question:

What am I continuously calling "mine"?

My body.

My wealth.

My house.

My family.

My reputation.

My knowledge.

My achievements.

My opinions.

My image.

My relationships.

My success.

My failures.

My fears.

My desires.

Even my spirituality.

And perhaps the most subtle possession of all:

"My spiritual progress."

The moment I say, "I am progressing spiritually", who is this "I" that is claiming the progress?

Can even the identity of being a spiritual person become another possession?

Can renunciation itself become something I am proud of?

Can detachment itself become another achievement of the ego?

This is where Parigrah becomes truly sukshma.

Very subtle.

Almost invisible.

---

Why is Bhay, fear, a Parigrah?

This is where the teaching becomes very deep for me.

Why should Bhay, fear, be considered an internal Parigrah?

Because fear often has a hidden thought behind it:

"I am going to lose something that is mine."

My body.

My life.

My wealth.

My relationship.

My status.

My security.

My future.

My identity.

If there is no feeling of "mine", then what exactly am I afraid of losing?

And therefore fear shows me something deeper.

Behind fear may be attachment.

Behind attachment may be Mamatva.

Behind Mamatva may be identification.

And behind that identification may be Mithyatva, the wrong belief.

This is why something as ordinary as fear can become such a deep spiritual mirror.

I am not merely afraid.

I am afraid because somewhere I have created a "mine".

---

And then Mithyatva becomes even more important

Among all the internal Parigrahas, Mithyatva makes me stop and think.

Wrong belief is not just one more item in the list.

It goes to the root.

If I take the non-Self to be the Self, if I take the temporary to be permanent, if I take the body and its experiences to be the real "I", then the whole structure of attachment can begin from there.

The body becomes "me".

The possessions become "mine".

Pleasure becomes "mine".

Pain becomes "mine".

Praise becomes "mine".

Insult becomes "mine".

Fear becomes "mine".

Desire becomes "mine".

And then the cycle continues.

I protect what is mine.

I acquire what is mine.

I defend what is mine.

I fear losing what is mine.

I become angry when someone interferes with what is mine.

I become proud because of what is mine.

I deceive to protect what is mine.

I become greedy to acquire more of what is mine.

And one wrong belief can therefore create an entire world of bondage.

---

This is where the core of Jainism starts connecting beautifully

There are two thoughts that I deeply relate to:

"Jyaan tyaan thi Raag-Dwesh rahit thavu e dharm chhe."

To become free from Raag and Dwesh, wherever they arise, is Dharma.

And:

"Sharir ne Self maanvu e wrong belief chhe."

To consider the body as the Self is wrong belief.

When I put these two thoughts together with Parigrah, the connection becomes very clear.

If I take the body to be the Self, then the feeling of "I" and "mine" starts becoming bigger and bigger.

And wherever there is "mine", there is something to protect.

Where there is something to protect, there is fear.

Where there is obstruction, there is anger.

Where there is comparison, there is pride.

Where there is acquisition, there is greed.

Where there is something to hide, there is deceit.

Where there is attraction, there is Raag.

Where there is resistance, there is Dwesh.

And slowly, all these seemingly different things begin to connect.

**The problem is not simply that I possess things.

The problem is that I become possessive about them.**

---

Parigrah and the 18 Paaps

This also gives me a different way of looking at the 18 Paaps.

Hinsa.

Jhooth.

Chori.

Abrahmacharya.

Parigrah.

Krodh.

Maan.

Maya.

Lobh.

Raag.

Dwesh.

Klesh.

Abhyakhyaan.

Paishunya.

Par-Parivaad.

Raati-Araati.

Maya-Mrushavaad.

Mithyatva.

I would not say that all 18 Paaps are technically just different forms of Parigrah.

But they are deeply connected.

Again and again, the same things keep appearing:

Attachment.

Aversion.

Ego.

Desire.

Identification.

Wrong belief.

Mamatva.

If something is "mine", I may commit Hinsa to protect it.

