2. Sitting on the wall of a well.

Kue (well) ki wall par baithkar...

kabhi to kue se paani niklega... kabhi to woh mere hothon tak aayega...

isi aasha mein main moorkh saalon tak subah shaam kue ke paas baitha rehta hun..

Aur phir apne hi dil ko behlaata hu:

“Baith beta, baith… himmat mat haar.

Kabhi na kabhi to kue ka paani tere hothon tak zaroor aayega.”

But the well doesn't work like that.

Paani nikalne ke liye sirf kue ke paas baithna kaafi nahi hai.

Something has to be decided.

A direction has to be chosen.

The effort has to begin.

And the rope has to be lowered into the well.

Otherwise, years can pass sitting beside the very well that could have quenched the thirst.

This is exactly what happens when I keep listening to satsang, swadhyay and sermons without any clarity of purpose, without any nirnay, without any determination, and without translating what I hear into the direction of my own life.

I keep sitting beside the well.

I keep hearing about the water.

I keep talking about the water.

I keep admiring the water.

I keep discussing how pure and precious that water is.

And somewhere within, I keep comforting myself:

“Main satsang kar raha hoon… swadhyay kar raha hoon… sun raha hoon… samajh raha hoon… kabhi na kabhi mere hothon tak bhi ye paani aa hi jayega.”

But knowledge about water is not drinking water.

And sitting beside the well is not drawing water.

The purpose of satsang and swadhyay cannot merely be to make me feel spiritually nourished.

They must eventually create nirnay.

They must create direction.

They must create inner movement.

Otherwise, satsang itself can become another beautiful form of spiritual entertainment.

The well is there.

The water is there.

The thirst is there.

But unless I decide to lower the rope, draw the water and actually drink it…

I may spend my entire life sitting on the wall of the well, waiting for the water to somehow reach my lips.

And that, perhaps, is the most dangerous illusion of all.