Destination is only Received by Journey #10

Intellect, Important in Life

Today, though I seem to be having the fulfillment of my desires and wishes, and through brief moments with their brief glimpses am lent encouragement to my Life.
Still I feel a sense of alienation with my own being. From the stream of thoughts that are flowing in my being, I pick up a thought and put it into the pitcher of my intellect, in order to feel the pinch of a slight thirst.
Rites and rituals have charming shapes—but I can’t follow them
All value and respect of society—I can’t do that
I could never fulfill my obligations to my relatives and kinsmen
I can never play a double game because I always find myself deficient in this respect, but I find my environment powerful. Everyone else is on the move, despite their reluctance, is still on the move. All do it—despite their unwillingness to go on doing it. However, I cannot do so—despite my efforts. To do something against one’s will and then go on repeating it—it is the behaviour of a puppet!
Does this thought link me to a chain of my own temperament—can’t say, since this being of mine becomes a companion of those considered bad by the world!
Why? Then, some feeling went whirring by me suggesting, certainly some rebellion has taken their shelter—certainly some window must have opened, which permits afar a reaching glance at this ‘existence’.
Nature invariably provides an answer to every question that arises. I see… I have been seeing those who sip the cup of life for the continuation of their race, they cannot even finish their drink; they feel nausea and boredom. Their crumble and decay is attended with deep bitterness, a prolonged gloom and hateful fear begin to keep watch over their own beings.
I always feel, that despite being in Life, people are not actually living. This shape and appearance, this conduct—ever keeps my being away from this visible existence.
Today, I think—that Nature is the teacher of the subject of this ‘existence’; Mother Nature, during this time when I was engaged in fulfilling my meanest and most trivial desires, preserved me with care, and even prepared me for the new path that I have now taken.
Today, several pages of this matchless subject have been gone through, by this being of mine.
The echo of the present day’s moments is celebrating Diwali within this being. Every trifling happening brings relief in the various aspect of life, one by one, and teaches me something about them.
A friend of mine says, “A problem of life can be solved only by consulting a problem-specialist—a professional expert.”
Today, this word ‘professional’ rushes at some deep part of this being. That part is deep, like weakness, or it may be magnanimous, it answers to both of these descriptions. This word ‘professional’ helps me to call up the word ‘personality’ which had long lain in some special part of my being like a ‘fixed deposit’.
Several moments of my life remained very heavy for me, very domineering. In the final examination of my eleventh class, I read the exam questions, threw the paper, and walked out of the exam room. Thus, I couldn’t get either a degree in the external world or any success.
How difficult was it to complete the History paper? Some one from within was telling me it was a useless pursuit—what was I to get from the dead of the past, when the present time was so suffocating? Opposition was great, but I somehow succeeded in scoring a goal. Then, my adverse circumstances most sagaciously handled and subdued my environment.
Everyone else in my surrounding was proud of the fact that they had university degrees. I could not see any advantage of those degrees. Why? This I could never make out.
But I never found anybody’s life successful and affluent by virtue of those degrees. 
Everyone called me ‘mad’, ‘insane’, ‘idiotic’.
These schools can never teach all that I learnt from my environment. Nevertheless, if there is no schooling, there are no degrees, and if there is no degree, there is no ‘personality’; in the absence of personality, there is no ‘professional’.
But in my present day’s moments
I cut a sorry figure.
I see on all sides degree-holders who solve their problems in two ways:
First method – when the cycles of bickering and quarrels, jealousy and envy, humiliation and disgrace, give a problem the shape of another problem, they think their problem has been solved.
Second method – the professional man imposes bans and restrictions upon their habits and temperaments.
Can’t we do all this ourselves?
We, along with our formal education, can experience our state of Relaxation. This relaxation makes us ‘professionals’, not in one direction but in all directions. Then the hint of the heart-ravishing smile of this professional comes into a loving fold with life. It means:
‘Personality’ belongs to this being, not to the degree.
This Beautiful ‘awareness’ exterminates all those unbearable and unforgettable memories, which are preparing for an eruption of lava in my being. Then innumerable sensations and impressions appear in the edges of my eyelashes. Then I realize how:
These past memories, permeating the present moments destroy not only the sweet fragrance of life but also Life itself.
Today, I feel how relieving is the extraction of the thorns that had lain embedded in my flesh for years, because: 
Though today my lips look parched and dry, I am not thirsty
Today, my eyes may be moist but they are not in tears
Today, my tongue may be silent, but there is no suffocation
Today, I may be speaking, but there is no stammer in my expression
Today, my throat may be suffocate, but there is no pain or discomfort in it
Today, my body may be in ill health, but there is no complaint
Though I may have a dry voice, yet it is exempt from anger
Today, there might flow a stream of words from my lips, but they do not contain ‘Shaheer’
Well, this moment stands wrapped in words—which wraps my being in the feeling of Quietude.
Because—in the thundering echoes of strange moments, the cacophony of desires is breathing its last, because I see that:
The destruction of the moments gone by taking the meek sigh of the unclaimed shriek of my remorseful being within its fold; I hear the cackle of the cataract of tranquil repose.
Then I begin to perceive—the Beauty of a gloomy countenance, sugarcoated bitterness, Beauty inherent in ugliness, the straightening motion of pains, the bitterness of weeping and the weak state of a sob.
Then I saw:
Those flowers, which are unaware of spring.
Those birds, which are ignorant of fresh morning.

In short, these fresh traces begin to terminate the sighs residing in my being.