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Śrīdīp Nārāyaṇ Bhagavān kī Devpurīśvar Mahādeva kī Satguru Svāmī Mādhāvanjī Bhagavān kī Satyasanātan Dharma kī Jai. Good evening. Welcome. We have a beautiful evening again. It is a beautiful atmosphere. In such an environment, we experience very beautiful feelings. Stress is slowly, slowly going away. All different kinds of stress in the body are released. In our time, in every country, everywhere, in every society, there is a kind of tension. So, where are we going? Where do we want to go? This Jīvātmā, our soul which is living in us, also wants to know where to go. In ancient times, they also had great stress. The human population was small, but they also had much fear, stress, depression, and so on. We cannot get rid of it. It means we have to live with it, even if we do not want to, because others are forcing us. Now, what to do? There is a nice story Holy Gurujī tells. There was a horse rider, and the owner of the horse was riding through the desert. Of course, both were suffering from the heat. The sun was shining hot, very warm. From time to time, some trees could be seen. They came to a farmer who had a farm a great distance away, so he had a water well. He was pumping water from the ground, and the water was immediately going into a pipe. The horse and the horseman were both thirsty. The horseman requested the farmer, "We are thirsty. Can you start your pump to bring water out so our horse can drink?" The water was flowing out for about a meter before going back into the pipe. The farmer said, "Of course, no problem." He started the generator, and water came. But the horse was frightened; it had never seen such a system. Water was flowing, but the horse would not come close. The horseman said, "Please, can you stop for a while?" He stopped the pump. The horse came close, but there was no water. He said, "Can you start again?" Water came, and the horse shied away. Again he said, "Can you stop?" The horse came, but there was no water. After repeating this two or three times, the farmer said, "My friend, if you want to give water to your horse, then give it with the sound of the generator. Otherwise, take it. Your horse is thirsty; it came." We are thirsty horses in this world, from little children to older people. We are all in this stress. A little child cries for its mother, cries for milk. Then, with toys, we are always occupied. Then, in kindergarten and school—the stress. How many years do you sit on hard chairs, perhaps iron or wooden? There is no soft cushion; the chair is hard. All the time, looking there. How many years? Your buttocks develop very hard skin. How many times do you change your legs, and so on and so on? Coming home is stress again—homework. Then we get a profession, again the same chair. Maybe, if you are highly educated and attain a high position, you have a little softness, but generally people have the same hard chair. You studied for many years, and you work for even more. It means we have stress. We have many, many obligations. We have no time to meditate, to practice yoga. Our situation is like that horse in this trace, in this noise of the world. If you want to quench your thirst for spirituality, then you should do it. Two things are very, very true. Time will not wait for us. It does not matter who is who. Even Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and Śiva cannot stop time. In another way, is there time? Time is made by humans. Do birds have a time? They do not count time. They only go when hungry or thirsty, or when they feel the need. That is all; there is no time. So time is made by humans. There is no time, but the time we think of is also limited. So even Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and Śiva, the creator, cannot stop time. So there is one reality, which we call time. We may not count it, but we are getting old. We are getting older and older, and so we are counting, perhaps. The second is karma. Whatever we do, it will be counted. You know many of your karmas, and you think you can hide your karma and run away from it. Does it mean you will die and all karma is finished? No. The karma goes with us like the shadow of our body. This shadow of our body means all our five bodies. Generally, we say the physical, mental, and subtle bodies. Our karma is guiding us, and it will lead to what karma wants. Karma is very true. If it is not your karma, you need not be afraid. In this, we have what we call pāpa and puṇya, sin and piety, our good karma and bad karma. Pāpa is sin, and puṇya is good. A pure soul. When you have those pure, pure karmas, then you are like the cat's eye on the road—the reflective markers on the highway. At night when we drive, there are green lights, red lights on the road. It rains, dirty water falls on them, but they do not become dirty. If we see that sign, it is very clear. Similarly, when you are like that cat's eye on the road, perhaps someone will throw dirt on you as negativity—Mala, Vikṣepa, and Āvaraṇa. In the Antaḥkaraṇa: manas, buddhi, citta, and ahaṁkāra. Manas, our mind. Many people give definitions of the mind, but still we cannot catch it; we do not know. Every philosophy, every religion, every literature gives a different definition, but still we cannot catch it. The mind is with us all the time. The mind goes on until the next life again. It is said by Saint Kabīr Dās: "Manamaraṇa mamatā marī, marmar gayā śarīra. Asatṛṣṇā nā marī, kaha gayā Dās Kabīra." Often I give this poem: "Manamara"—you cannot kill the mind. "Manamaraṇamamatā marī." Mamatā means our desire. My, my, my. Mamatva. It is mine. My land, my house, my money, my car—everything is mine. This is called mamatā. Gurujī said, "Māmtā, the desire." That catches us, mamatā, the desire. We are caught. We are caught in different situations: in your house, your relations, your studies, your things, etc. We are tied to something. We are tied to Alakpurjī Siddhāpīt Gufā; we are bound to Devpurījī cave, so we go from here. Hard work, taking money, holidays, airplanes, walking over rocks—but we go there because we know it is our place, it is our spirituality. So we are bound to it. There is a path to go to liberation. There is a story. What is Mamatva? You have heard the name of Tulsīdās, who also wrote the Rāmāyaṇa. The Rāmāyaṇa was written by a great saint called Vālmīki. Vālmīki's Rāmāyaṇa is written in pure Sanskrit. Rāma was incarnated about 1,155,000 years ago. That time was also Hanumānjī's time. That time, there was no other religion. All the religions we talk about have come up in Kali Yuga. But Rāma was before this Kali Yuga, in the Dvāpar Yuga. At that time, there was the Ṛṣi Vālmīki. You know the story of Vālmīki. He was a bandit, killing people and taking whatever they had, bringing it to his parents. Nārada came to Vālmīki. Vālmīki caught him and wanted to take everything. First, he said, "I will kill you. Fight with me. You are not giving me a donation. I will kill you and then take it." So much sin. In human history, all the time there is cruelty: how many wars, how many killings, how many animals killed? Nārada said, "Do you know how many sins you have upon you? For whom are you doing this?" Vālmīki said, "For my whole family." But you know, karma is only on you, not on your family. He said, "No, no. My father, my mother, my wife—all I do for them, so the karma is on them." Nārada said, "No. You did it. Go and ask your parents." Vālmīki thought, "A very clever man. I go to ask my parents, my family, and you will run away. I am not so stupid." Nārada said, "Is it true? You can tie me to a tree, and you have your friends with you; they will not let me run away." So Vālmīki said, "Okay." When he came to know the sin, it began to affect him. Already, he became weaker and weaker. When you walk through the forest, you are a strong man or woman. You are not afraid of anything. There is no ghost. I have some weapons. If there are animals, a tiger or something, I am not afraid. So you go through the forest. Nobody is near, and you are going. You are a strong person, and suddenly, in one tree, the branches are moving. On the other side, somebody is saying something, and on another side, you hear a laugh, and nothing comes. You will start to have goosebumps. Even though you are strong, you keep walking. Then through the grass, someone is walking, and again someone is doing something. Now what is happening? Your energy is becoming less. Fear comes. You become weaker and weaker. So if something happens to you, do not lose your strength. Say, "I will face you." But in such darkness, you are alone. Your steps become uncertain. And someone from the backside? No one. So slowly, slowly our strength, our braveness, gets less. Though there is no ghost, nothing. It is your mind playing with you. Similarly, when Nārada told Vālmīki about karma, he became weaker and went home. "Father, you know what I am doing." "Yes, son." "But Father, I am doing it for you. Will you share the sin with me?" "No, my son, no. It is your duty. It is your duty to take care of me if I am your father. So it does not matter how you bring the food, but it is your duty, my son." He went to his mother, and the mother also said, "No, my son, I love you. You are my good boy, but what you do is your karma. Even if I want to take your karma, I cannot get it." Then he went to his wife, and she said, "Of course not." "What do you think?" The wife was a little hard. "You will not help me, my love?" "No. For me, it does not matter if you die; I will go to my family." He became weaker and weaker. He went from Nārada as a strong man and came back with a pale face. He opened his heart and said, "What can I do?" Nārada said, "There is only one God. Mantra—what is that? Your sins will go away. You will become great. So what? The name of God is Rāma. This is a very powerful mantra. Rāma, Rāma, Rāma." But his tongue would not twist to say the name of God, Rāma. His tongue turned towards "Māra," which means kill, killing, killing. So he said, "I cannot say, 'I will kill, kill.' Māra, Māra." Nārada