I may lie to protect it.

I may steal to acquire it.

I may indulge for it.

I may become angry when it is threatened.

I may become proud because I possess it.

I may deceive someone for it.

I may develop Raag towards it and Dwesh towards whoever comes in the way.

So the external object may be very small.

But the internal attachment to that object can be enormous.

---

The real danger is not possession. It is identification.

This distinction is very important.

Having something externally is one thing.

Being mentally and emotionally tied to what I have is another.

A person may possess very little and still be deeply attached.

Another person may have many external responsibilities and yet be far less possessive internally.

Therefore the question cannot be only:

"How much do I own?"

It has to become:

"How much owns me?"

How much does my reputation own me?

How much does praise own me?

How much does criticism own me?

How much does comfort own me?

How much does certainty own me?

How much does security own me?

How much does my image of myself own me?

How much does my expectation of how others should behave own me?

How much does my own body own me?

And perhaps the deepest question:

How much does my idea of "myself" own me?

---

The danger of shallow renunciation

This is where I need to be very careful.

I do not want to congratulate myself simply because I have reduced some external possessions.

That reduction is valuable.

But it cannot become a certificate of spiritual progress.

If I give away ten things and become proud of having given them away, then what happened?

The objects left.

But the possessor remained.

Perhaps the possession simply changed its form.

"I own this" became:

"I have renounced this."

And suddenly even renunciation became "mine".

This is why the inner examination has to go much deeper.

**The goal is not merely to reduce the number of things around me.

The goal is to reduce the intensity of "mine" within me.**

---

The microscopic examination

Perhaps this is where I need to take my Paryushan introspection to the next level.

Before I react, can I watch?

Before I defend myself, can I watch?

Before anger arises, can I see the attachment underneath it?

Before fear arises, can I see what I am afraid of losing?

Before pride arises, can I see what identity I am protecting?

Before greed arises, can I see what I believe I still need?

Before aversion arises, can I see what I am refusing to accept?

Before sorrow overwhelms me, can I see what I am calling "mine"?

Before desire pulls me, can I see the identification behind it?

And before I call something "myself", can I pause and ask:

Is this really the Self?

This is where Saakshi Bhaav becomes meaningful.

Not as another concept.

Not as another spiritual achievement.

But simply as watchfulness.

Seeing.

Knowing.

Observing.

Without immediately becoming the reaction.

---

The dirt is not always visible

External Parigrah is visible.

I can see it.

I can understand it.

I can consciously reduce it.

Internal Parigrah is different.

It can build up in tiny layers.

One thought.

One preference.

One resistance.

One small ego.

One expectation.

One fear.

One judgement.

One desire for recognition.

One need to be right.

One need to be appreciated.

One need to control.

One need to feel secure.

One need to be somebody.

Each one may appear very small.

But repeated again and again, these small attachments become layers.

Those layers become habits.

Those habits keep creating Raag and Dwesh.

And Raag and Dwesh keep becoming causes of further karmic bondage.

So perhaps the real spiritual practice is not only the dramatic renunciation that everyone can see.

It is the small renunciation that nobody sees.

Giving up one unnecessary reaction.

One unnecessary expectation.

One unnecessary identification.

One unnecessary "mine".

One unnecessary "I".

Again and again.

---

Paryushan becomes an experiment in vigilance

I do not want to complete Paryushan thinking:

"I have reduced my possessions."

I want to complete it asking:

"What possessions have I discovered inside myself?"

What am I still defending?

What am I still demanding?

What am I still afraid to lose?

What am I still calling mine?

What am I still calling myself?

Where am I still creating Raag?

Where am I still creating Dwesh?

Where is Mithyatva quietly operating?

Where is ego hiding behind spirituality?

Where is attachment hiding behind love?

Where is fear hiding behind prudence?

Where is greed hiding behind ambition?

Where is pride hiding behind self-respect?

Where is aversion hiding behind principle?

These are uncomfortable questions.

