Destination is only Received by Journey # 21


If I look at the bounds of my environment, there seem to be no bounds. Sometimes the boundary shrinks into a blade of straw and sometimes it acquires the vastness of the Sky.
From a very early age I have found myself engaged in a strange affair. These forty years of my life, which have just been roused from a deep slumber even today, keep within their fold every curve or quiver of my life. Ever since ‘Shaheer’ embarked upon her expedition, the self-exploring expedition, self-study has accompanied her and has soaked in the compound of good and bad moments, leading the skiff of her life towards some unknown destination.
An occurrence, good or bad, derives its nourishment in the womb of memories even to this day.
The moments may be envious, kindly, or full of love and warm our breath, even today. Self-analysis always made me boldly face myself.
At times I was assailed by despair and began to think that Life was a non-entity. We are alive and Life is ours, but we have no control or authority over it. We are just like puppets and this consciousness is strong enough to kill us. What sanskar will suddenly shoot up and fills my mental state with the freshness of some new idea?
Even today, I can call up an incident—when my senior uncle seated his daughter upon a bicycle and asked me to hold the handle and run after it. There appeared marks of contempt upon my face for my senior uncle; this envy caught his daughter’s foot in the wheel. I watched her cries and my uncle’s efforts to pacify her—it seems to be a unique incident.
Today, if I were to go into the womb of the past years of my life, I would feel that everything has passed away except for this ‘I’ or ‘ego’. In this astonishing journey some thought always remain crouched in a caravan of moments. This caravan sometimes takes me to the straight path, in the rush of traffic, and provides me security as well.
I see—how at times I told lies to win affection. Perhaps my surroundings are very intelligent and pry into my falsehood.
I see—how everyone is careless. No one, realizes the faultlessness of an innocent person sitting near, nor does anyone understand the gesture language of the eyes, or notice the flicking of the lips. Then how will the tender, immature brain use its weapons of headache or stomachache? None has understood even this language of pain. However, I cannot say why some occult power keeps me in high spirits, despite throwing me so often into the pit of depression?
I remember that, when I was thirty-eight years old, a psychiatrist in Surrey said, “Shaheer, you have spend nearly thirty-two years of your life in a state of depression.” The consciousness of this long period of thirty-two years brings tears in profusion into my eyes and I cry bitterly so that I might wipe out the impression of thirty-two years of depression from my mind.
Have I not seen life for thirty-two years?
Did I remain in some other world for thirty-two years?
Did only caravans of reflections pass on?
What, then, did actually pass?
Shaheer or Shaheer’s physique
Even today, the long voyage of thirty-two years is with me. Unlike other people, I do not complain of losing thirty-two years. Then who was lending me in this cooperation every moment during these thirty-two years and in this journey? What should I say? Other wayfarers and reflections joined this caravan and increased its gaiety and merriment.
Friends—I ever found myself carrying the load of reflections—found my life always to be the life of a beggar! This beggar needed neither good clothes nor any ornaments.
My quest is for perfection and perfection can never become one hundred percent perfect. This consciousness clings to me, providing its guiding light to every happening of my life and burying itself in extreme depth.
So again, Silence came to my rescue. Gradually, as Silence looked after me, all my mental states: some sob, some desire, some temptation, or some lust, having lain dormant or suppressed in my mind during these thirty two years, emerge one after the other. Being released from this bandage after thirty-two years, my mental states begin to celebrate their Dewali.
Today, I survey my own external life being besieged in this environment and finding so much cooperation spread, that I feel grateful. I see:
Then, my life demanded expansion
Today, my life demands deep Silence
Then, my life demanded perfection
Today, my life demands to be nothing
Today, I have no desire to become something and this desire is making my external life shrink within. This Silence, this insignificance of today, is fulfilling my desire for perfection and expansion from yesterday.
Today, my surrounding:
Is taking away my sobs, fulfilling my desires, and destroying my temptations. These surroundings, if I glance at them, are equivalent to the vast Universe and if I close my eyes, there am I, I alone!
Nevertheless, the expansion of ‘five elements’ is bewitching my mind with its unique appearance.

In short, whatever ‘exists’ simply ‘exists’
What is this?
Truth? Or the Unknown? Or God? Or Salvation?
For me, it is the true Being.
I have only a few moments in which they have showed their appearance but did not stay—then I get involved in my ‘I’ ness’ and increasing the depth of my breaths, take this appropriate step towards Silence.

These five elements, these five vices, these five virtues:
Which, though moving about in the Universe,
Which though passing through the body,
Which though moving about in the limit surrounding,
Are wonderful!
But friends, how many times may I utter, “Wah! Wah!” How long can I utter this word? Thus, ‘why’ steps in and makes a gesture to keep Quiet.
For whatever the Universe is doing for us, the same thing is also happening to each being. Whatever the people are doing for themselves: their surroundings are doing the same for them.
At the sight of this sweet cooperation of my surroundings, my ‘why’ intervenes and persuades me to enjoy the cozy, warm Silence. A feeling stirs in me that:
With the purification of the mind, the consciousness and the intellect, our activities may become pure and refined, but ‘the doer’ doesn’t become immaculate.
In order to purify one’s ‘self’, the fragrant role of Quietude in the surrounding is the real element.