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O Śrī Dīp Nārāyaṇ Bhagavān, Deveśvar Mahādevakī, Satguru Svāmī Madhavānandjī Bhagavānakī, Sanātan Dharmakī. Good evening and blessings of Gurudev. Good evening, good morning, and good day to all our dear brothers and spiritual seekers around the world. A blessing is coming to you from Śrī Dev Pūjā Āśram, Dungong, Australia. Our sādhanā camp—our retreat—is running successfully. God has greatly blessed us with constant rain. First of all, nature needs water. Australia, especially, is like half of India; it is also dry. So we are happy that this year it rained well. Secondly, you could do your sādhanā peacefully. Otherwise, you would say it is too hot, and the mind would run here and there under the trees. Whatever God is doing is good. Humans are never happy: if it does not rain, they are unhappy; if it rains, they are unhappy. Therefore, God knows what He should do, and not only according to human desires or human selfishness. Of course, I had a different opinion and expectation about the Australian summer, but it has turned into winter. That is called climate change. The question of climate change is not new. There are different kinds of climate changes. Take yourself: observe yourself from morning till evening, from when you wake up till you go back to sleep. How many situations change in your mind, your inner climate? Happy, unhappy, angry, disappointed, sad, and so on. So climate change is not permanent; it is called climate change. They were saying it would be very hot, but the climate changed. We humans can influence global warming and climate changes through our way of life, through our inner climate. In the Vedas, it is said, "Oh man, you should live in harmony with nature." To live in oneness and harmony with nature is the teaching of the Vedas. It means loving, respecting, protecting, and taking care of nature and all other creatures. But humans have forgotten this, and that is why we are suffering. Yoga is the way. Yoga existed before this creation began, before this earth was created. The consciousness, space, and that uniting, balancing, harmonizing, and protective principle—that is called yoga. The aim of our life is to become one with our origin. On this planet, the Creator has created 8.4 million different creatures, and one of them is human. It is like one circle, clockwise. From your side, see clockwise; from my side, it is clockwise. The individual soul is constantly changing form, like we change dress. So from one life to another life, from one kind of life to another kind of life, the soul is traveling, of course, according to destiny, according to karma. When the soul changes body, the soul is not unhappy; it is very happy. It is like you were working the whole day, full of dust, hot or cold, in different kinds of spaces and rooms. You come home; your dress has a different smell, your hair has a different smell. So what you do is you take off your dress and wash yourself, and then you take a fresh or new dress. You think and you say, "Oh, finally, I feel comfortable and relaxed and released." Similarly, the soul, which is spending time in one form of life, in one body, is tired of it. So much pollution—it means karmic, it means experiences, it means desires, expectations, happiness, unhappiness. When someone dies, we are unhappy. When someone is ill, we are unhappy. If someone has an accident, we are unhappy. So unhappiness is constantly surrounding us. And in between, there is happiness too. But finally, this soul, jīvātmā, is tired of it. It is too much, too much burden, and the body is completely exhausted. How long will this machine work? Finally, the soul would like to change the body, so the soul goes out of the body. But there is something between soul and body: our spirit, our mind, our feelings. We are afraid. The dharma of the body is to be born, to grow, and to die. There are different kinds of death, how one is dying, again with destiny. A few days ago, we were walking; we had a bush walk through our Dungong ashram's properties. We wanted to see where the boundary of our property is. We were walking for nearly one and a half hours, but we did not see the end. There are so many bushes and grass, so we made a shortcut and came back. On the way, there was a beautiful pond or a lake. In this ashram property, on the map we see, we have not seen all. There are a few ponds, or they call them little man-made lakes for the animals. Humans are always very curious, and we walked towards the