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Swāmījī constantly speaks about the purpose of our lives, and this bhajan reminds us of the essentials in a very beautiful way. Fortunately, I received some transcripts from the lectures Swāmījī gave on this bhajan, and from his words I have tried to craft a translation that reflects his interpretation. Help me now. Bestow that mercy on me, that this life may not simply pass away without meaning, like so many lives before. I have become the slave of my mind, and I do not even know what it is doing at every moment. I have achieved nothing until now. This mind simply acts of its own accord. First verse: I was always attached to the world, longing for enjoyments and possessions. Day and night I sought only my own interest; I never thought of others. Hoping to find happiness somewhere, I went through so many disappointments, troubles and pain. This is the way I have been living my days until now. I have simply wasted my life. Second verse: O Gurudev, please awaken me. Awaken me in such a way that I will never, never fall asleep again. I want to become a selfless lover. O Lord, please fill my heart with such pure love that my only desire is to love You, to realize You. Let me overcome all worries and fears. Third verse: “Harmadik Versak” Lord, please give me the right abilities. I am alone, unable to do anything. Nāhaṁ Kartā – I am not the doer. Please act through me, so that all my actions become selfless karma and sevā. Let me be an instrument of Your love, so that I may serve all. You gave me the human body as a boat to cross the ocean of saṃsāra. O Lord, bless me, for I do not know when I may get such a chance again. Last verse: Help me to conquer my ego and pride – pride of beauty, of knowledge, of position and of possession. Make me humble and kind‑hearted. Help me to overcome my karmic poverty and meanness, that tendency to always keep everything for myself. Make me a giver, giving freely and happily. Make me a wise one, always happy and content, always in divine bliss. O Lord, I beg for Your mercy that my life does not just pass away in vain. I rely on You alone. You are my only hope. When we receive messages like those today – that friends have passed away or are in danger – it touches us, and I think it reawakens these fundamental questions in us. Swāmījī once said in a Skype interview, “Why did we come here to this seminar? We should be aware of why we actually came, and ask if we still hold the idea for which we came.” In the same way, each day we should ask ourselves why we came into this life, and whether we are still fulfilling the life plan for which we came. The problem is that we mostly live unconsciously. This morning we spoke of the body as a chariot: the soul, the ātmā, is the one sitting inside, but the question is where the chariot is going. Our body is like a car, and the soul sits within – but where are we actually directing it? When we live unconsciously, we do not control the mind properly. We become slaves of the mind; we follow it, rather than the mind following us. And the result is that we waste our life. This is exactly what the bhajan says: “I don’t even know what the mind is doing.” Yet it is actually easy to understand, because the mind follows its own principles. It always wants some kind of enjoyment, and it sends out its messengers – the senses – to search for that. In the morning’s example, the horses were driving the chariot here and there, while the driver let them run wherever they wished. The outcome is twofold. First, we end up disappointed; we do not find the true happiness we seek. Second, we waste our time and our life. One day we realize that. This bhajan urges us: reflect on your life, live meaningfully. Every time we hear news such as we heard today, it serves as a reminder. Do we really live our lives meaningfully? The saints taught, “Live every day as if it were the last day of your life.” From this perspective, even such difficult news can be a blessing, an awakener for us. In this world there is nothing inherently good or bad; it is all a question of what essence we draw from it, what we learn. We have known people, for instance, who receive from a doctor the judgment that they have only half a year to live. Suddenly they look at life with new eyes, and they change completely. Now they no longer live unconsciously, because they know very well how precious each day is. And sometimes this change is so complete that it brings a wholeness that can even heal the disease from which they were supposed to die. Now, I would like to share one of my personal experiences with Swāmījī, a story that touches all the topics we have discussed: the importance of controlling the mind, of caring for this body, this kośa, but above all, how vitally important Guru Kṛpā – the Guru’s grace – is. This took place long ago, perhaps seventeen or nineteen years back. I was a newcomer to yoga and had known Swāmījī for only two or three years. One weekend, Turiana and Jyoti invited Swāmījī to their summer house. My mother, also a disciple, had a car and brought me along. I found myself among only about ten people. Jyoti handed me a tray of food and said, “Now serve this to Swāmījī.” I did not want to – I was shy and did not know how to do it – but Jyoti gently insisted, so I had no choice. That evening, Swāmījī sat with us. When the gathering ended, Swāmījī stepped outside and my mother followed. She wanted me to translate, because she had something to say. Outside, under a bright full moon, there were just the three of us: Swāmījī, my mother and I. My mother was overflowing with happiness; she wanted me to express how meeting Swāmījī had truly changed her life. As I translated, Swāmījī stood there smiling at her with such love and compassion, and she was blessed – he touched her head. But when he looked at me, there was no smile, only a deep, serious gaze. I could feel his attention and his love, yet it was a very different expression from the melting tenderness he showed my mother. I thought, “Why won’t he bless me too? We are standing right next to each other.” Then he looked at my mother again as if feeling sorry for her, and after that, he blessed me as well. I felt satisfied – the story seemed over. But it was only the beginning. At that time, I had a job and was very active, always organizing things and traveling. One Friday, the 21st of January, I had to go to the publishing house and then collect a friend at the railway station. I left later than planned and was already running late. As I came out of my office, a clear intuition came: “You might have an accident. Drive carefully.” But my mind was in charge, not I, and I was hurrying. I drove very fast, even though there was snow on the road and it was raining. Passing through a village, I realized I was going too fast and started to brake. I hit a patch of ice and went into the first skid – a clear warning. But I was young and in a hurry, so I ignored it. Once out of the village, I sped up again. A lorry was driving ahead at about sixty kilometers per hour while I was going much faster. I decided to overtake. Then I saw a car approaching in the distance. I thought I should pull back behind the lorry rather than risk too much. But as I was closing in fast, I realized that if I didn’t brake immediately, I would crash into the lorry. I knew I couldn’t brake hard without skidding again. My perception of time changed; I was thinking rapidly. Half‑unconsciously, I touched the brakes just a little. At that moment, the car became completely uncontrollable. It started dancing across the road – swinging ninety degrees from one side to the other. I tried to steer, but it just swam on the road. I don’t know how I avoided the oncoming car, the deep abyss at the roadside, and the large lorry behind me. Then, as I approached a slope, I hit the brakes hard. The car flipped and landed on its roof. I was hanging upside down in my seatbelt. The windscreen had shattered. The car was so crushed that only about one centimeter of space remained between my head and the roof. I could move my head just a little; there was no more room. The lorry driver came and pulled me out. I did not have a single scratch, yet the car was completely destroyed – as if someone had stepped on a toy car. I do not know what my destiny was, what was supposed to happen to me that day. But I know with certainty that if I had not received Swāmījī’s blessing at that time, I would probably not be sitting here with you today. One single blessing from Swāmījī can truly change an entire life. Now it is nearly ten o’clock, but this has been, I think, inspiring for everyone. The birthday celebrations we will do tomorrow. Good night.