But perhaps these are exactly the questions I need to ask.

---

I do not want to become satisfied too early

There is a danger in every spiritual practice.

I can perform it.

I can understand it.

I can discuss it.

I can write about it.

I can even feel deeply moved by it.

And then I can become satisfied that I have understood it.

But understanding Parigrah intellectually is not freedom from Parigrah.

Knowing the definition is not witnessing the attachment.

Speaking about Mamatva is not dissolving Mamatva.

Reducing possessions is not necessarily reducing possessiveness.

And writing about detachment is certainly not the same as becoming detached.

Therefore this reflection itself must not become another possession.

**I do not want to possess this understanding.

I want to use it.**

As a mirror.

As a warning.

As an instrument of awareness.

As a reminder to watch.

And then even this reminder must eventually be left behind.

---

The question I want to carry forward

Perhaps my deepest question is no longer:

"What should I give up?"

It is:

"What am I still calling mine?"

And then, one level deeper:

"Who is the 'I' that is calling it mine?"

And one level deeper still:

"What am I truly?"

If these questions remain alive within me, perhaps Paryushan has served its purpose.

Because the objective is not to create another identity of being a renunciate.

Not to become proud of simplicity.

Not to accumulate spiritual knowledge.

Not even to become attached to the idea of Liberation.

The direction is much simpler:

To see Raag and Dwesh wherever they arise.

To recognise Mithyatva wherever it operates.

To watch Mamatva wherever "mine" is born.

To become increasingly alert about the smallest movements of attachment and aversion.

To separate the Self from everything that is not the Self.

And slowly, layer by layer, to stop adding to the accumulation.

---

Perhaps this is the real Parigrah introspection

External Parigrah asks:

What do I have?

Internal Parigrah asks:

What has me?

Deeper introspection asks:

What am I calling "mine"?

Still deeper introspection asks:

Who is the "I" that claims ownership?

And perhaps the journey towards Liberation is the gradual falling away of these false claims.

Not dramatically.

Not superficially.

But at the smallest and most subtle level.

Because the karmic bondage can be very subtle.

My awareness therefore has to become subtler.

My watchfulness has to become subtler.

My Saakshi Bhaav has to become subtler.

And my renunciation has to become subtler.

Until there is nothing left to possess, nothing left to protect, nothing left to defend, nothing left to fear losing, and ultimately no false "I" left to claim anything as "mine".

That is the direction.

That is the vigilance I seek.

And perhaps, on Day 4 of Paryushan, this is the question worth sitting silently with:

"Mara ma shu chhe je haju pan 'maru' chhe?"

What within me is still saying: "This is mine"?

4. The third day note to the Self.

On this third day of Paryushan, I want to remind myself of something that appears extremely simple, yet is perhaps one of the easiest things to lose sight of.

The purpose of Tap is not merely to make the body endure discomfort.

The purpose is not the fasting.

The purpose is not the discipline.

The purpose is not the ritual.

The purpose is not even the austerity itself.

The purpose is what all of these are meant to facilitate within.

To heat water, one has to heat the vessel.

If I consider the body to be the vessel and the karmic bondage to be associated with the soul, then Tap becomes the process through which I deliberately put the vessel through discipline so that the deeper work of shedding karma can take place.

But there is a danger in this analogy.

I can become so fascinated by heating the vessel that I forget why I started heating it in the first place.

I can become attached to the fasting instead of becoming detached through fasting.

I can become proud of the austerity instead of becoming humble through it.

I can start seeking appreciation, recognition, maan, praise, validation or admiration.

And then I have to stop and ask myself:

What exactly am I accomplishing?

If the body is being disciplined but the ego is being nourished, have I really understood Tap?

If everyone around me notices my austerity but I fail to notice my own anger, attachment, pride, greed, reactions and subtle expectations, then what have I actually observed?

The external process may be correct.

But the internal direction may have quietly changed.

That is the vigilance I need.