pond and suddenly we saw one turtle lying on his back, and he died. Somehow, or by running from the kangaroo, he just turned over on his back. You know, the turtle has a long, long life. I think it is one of the animals which has a long life. But when he is on his back, he has no strength to turn back because his limbs are above and cannot touch the ground to get support to turn. We saw a beautiful, small, colorful turtle. His whole neck was hanging outside. It seems that he was trying to stretch his neck, to touch the ground, to turn over. All his limbs were out, but he died, and his limbs were dried. What a painful, unpleasant death. You know you are alive, you know you are not ill. You are hungry, you are thirsty, but you cannot do anything. So, in some way, death is cruel. For death, it does not matter how you die; the main thing is that you die. Maybe we are not afraid of death, but of the pain. And unfortunately, we are not so far that we can say, "I do not feel pain." It is very easy to say, "Ahaṁ Brahmāsmi"—I am Brahman, I am Ātmā, I am not the body. Yes, to say it and to realize it like this is a big difference. So it means we have a long, long way to come to that point where we will not be afraid and will not feel the pain. Therefore, the yogī said there is one way to come out of this pain: not to be born. If you are not born, you will not die. But if you are born, you will die. No one is forever. One day, one will die. You know, from ages and ages, there were many people who would like to live forever, who would like to be immortal, but it is not possible by law. Even Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Śiva, and all holy incarnations, they are also bound to time. Their time will come, and they have to go back. Somehow they have to give up their role, their play. So, who are we, humans? You have been watching every day, you have been watching the Mahāśivapurāṇa, and you have seen some episodes already. There were some people or some persons who would like to be immortal, but Brahmā said, "That is not possible." You can ask anything. You can ask that you should not be killed by this or that or death or this. Everything I will give you, but death will be there. It is death that will find its way to you. You cannot escape. It is said: Rāma kisi ko māre nahī̃, aura nahī̃ hatyārā Rāma apne āpa mar jāyeṅge kar kar khotā kāma. God kills no one, and God is not the murderer. They will die while doing their bad karmas. It is your karma that is your destiny, and how the end of life will be is decided according to those karmas which have become a destiny for us. Every one of us has our destiny book. Every creature, even a one-day fly, is written in the destiny book of Dharmarāja. And then Vidhātā—Vidhātā—she will write the new destiny at the time of your birth. That is called Vidhātā. Vidhātā, she is the time of birth, writes what will happen in your life. And then it is said, eternal truth, that no one can change Vidhātā's writing. But it is said, the Vidhātā's writing, Gurudev can change. How? Through warning, through warning you. What does it mean that Gurudev warns you? It means Guru Bhakya. Do not do this, do that. Do not go in this way, go in this way. If we do not do it, then we will be further the victim of destiny. There is one story about King Rāvaṇa. Around 10,000 years ago, the time of God Rāma's, when God Rāma was there, it is said the king of Sri Lanka, his name was Rāvaṇa, a great person, a great learned person, had many siddhis. You may say he was one of the mightiest ones on this planet. And even the king of heaven, Indra, was afraid of Rāvaṇa. Sometimes when Rāvaṇa looked at Indra, Indra was trembling like this. Rāvaṇa was challenging Indra, and it is said all the planets were afraid of him. He ordered all the, it is called Navagraha, that they should be in his favor. Otherwise, I will just make you like an ass in my fist. That power he had, not physical but mental power, spiritual power; nothing was impossible for him. And he wanted to be immortal, so he went to Brahmā and asked for immortality, but Brahmā could not give it to him. And it is said that Rāvaṇa, ten times, he cut his own head and offered it to Brahmā. Ten times. And every time, a head grew. But still, he said no. But, Rāvaṇa, I give you something very secret: that immortality I will put in your body in one place, in your navel. If someone attacks your navel, then you will die. Otherwise not. And Rāvaṇa is known as ten-headed. It means he had the strength of ten elephants, ten