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
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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?
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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?
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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
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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
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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?
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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
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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
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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...
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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 🙏
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