THE SEARCH

For more than a decade, I was searching for someone who had truly understood, someone who had attained something profound and yet remained deeply grounded.

At times, the search was almost desperate.

Then something changed.

I realised that I was searching outside for something whose real verification had to happen inside.

Yes, finding an accomplished and grounded person can be immensely valuable.

But if I become excessively occupied with identifying the "right" person, examining everyone's behaviour, judging their character and searching for visible signs of attainment, I may completely miss the path itself.

The enlightened ones have already shown the path.

The path is ONE.

My responsibility is to walk.

I need the discernment to recognise authentic guidance, certainly. But once I recognise it, I cannot spend my entire life standing at the railway station analysing which train looks most perfect.

I have to get on the train.

I have to walk.

I have to practise.

I have to observe.

I have to transform.

And perhaps, as the old saying goes:

When the student is ready, the master appears.

Mare maari paatrata par kaam karta rehvaanu chhe.

Nimit pratyaksh male ke paroksh, nimit malshe j.

My work is to keep becoming eligible.

THE VEHICLE AND THE DRIVER

Another reminder to myself:

I must not confuse decorating the vehicle with reaching the destination.

The body matters.

The mind matters.

Discipline matters.

Ritual matters.

Tap matters.

But they are the vehicle.

I have to remember where the driver is supposed to go.

If I spend all my energy polishing the vehicle while forgetting the destination, I have missed the entire journey.

The body can become extremely disciplined while the consciousness remains undisciplined.

The tongue can remain silent while the mind continues arguing.

The body can fast while the ego feasts.

The hands can perform rituals while the inner self continues reacting.

That is why the real Tap has to eventually become an inner Tap.

THE REAL PRACTICE

So during these eight days of Paryushan, I want to treat every situation as an opportunity for practice.

Not merely the situations that are comfortable.

Especially the ones that are not.

If karma presents me with something unpleasant, let me observe.

If someone praises me, let me observe.

If someone criticises me, let me observe.

If something happens according to my expectations, let me observe.

If something happens completely against them, let me observe.

If maan arises, observe.

If lobh arises, observe.

If anger arises, observe.

If attachment arises, observe.

If the desire to prove myself arises, observe.

If the desire to be recognised as spiritual arises, observe that too.

Nothing should escape observation.

The situation is not necessarily the problem.

My reaction to the situation is where I need to look.

LISTEN. GAUGE. OBSERVE.

A constant reminder to myself:

Listen.

Do not immediately react.

Gauge.

What is actually happening within me?

Observe.

What is arising?

What is triggering it?

What am I expecting?

What am I protecting?

What am I trying to prove?

What is seeking recognition?

What is afraid?

What is attached?

And then:

Do not react.

Peacefully acknowledge.

Pause.

Observe.

And then respond.

Not because I have suppressed the reaction.

But because I have seen it clearly enough to not become its slave.

That distinction matters.

THE EIGHT DAYS

These eight days are not merely eight days of rituals.

They are eight days of training.

Training attention.

Training awareness.

Training restraint.

Training the ability to witness without immediately becoming entangled.

Training myself to see the difference between what happens and what I make of what happens.

Training myself to remain steady when circumstances try to pull me away from my centre.

I do not want Paryushan to become another beautiful spiritual experience that I remember fondly after eight days.

I want it to leave behind a stronger capacity for awareness.

A stronger capacity to witness.

A stronger capacity to pause.

A stronger capacity to respond consciously.

A stronger capacity to recognise myself before I get lost in myself.

COME WHAT MAY

So, come what may.

Let karma offer whatever it has to offer.

Let circumstances change.

Let people behave differently from what I expect.

Let appreciation come.

Let criticism come.

Let success come.

Let failure come.

Let comfort come.

Let discomfort come.

My work remains the same.

Stay aware.

Stay watchful.

Stay grounded.

Stay as the witness.

Do not fumble the journey because the road became difficult.

Do not lose the destination because the vehicle became uncomfortable.