wild elephants. Can you imagine the man? Now, what happened? One weakness we have, that was ego. Now he thinks, "I am the greatest one." He begins to give the challenge to Brahmā, that you could not give me immortality, but I give you a challenge, Brahmā, now. He gave the challenge to Viṣṇu. But ego is, as soon as ego awakes in you, now you are going downwards. It is not easy to master the ego. Ego comes. When you win a game, you say, ah, look, I win it. Who was that saying, I win it? When Swamiji said in one lecture a few weeks ago, "I stand like this, writing, you know, A, B, C, D, E, F, G, I stand like this. But this I stand alone." On this point, there is a dangerous one. But if this "I" surrenders, then it becomes a connecting bridge from one heart to another heart. He had many siddhis, and his palace, or his castle, that was called Sri Lanka, was golden, all made out of gold. And within that, he had his residence. This Gauradha is big. Our Dungong Ashram, which is how many hundreds of hectares, we do not know. We can say thousands of times bigger than this. Thousands and thousands, hundreds of thousands. Proud? No one can kill me. So when God incarnates, God does not incarnate only for one thing. Many, many... many things come together. Our dear sister Yog Siddhī, she is going shopping for us every day, nearly. She is not going shopping only for herself to buy cigarettes, but she goes to buy tissues for you, fruits for someone, medicine for someone, this for someone. There are so many requests. Then she decides to go to the market to go shopping. So when God incarnates, he does not come only for one thing. There are many, many things. Then he comes to liberate pure souls and destroy all sins and negativity. And God does not do directly to anyone. Even one is a negative devil, God will not do directly. He will prove him or her this and this and this and this and this and this. So many times your mistakes were, how many times? Do you agree? Now your end is here. One God will forgive. Two, he will forgive. Three, he will forgive. But how many times? God Rāma incarnated at that time. And there are many, many stories of God Rāma's beautiful deeds, what he did and all. Now, it is very hard to say for which he incarnated. After your Mahāśivapurāṇa, I would suggest you to read or see the Rāmāyaṇa. Oh, beautiful. You will see what is the love of the parents, what is the love of the children, what is the love of brother and sisters, and what is the love of husband and wife. Oh, and what is the divinity, and how can God maintain the social relations? Beautiful. Many saints, and the like. God Rāma had to go to the forest for 14 years. His brother Lakṣmaṇa followed him, and his beautiful wife Sītā. Now, it is a long story; I will not tell you all. When they were in the forest, Rāma, Lakṣmaṇa, and Sītā went. The forest was similar to Dungong. And one day, Rāvaṇa's sister—they all had a siddhi, you know. They could manifest it. They could go astral traveling. And she fell in love with Rāma. No, not Rāma, with Lakṣmaṇa. And she came to him, and she said to Lakṣmaṇa, "You should marry me. I love you." And he was so angry, he said, "Disappear or go to my brother." She went to Rāma. Rāma said, "No, I am married. I do not want. You can go to Lakṣmaṇa." And she came to Lakṣmaṇa and told him something, and what he did—he was angry and he chipped her nose up. Girls, be careful. Do not think that men are always so easy. Now, this nose of the pride, nose of the ego, nose of the ignorance, nose of the stupidity—with wounded nose, she went back to her brother Rāvaṇa and cried in his audience with all his kings and ministers, and like this. And she said, "Brother, you are here in your presence. What happened to me? I am your sister. They humiliated me." Rāvaṇa's brother said to Rāvaṇa, "But why did you go there? Why did you go there? What was the cause that he chipped off your nose?" Now, what to answer? If she said I was in love, then she was not in a position to tell the truth. But she said, "Because of my brother, the mighty Rāvaṇa, I saw there one lady so beautiful, not in the three worlds, in the universe so beautiful, and I want that she should be the wife of my brother Rāvaṇa." And Rāvaṇa said, "Hmm, that is something good." And they did this to you? She said, "Yes." Well, the ego of Rāvaṇa came, and he came with astral form, and he saw Sītā. But how to get her? He had no power to fight against Rāma, not even against Lakṣmaṇa. So the story goes beautifully long. So Rāvaṇa told