8. Ayambil Oli 2026.

 Ayambil Oli begins tomorrow.

It has been observed across time, and will continue to be. Naturally, the first thought that arises is: 

_“I should do Ayambil during these sacred days.”_

Now, that raises a deeper enquiry:

What is Tap (often translated as austerity) really?

What is the purpose behind these practices?

And what should these 9 days actually lead to?

In common understanding, Tap is seen as control or restraint (daman). While that is partially true, it needs a more precise distinction.

There are two very different inner approaches:

Daman i.e. control or suppression.

This is when I restrict food, reduce indulgence, or hold back desires for a period of time. It is will-driven and externally visible.

Shaman i.e. calming through understanding.

This is when I observe the arising of a desire, understand its nature and consequences, and through clarity, allow it to settle. It is awareness-driven and internally transformative.

Both may appear similar outwardly, but inwardly they are fundamentally different.

Daman can temporarily silence desires.

Shaman can dissolve their intensity.

Tap, in its deeper sense, is not merely Daman...it is Shaman. Daman is more of superficial.

Traditionally, there are 12 forms of Tapasya described. Practices like Ayambil predominantly engage the external forms, such as:

Dropping meals

Eating less than one’s hunger

Limiting choices and variety

Renouncing taste

These are valuable, but they are not the destination.

They are instruments.

Each act of restraint creates an opportunity to observe:

What do I crave? 

How quickly do I react? 

What is the pull of habit and taste?

This observation is the beginning of turning inward, of seeing my patterns clearly.

The real essence of Tap is captured in a profound idea:

*Freedom from desire is Tap.*

_(Ichcha Nirodh Tapah)_

Not by forcefully eliminating desire, but by understanding it so deeply that its hold weakens.

When the movements of wanting, resisting, and reacting begin to calm down, something quieter becomes noticeable. That stillness is not created; it was always present, just overshadowed.

In that sense, the real effort is subtle: not in intensifying activity, but in reducing inner disturbance.

These 9 days, then, are not just a ritual, but a mirror.

Whether I perform Ayambil for all 9 days or not, the essential question remains:

Am I becoming more aware of my inner tendencies, or just more disciplined externally?

Because it is entirely possible to perform austerity and yet strengthen a subtler layer of ego:

“I am doing more,” “I am more disciplined,” “I am progressing.”

And this is where a powerful insight comes in from Atmasiddhi:

Lahyu swarup na vrutti nu, 

Grahyu vrat Abhimaan,

Grahe nahi parmaarth ne,

Leva laukik maan

I may fail to understand and observe the inner tendencies, and instead adopt vows with a sense of pride.

In doing so, I might miss the true purpose,

and remains engaged in seeking recognition and validation.

The essence of this is sharp and direct:

If the focus shifts from inner transformation to identity built around practice, the direction is lost.

The practice continues, but the purpose is diluted.

Instead of dissolving the ego, it becomes more refined and subtle.

There is another layer that deserves attention.

Practices like Tapasya do generate merit (punya), and that has its value. It supports life, creates favourable conditions, and sustains the journey.

However, if merit becomes the only goal, something essential is missed.

Accumulating only merit is like nurturing the soil but never tasting the fruit.

The deeper aim is not just to move from negative to positive, but to go beyond both; to experience a clarity that is not dependent on accumulation.

Over long cycles, life tends to oscillate between merit and demerit, pleasant and unpleasant, while missing the possibility of stepping beyond this cycle. And that is the reason the "Sansaar in me" has never ended yet.

These 9 days can become a conscious shift in that direction.

So how do I approach Ayambil Oli meaningfully?

I should perform the external disciplines sincerely, if possible but certainly let the inner observation be stronger than the outer form

 I should watch desires, not only in food, but in reactions, speech, and the need for validation

Notice if pride or identity builds around the practice

Gently move from Daman (control) towards Shaman (understanding and calming)

And most importantly

Ensure that I do not feel “released” on the 10th day.

If these 9 days feel like a burden that has ended, then the practice remained external.

If they create a sense of continuity, then something deeper has begun.

Ultimately, the purpose of Tapasya is not hardship; it is clarity.

Not suppression; but understanding.

Not control; but freedom.

Not accumulation; but dissolution.

