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Āp tīn lok ke nāth karu prabhu sevā. Aap chodh bhavan ke raaj karu nita seva. Guru Jīvāt Rācār Viśva Āpko Dhyāve Mā Pāpī Jīva Gyān Śaraṇ Nai Āve. Rāma mūraka, jagat pākaṇḍa, bāuta sādhyāve. Ek Sacha Shambh Nai Lagi Kujh Ka Paave. Gurudeva kare jab mer par hoy jave, Nand karo kar jor suno. Gurudeva, Nand karo kar jor. Jidur Lok ke nath kamkar cheeta bharmave. Sādhu mana bhūmi āmkār chīta-bharmā, chīta-bharmāve. In sabhako de chitta-kāya niranjan pāve... O Jagadānda may pass jaye, Naraka may jave, Karu kar jor su kar jor, Śrī Samādeva Brahma darśave. Śrī Devapurī Samādheva Brahma darśave Ānanda darśave Śrī Svāmī Dīpa He Dāsa Śaraṇa Prabhu Āve... Jhankāru Karjo, Jhankāru Karjo, Raso Satguru Deva Kī, Jai Śrī Deep Nārāyaṇ Bhagavān Kī. We are all sitting here, Mahāmaṇḍaleśvaras and devotees, each sharing thoughts. With about thirty Mahāmaṇḍaleśvaras speaking for five minutes each, the program extends beyond its allotted time. It reminds me of a story from the Kumbh. A Mahārāj Jī boarded a train, carrying his bag. He sat down but kept his bag balanced on his head. The train ran for ten minutes before a fellow passenger dared to ask, "Mahārāj Jī, please put your oil on the floor. There is plenty of space." Mahāprabhujī replied, "No, no, I don’t want to trouble the train." Puzzled, the passenger said, "Mahārāj Jī, whether the weight is on your head or on the floor, it is still on the train. What difference does it make?" Mahāprabhujī then said, "Yes, I am telling you this." Everyone was confused, thinking perhaps Mahārāj Jī was a little eccentric. He explained, "This is my message to you. Why are you keeping your worry on your head? If you keep it down, then God will take care of it. Leave it in the train." Your problems and worries, if you surrender them to God, will still travel with you, but they will not trouble your mind. They carry your weight. If you hold them on your head, you are burdened; if you place them at God's feet, you are free. We all have problems—at home, in the ashram, with hundreds of children in a school. These problems are a blessing, not a cause for sorrow. We will manage them, but why let them constantly flow in our mind? There is another story of two Mahātmas. A lady needed help crossing a river. One Mahātma carried her across. The other, Dushyam Mahātma, was furious, citing a rule in their Sampradāya that a woman should not be touched. A year later, he was still angry, chastising the first. The first Mahārāj Jī replied, "I made a small mistake that day and left the matter there. But you are still carrying it in your mind. What is going on in your mind?" Our mind is so clever; it magnifies small problems. This, too, is a form of yoga. When we sit for meditation, we must first observe our mind—its direction and path. Gradually, we understand it, and only then can we change its course. To understand, we must see it from the right perspective, with love for our own thoughts. In the 12th chapter of the Bhagavad Gītā, Lord Kṛṣṇa says, "Adveṣṭā sarva bhūtānāṁ maitre karuṇa eva ca." A devotee should harbor no hatred towards any being, including oneself. When we sit for Śaraṇa and observe the mind's activity, we should not get angry. It is like a child; we must guide it with love. If we practice yoga with this feeling, transformation is quick. The worries we carry, like Mahārāj Jī's bag, will fall away like ripe fruit from a tree. But to achieve this, we must view our mind and thoughts with the right perspective and love, gently steering them onto the path. Here at the Kumbh, Gaṅgājī has been flowing powerfully. For a month, the administration worked tirelessly, building barriers to prevent the river from cutting through a specific area. At one point, it seemed the river would win. The water was deep and threatening to break through. Now, the waters have aligned. It appears that, at least for the Kumbh, there will be no trouble. Our mind is similar. It constantly tries to stray, but with daily practice, meditation, and yoga, it gradually comes into alignment. Another story: Once, Nārada Muni was wandering on the seashore. He saw thousands of birds in a frantic state, flying to the beach, taking sand in their beaks, and dropping it into the ocean. Nārada called one bird and asked, "What is happening? Your whole society is nervous and shouting." The bird explained, "Our sister's children were sitting by the ocean. A wave took them. We are putting sand into the ocean so it will fill up and they will be saved." Nārada was moved but saw the futility of their small beaks against the vast ocean. He went to Lord Viṣṇu. Nārada's duty is to convey news. Garuḍa, Viṣṇu's vehicle, was present and immediately asked, "What is wrong with the birds?" Nārada explained their plight. Garuḍa said, "I will help." He went to the beach, enlarged his form, and with his wings, began moving massive amounts of sand into the ocean. The ocean goddess appeared and protested, "Gurudeva, what are you doing? You will fill me completely!" Garuḍa replied, "These are the thoughts of the birds. I am helping them. Return their offspring." The young birds were returned, and the work was successful. The lesson of yoga is that we begin our spiritual work in a small way. We may feel our efforts are insignificant. But if we proceed with devotion and love, like the birds, and persist until our collective resolve creates a 'noise,' then divine help arrives. Our Guru takes us forward. Our mouth and hands are small; what can we do against the ocean of our karma? But if we begin sincerely, Gurujī is there. When