his uncle, Mārīci. Mārīci had a siddhi to become or take the form of any creature. So Rāvaṇa said, "Uncle, you go in front of the hut of Sītā where she is living and change your form and become a golden deer. Definitely she would like to have you." And she will ask Rāma to get it for you. Rāma will not go. But you know how women are. When they decide once, they want to have it at any price. But that price becomes, at some time, an unpleasant surprise. If you do not do this, I will check your head, my uncle. Where poor Rākṣasa, there are no relations, and especially when one is blind with ignorance and ego, he went, became a deer, and Sītā was so delighted. And she told Rāma, "Lord, so many years we are all in the forest, and I never ask you for anything. And you know, I know that you know, the duty of the husband is to fulfill the wish of the wife. I left. I love you, and I am with you in the forest, all animals, different weathers, my dear. I wish to have that golden deer, you see." Rāma saw. He closed his eyes. Rāma knew what it was. She said, "That is not good. That is not for you." She said, "Why? I want to have." He said, "Sītā, it is not good." "No, Lord, I want to have." Rāvaṇa told, "When Rāma comes with his arrow and bow closer to you, you disappear. And half a kilometer far, you appear again." Rāma will run there, come closer and closer. As soon as he takes his arrow, you disappear 500 meters far, 300. And like this, press Rāma a few kilometers far. Then I will take care. I will have a home. Home, Sītā. Okay? Then you should disappear and make a call: "Brother Lakṣmaṇa, come and help me. Lakṣmaṇa, come and help me." And when Lakṣmaṇa will hear that Rāma is in need, he will run to help him. But in reality, it was not Rāma who was calling; he told his uncle Mārīci. So you will trace the Lakṣmaṇa away. Then this young girl, this young lady, has no more power to fight with me. I will take her like a carrot out of the ground and bring her and make her my wife. That was the plan. Rāma called Lakṣmaṇa and said, "Brother, do not leave Sītā. It does not matter what happens. Even if I call you, do not go away." Yes, brother, I will do it. You shall guard her. About one and a half hours, Rāma was already a few kilometers away. And Mārīci came somewhere near and was shouting, "Brother Lakṣmaṇa, help! Brother Lakṣmaṇa, come!" And Sītā heard. She said, "Lakṣmaṇa, go." He said, "No, no, Mother." The wife of the elder brother we call mother. She said, "Go, I tell you." He said, "No." Then she told him one word which hurt him so much. She said, "Now I think you understand that you think when Rāma dies, you can have me as a wife." And he said, "Mother, I never, never, never would think like this." But if you wish I go, then I have one request. Lakṣmaṇa drew a circle around the hut. He instructed, “Please do not step outside this circle.” Sītā agreed. With his bow, Lakṣmaṇa drew a protective line; it became a barrier that no one could penetrate. It was like a bulletproof fence, an electric wire. To come near it was to be burned. Having established this protection, he departed. Then Rāvaṇa arrived. He changed his form, appearing as a ṛṣi with a long white beard and hair, a hermit seeking alms. “I am here for bhikṣā,” he said. Sītā was delighted to see a holy man. Happily, she gathered fruits and said, “Come.” But as Rāvaṇa approached, about a meter from the circle, he received a shock like an electric current. “Oh!” he exclaimed. Sītā urged him, “Come, come closer.” But he replied, “I am not a beggar at your door. I will sit here under this tree and die of hunger. I will wait here until your husband returns. What a rude wife you are, with no respect for saints! I will give up my life here.” Sītā thought he was a true tapasvī, a saint. Since they had only fruits to eat—no bread, butter, cheese, pizza, or halwa—she brought a basket full of fruits to him. As she crossed the circle to hand them over, he seized her and took her away. Rāma returned. Sītā was gone. Lakṣmaṇa came. Sītā was not there. At that time, Rāvaṇa came in an aeroplane, a two-seater. This was 10,000 years ago, yet they had such technology. The name of that aeroplane was Puṣpavān. He kidnapped her in it. Then, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa ran through the forest, calling, “Sītā, Sītā! Where are you?” A great eagle saw Rāvaṇa kidnapping Sītā and fought him, trying to kill him or throw him down to bring Sītā back. But Rāvaṇa cut one of the eagle’s wings, and the eagle fell. They found the