A gradual shift from being driven by desires to simply being aware of those; and in that awareness, loosening the long-standing patterns that keep me bound.

7. Talaash.

 तलाश थी हमें खुद की

और मिल गए हो तुम

क्या होगा अब आगे

हमें नहीं मालूम

अब क्या मलाल, किस से शिकायत

जब हम खुद ही हो गए गुम

कौन खोजी और कैसी खोज?

खुद ही खुद से हो गए महरूम

6. Pure (Shuddh).

 At the core level of the truth, every living being is inherently a pious soul _(shuddhaatma)_ that is pure, untouched, and complete.

However, in the realm of external conduct _(vyavahaar)_, individuals inevitably form opinions about me based on my current behaviour, past actions, and perceived identity across various states and phases _(paryays)_. 

These judgments arise from their own current, percieved and limited standpoint, conditioned by their state of understanding and their own karmic coverings.

Recognising this, my inner orientation is to remain unaffected, whether I am offered praise or criticism. Both are reflections of perception, not of the Self.

My true concern is not the world’s evaluation, but the silent and precise view/feedback of the super consciousness _(param chetna)._ 

To be understood by a layman, it is typically expressed through the law of karma. 

What truly matters is:

"My" inner intention _(vrutti)_,

"My" expressed action _(pravrutti)_,

And 

"My" movement towards the inner withdrawal and karmic cleansing _(nivrutti)._

Technically, the "My" is not to be considered from the ownership standpoint but from a perspective of being the aware "knower"

While the Soul _(jeev)_ is, in essence, the knower _(gyaata)_ and seer _(drashta)_, within embodied existence it appears as the doer. In this apparent doership, _pravrutti_ (action) unfolds in the foreground, but it is _vrutti_(intention) that determines the nature of karmic bondage.

The essential question, therefore, is:

Am I constantly "aware" of "witnessing" the both i.e. not just what I do, but why I do it? _(At the core, from a knower standpoint, it is what is being done and why is it being done)_

The law of karma functions with absolute precision like an infallible system that neither errs nor biases. One may deceive the world, and at times even oneself, but karmic accounting remains exact and unaltered.

There is a subtle but crucial understanding here:

Even the mental act of calculating outcomes like “what will happen if I do this or that” can itself become a form of interference, and thereby a cause of further karmic influx.

Understanding karma is necessary.

Interfering with its functioning is not.

This approach may, at times, appear as _shushk gyaan_ (a dry, overly intellectual stance). However, its intent is not intellectualisation but purification: to enable purusharth with total awareness, free from emotional reactivity, judgment, and unnecessary interference in the karmic process.

If this principle applies to analysing my own _vrutti_ and _pravrutti_, then I need to also strongly consider that what happens when I begin judging others?

In that moment, I step beyond awareness and enter entanglement.

_Again here I need to internally consider "My own" is a symbolic representation of being an aware knower at the core, because when I am in the doership mode the karmic calculations are vigilant about their assignments accordingly_

Circling back, Judging, analysing, justifying (whether of myself or others) has been a continuous, often unconscious habit since infinity. This very habit keeps strengthening the bondage.

The path, therefore, is not suppression, but training.

Constantly training myself to be:

Watchful of every thought,

Aware of every word,

Conscious of every action,

And sensitive to the subtlest shifts in intention.

To cultivate the state of a witness, not occasionally, but continuously, moment after moment.

Let karma perform its function.

Let me remain established as the witness.

This is not an intellectual exercise.

It is a lifelong discipline; constant, regular, and sustained over time _(satatam, nityam, chiram)._

In the NOW...

In this present moment....

I am aware.

I am the witness.

I am living in the NOW.

Ultimately, the entire framework of jeev (living beings), pudgal (all the loving stuff), karma, bondage, and liberation can be distilled into:

_Kriya te karm_ — Actions give rise to karma.

_Upyog te dharm_ — Right awareness is dharma.

_Parinaame bandh_ — Inner states determine bondage.

These three lines are not just philosophical statements. They are a complete map of existence and liberation.

The task is simple in expression, but profound in practice:

*To remain in pure awareness _(shuddha upyog)_, without interference, without judgment, and without deviation.*

5. Awareness, what really?

Considering that I am awake for roughly eighteen hours a day, an important question arises:

How much of that time am I truly aware?

