The Plaster of Thought-Walls: 102

Thought: Seven Hundred Eight

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One. Look, I will appear before you suddenly one day. That day, for no reason at all, under the pretext of some conversation or other, you will look at me... with great curiosity, remember that! Even if you have changed, I will still remake you in my own way. Just for you, I will surely return one day. Remember!
Two. Fighting is also an art, at least that's how it seems to me. I would call it art if done in either of these two ways:
1. Fighting in complete silence—meaning whatever is said from the other side, no answer can be given. Because the person on the other side might have a habit of pointless chatter; such people win simply by creating enough noise to turn the house or neighborhood upside down. So I think it's better to let them feel satisfied and let them win! Heh heh heh. However, with father, mother, or any respectable person older or younger, staying silent is the rule. To diminish them with retorts is to diminish oneself.
2. Countering logic with counter-logic—not lame arguments, but saying exactly what needs to be said at each point, like in an exam paper. Sound reasoning should be demonstrated because after this fight, you will either maintain your relationship with them or bid them farewell from your life; so I think being quite precise here is necessary.
And what constitutes a lame argument? For instance, suppose your teacher tells you, "Does your family know that you roam around tarnishing the college's name?" In response, you say either face-to-face or mentally, "Nobody knows that you're having two affairs at once either." (Today's ultra-modern smart students actually talk back to teachers' faces!) This is called a lame argument.
I too used to give lame arguments in childhood, but mentally, keeping my face like an okra. All this quarreling and bickering suits only childhood. After growing up, one doesn't need to do such things. For those who chatter pointlessly and give lame arguments, if someone built them a new kind of kindergarten school, it would benefit them greatly—they have such a terrible shortage of people to talk to!
Three. Once upon a time I loved someone deeply. So madly that I even wanted to commit suicide because of their neglect and betrayal!
Today, after all these years, that same person keeps requesting my love again and again. But today I am returning to them their very neglect from those days.
Nature never commits injustice; everyone receives the fruits of their actions. The one who once caused me pain by not loving me—today that same person suffers pain knowing I no longer love them.
Even after all these years, the account has settled perfectly even, hasn't it?
Four. When I ramble endlessly with someone or in front of someone, the things I cannot say, or the things that seem inappropriate to say in that moment—such things I write down or try to write down. These are not secrets, but they are such that people, without understanding, will assume they understand and sit in judgment of me. Three kinds of people judge others in this world: teachers, judges, and the worthless. The first two kinds are respectable, because that is their profession. What about the third kind? Their name itself tells their identity! That is their addiction! The cause of this addiction is not unemployment, but mental poverty.
When we try to understand what doesn't need understanding at all, when we attempt and strive for it—that's when trouble begins. Not everyone's mind runs at the same speed. Some things exist that shouldn't be understood without true comprehension. It causes harm, promotes one's own foolishness. Do you know the donkey's chief weakness? It simply cannot grasp that even if it opens its mouth, nothing valuable emerges—in the end, it remains just a donkey's bray. Unable to restrain its desire to hear its own name on others' lips, it gives that cry anyway, and people say as expected—look how that donkey's offspring brays!
Let me say something like this, how about it? In this world there are certain people because of whom folks can use the word 'brother-in-law' to address someone other than their wife's younger brother.
Five. People cannot bear the dead, only the memory of the dead. After death we become unbearable, and will remain so. Therefore, rather than keeping in mind 'how I appear,' it's more important to keep in mind 'how my work appears.'
Six. The heart's judgment?

...only the heart's owner knows that!
I cannot forget you,

Cannot keep you even a little distant,

Cannot bear to leave you, not even by mistake!

Yet from some kind of compulsion

I try to forget everything,

And keep on trying...

Though I know it will yield nothing!

A worthless one like me—

Why I came to this world,

Sometimes I cannot quite understand!
Seven. I see you, I see your humanity.

I see myself, I see my emptiness.

Stay well; may your person keep you well, may God keep your person well.

I am there around you. Sometimes in stories, sometimes in poems. Sometimes in a few drops of water. I am there

more inside you than outside. Whenever you feel like crying, seek me out, won't you?
Eight. People destroy themselves far less through committing wrongs than through trying to cover up their wrongs. It's extremely difficult to maintain friendship or any other relationship with someone who cannot acknowledge their faults as faults.
Thought: Seven Hundred and Nine

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One. Your honor means my honor, of course!

But does my honor mean your honor?

