10. The Beginning, The Continuation, But Not The End.

Today is the concluding day (Day 8) of Paryushan 2026

So, what have I chosen henceforth?

How do I want to live the next 357 days?

Have I even thought of making any choices for myself?

Or will I simply flow with the flow, which most likely means following the herd and getting back to the routine from tomorrow onwards?

Or perhaps I am already thinking:

"Tomorrow I can go back to normal life."

And if I am looking forward to that feeling of being "released", I need to stop and look at it very honestly.

Because what exactly am I being released from?

Was I actually practising awareness during these eight days?

Or was I merely controlling myself?

And if I am feeling relieved that the eight days are coming to an end, does that mean that somewhere, at a subtle level, I had been suppressing what I actually wanted to do?

The word "suppression" sounds dark, but perhaps it is worth looking at it without judgement.

If I am eagerly waiting to return to my old routine, then perhaps these eight days were not really a transformation of my Vrutti. Perhaps they were simply a temporary restriction on my Pravrutti.

And that distinction is critical.

Vrutti and Pravrutti

-------------------

My Pravrutti is what I do.

My Vrutti is the intent, the inner orientation with which I do it.

Suppose I eat something.

If my Vrutti is:

"I will watch the taste. I will remain aware of what is happening. I will not become one with the taste. I will observe the attachment arising within me."

then the food is merely the Pravrutti.

But if my Vrutti is:

"I will control myself for these eight days, and once Paryushan is over, I can finally enjoy everything again."

then externally, the action may look exactly the same.

But internally, something completely different is happening.

At the Sukshma level, I may not have become detached from the taste at all.

I may simply have postponed serving the tastebuds.

That is uncomfortable to admit.

But this is not about proving anything to anyone.

Not to society.

Not to my family.

Not to my friends.

Not to my spiritual teachers.

Not even to myself through some superficial feeling of achievement.

This is about being brutally honest with my own self.

Because ultimately, I am the one who gains or loses from this.

What happens tomorrow?

--------------------------

I don't know.

In fact, I don't even know what will happen in the immediate next fraction of time.

I don't know whether I will see tomorrow.

I don't know whether I will see the next Paryushan.

So I cannot honestly make a grand declaration that I will live the next 357 days in a particular way.

What I can do today is make a Nirnay about my Vrutti.

And then make the Purusharth, moment by moment, to live in accordance with that Vrutti.

The number 357 is only a reference point, based on the Gregorian calendar.

Paryushan itself follows the Jain calendar, so the next Paryushan will arrive roughly 10 to 11 days earlier than a literal 357-day calculation might suggest.

But the number is not really the point.

The point is this:

Can I live the days between two Paryushans in such a way that the next Paryushan does not feel like a restart?

Can the first day of Paryushan 2027 simply be a continuation of the awareness cultivated today?

Not:

"Eight days are over. Now normal life begins."

But:

"Awareness continues. Life continues. Purusharth continues."

That is the choice I need to make.

What exactly am I trying to transform?

--------------------------------------

I need to keep training.

Training.

And constantly training.

Training the conscious level for awareness during all moments, tasks and events.

Not only during Pratikraman.

Not only during Samayik.

Not only while listening to Pravachan.

Not only while doing Tap.

Not only during Paryushan.

But while eating.

While working.

While earning.

While spending.

While travelling.

While talking.

While being praised.

While being criticised.

While being ignored.

While being appreciated.

While being disappointed.

While dealing with money.

While dealing with relationships.

While dealing with responsibilities.

While dealing with my own thoughts.

Because perhaps that is where the real transformation has to happen.

The task itself may remain.

The world may remain.

The vehicle may continue doing what a vehicle has to do.

But can the Vrutti change?

Can the awareness change?

Can the identification change?

Can the direction change?

The vehicle and the driver

--------------------------

I am going to continue using the same vehicle for as long as this vehicle remains available.

This body.

This mind.

This personality.

This identity.

This social image.

All of these belong to the vehicle.

They are temporary.

They are transitory.

They are phases.

From the Sansaar standpoint, every moment is Kshanik.

Every task is transitory.

Every event is Kalpit.

A phase is called a phase precisely because it passes.

And once it passes, its existence as that particular phase ceases.