he sees our serious commitment of body and mind, he accompanies us, and everything is accomplished by his mighty hand. Satguru, rakho laaje hamari, aayo sharan na tumari. Satguru, rakho hamari Bhakta Praladaki rakshakini, jalati agni me ubari. Bhakta Praladaki rakshakini, jalati agni me ubari. Kambhapara prakattabhaya swami, Kambhapara prakattabhaya swami. Chiname vipat nivāri, Satguru Rākulā je hamāri. Āyō śaraṇ tu māri, Satguru Rākulā je hamāri. Gajako kera liyonjala beetar, Tera naam pokari. Garuda chod palame hari aaye, Garuda chod palame hari aaye. Bhaktan ke hitakari, Satguru Rākulā je hamāri. Deena Dayal Dayakardhata, Deena Dayal Dayakardhata, Aayo sharan tumhari, Satguru rakho laje hamari... Draupadī kī lāja bachāī, bharisabhā meṁ murārī. Draupadī kī lāja bachāī, bharisabhā meṁ murārī. Cīra paḍayo para nahīṁ pāyo, tīra paḍayo para nahīṁ pāyo. Āyu duṣṭa duṣāsannahārī, sattva guru rākula jehāmārī. Duṣṭa duṣāsannahārī, sattva guru rākula jehāmārī. Ina dayāladāyakardātā, āyosharaṇa tumārī Satguru rakola je hamārī. Āyosharaṇa tumhārī Satguru rako laja hamārī. Mīrābāī Paramehar kīnī viṣamṛta kardārī, Mīrābāī Paramehar kīnī viṣamṛta. Ase bhakta ananta ubādhya. O Sharana Tumhari, Sathaguru, Rākulāja Hāmāri Śrī Pūjā Bhagavān Dīpa Nārāyaṇa Pāra Brahmāy Avatārī... Kāhe Mādhavānanda-jī Prabhujī, Kāhe Mādhavānanda-jī Prabhujī, Suno āra jagīra dhārī, Sattva-guru rākola jaya mārī.... When we do sādhana, we reflect on these verses. "Gajako kera liyonjala beetar, Tera naam pokari." This refers to the elephant being dragged into the water by a crocodile (at the Viśuddhi Chakra). The crocodile (Maghramach) resides in the Svādhiṣṭhāna, where Kāma (lust) and Lobha (greed) dwell. We strive to rise through the cakras, but these forces pull us back. Even when we open the Anāhata Chakra and feel love and confidence, anger can drag us down. At such times, what must we do? We call upon the name of Bhagavān: "Thera nāma pukārī." By taking the name, help arrives: "Garuḍa chor pal me hari āyī, Bhaktan ke hitakārī." It is said that everything happens by taking refuge, but nothing happens without the Guru. We may achieve something by our own effort, but when serious problems arise, when we are pulled back from within, the Guru is there. That is why we always sing this bhajan, composed by our Dādā Gurujī, Swāmī Madhavānandjī Mahārāj. One line says, "We are all under the feet of the Guru." We must instill in our mind, in every situation, that we are worthy of their blessings. We have to do this. Now, it is my turn to say, "Arre Gurujī, rakho āp kī hāth meru upar." When we sit with this feeling, then the work for Gurujī can proceed. Then they can do something. We must take their name when problems come, and we must also take their name when good things happen. I reflect on the story of the Kumbh. The ocean was churned, and what emerged? Poison emerged. What did they do with the poison? They went straight to Śiva and asked him to take care of it. But consider this: when the Amṛt emerged, did they go straight to Maa Devījī and ask her to drink it for their benefit? No. If we drink it, it benefits us all. We all receive Amṛt. Yet, when there is a problem, we are quick to offer it to Gurujī. When something good happens, we claim, "This is my work." We forget. In the Kaṭhopaniṣad, the young boy Nachiketas observes his father performing a Yajña and giving away old, unproductive cows. Nachiketas asks, "Father, why are you giving an old cow? You should give your best." This is a lesson for us. This is your time. You are youthful. Now is the time to dedicate yourself to your spiritual path and to service. Do not give only your leftover time. Dedicate five, ten, fifteen minutes of your best time each day—quality time, not the time when you are tired and watching television. Then something will happen. It is a matter of the heart. Lord Śrī Narendra, do it. Satguru Deva, do it. I am reminded of another story, seeing everyone here at the Kumbh carrying their belongings on their heads to their camps. It brings to mind the same story of Mahārāj Jī on the train, keeping his bag on his head. The point is easy to understand but harder to practice. Ask yourself: how often has your mind wandered back to worldly worries instead of being fully present here at the Kumbh? We come here to step completely out of the world, to be in a different realm, free from habitual pulls. We are in an āśram, a community gathered for a spiritual purpose. This energy is a special time to do something profound. The second story, of Nārada and the birds, teaches that we begin our spiritual transformation in small, seemingly insignificant ways. We may think, "This will make no difference." But when these small efforts accumulate, when our collective resolve intensifies, it is time for Gurujī's divine blessing to intervene. The Kaṭha Upaniṣad states that in sādhana, you reach a point of peace. Beyond that, a force takes you from behind and propels you forward. That part is not in our hands. But to reach that point, to take those small, persistent steps like the birds, that is our duty. The rest is with Gurujī. As we sing in the bhajan, asking for protection and help, there is a line: "Now it’s my turn, Gurujī." We say, "You gave your blessing to Mīrā, to Draupadī, to Prahlād, to the elephant. Now it’s my turn." We prepare through sādhana so we can go before Swāmījī and say, "Swāmījī, now I also want some of that amṛt, that blessing." We start as small birds. When the inner noise of our transformation becomes sincere and strong, then grace comes. Śrī Swāmī Maheśwar Nāmpurī Satguru Devakī Jai