wounded eagle, who told Rāma what had happened and where Sītā was being taken. Sītā had been throwing her jewelry along the way; she did not want to go and was screaming. They found these signs of her. It is a very beautiful and emotional story. When you see it, you will also cry—such love, such purity, and what anger and ego can do. The story goes far. God Rāma meets King Bali in Indonesia. It is there that Rāma establishes the kingdom under the name Bali. There he meets Hanumānjī, who becomes a great bhakta of Rāma. They searched all the islands, like Bali and others. Even now, you can see Rāmāyaṇa dances performed there. Hanumānjī ordered every monkey to search for Sītā—in space, in trees, in forests, in caves, in water. He gave them a duty with a deadline: “If you do not find her within these days, do not return. Die or bring Sītā.” After extensive searching, they could not find her. They decided to go to the ocean and commit suicide. In South India, by the Indian Ocean, they saw a very old eagle. He asked Hanumānjī, “Where is Sītā? Who took her? But how will you go to Śrī Laṅkā?” There was an ocean between them; for a monkey, it is not easy to swim across. But Hanumānjī possessed a siddhi, the power of flight. He is known as the flying yogī. Hanumānjī inhaled and proclaimed, “Om Jai Śrī Rām!”—victory to God Rāma—and he jumped. He faced many obstacles on the way. Rāvaṇa’s Rākṣasas, like a Border Security Force, fought against him, but he reached Sri Lanka. Yet, no one could enter the city. There were high golden walls; not even an ant could go in. There was only one gate, guarded by a mighty woman named Laṅkā. Hanumānjī circled around. In the evening, when she was on guard, Hanumānjī assumed a tiny form. The gate was slightly ajar, and he entered. He saw that in all of Laṅkā, no one was spiritual. Everyone was engaged in eating meat, drinking alcohol, and such things—a true Rākṣasa atmosphere. Hanumānjī wandered around. One early morning, during the Brahma Muhūrta at about 3:30 or 4 a.m., he thought, “Is there not a single devotee of God here? Are all like this?” As he walked, he came near a house and saw an oil lamp lit. Hanumānjī stopped. “Who gets up so early to make light?” There was a man chanting, “Śrī Rām, Jai Rām, Jai Jai Rām.” Hanumānjī’s tail wagged with happiness. Here was a devotee of his beloved Lord, a bhakta of Rāma. But then he thought, “Perhaps I am mistaken.” Because in each and every hair of Hanumānjī was the resonance of Rāma; God was one with him. He listened again, sitting there. The chant continued: “Śrī Rām, Jai Rām, Śrī Rām, Jai Rām, Śrī Rām, Jai Rām”—a mantra. Hanumānjī thought, “I must make sure this is not a theater, a trap set for me.” He changed his form to that of a sādhu, with a mālā and orange robes, and knocked on the door. It was opened by Rāvaṇa’s brother, Vibhīṣaṇa. He saw a sādhu, a Swāmī, at his door and recognized who it truly was. Vibhīṣaṇa said, “O my dear Hanumān, I have great faith that without God’s mercy, one cannot meet a sādhu, cannot meet a saint. Brother, come in. How are you? Sit down.” Hanumānjī said, “No time. You know why I am here.” Vibhīṣaṇa replied, “I know. I will tell you where Sītā is.” They had hidden her in a large, beautiful place called Aśoka Vāṭikā. Sītā had utterly rejected Rāvaṇa and refused to stay in the palace, so he had placed her under a tree in that park. Vibhīṣaṇa said, “She sits there, enduring rain, cold, and heat, under that tree. Surrounding her, within her vision and her feelings, there is nothing but Rāma. Yet she is in a terrible condition, not eating or drinking.” Hanumānjī went and saw her. He made a praṇām. Hanumānjī said, “Mother, I am your son, your bhakta. The Lord has sent me here.” She replied, “I do not trust you. All the Rākṣasas here come every day in different forms to tempt me.” He said, “Mother, God gave me something that you will recognize; then you will accept that I am your servant.” She asked, “What is it?” Before leaving, Rāma had told Hanumānjī, “Sītā will not accept you at all, no matter what you say. Therefore, I give you my ring.” Hanumānjī had kept Rāma’s ring in his mouth. Sītā saw it and recognized it. Then she said, “Take me, please, to my Lord.” Hanumānjī replied, “Mother, I am sorry. If he had told me to bring you, I would have you sit on my shoulder immediately, and I would take you there. But I always follow Guru Bhakti. I do not go one step forward or backward without instruction. He said, ‘Find out where she is.’ That is all. So I have found you. I will give your message as soon as possible.” The story continues at length. God Rāma comes with all the monkeys, bears, and other forest animals. But how to cross the ocean? They all sat helplessly on the shore. Hanumānjī asked, “God, what is to be done?” God asked the ocean to give them a way, but the ocean refused. Then God took his arrow, saying, “With one arrow, I will dry you up.” Sāgara, the ocean deity, emerged. “Lord, forgive me. I will give you the way. Let Hanumānjī build a bridge over me, and you can cross.” So Hanumānjī began taking stones, writing the name “Rāma” on them, and throwing them into the ocean. What happened? The stones floated. All the monkey armies, millions of bears and monkeys, began building the bridge, placing stone after stone with the chant “Rām, Rām…” Lakṣmaṇa also worked. Rāma was sitting there and thought, “I should also work.” So Rāma took a stone and threw it. What happened? It sank. God Rāma thought, “My God, what will people think?” He tried again, but it sank deep. Then Rāma went to Hanumānjī and said, “Hanumānjī, what is this miracle? You have the power that your stones float on water, but when I throw one, it goes down?” Hanumānjī said, “Yes, God, it is very clear.” Rāma asked, “Why?” Hanumānjī explained, “Lord, if you throw someone away from your hand, they have no chance to remain up; they will go down. So please, sit down. Do not worry.” Hanumānjī was known as one of the most intelligent persons. They built the bridge called Rām Setu between India and Sri Lanka. A war ensued. Rāma sent a message that Rāvaṇa should return Sītā. Rāvaṇa said, “No question.” Rāma warned him many times, but Rāvaṇa wanted to fight. The war took place, and finally, God Rāma killed Rāvaṇa. There is not just one reason why God incarnates, why a Gurudev comes—not for one person, not for one satsaṅg, not for one occasion—but for everyone. Your selfishness and ego will pull you down and create distance. Therefore, yoga is that which makes a human, human. Yoga purifies the antahkaraṇa (the inner instrument), purifies negative qualities, awakens respect, love, harmony, and kindness, and sees all as one with you. It is not that when you have eaten and your stomach is full, everyone’s stomach is full. If I have eaten and am full, but you are still hungry while I talk and talk, I should not think you are not hungry just because I am full. No. Therefore, think of others. Give to others. That is it. God comes for many, many reasons, not only one. So yoga is not only physical exercises, though they are good for us. The reality is our mantra, our devotion, our enunciation, our sacrifice—that brings us closer to God. From that time onward, spirituality has existed, and a human can come out of the cycle of rebirth and death through the human body. That is destiny. When Gurudev says, “Do this,” and if you do it, you are protected from destiny. Why did I tell you the whole story of Rāvaṇa? To talk about destiny. One day, Rāvaṇa was sitting in his palace while his wife was giving birth to a girl. Vidhātā, the goddess of destiny who writes our fate, was approaching. Rāvaṇa could see astral beings. He said, “Oh, who dares to enter the palace of Rāvaṇa without my permission?” She appeared and said, “Yes, sir, I am Vidhātā.” “Why have you come here?” “Because the birth of your daughter is imminent.” “Why did you come?” “To write her destiny.” “Aha, you are the one who writes the destiny of my children.” “Yes.” “Then write the best destiny. Otherwise, you should know, Rāvaṇa, I will track you down from any corner of the universe.” She said, “Sir, excuse me. That is not within my will. I will try to write the best I can, but I cannot control it. When my pencil is in my hand, how it moves I cannot influence. It moves only according to her destiny.” Rāvaṇa said, “Okay, but before you go, let me know what destiny you wrote for my daughter.” “Yes, that I can do.” There is a bhajan in the Rajasthani language: “Vidhata, terī kalam kyoṅ nahīṅ rukī hai?” O Vidhātā, why did your pencil not stop writing? One sings this because one faces such bad situations in life, with many difficult conditions. We ask, “Why is my destiny like this?” She returned. Rāvaṇa asked, “Finished?” “Yes, sir.” “What did you write?” “Everything is best. Very good. Happy life, happy marriage, comfortable life. Very good.” “Ah, good.” “But…” “From where did this ‘but’ come? From where did this ‘but’ come?” “But she will marry a sweeper, a street worker. And her husband will not be handsome. His legs will be like