This life itself is also a phase.

It will pass.

So why am I clinging so intensely to things that are certain to pass?

Why am I investing so much of my attention in something whose very nature is impermanence?

If I have to stay at a place for one day, naturally my level of concern about that place is different from the place where I expect to spend the rest of my life.

That logic is obvious in ordinary life.

So why does the same logic disappear when I look beyond this life?

If I genuinely believe that the driver is different from the vehicle, then why does so much of my attention remain invested only in maintaining the vehicle?

And if I believe that the driver continues beyond the destruction of this vehicle, then shouldn't the driver's destination matter infinitely more than the condition of the vehicle?

Perhaps this is where I need to look much deeper.

What am I actually serving?

---------------------------

Am I serving the vehicle?

Am I serving the temporary identity?

Am I serving the image that has been created around that identity?

Or am I serving the permanent identity?

Because when I look closely at my Sansaarik life, one conditioning appears particularly strong:

"maintaining my image."

I do things because I want to maintain the image that exists in the social setup.

I fear that the image may get tarnished.

And the strange part is that I don't even consider that image to be the best possible image.

Yet I want to protect it.

Maintain it.

Defend it.

Preserve it.

And somewhere underneath all of this, I carry a burden.

A burden of doing.

A burden of proving.

A burden of protecting.

A burden of maintaining.

A burden of fulfilling expectations.

A burden of serving material requirements.

And sometimes, perhaps even a burden of maintaining the external decorum of a spiritual setup.

Not spirituality itself.

The decorum around spirituality.

That distinction matters.

Because perhaps I have unconsciously converted even spirituality into another identity to maintain.

And then I need to ask:

"Who is benefiting from all this?"

Who is the beneficiary of my effort?

The vehicle?

The social identity?

The image?

The ego?

The satisfaction of having accumulated merit?

Or the Self?

Maybe the burden itself is not the problem

------------------------------------------

Perhaps I need to consider three possibilities.

Maybe living with a burden feels worth it because I believe the burden is necessary to protect the identity I have created.

Maybe I can become burdenless while still continuing to serve the requirements of the vehicle.

Or perhaps I can go one step deeper.

Perhaps I can use this vehicle fully and responsibly, while the predominant direction of my Vrutti remains towards the permanent identity.

That does not mean abandoning the vehicle.

The vehicle needs food.

It needs rest.

It needs work.

It needs money.

It needs relationships.

It needs responsibilities.

It needs movement.

It needs care.

But perhaps there is a fundamental difference between using the vehicle and mistaking the vehicle for the driver.

The vehicle is a means.

The driver is the one who ultimately matters.

What if I am wrong?

-------------------

There is another question I cannot conveniently avoid.

What if I intellectually understand that the soul is permanent, but emotionally and practically continue to live as though nothing exists beyond this body and mind?

What if I say:

"Yes, the driver and vehicle are different."

But my actual life says:

"The vehicle is everything."

What if I unconsciously believe that when the vehicle reaches its destination called death, the driver also ceases to exist?

If that is what I truly believe, then I need to have the courage to admit it.

And if I don't know, I need to admit that too.

Because pretending to possess certainty is not awareness.

It is another form of conditioning.

The question is not whether I can construct a beautiful philosophy.

The question is whether my lived Vrutti reflects what I claim to understand.

The preciousness of this human vehicle

---------------------------------------

From the Jain perspective, this Manushya birth is extraordinarily precious.

Human beings possess a level of Vivek, discernment, that makes conscious spiritual progress possible in a way that is extraordinarily difficult to access in other forms of life.

Other Sangni Panchendriya Jeevs have mind and consciousness, but from the standpoint of discernment and the capacity for deliberate spiritual Purusharth, human birth is exceptionally valuable.

And this human vehicle is not guaranteed to remain available.

If I lose it, I do not know when this opportunity will arise again.

I don't know how long the journey through Sansaar may continue.

So if I have been given this vehicle today, what am I doing with it?

Am I merely making the vehicle more comfortable?

Am I polishing its image?

Am I protecting its reputation?

Am I continuously upgrading its requirements?

Or am I actually using this vehicle for what may be its most precious purpose:

"to move the driver towards Liberation?"

That is the question.