There are moments when I feel alert and conscious of what I am doing. At times I experience a sense of awareness while performing a task.

So, What exactly is the “awareness” being referred to?

This question opens several possible perspectives.

Awareness can appear in simple forms. For example, being conscious of the task that is being performed. It can mean paying attention, staying alert, or focusing on the present moment while completing an activity.

Another perspective is slightly deeper. One may observe the activity as if it is happening through the body, senses, mind, and organs, while something within silently witnesses it.

In some moments, I may feel fully involved in the task, almost as if I am the one doing it. Yet there is also a subtle recognition of how the task is unfolding and where it is leading.

For the moment, these perspectives can be considered only in the context of performing a task.

However, there is an important distinction hidden within them.

Some perspectives imply:

“I am doing the task and I am aware that I am doing it.”

Others suggest:

“The task is happening through the body, senses and mind, and I am observing it.”

If I assume that I am the body, the senses, the mind, the brain, the heart and the organs, then naturally my experience will revolve around the idea that I am the "doer". The success of the task becomes "my" achievement, "my" capacity, "my" ability.

Gradually this strengthens a subtle sense of identity and ownership; the feeling that I am the one who accomplishes, proves, achieves and brings change. In ordinary language, this easily turns into a quiet form of ego reinforcement.

This happens because I consider myself nothing more than the combination of body, mind and senses.

Many philosophical and spiritual traditions question this assumption. They suggest that without the presence of the soul (the conscious principle) nothing truly functions.

At the same time, another argument may arise: what can the soul do in the worldly state without the body, senses and mind as instruments?

These questions can lead to endless philosophical debates.

The present exploration, nonetheless, is not about proving one argument over another.

The real inquiry is about the way of living.

If I observe my life carefully, three possible ways of living become visible.

First, life can continue mechanically. Actions happen through routine, habit and conditioning. Much of the time passes in semi-conscious or unconscious functioning.

Second, I can attempt to remain attentive in every task. I focus carefully, remain alert, and ensure that whatever I do is done with full concentration.

Third, I can train myself to remain a witness. Actions continue to occur through the body, senses and mind, but I remain aware that they are simply happening. Everything unfolds in the presence of “I”, while I remain aware of that presence.

The third one is what the "effort" is towards. 

For an immeasurable span of time I may have ignored this possibility or perhaps only understood it intellectually without living it. At times I may have attempted it briefly, but never cultivated it into a steady and uninterrupted awareness.

As long as this witnessing awareness remains unstable, the cycle of identification and bondage continues; And this is why I am here since infinity and I will continue to stay here for infinite time if I don't break the chain.

The path to liberation therefore lies in gradually stabilizing this awareness, recognizing that actions occur, experiences arise, thoughts appear, yet all of them unfold in the presence of the witnessing self.

Until such awareness becomes steady and undivided, continuous effort toward it remains necessary.

4. Spi-Ritual.

Embracing rituals is more or less a normal practice as a part of almost every religion or spiritual doctrine on this planet.

While it may be a good idea to follow rituals, a natural question arises: Do I simply follow them, or do I pause to understand the thought process, the logic, and the reasoning behind them?

Do I ever question myself on one or more of the following points?

Am I following rituals merely because they are written in scriptures? Or because a learned person has conveyed that enlightened or omniscient beings of the past have asked us to follow them? And if I follow them without doubting, challenging, or questioning, I may progress on the path, whereas if I question them, I might end up insulting or disregarding those pious souls.

OR

Am I following them because the entire world seems to be following them, and there are countless people with greater intellect and understanding than mine? If that is the case, who am I to question these things?

OR

Am I following them mechanically, simply because I belong to a particular religion and therefore feel obligated to do so, even if I do not understand the meaning?

OR

Am I following them out of fear; a fear that going against the flow might lead to some form of punishment?

OR

Am I following them due to social pressure, carrying an invisible burden on my head?

OR...

Do I want to understand rituals thoroughly, reflect on the sense behind them, develop genuine interest in their purpose, and then participate in them with awareness; an awareness that can maximize the outcome of those rituals?