this. His eyes, one going this way, the other that way. His back will be a little bent. One of his lips will hang down.” “That is what you wrote for my daughter’s husband?” “Yes, sir.” “Where and when will he be born?” “He has just been born. Before I came here, I had to go and write his destiny.” “Where?” “Here, in your kingdom.” “Okay, go.” Rāvaṇa said, “I, Rāvaṇa, will change the destiny written by Vidhātā!” With his ego, he called all his Rākṣasas, like CIDs, and ordered, “Any child born today, kill them.” Finished. No bamboo, no flute means no noise. Unfortunately, thousands of children were killed. The very child in question was taken by soldiers to be killed. One soldier, who was kind and merciful—like our Pūrṇānanda sitting here—thought, “Why should we do this karma? We will find some way.” They placed the child in a wooden box with soft cloth and a blanket inside and threw it into the ocean. Now, karma knows its course. The box floated for a day or two, arriving at another island. There, a king and queen, about 50 or 60 years old with no children, had a beautiful beach and a palace for swimming. The king said to his queen, “Dear, something is floating there. I would like to have it.” She said, “Yes, lord, you can have that box, but what is inside, I want to have it.” You see, ladies are always like that. He agreed and told his soldiers to quickly bring the box by boat. They brought it and opened it, revealing the newborn child. The queen took him and held him to her heart. “God has sent us a child!” Immediately, Ayurvedic doctors were called, milk was arranged, and the child survived. He grew up as a prince, living a beautiful life. You can have as many enemies as there are stars in the sky, but if the protection and grace of the Gurudev are there, no one can harm even a single hair of yours. God is gracious. Now, 18 or 20 years passed. Rāvaṇa ordered his people to search for a beautiful husband for his daughter. They searched for someone from a kingdom bigger and richer than his. Whatever candidates they brought, Rāvaṇa rejected. They were unhappy. One day, they came and said, “We have finally found one.” “Good, how?” “Oh, his kingdom is bigger than our Sri Lanka. He is beautiful—you cannot compare anyone with him. No beauty can compare with him.” “Okay. Prepare for the marriage.” They got married. The next morning, Rāvaṇa got up. He still had not seen his son-in-law. The marriage ceremony, with tilak and so on, was the business of the women. Hari Om. Rāvaṇa sat laughing, his stomach full. He thought, “Brahmā is challenging you, Rāvaṇa. I have sent your Vidhātā. She wrote the destiny of my daughter. Look, Rāvaṇa can change it.” He called, “Vidhātā, come here!” She appeared from the astral world. “Yes, sir.” “Look, Rāvaṇa can change your writing.” She said, “Sorry, sir, you did not change it, and you could not change it.” “What? I did.” “Sir, no.” “What do you mean? Go and see him. It is too late; he is already married.” So he went to see his son-in-law. Vidhātā, as an astral being, whispered in his ear: “Look at his eyes. He is looking in that direction, but in reality, he is looking at you. He is standing to go this way, but his legs are like that. Look at his lips. Let him stand straight. You see? That is your son-in-law. Now read what I wrote.” Rāvaṇa said, “Again, you have cheated me.” So, dear ones, no one can change destiny. Every karma has a different result. Destiny is unchangeable and unpredictable. If a piece of paper can read you my destiny, I cannot read my destiny to you. “Tinka ho to toad dum, piece of wood I can break it, preet toadī na jai.” I can break a piece of wood, but I cannot break love. That faith, that surrendering, that kind of love will bring us through. Otherwise, we only have a temporary little smile and then hurry home. We cannot come to the truth. Therefore, human life is given to us to do good things in this world for everyone, so that we can come out of the cycle of birth and death. Next, tomorrow, if the weather is good, at 11 o’clock, I will be here. Please ensure the webcasting is arranged, because if you announce too late, people get angry. They think Australians have no time to fix things. So fix the time every day: at such and such a time, there is a webcast. All brothers and sisters will watch and be happy. I must be there for many programs; there must not be any absence. Any other program? Deep Nārāyaṇ Bhagavānkī Deveśvar Mahādevkī Dharma Samrāṭ Satguru Svāmī Mādhavānandjī Bhagavānkī Satya Sanātana. Jaya. Om Śānti.