The next 357 days

------------------

So, how do I want to live the next 357 days?

Not with another burden.

Not with another rigid list of controls.

Not with the satisfaction of saying:

"I survived Paryushan."

Not with the anticipation:

"Now I can return to normal."

And certainly not with the illusion that eight days have transformed everything.

Instead:

I want to remain aware.

I want to observe.

I want to witness.

I want to identify my Moh.

I want to see my Raag and Dwesh as they arise.

I want to notice my Swachhand.

I want to catch myself when I start protecting an image.

I want to notice when I am doing something merely to prove something.

I want to see when the tastebuds become more important than awareness.

I want to distinguish Vrutti from Pravrutti.

I want to use the vehicle responsibly without becoming the vehicle.

I want to perform my tasks without allowing the tasks to become my identity.

I want to fulfil my responsibilities without becoming psychologically imprisoned by them.

I want to continue the Purusharth.

Not because I know exactly what the next moment will bring.

But precisely because I don't.

The next moment may bring pleasure.

Pain.

Success.

Failure.

Praise.

Insult.

Gain.

Loss.

Life.

Death.

I don't know.

But whatever comes, can I remain awake enough to see what is happening within me?

That is the real practice.

And when the 358th day arrives...

---------------------------------

If I am fortunate enough to reach the next Paryushan, I don't want to stand there and say:

"Now I need to start again."

I want to look back and say:

"I never really stopped."

The eight days were not an island.

They were not a temporary interruption to my ordinary life.

They were a reminder of how ordinary life itself can be lived.

And perhaps that is the real test.

Not whether I can live differently for eight days.

But whether I can carry the awareness of these eight days into the next 357.

Not perfectly.

Not continuously.

Not without falling.

But consciously returning.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Because the objective is not to construct a perfect worldly life.

The objective is to progress towards Liberation.

Maybe by a millimetre.

Maybe an inch.

Maybe a centimetre.

Maybe a kilometre.

Maybe several kilometres.

I don't know.

But I want to be moving in the right direction.

And the only one who ultimately gains from that movement is the driver.

The vehicle will eventually be left behind.

The image will disappear.

The tasks will end.

The events will pass.

The body will change.

The mind will change.

The identity will change.

Everything belonging to the vehicle will eventually pass.

But if the driver continues, then the driver's progress is what matters.

So perhaps the most honest question for this last day of Paryushan is not:

"What will I give up after Paryushan?"

Nor:

"What will I control for the next 357 days?"

The question is much deeper:

"What Vrutti do I choose today?"

And then:

"Can I make the Purusharth to live that Vrutti in the next moment?"

Then the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Because I don't know whether I will get 357 days.

I don't even know whether I will get another day.

As I type, I don't even know whether I will get the next fraction of time.

I only have this moment.

And perhaps the most meaningful way to honour this precious Manushya birth is to use this moment consciously.

To be aware.

To introspect.

To witness.

To recognise.

To correct.

To progress.

And to keep moving, however slowly, towards Liberation.

**Paryushan may end today.

But the Purusharth does not.**

🙏 Micchami Dukkadam 🙏

9. Am I carrying the "path" as a burden?

Am I carrying the "path" as a burden?

This question sounds simple, but perhaps it is one of the most important questions I can ask myself today.

If I consciously choose something because I believe it is beneficial for me, why should I experience that very choice as a burden?

If I decide to earn money, invest in a startup and build something because I want the outcome, I would not ordinarily say:

"I have chosen this, but now I am burdened by having to work for it."

The work may be difficult. It may demand discipline, patience, sacrifice and sustained effort.

But difficulty is not necessarily burden.

So perhaps I need to examine something more subtle.

Am I actually burdened by the spiritual path?

Or am I burdened by the psychological identity I have created around the spiritual path?

That distinction may change everything.

1. EFFORT IS NOT THE ENEMY

There is nothing inherently wrong with effort.

If I determine that liberation (for now, the "path" towards liberation as liberation is not possible at the end of this birth in this kshetra) is the highest purpose of this life, then naturally there will be effort involved.

There will be awareness to cultivate.

There will be passions to observe.

There will be attachments to loosen.

There will be conduct to refine.

There will be ignorance to examine.

There will be habits to confront.