Do not mistake the process for the purpose.

Do not mistake recognition for transformation.

Do not mistake austerity for attainment.

And above all:

Do not allow the ego to quietly take ownership of the very practice that was meant to dissolve it.

Tap is a means.

Awareness is the practice.

Nirjara is the deeper purpose.

Liberation is the destination.

And my job, today, is very simple:

Keep walking.

One observation at a time.

One reaction consciously avoided at a time.

One attachment recognised at a time.

One layer of ignorance seen through at a time.

No drama.

No hurry.

No performance.

Just sincere, relentless vigilance.

Listen. Gauge. Observe. Acknowledge. Respond.

And keep walking.

3. Three Lenses (Bhagvad Gita, Ashtavakra and Jainism).

THREE LENSES ON LIBERATION

Bhagavad Gita, Ashtavakra Gita & Jainism

The Bhagavad Gita, the Ashtavakra Gita and Jain philosophy can appear to be saying similar things: do not identify with the body, overcome attachment, transcend the ego and seek liberation.

At one level, that similarity is real.

At another, it can be deeply misleading.

These three traditions offer three remarkably different lenses through which one can examine the same fundamental human predicament:

Who am I, why am I bound, and what does liberation actually mean?

A useful way of understanding them is through a simple trilogy:

Bhagavad Gita: The spirituality of Action.

Ashtavakra Gita: The spirituality of Recognition.

Jainism: The spirituality of Purification and Liberation.

THE BHAGAVAD GITA: THE SPIRITUALITY OF ACTION

The Gita predominantly meets the human being at the level of Vyavahara, the practical world of relationships, responsibilities, action and consequence.

Arjuna is confused not because he lacks metaphysical knowledge alone, but because he does not know how to act while facing conflict, attachment and uncertainty. Krishna therefore teaches him to perform his dharma, but without attachment to the fruits of action.

Action need not bind when the egoic ownership of action and its results is relinquished.

The Gita thus begins in Vyavahara but progressively takes the seeker toward deeper knowledge of the Self, the Divine and ultimate reality.

Its central question can therefore be expressed as:

"How shall I act without becoming bound by action?"

THE ASHTAVAKRA GITA: THE SPIRITUALITY OF RECOGNITION

The Ashtavakra Gita takes a far more radical route.

Rather than primarily asking how the individual should perfect his conduct, it questions the identity of the individual who believes himself to be bound.

Its central movement is toward direct recognition of the Self as pure awareness.

Body, mind, emotions, thoughts and actions are changing appearances. The witnessing consciousness is not fundamentally any of these.

Thus the question changes from:

"How do I become free?"

to:

"Who is the 'I' that believes it is bound?"

In this radical perspective, liberation is fundamentally recognition rather than acquisition. The essential Self was never truly bound.

Its central question can therefore be expressed as:

"Who is the 'I' that acts and believes itself to be bound?"

JAINISM: THE SPIRITUALITY OF PURIFICATION AND LIBERATION

Jainism offers a different and exceptionally structured framework.

It does not collapse the individual into a universal consciousness. The jiva is a real, individual, conscious substance.

It is intrinsically endowed with knowledge, perception, energy and bliss, but its natural qualities are obscured by karmic bondage.

Jain philosophy therefore places enormous importance on understanding the mechanisms of asrava, karmic influx; bandha, bondage; samvara, stoppage of karmic influx; and nirjara, shedding of accumulated karma.

Right faith, right knowledge and right conduct, together with restraint, non violence, reduction of passions and non attachment, constitute the path toward liberation.

Its central question can therefore be expressed as:

"What exactly binds the jiva, how can new bondage be stopped, and how can existing bondage be shed?"

VYAVAHARA NAYA AND NISCHAYA NAYA

This is where the Jain distinction between Vyavahara Naya and Nischaya Naya becomes especially illuminating.

From the Vyavahara standpoint, one is a person living in the world, performing actions, relating to others and experiencing the consequences of those actions.