said, "Okay. Continuously." So after four times, "Māra Māra" became "Rāma Rāma." He said, "Maram, Ram, Ram..." and it became Ram. As the story goes, he went into samādhi for months and years. Termites built a mound over his body. There was a hole for snakes. But when he was in that state of consciousness, his body could not decay. Then he attained Brahmajñāna and woke up. He wrote this Holy Rāmāyaṇa. It is one of the oldest scriptures ever written. It was written in ancient times, hundreds of thousands of years ago. That is called Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. Vālmīki became Trikāla Darśī. He could see past, present, and future. When you get this state of Trikāl Darśī, you should never, never use it. If you know what was in the past, do not tell. What is happening now, do not tell. And what will happen to you in the future, do not tell. Tell only normal daily life. But if you say, "I have siddhi," then the siddhi is gone, and all the karmas of those others will come back to you. The mouse falls in the cold water, far somewhere. Until the mouse comes out, it is already like ice. Go back to the... Therefore, every spiritual person never tries to become, "I am the great one. I know everything." When you say "I know everything," it means zero. You do not know everything. So this is the path. Vālmīki wrote that scripture; it is one of the most ancient literatures, written in Sanskrit. That is why everywhere it is in Sanskrit; it was first in Sanskrit. You can buy that book. It is only in Sanskrit. Now people are changing, translating it. So you can buy that; it is very good. Tulsīdās translated this from Sanskrit to the local language so people could read it properly. Not all are educated in Sanskrit. So Tulsīdās wrote from Vālmīki's work and added some poems of his own. Now, you know where I am talking. I did not forget what I want to tell you. I am coming to that point. Tulsīdās's house was on the bank of a river. On the other side of the river, there was a family with whom Tulsīdās's parents arranged his marriage to a girl. Okay, normally. You know more than I how he married and how they were happy together. But there was a tradition that girls do not stay forever. She stays one month with her husband and his family, then goes back to her parents' family and stays there fifteen days or two months, like this. So you are not separated from parents, but as a new young couple, Tulsīdās's wife was in her parents' house, and it had already been one month. Tulsīdās was very emotional and wanted to see his wife. But he did not dare. What would the parents say? What would her parents say? So one day, after sunset, he jumped into the river to cross it and go to that village. There was a dead body floating in the water. He thought it was wood, so he held onto it, and it was floating. He was blind with emotion. He only wanted to see his wife, nothing else. He crossed the river, and around eleven o'clock at night, he approached the door. What would his parents-in-law say? They would say, "Why didn't you come in the daytime? Why are you so wet? It is your house; come in the daytime." So he went from the back side of the house, as in many stories you have. In every world, it is like that. He went from behind with a ladder, climbed up, and came into his wife's room. She lit a candle and said, "Darling, you came at night and in such cold." She said, "I love you so much, I cannot resist." And she said, "My dear, you must love me. If you could have love that was toward God, you would be great." And you know how the boys are, so he had ego. He said, "I will not see you anymore," and he went away. Then he began to write the Rāmāyaṇa. He said, "I will never see the face of a woman." He made a nice hut, performed much sādhanā, and then wrote the Rāmāyaṇa from Vālmīki's work in other languages. So that is what I am telling you: karmic and certain things we do not know. Where are we running? Where are we going? Of course, we should do everything. Love your parents very, very much. Love your partners very much. Do not divorce, but you have to be loving to your partner. Nowadays, partner means a parter—the partner becomes a partner, separating. So this is the situation, karma. So it does not matter how we are, but we shall continue our spiritual path. Very soon, we are gone. We have pain here. We have pain there. We have pain walking like this. When we were about one year old or one and a half years old, we went on all fours: two legs and two hands. When we are old, we will again come to four legs. We cannot get up. We say, "Oh, moment, all four." Again, we are there where we began. That is it. So, my dear, in any situation, we should do our sādhanā, our mantra, and be positive. Never think that I am the wise one. No. There are many, many who know much better than us. Trikāl Darśī is different. So do not open your third eye to see your past, present, and future. I wish you all the best. Good evening. Good evening. Good evening. Good evening. Good evening. Good evening. Good evening. Good evening.