There will be situations in which I fail.

None of this automatically constitutes burden.

The burden enters when I begin saying:

"I HAVE to do this."

"I MUST do this perfectly."

"I must never make a mistake."

"I must maintain my spiritual routine."

"I must maintain my spiritual image."

"I must prove to myself that I am progressing."

"I must become the kind of person who does all these things."

Now the path itself is no longer simply being walked.

I am carrying an image of the person who is walking it.

And that image needs constant maintenance.

That is parigrah of a subtler kind.

2. WHAT IS THIS "SOMETHING" THAT HAS BEEN TRAVELLING?

From the moment of birth, a newborn does not need to be intellectually taught hunger.

It experiences hunger and seeks food.

It experiences fear and seeks protection.

It experiences pain and cries.

It responds to touch.

It seeks comfort.

It begins receiving and accumulating whatever is offered to it.

Where does all this come from?

One possible explanation is biological programming and evolutionary conditioning.

But Jain philosophy asks a much deeper question.

What is the nature of the living being that experiences all this?

And then comes the larger question.

If tendencies, karmic conditioning and impressions are said to continue beyond this birth, what exactly is continuing?

And if there is a before-birth continuity, where does the chain begin?

If the past is beginningless, then the future too can be understood as extending beyond this one lifetime.

This raises the fundamental question:

WHAT IS THIS "I" THAT EXPERIENCES, KNOWS, DESIRES, SUFFERS AND ACTS?

Is it merely the body?

Is it merely the brain?

Is it merely energy?

Is it liveliness?

Is it consciousness?

Is it Chetana?

Is it the soul?

Here I need intellectual honesty.

The fact that a newborn has innate drives does not, by itself, scientifically prove rebirth or the existence of a soul.

But within the Jain framework, the question is much larger than newborn behaviour. Jain philosophy begins with the distinction between the living being, Jiva, and the non-living, Ajiva, and understands karmic bondage and rebirth as part of the beginningless journey of the Jiva.

So I should neither blindly accept the conclusion because my culture handed it to me nor reject it merely because I cannot immediately prove it.

I should investigate.

I should seek understanding.

I should examine the teachings.

I should observe my own experience.

I should use Vivek.

And I should remain honest about what I know, what I believe and what I have not yet realised.

That is very different from intellectual laziness on one side and blind belief on the other.

3. BUT HAVE I NOW CREATED ANOTHER BURDEN?

This is where the irony becomes almost comical.

I began by asking:

"How do I remain unburdened?"

And within minutes I have created a giant intellectual project called:

"HOW TO BECOME PERFECTLY UNBURDENED ON THE PATH TO LIBERATION."

That itself can become parigrah.

I can collect concepts.

I can collect scriptures.

I can collect quotations.

I can collect philosophical frameworks.

I can collect interpretations.

I can write beautifully about awareness.

I can explain Vivek to others.

I can analyse Nishchay and Vyavahaar.

I can understand the danger of spiritual ego.

And still remain exactly where I was.

This is perhaps one of the most dangerous traps for an intellectually inclined person.

Knowledge can become a substitute for transformation.

I may start feeling:

"I understand."

And slowly that becomes:

"I am advanced."

And eventually:

"I am the person who understands these things."

The knowledge has now become identity.

The identity needs protection.

Protection needs effort.

Effort becomes burden.

And the thing that was supposed to liberate me has quietly become another possession.

4. THE INTELLECTUALIST TRAP

I need to be brutally honest here.

There is a version of spirituality in which I keep reading, analysing, discussing, writing and understanding without actually changing the way I live.

I can become extraordinarily sophisticated at explaining:

Vivek.

Vairagya.

Awareness.

Saakshibhaav.

Parigrah.

Karma.

Nishchay.

Vyavahaar.

And yet remain attached, reactive, impatient, possessive, egoistic and driven by recognition.

That would be dry intellectualism.

The most dangerous part is that it can feel like progress.

Because I am constantly thinking about spirituality, I can mistake thinking about spirituality for walking the spiritual path.

I can even become an expert at explaining why I am not implementing.

That would be a spectacularly sophisticated form of procrastination.

So the test is not:

"How much do I understand?"