From the Nischaya standpoint, the essential reality is the jiva, distinct from the transient body and karmic modifications.

Jainism does not simply choose one standpoint and reject the other. Its strength lies in refusing to make either an exclusive absolute.

The practical and ultimate perspectives coexist, each illuminating a different aspect of reality.

Seen through this comparative lens, one might say:

The Gita asks:

"How shall I act without becoming bound by action?"

Ashtavakra asks:

"Who is the 'I' that acts and believes itself to be bound?"

Jainism asks:

"What exactly binds the jiva, how can new bondage be stopped, and how can existing bondage be shed?"

These are not merely three different wordings of the same philosophy. They represent three distinct approaches to understanding bondage and liberation.

THE VEHICLE AND THE DRIVER

The metaphor of a vehicle and driver provides another useful bridge between these philosophies, provided its limitations are understood.

The present body, mind and personality can be viewed as a temporary vehicle through which the conscious being experiences one particular embodied existence.

Birth is the beginning of one such configuration. Death is its termination.

The underlying conscious principle is not destroyed with the body.

In Jainism, the jiva continues beyond one embodiment because karmic conditions give rise to further embodiments. As purification progresses and karmic bondage is eliminated, the cycle of embodied existence ultimately ends.

But there is an important philosophical refinement.

In Jainism, the jiva is not merely some vague "energy" inhabiting a body. It is a real conscious dravya with its own intrinsic nature.

And liberation is not merely the acquisition of a better vehicle.

It is the complete cessation of the need for embodiment.

WHERE THE THREE PATHS DIVERGE

The Gita teaches that the Self is not reducible to the changing body and that the wise do not mistake the temporary for the eternal.

Jainism teaches that the individual jiva passes through successive embodied states while remaining an individual conscious reality, until karmic bondage is completely destroyed.

Ashtavakra goes further in another direction.

Even the thought "I am the driver rather than the vehicle" can remain a subtle identification.

The ultimate Self is not merely an individual entity operating a body. It is pure awareness, untouched in its essential nature by the changing drama of body and mind.

THE DEEPEST DIFFERENCE

This produces perhaps the most fascinating distinction of all.

Jainism preserves individuality in liberation.

The liberated jiva remains an individual soul, free from all karmic matter and embodiment, manifesting its intrinsic qualities completely.

Radical Advaita, as expressed in the Ashtavakra Gita, ultimately transcends the very notion of separate individual selves in the realization of non dual consciousness.

The Gita occupies a distinctive terrain, integrating action, knowledge, devotion, renunciation and surrender, while leaving room for different Vedantic interpretations of the precise relationship between the individual Self, Brahman and Ishvara.

THREE LENSES, ONE PROFOUND HUMAN QUESTION

These three traditions should neither be artificially separated nor casually declared identical.

They share a profound concern with the human tendency to mistake the temporary for the ultimate, to become enslaved by attachment, aversion and egoic identification, and to overlook the deeper reality of consciousness.

But they diagnose the problem differently and therefore prescribe different routes to liberation.

The Gita transforms our relationship with action.

Ashtavakra transforms our understanding of identity.

Jainism transforms the condition of the jiva by stopping and eliminating karmic bondage.

Perhaps the most fruitful way to hold all three together is not to ask:

"Which one is saying the same thing as the others?"

but rather:

"What does each reveal that the others force us to examine more carefully?"

The Gita reminds us that realization cannot simply become an excuse to abandon life and responsibility.

Ashtavakra reminds us that even spiritual self improvement can become another project of the ego if the fundamental identity of the seeker is never questioned.

Jainism reminds us that profound metaphysical insight cannot be separated from conduct, restraint, non violence, vigilance and the actual purification of consciousness.

Three lenses.

Three philosophical architectures.

Three different understandings of the Self and liberation.

And yet, standing together, they illuminate one extraordinary question:

What remains when everything that is temporary, changing, acquired and identified as "me" has finally been seen for what it is?