As an analogy, if I want to earn money, there may be many ways to do it. However, one element remains common across all those approaches: Awareness. Whatever path I choose, I remain constantly aware of the process and the direction in which I am moving. If I notice that I am making losses, I pause, reassess, and create a fallback plan to correct the course.

In this process I may gather information, listen to people, and read relevant material, but the constant focus remains on whether I am on the right track. If any derailment appears, either proactively or reactively, I try to return to the right path at the earliest.

Human birth is invaluable beyond measure. On top of that, it is one of the rarest occurrences. Also, the lifespan itself is limited, but one of the greatest gifts of human birth is the "intellect" (vivek).

If I use this intellect (vivek) wisely to understand goals and purposes in a way that allows me to gain the maximum benefit from the most precious parameter I am investing (which is "Time"), it can certainly lead to a meaningful outcome.

Everyone has different goals and varied purposes in life, and each person is engaged in working towards them.

I am neither trying to agree nor disagree, neither advocating nor contradicting, nor preaching about the positives or negatives.

What I truly want to reflect upon is this: How can I use this human birth and this intellect to maximize benefits that are long-lasting; the benefits that do not end with this single lifetime?

Circling back to rituals, as mentioned earlier, each person may approach them differently.

My reflection here is simply about choosing one among three possible approaches.

1) I may immerse myself in one, two, or perhaps many rituals, speak about them openly, gain appreciation in society, build a visible image around them, and focus on how I appear in the eyes of others. This approach carries a strong possibility of leading to demerits (Paap), ultimately burdening the soul with heavy karmas that may later manifest in material discomforts, in ways best understood by the omniscient.

2) I may follow rituals sincerely and silently, out of discipline, personal will, social conditioning, or even ignorance and above all, without any desire for recognition. However, if I do so without deeper awareness of their purpose, such as cleansing karmas or uplifting the soul on the path toward liberation, this approach may lead to accumulation of merits (Punya). Even these merits are karmas, and they too bind the soul, though they may manifest as material comforts and favorable circumstances.

3) Now, I might want to look at rituals from a different perspective. I may try to understand their time-tested importance, explore the deeper sense behind them, and then practice them with awareness and clarity of purpose. With this awareness and focus on the ultimate outcome, I train myself (the soul) to participate in the rituals while witnessing the process, allowing the actions to appear as though they are simply happening, while I remain aware.

This reflection resonates with a verse from AtmaSiddhi Shastra composed by revered Shrimad Rajchandra:

Tyaag viraag na chitt ma,

Thaay na tene gyaan;

Atke tyaag viraag ma,

To bhoole nij bhaan.

If the mind completely rejects renunciation or detachment, true knowledge does not arise. But if one becomes stuck merely in the practices of renunciation and detachment, one may forget the awareness of the true Self.

In the same way, if one rejects rituals entirely, the path may remain incomplete. But if one becomes absorbed only in performing rituals mechanically, without awareness, one may lose the very purpose for which those rituals exist.

Ultimately, this understanding is not limited only to rituals. It applies to every activity in life.

What matters most is awareness, focus, and a constant alignment with the path and the destination, so that the effort invested yields the highest possible benefit.

3. Determination (Nirnay)?!.

Over time I have come across many swadhyays (sermons), scriptures, books, and pieces of spiritual literature that are extremely powerful and deeply thought-provoking.

Spiritual mentors, teachers, and sacred texts consistently invest immense energy and effort in guiding seekers and in raising awareness about the true purpose of life. The intention behind such teachings i.e. the upliftment and awakening of each soul is very evident.

For this continuous guidance that flows through various mentors, scriptures, and traditions over long periods of time, I feel deeply grateful, though words are inadequate to fully express that gratitude.

One of the most unique aspects of Jain philosophy is that even if I am blessed with the presence of God, Guru, and compassionate spiritual guides, ultimately nothing will change unless I walk the path myself.

In my case, I can only say:

“Aayu bhoge vadhe chhe sansaar.” (Sansaar is increasing at the cost of this life)

As days pass, I observe that cravings (raag), aversions (dwesh), delusion (moh), attachment (potaapanu), and the sense of doership (kartapanu) often remain intact and sometimes even grow stronger. There seems to be very little real brake applied on either my internal or external parigrah.