The sharper question is:

"WHAT HAS THIS UNDERSTANDING CHANGED IN ME?"

When attachment arises, what happens?

When anger arises, what happens?

When praise comes, what happens?

When criticism comes, what happens?

When something I want is denied, what happens?

When someone challenges my opinion, what happens?

When nobody notices my effort, what happens?

When I fail, what happens?

That is where the theory meets life.

5. THE RITUALIST TRAP

But the opposite danger is equally real.

I can become frightened by intellectualism and run completely towards ritual.

Pooja.

Bhakti.

Swadhyay.

Temple.

Pravachan.

Schedules.

Rules.

Discipline.

More rituals.

More listening.

More attendance.

More insistence.

And eventually I can become extremely busy doing spiritual things without examining whether the doing is actually reducing Raag, Dwesh, ego, attachment and identification.

The ritual becomes mechanical.

Then another identity emerges:

"I am a disciplined spiritual person."

Again, the image needs maintenance.

Again, attachment develops.

Again, burden enters.

So I must not replace dry intellectualism with mechanical ritualism.

5. NISHCHAY AND VYAVHAAR

This is exactly where Shrimad Rajchandra's words become extraordinarily relevant:

"Naya nishchay ekant thi, aamaa nathi kahel;

Ekante vyavahaar nahi, banne saathe rahel."

Nishchay and Vyavahaar are not enemies.

They are not two competing spiritual camps.

They are complementary.

One tells me what I am ultimately trying to understand.

The other gives me the means through which I live and practise.

Perhaps the simplest analogy is:

EYES AND LEGS.

The eyes give direction.

The legs create movement.

If I have only eyes, I can see the destination but never reach it.

If I have only legs, I can move continuously and still walk in the wrong direction.

So I need both.

Nishchay gives Laksh.

Vyavahaar gives Saadhan.

And Shrimad makes the practical implication clear:

"Nishchay vaani saambhali, saadhan tajvaa noy;

Nishchay raakhi laksh maa, saadhan karvaa soy."

Listening to Nishchay does not mean abandoning Saadhan.

Rather:

KEEP NISHCHAY AS THE LAKSH.

AND KEEP PERFORMING THE SAADHAN.

This is perhaps the balance I am looking for.

6. THE PURPOSE IS NOT TO BECOME A RITUALIST OR AN INTELLECTUALIST

This needs to become a permanent checkpoint.

I do not want to become:

"the intellectual spiritual person."

Nor:

"the highly disciplined ritualistic spiritual person."

Nor:

"the person who knows all the right quotations."

Nor:

"the person who attends everything."

Nor:

"the person who writes profound reflections."

Nor even:

"the person who is always perfectly vigilant."

Because each of these can become an identity.

And every identity can become something I have to protect.

Instead:

I want to become less identified.

Less attached.

Less reactive.

Less possessed.

More aware.

More discerning.

More inwardly free.

More capable of seeing Raag and Dwesh as they arise.

More capable of recognising my own Swachhand.

More capable of correcting myself.

More capable of remaining conscious without constantly manufacturing a spiritual performance.

7. SHRIMAD'S WARNING ABOUT TIME

This is where Letter 319 hits hard.

"જિંદગી અલ્પ છે, અને જંજાળ અનંત છે; સંખ્યાત ધન છે, અને તૃષ્ણા અનંત છે..."

Life is short.

Entanglements are endless.

Wealth is limited.

Desire is endless.

And therefore the precious knowledge-life can remain covered by worldly entanglement while it simply passes away.

Then comes the line:

"અમૂલ્ય એવું જ્ઞાનજીવન પ્રપંચે આવરેલું વહ્યું જાય છે. ઉદય બળવાન છે!"

This is not merely beautiful language.

It is a warning.

Time is passing while I am occupied.

And "occupied" does not necessarily mean occupied with obviously worldly things.

I can even be occupied with spirituality.

I can spend enormous amounts of time constructing the perfect spiritual routine, the perfect understanding, the perfect write-up, the perfect framework and the perfect identity.

And the actual life can still pass.

That is the danger.

8. PARIGRAH CAN HIDE INSIDE SPIRITUALITY

I usually recognise Parigrah more easily when it looks like:

Money.

Property.

Possessions.

Comfort.

Status.

