Student:
Gurudev, my respects to you.
Guru:
Blessings to you, my son.
Student:
Gurudev, we receive many comments on our YouTube channel, Gupto Sadhok Shamakyapa. Among them, there is one comment that truly touched our hearts today.
Guru:
What did it say? Tell me.
Student:
It is from a viewer named Rahul Pramanik. He wrote a poem:
Student:
"Here I am, and then I am not—I think this to myself. From where to where, something just happens. Why do I come? Why do I go? What do I want? What do I get? Watching this play, the whole day passes by."
Guru:
Oh, Rahul, my sincere blessings to you. This short poem of yours has deeply moved me. We are constantly immersed in this very thought. Truly, why did we come into this world? What was the need? What will we take with us? Where will we go? To whom will we give what we have?
Guru:
This constant cycle of coming and going makes us ponder. It would be wonderful if it could stop, but it won't. This has been going on for eternity. You could call it the play of Nature, or God—whatever you call it, your words have stirred me.
Guru:
I sit and think about these very things. Why are we here? To whom must we give an account of ourselves? To whom can we express our sorrows and pain? These thoughts shake the mind.
Guru:
There is a small part of a poem about the source of the river Bhagirathi (the Ganges) that I am reminded of: "Bhagirathi, from where have you come? The Bhagirathi replies: I return to where I came from."
Guru:
This coming and going is a continuous play. There is no end to it, and no ledger to balance it. When I try to settle the accounts, I see that everything is an error—yet, we still feel there is nothing. Truly, there is nothing. There is no one to answer to, no one to tell. My words, my behavior, my gestures—why should I give an account to anyone?
Guru:
But in the next moment, I feel that there is something. Someone is watching me. I have to answer to someone. This "being" and "not being" is what keeps us thinking. It is a very high level of thought.
Guru:
Rahul, I thank you immensely because we are all witnessing and feeling this "play," but we often cannot express it. We keep it buried within our hearts. To whom shall we say it? Mother Earth doesn't speak, doesn't eat, doesn't sleep. Yet, I feel someone is behind me, constantly poking me, asking, "What are you doing? Why are you doing it?" That "someone" keeps track of me every moment. I don't know who it is yet; I haven't fully realized it.
Guru:
It reminds me of a poem by Jatindramohan Bagchi called "Haat" (The Market):
Guru:
"The goods are recognized, the prices are known, So much haggling over a few pennies. Some fill their bags through trade, Others go back empty-handed. In the crowd of the known and unknown, The day ends, but the talk never does."
Guru:
There is a deep connection between that poem and what you wrote. The play never ends. I think to myself: Why did I come? Why must I go? To whom must I give an account? These thoughts prick us every moment. If you look at it closely, what did we come here to do?
Guru:
A song by Ramprasad Sen comes to mind:
Guru:
"Coming to this world with many hopes, only the hope remained. You fed me neem, telling me it was sugar—what a deception! With a bitter mouth and the greed for sweets, the whole day passed. You promised I would play, and brought me to this earth. What a game you played, Mother, my hopes were never fulfilled. Prasad says: In this worldly play, whatever was meant to happen, happened. Now it is evening; take this child into your lap and go home."
Guru:
What is in this hope? I don't know. But your thoughts are very deep. I felt compelled to share this because of your comment.
Student:
Gurudev, Rahul Pramanik ended by saying, "What do I want, and what do I get? Thinking about this, the whole day passes." Could you speak more on that?
Guru:
The problem is: who will you ask? Who will give it to you? But that "poking" feeling persists—that someone is there, telling you, "You will get it, you will get it." This is what makes us weak. When I sit and think, I sometimes feel like rebuking God. "Why did you send me? What was the need for me to be in this world?"
Guru:
There is a song by Pulak Bandyopadhyay that aligns with this:
Guru:
"When it feels like this world is just a pile of failed trash, When I think of jumping into the Ganges or laying my head on the train tracks, Suddenly, someone says: 'Come, I am here.' Is that you, Mother? Is it You, God?"
Guru:
He goes on to write about the insults from loved ones, the burning pain in the heart, and how love often wanders away into the distance. After all the knocking on friends' doors fails, that same voice says: "Come, I am here."
Guru:
See this paradox? He is ready to die, but someone pulls him back. So, we cannot say "He is not there," nor can we say "He is there." This "is" and "is not" is the rule. Life is fleeting. We think so much, but behind it all is a soul—perhaps God, perhaps Nature. We feel it, but we can't explain it to anyone. We are just dying inside, wondering why we came and where we are going.
Guru:
We come into this world naked, and we leave naked. In between, there is a drama, a "Jatra Pala" (folk theater). We are just wandering on this stage. We think we have so much, then we think we have nothing. There is no balancing this account.
Guru:
Rahul, I give you my blessings. You have realized God. Realizing God isn't about calling out to Him; it's about understanding this play of Nature. You and I are both playing in it. God is making everyone play. Realizing this is far greater than ritualistic worship.
Student:
Gurudev, the way you analyzed Rahul Pramanik's words has helped us understand that our lives move between hope and despair.
Guru:
Exactly. You cannot find the ledger for this. We chant mantras, but we don't always realize the core of it. We must endure it. We cannot die, and we cannot take our own lives. Someone is there behind us. "He is not," yet "He is."
Student:
Hope and despair.
Guru:
We live in the sway of these two. There is no escape. This is God's constant play. This is what the poets and sages realized, and as a humble seeker, I am realizing it too.
Guru:
Thank you, Rahul.
Student:
Gurudev, we loved your explanation of Rahul's comment. My respects to you.
Guru:
Blessings to you.