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Love unites. Wisdom removes the duality. Spirituality brings peace, and the words of the saints bring enlightenment. Ignorance divides, ego destroys, jealousy makes union impossible. What comes between love so that love is destroyed? We say that if there is a brother, he should be like Bharata, the brother of Lord Rāma. Bharata could open his chest and declare, “Look, my God is inside.” He was able to reveal that the Divine dwelt within him. And a disciple should be like Ekalavya. In the Mahābhārata, you know the story of that young boy from the tribal area—the mountain people. He came to Droṇācārya, the guru of the Gurukul where all the royal children received their education. Droṇācārya was a great master, specialized in archery, and all the Pāṇḍavas and Kauravas were there, learning the vīcakra—the art of attack and occupying the enemy—by drawing diagrams on the earth with a piece of wood. At that moment Ekalavya arrived from the forest. He had heard of the great master and wished to learn archery. He greeted Droṇācārya, and the master blessed him. Droṇācārya asked, “Are you from a royal family?” He replied, “No, sir. I belong to a tribe living in the forest.” Droṇācārya said, “I am sorry, I cannot teach you. This Gurukul is only meant for royal children.” The young boy, about sixteen or seventeen, felt sad. But he knew that his Gurudev would never truly refuse him. Guru Kṛpā—few disciples truly understand Guru Kṛpā. Ekalavya asked Droṇācārya, “Gurudeva, who is that student beside you to whom you were explaining and teaching?” Droṇācārya answered, “He is my son.” Ekalavya said, “Thank you. You said it is only for royals, yet you teach your son.” With a “Pranām,” he departed. As he went, Droṇācārya smiled graciously, and Ekalavya understood that the master had already given him the lesson he needed to practice. Ekalavya withdrew into the forest and made a statue of Droṇācārya. Every day he learned archery—not from a living master, but from the reflection of the master. When Ekalavya made a mistake, look at his faith, confidence, and love: the very statue of Droṇācārya transformed his whole personality and consciousness. Meanwhile, in the Mahābhārata, Droṇācārya declared that Arjuna would be the greatest archer in the world, with no equal. One day, the master took the Pāṇḍavas and Kauravas to the forest for practice. No one knew that about half a kilometer away Ekalavya was also practicing. A dog approached and began barking, disturbing him. What did Ekalavya do? He took his arrows and shot so swiftly that he filled the dog’s mouth with arrows—without injuring it at all. The dog could neither close nor open its mouth further. Droṇācārya and Arjuna saw the dog and were amazed. Arjuna said, “Master, you declared I was the best in the world, but who is this archer? How could he shoot so many arrows at once with such precision?” Droṇācārya said, “Let us go and see.” When they approached, Ekalavya saw Droṇācārya coming with the Pāṇḍavas and ran to greet him joyfully. Arjuna, filled with jealousy, wondered, “Who could be another master greater than Droṇācārya?” He asked Ekalavya, “Friend, who is your guru?” With folded hands, Ekalavya replied, “Droṇācārya. Master, you said your school was only for royals, but not your kṛpā—your knowledge and blessing are for all.” To maintain peace and avoid conflict, Droṇācārya said, “Ekalavya, you have completed your study. Now you must give guru dakṣiṇā.” Ekalavya was ready. Droṇācārya asked, “I want your right-hand thumb as dakṣiṇā.” Without hesitation, Ekalavya took a knife, cut off his thumb, placed it on a banana leaf, and offered it. He was proud that he could give to his Gurudeva. Without the thumb, Ekalavya was no longer perfect in archery. Arjuna was happy—his ego satisfied. But Ekalavya was even happier. Love unites: Arjuna embraced Ekalavya. In the Rāmāyaṇa, the ideal brother is Bharata; in the Mahābhārata, the destructive brother is Duryodhana, who fought to kill his cousins. The true devotee is Hanumān, and the true disciple is Ekalavya. Now listen to a story that shows how greed destroys love. There were two brothers from a Kṣatriya family, warriors who were so close they seemed like two bodies with one soul. They never ate apart and went everywhere together. A terrible drought came, and for many years there was no rain. They decided to travel to a city to find work, leaving their families at home in a small village. The two brothers set out on a camel early in the morning and by afternoon they were tired and hungry. On the way, a Swāmī appeared and saw the two strong men with weapons. He said, “Stop. Do not go this way. A ghost sits there, and it will kill you.” The young warriors, about thirty years old, replied, “Swāmījī, we are not afraid of ghosts. We do not believe in them, but thank you.” The Swamī insisted, “I tell you, children, do not go. That ghost has killed many people.” They said, “Swāmījī, we have our guns.” After a few kilometers, on the left side of the road, they saw heaps of golden coins—over four hundred kilos of gold. The elder brother said to the younger, “Let us rest a little before loading the gold onto the camel.” The younger brother went to fetch some food, but while he ate, his eyes remained fixed on the gold, hypnotized. Greed arose. He thought, “I will have to divide this with my