Recognition.

But what if I start possessing:

My beliefs.

My conclusions.

My practices.

My spiritual identity.

My opinions about the correct path.

My insistence on how spirituality should look.

My spiritual achievements.

My knowledge.

My discipline.

My schedule.

My image.

Even my idea of "my liberation."

Then I have to ask:

Am I using these things as instruments?

Or am I possessing them?

The statement attributed to the wisdom tradition is extraordinarily radical:

"સર્વ જગતના જીવો કંઈ ને કંઈ મેળવીને સુખ પ્રાપ્ત કરવા ઇચ્છે છે..."

The world keeps trying to obtain something in order to become happy.

The Jnani points in the opposite direction:

"કિંચિત્ માત્ર પણ ગ્રહવું એ જ સુખનો નાશ છે."

Even the slightest grasping becomes contrary to true happiness.

This challenges the entire direction of ordinary life.

Ordinary life says:

GET.

HOLD.

INCREASE.

PROTECT.

REPEAT.

The spiritual movement says:

SEE.

UNDERSTAND.

RELEASE.

And perhaps ultimately:

LET GO OF THE GRASPING ITSELF.

9. WHAT DO I ACTUALLY BELIEVE?

This is where I need complete honesty.

Do I genuinely believe that liberation is the purpose?

Or do I merely like the idea of liberation?

Do I actually believe in the existence of enlightened and omniscient beings?

Or do I accept it because my culture, upbringing and surroundings have presented it as truth?

Do I have sufficient clarity?

If not, do I genuinely want to investigate?

Or am I comfortable remaining inside the herd?

Do I attend Paryushan because I have consciously determined its purpose?

Or because everyone around me is doing it?

Do I go to the temple because something within me seeks that direction?

Or because the atmosphere temporarily pulls me there?

Do I listen to Swadhyay because I want transformation?

Or because listening makes me feel that I am doing something spiritual?

And after Paryushan ends, what happens?

Does the vigilance continue?

Or does the temple frequency reduce?

Does the crowd disappear?

Does the spiritual atmosphere fade?

Does normal routine return?

And then, after another 350-odd days, does Paryushan 2027 once again remind me to restart?

If that happens, I need to admit something uncomfortable:

Perhaps I am participating in an annual spiritual event rather than living a spiritual direction.

That is not criticism of anyone.

It is an audit of myself.

10. THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION

So perhaps the question for Day 7 is not:

"How much Paryushan have I done?"

It is:

"WHAT DIRECTION AM I ACTUALLY WALKING IN?"

And perhaps an even sharper question:

"IF I REMOVE THE CROWD, THE TEMPLE, THE ROUTINE, THE RITUALS, THE BOOKS, THE DISCOURSES, THE WRITING, THE SPIRITUAL IDENTITY AND THE EXTERNAL ATMOSPHERE, DO I STILL WANT TO WALK TOWARDS LIBERATION?"

If the answer is yes, then the direction has begun becoming internal.

If the answer is no, I should not panic.

I should investigate.

That investigation itself requires Vivek.

11. DETERMINATION WITHOUT BURDEN

At the root of all this is Nirnay.

A clear determination.

But Nirnay does not mean psychological tension.

I can determine:

"This is my direction."

And then walk.

I do not need to repeatedly shout at myself:

"YOU MUST NOT FAIL."

"YOU MUST BE PERFECT."

"YOU MUST BE VIGILANT EVERY SECOND."

"YOU MUST COMPLETE EVERYTHING."

That itself can become agitation.

True determination may be quieter.

I know the direction.

I keep walking.

I fall.

I notice.

I correct.

I continue.

I get distracted.

I notice.

I return.

I become attached.

I notice.

I loosen.

I react.

I notice.

I understand.

I continue.

This is vigilance without violence against myself.

12. SAAKSHIBHAAV IS NOT PASSIVITY

This distinction is critical.

"Let me simply witness everything" can itself become an excuse for inaction.

Saakshibhaav does not mean:

"I will do nothing."

It means:

"I will observe what is happening without unnecessarily becoming entangled in it."

I still act.

I still choose.

I still perform Saadhan.

I still fulfil responsibilities.

I still correct mistakes.

I still make decisions.