There is still no firm determination (nirnay) to truly attack and weaken moh, raag, and dwesh.

I also realise that I have subtly compartmentalized life into sansaar and adhyatma.

Spending a few hours in spiritual activity and the rest of the day immersed in worldly involvement can sometimes create the illusion that meaningful progress is being made.

However, when I introspect honestly, this appears to be a misunderstanding. If ignorance (agnaan) remains intact, the attraction toward infinite worldly existence continues every fraction of a second.

What is truly required is to weave adhyatma into life in such a way that externally it may appear that worldly life continues as usual, but internally a transformation begins. Gradually the deeper enemies aham (ego) and mamatva (mineness) begin to weaken.

Often there is a tendency to speak about discipline, vows, and spiritual practices. But upon deeper reflection it becomes evident that many of these efforts may remain at a superficial level. At times, vows and practices may even strengthen my external image, while the inner determination for genuine transformation remains weak.

This realization itself serves as a reminder that unless there is a clear and sincere determination (nirnay) to dissolve the inner sansaar, the mind can easily create subtle consolations that generate a sense of satisfaction without real progress.

There is a sincere wish to continue the effort that is currently being made in spiritual practice and even increase it. But more importantly, the real work lies in living with constant alertness, awareness, and mindfulness — satatam, nityam, chiram.

Once again, deep gratitude arises for all the time, energy, wisdom, and compassion that spiritual mentors, sacred literature, and divine guidance continuously offer to me.

Whether transformation actually happens or not ultimately depends on how sincerely I act upon this guidance.

If no real action is taken, the loss is entirely mine; and it would also mean failing to honor the immense efforts and energies that countless mentors and teachings have invested in awakening this understanding.

2. Reflection on Vows (Niyam).

 *_Reflection on Vows (Niyam)_*

Whenever I take a vow (niyam), a certain pressure immediately arises within me.

The mind says: _Now you must follow this._

And then a question arises within:

Why do I need this pressure at all?

Is the pressure required because I am not disciplined about that particular action?

And if I am not disciplined about it, then the deeper question becomes:

Why am I not disciplined?

Perhaps because somewhere within I do not truly feel its necessity.

Or 

Perhaps I do not genuinely see the benefit it brings.

If that is the case, then what actually happens when I take a vow?

*Several possibilities appear.*

1) Forced Compliance

I may begin to follow the vow forcibly.

Outwardly the action continues, but inwardly it feels like a burden.

The vow is being followed, but the heart resists it.

When the action continues without inner acceptance, discipline may exist externally while resistance continues internally.

2) Ego Satisfaction

Another possibility is more subtle.

If I succeed in following the vow, the mind may begin to whisper: _See how well I am following this discipline._

If the vow was originally meant to serve a higher purpose, that purpose can slowly move into the background.

Attention shifts from the purpose behind the vow to the successful performance of the vow itself.

In such a situation the vow remains, but the spirit behind it weakens.

3) Psychological Consolation

Sometimes the vow can become a psychological consolation.

Following it creates the feeling that something meaningful is being done. The mind feels satisfied.

Encouraged by this satisfaction, one vow may lead to another.

Occasionally this even takes the shape of subtle comparison or competition.

Yet the deeper inner transformation may remain limited.

4) Social Pressure

There is also the situation where a vow is suggested or asked for in public.

If internally I am not ready, it becomes difficult to refuse.

Why?

I may want to maintain the relationship with the person suggesting it.

I may want to protect my image.

I may fear disappointing a senior.

I may feel uncomfortable saying no in front of others.

In such cases the vow may not arise from conviction but from social pressure and image management.

*The Role of Understanding*

Due to all of the above, one thing appears unavoidable:

_"Understanding the true benefit and purpose of a vow is essential."_

If I clearly see the benefit and genuinely desire that outcome, the vow can become a powerful support.

In fact, I would naturally move toward that path.

*An Analogy: Physical Health*

Consider a simple example.

Suppose I realise that my body is ageing.

Someone advises me:

_"If you exercise regularly, you will maintain better health and possibly experience fewer health issues."_

I ask what to do.

The suggestion comes:

_"Take a vow to exercise for one hour, six days a week."_

Now imagine I take that vow.