brother. One day we both must die.” So he put poison into the food for his brother. Meanwhile, the elder brother, sitting and gazing at the gold, had the same thought: “I must divide this with my brother. Dear brother, I promise I will take care of your wife and give her gold, but I will kill you painlessly.” When the younger brother returned, the elder attacked him. Lying beside each other, they both died—the younger by violence, the elder after eating the poisoned food. The camel wandered off to eat the trees. Later the Swāmī came back, saw the two beautiful brothers lying dead, and said, “Oh God, I told them a ghost was sitting there. Do not go there.” And he left. When love is gone, understanding goes, wisdom goes, viveka goes. Then destruction comes. Love brings understanding, viveka, and unity. So love unites, and greed or jealousy divides. Therefore, satsaṅg exists—where we learn to love. Satsaṅg is where we learn to be together, to help each other, and to develop wisdom and spiritual understanding. Kusaṅga—the company of the negative—will fill your heart with anger, jealousy, and hate. Nenávist, dukhaka kāraṇa, murkhaka saṅga. The cause of troubles is the company of fools. Ānanda Kākaraṁ Satsaṅg. The cause of happiness is satsaṅg. Thank you. Keśenām sepan. Thank you. There were several questions from disciples. Vivek Purī from Strilky has a brother here who would like a health consultation and a mantra. I suggest he begin with the Sārvita. Another question: you like your work but it is too difficult. No job is easy. The best is to become a yoga and Daily Life teacher—three hours of teaching, the whole day free; three hours teaching, three hours practicing yourself, that’s all. Amṛdevī asked about the time of menstruation: the book Yoga for Women by Gītā Yāṅgar says no āsanas should be practiced for 72 hours from the beginning of menstruation. The same information is in Āyurveda. Please recommend what to do then? I never got a menstruation, so I can’t tell you. Two disciples, Milan and Dashka from Martin, asked a similar question on behalf of their husbands. During the seminar in Humanae, the husband was doing karma yoga in Strilky, working on the reconstruction of the roof of your house there because he was asked to come, as it was necessary. Now he doubts whether it was right, because some yoga brothers told him he should have come to the seminar instead of doing karma yoga. He feels bad about it. Karma yoga is karma yoga, and a seminar is a seminar. What is the difference? Let me tell you a story. Two good friends had a limited time, so one said, “Let’s go to the cinema today.” The other said, “No, I want to go to satsaṅg.” So they parted: one to the cinema, the other to satsaṅg. On the way home, the one who attended satsaṅg met with an accident and was slightly injured. The next morning, they met. He asked, “How was the cinema?” The friend replied, “Nonsense, stupid. I closed my eyes and imagined the satsaṅg, thinking of all my guru brothers and sisters. You know, because of this kusaṅga, I missed my chance.” But the one who went to satsaṅg had been thinking of the cinema the whole time. So the one who physically went to the cinema but mentally dwelt in satsaṅg received the credit of satsaṅg, while the one at satsaṅg with a cinema mind got only a little injury—which may have saved him from something worse. So, doing karma yoga while the mind is in satsaṅg, thinking of Gurujī, gives double benefit. Your husbands did right. Regarding satsaṅg evening programs: last week in VEP, you gave a program for satsaṅgs. We did the first prayer at seven, so that those in a hurry could leave. The video was shown first because some people come a little late. Then a twenty-minute lecture. Some ask if it can be longer—maybe half an hour? But think of others and whether they can dedicate that much time. It is also good to rotate speakers so that different bhaktas and yoga teachers learn to speak in front of listeners. Praṇām, Swāmījī: will you take us to the Himālaya in 2012? Why not in 2011? When the program is decided, I will let you know. There was a question about a yoga bag—they say it is very beautiful and would like me to see it and introduce it. Please bring the bag. But what I introduce belongs to me. About a person with schizophrenia who sometimes disturbs the group—of course, the person is taking medicine. We must understand that someone with troubles does not do it purposely. So we should offer our understanding. Or perhaps suggest they attend another type of program. But if we send someone away, neglect someone, my heart does not allow it. That would be completely against ahiṃsā and the ethics of yoga in daily life. I don’t think in an operation theater they would allow such disturbance—you must have complete mastery. But you can sit outside and repeat your mantra: Oṁ Prabhudīp Nirañjan Sabadukha Banjan. Prayer will help you more. One more about the name Ātampurī—what does it mean? Oh, Ātmā, not Ātampurī! I thought “attack Purī.” So, always your consciousness should dwell in the ātmā—that means knowledge, love, understanding, and forgiveness. Any more questions? Okay. Tomorrow webcasting will be at 9 o’clock. At 10:30 we will say goodbye because of the winter situation; the roads may be frozen, so you can return home in good time. People are coming from Hamburg, Hungary, former Yugoslavia, Germany, and elsewhere.