But I try not to become psychologically possessed by every action and its result.

Witnessing is not withdrawal from life.

It is a different relationship with life.

13. THE PRACTICAL TOOLKIT

So, for the remainder of Paryushan and beyond, perhaps I need only a few questions.

Not fifty rules.

Not another complicated spiritual programme.

Just a small internal toolkit.

BEFORE AN ACTION:

1. What am I doing?

2. Why am I doing it?

3. Is this aligned with my Laksh?

4. Is Raag, Dwesh, ego, fear, greed or social pressure driving it?

5. Can I perform it without unnecessary psychological grasping?

DURING THE ACTION:

1. Am I aware?

2. Am I becoming mechanical?

3. Am I becoming tense about doing it perfectly?

4. Am I actually present?

5. Am I attached to being seen as someone who does this?

AFTER THE ACTION:

1. Did this reduce or increase attachment?

2. Did I become more aware?

3. Did I learn something about myself?

4. Am I now carrying the identity of "I did something spiritual"?

5. Can I simply leave the action behind and move forward?

WHEN I STUDY:

Ask:

"Is this understanding changing my living?"

WHEN I PERFORM RITUAL:

Ask:

"Is this ritual supporting awareness, or am I merely completing a ritual?"

WHEN I FAIL:

Ask:

"What did I just learn about my bondage?"

WHEN I SUCCEED:

Ask:

"Can I enjoy the usefulness of this without converting it into identity?"

WHEN I AM CONFUSED:

Do not manufacture certainty.

Seek.

Study.

Question.

Observe.

Reflect.

And then determine.

14. THE ULTIMATE TEST

Perhaps the best measure of my progress is not how much I am doing.

It is what happens to me when life does not happen according to my preference.

Someone praises me.

Someone insults me.

I gain.

I lose.

I succeed.

I fail.

Someone agrees.

Someone disagrees.

Something I want comes to me.

Something I want does not come to me.

My spiritual routine goes perfectly.

My spiritual routine gets disrupted.

The real test is:

WHAT HAPPENS INSIDE?

That is where the path becomes real.

15. SO, AM I BURDENED?

Maybe the answer is:

I should not be asking myself to carry the burden of liberation.

I should be walking towards liberation.

There is a profound difference.

I do not need to carry the destination.

I need to keep my direction.

I do not need to carry an identity.

I need awareness.

I do not need to carry perfection.

I need correction.

I do not need to carry every teaching as intellectual possession.

I need to understand and live.

I do not need to carry rituals as proof of spirituality.

I need to use Saadhan intelligently.

I do not need to carry the opinions of the herd.

I need Vivek.

I do not need to carry fear of missing out.

I need Nirnay.

I do not need to carry my past failures.

I need to learn from them.

I do not need to carry tomorrow.

I need to be conscious now.

16. THE DAY 7 RESOLUTION

So perhaps my resolution today is not:

"I will do more."

It is:

"I will see more clearly."

I will remain aware.

I will remain conscious.

I will keep Vivek alive.

I will keep Nishchay as my Laksh.

I will keep Vyavahaar as my Saadhan.

I will neither worship intellectualism nor become imprisoned by ritualism.

I will neither blindly follow nor arrogantly reject.

I will investigate.

I will observe.

I will practise.

I will correct.

I will release.

And most importantly:

I will keep walking.

Not because I am frightened.

Not because everyone else is walking.

Not because I want to become a "spiritual person."

Not because I want recognition.

Not because I want to collect spiritual knowledge.

But because, after examining the direction as honestly as I can, I have determined that liberation is worth walking towards.

And if I genuinely want that journey, then I must be careful not to turn the journey itself into another possession.

No unnecessary burden.

No unnecessary drama.

No unnecessary identity.

No unnecessary grasping.

Just awareness.

Vivek.

Nirnay.

Saadhan.

And movement.

One moment at a time.

One observation at a time.

One release at a time.

One step at a time.

Because life is short.

The entanglements are endless.

Time is passing.

And this precious opportunity to use Vivek should not be consumed merely by thinking about how to use it.

I have to LIVE it.

I have to WALK.

And when I notice that I have stopped walking, I simply need to notice that too.

Then turn again towards the Laksh.

And walk.

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.