Soon the mind begins presenting its arguments:

My body is already reasonably fine.

Ageing will happen anyway.

Many people live well without exercising regularly.

Why complicate life with strict discipline?

Gradually the vow begins to feel heavy.

Eventually I may either abandon it or reduce it, and life returns to its earlier pattern.

*The Real Question*

So perhaps the real question is not the vow itself.

The real question is:

Do I truly feel the need for the benefit that the vow promises?

If I genuinely feel the need to remain healthy, I will naturally make efforts toward it.

The vow may support that effort, but the effort itself arises from clarity of purpose, not merely from the vow.

*Extending the Analogy to Spiritual Life*

The same reasoning can be extended to spirituality.

Do I truly feel that:

the body is temporary,

the soul continues beyond this life,

and therefore caring for the soul is as important as caring for the body?

This understanding must arise through my own vivek (intellect), not merely because others say so.

If that inner recognition is absent, spiritual vows may end up serving other purposes.

They may:

protect my public image,

bring appreciation from others,

and / or create satisfaction that I am doing something spiritual.

However, these very tendencies viz. ego, desire for appreciation, attachment to image, and comparison with others, are precisely the tendencies that spiritual practice is meant to gradually reduce.

If spiritual practices unintentionally strengthen those tendencies, the original intention of the practice becomes compromised.

*Determination vs. Formal Vows*

If I genuinely recognise the need for inner purification, effort will naturally continue.

Consider "Work / Office".

Do I need a vow to go to work every day?

No.

Why? Because it is already clear:

I want to "EARN MONEY / POWER" (clarity of benefit / determination), therefore I must "WORK".

Even when I take a vacation, people may think I am not working.

However, internally it remains clear that after the vacation, I will return to work _(at times, mentally I am working on the vacation also)_ .

The determination remains intact.

The vow becomes unnecessary.

*The Counterargument*

Of course, there is another valid perspective.

For countless lifetimes, Raag (attachment), Dwesh (aversion), and Moh (delusion) have conditioned the mind.

Due to this deep conditioning, structured vows can act as protective boundaries that help prevent spiritual negligence and help safeguard the rare opportunity of human birth.

This argument is reasonable.

However, even in this case the effectiveness of vows still depends on the presence of inner clarity and determination.

Without that, vows can unintentionally strengthen the very tendencies they were meant to weaken.

*The Honest Observation*

Through reading scriptures, attending swadhyays, listening to sermons, and performing rituals, I notice something within myself.

I do enjoy these activities to some extent.

The concepts are intellectually clear.

Yet "accepting" them fully at the deepest level still remains a challenge.

This is because somewhere at the core, the primary concern continues to be the well-being of the body and worldly life.

*The Risk*

If the determination to work for the benefit of the soul is not strong, then even spiritual practices may unintentionally end up strengthening:

Raag

Dwesh

Moh

instead of gradually dissolving them.

*The Real Work*

Therefore the most important effort may not simply be about accumulating vows.

The deeper work may be to examine the goal itself.

What is the true target?

Is the goal genuinely soul purification?

Is there a real desire to weaken "Moh"?

Until this determination becomes clear and stable, vows may remain external structures rather than inner transformations.

*An Important Clarification*

This reflection is not an argument against taking vows.

Vows have a meaningful and respected place in spiritual practice.

However, it is essential to ensure that when a vow is taken, it arises from genuine determination toward its purpose and benefit.

Otherwise there is a risk that the vow may unintentionally become:

a means of protecting one’s image,

a source of subtle ego,

a burden carried out under pressure,

a form of spiritual showmanship,

and / or 

simply a way of conforming to social expectations.

This needs to be pondered over with utmost honesty and intellect. 

Since infinity (anant kaal), infinite vows have been followed but to the greatest extent, an honest pondering, an intellectual view and the determination / target was misaligned / missing.

Anyway, the real purpose of a vow should always remain inner transformation, not external validation.

*Conclusion*

Perhaps the most important reflection is not merely:

Which vows should I take?

But rather:

Do I truly want the destination that these vows are meant to lead me toward?

If that destination becomes clear and meaningful, discipline will naturally arise.

The path, then, will not be driven by pressure, but by understanding, honesty and determination.