—Living with this doubt, I haven't been able to summon the courage to come to you until now!
Two. Remember, everyone is available for you only when you are ready to pay the price they want, or they deserve. Be out of the concept that price is paid through only money. A good relationship with someone can buy many things that money cannot buy. First, be that precious person, the rest will follow automatically, don't worry!
Three. Above everything, more than anything else, I love you—I love you more than everything in my world. Nothing I have said all this time, every day, every moment, hurting you—none of it came from my heart. Every time I spoke, my inner voice always said one thing, but I acted against it. Going against my heart, going against my Creator, I wounded you every moment, something I can never erase from my mind no matter what I might trade for it in my entire life.
Words can kill a person like arrows; they hurt the Creator who resides in the human heart—I know this; yet in life's harsh necessary moments, I couldn't put that very knowledge to use. Every blow I dealt you wounded me more than it wounded you, something perhaps you could never understand, because each person can only feel their own love. Whatever I have said, even if I had the chance to love twice as much for the rest of my life, even loving more than that, I could never erase those marks. I know I cannot heal these wounds.
Wherever you are, however you are, may you be well in all circumstances, healthy and happy. May every moment of your life be beautiful, even if it comes in exchange for every blow I gave you, every hurt you endured; that prayer from the depths of my heart will always remain for you. In my entire life I have never behaved so despicably, so basely with anyone else, yet the one I loved most, I hurt the most. Never forgive me.
I love you, every day, through ages, through lifetimes. End or endlessness, fulfillment or emptiness, or gain and loss—in the eternal dilemma of everything. I love you, beloved, with reason or without reason. In the tales of need or needlessness, in the spoken word or the silent dwelling of wordlessness. I love you, beloved,...then, now, and forever!
Four. O Lord!

If you gave women the rare ability to remember every word with perfect precision, why didn't you give men the ability to say the same thing the second time exactly as they said it the first time? Why do men say one thing in the morning, something else by afternoon, and by night speak entirely different words...without committing the slightest wrong? Why didn't you give women hearts that forgive even the smallest oversight?
Why must men, when speaking the truth, speak it as if it were a lie—out of fear, anxiety, doubt—without any self-interest? Why do men's eyes speak one language and their lips another, out of fear of women? Why, under women's relentless questioning, does a man call even a goat a deer? And why can women, if they wish, turn a deer into a goat with just a smile? Why are boys always caught...for no reason, without sin, without gain...just from fear in their hearts?
In the game of cops and robbers, why are boys always the thieves and girls the police?

Why why why???

Why this kolaveri kolaveri kolaveri di?
Five.
When I want to kiss your forehead, I either have to stand on some tool or stool, or else I stand with my feet on yours. Then, if you bend down a little, my lips can touch your forehead. What an embarrassing thing! Standing on your feet and forcing you to bend down! One simply must know how to become a little shorter for love's sake!
By kissing your forehead, I wanted to show you that it's not just your desire-wet lips that are precious to me, but your forehead and eyes as well. I don't know how much I managed to convey to you. I don't know to whom all that was addressed, and in any case, it wasn't meant for me, nor do I expect such things, nor do I like them.
I'm a bit too pedantic, as you well know. So, if someone were writing to me, my response would be this: I'm not short in height, but you've created trouble by being a bit too tall. Handling a good-for-nothing like you is an enormously difficult affair! If you don't believe it, try standing in my place. Still, I keep trying to manage. Like you, I too want to say this: whether you love me or not, I don't have a headache about it either—I'm tremendously skilled in the field of one-sided love.
If I too had fallen into that crowd of people who say "I agree, brother!" or, without even reading your writing, "Whatever you write turns out wonderful, I find no fault!" or who go to the comments of your emotion-laden love poems and say "You are my life's motivation, brother!"—if I had belonged to that group and loved you from among them, I would have surely disappeared by now, or run away if I'd gotten a good job. Because I'm not in that group, I think of you even at times when the whole world has fallen asleep... just last night I thought of you.
If all that false display of emotion were real in my understanding, I would never have noticed your small mistakes. And speaking of logic? Ha ha ha... I've shown you my logical part. I keep my emotional part hidden. I myself often drown in my own emotions, but does that mean I should drag you down with me? That won't do.
There was so much more to say, but I don't like to make a big speech about love, so I stopped. Stay well, beloved. When will you understand how much I love you?
Six. Good people are always on the side of truth.

Good lovers are always on the side of their beloved.

Good beloveds are always on the side of good lovers.
Seven. Praising a person who doesn't deserve praise is called flattery.

Not praising a person who deserves praise is called envy.
**Thought: Seven Hundred Ten**

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**One.** My dear, set it firmly in your mind that I love you. And I love you so much that your seven lifetimes may pass, yet this love will not end! But this doesn't mean that in exchange for my love, you too must love me. I love because I love! I've hoped for nothing in return. Just seeing from afar that you are well will keep me well.
And my problem is this—I cannot love casually. I cannot easily love someone; I'd rather remain alone. Once I love someone, I can never remove them from my heart. Everyone will think me monotonous, time and again they'll think so. That's why no one in this world will be able to handle me. So I shall remain alone like this, you can be sure of that. That you don't love me—that's your personal choice. Perhaps you sometimes wonder: who am I? What? Where have I come from?
I'm just babbling pointlessly—these words have no meaning at all! Yes, you could also say: you are indeed someone worthy of love, many people love you, and I'm just one among that group. I know you think exactly this, because you think about everything logically! Even hearing such emotional talk from me, you won't understand me at all. Anyway, be well!
**Two.** A man, apart from his own wife, cannot fully let go of anything else. Unknowingly, he returns again and again... returns and desires again and again... brings back repeatedly... pulls repeatedly!
When it comes, he's drawn,

Holds with pretense,

Forgets with pride,

... the man's very life!
The lover's lips,

Cigarette puffs,

Whiskey's grip,

Man's inclination!
These things never grow stale,

Even if the man goes to Kashi!
**Three.** I generally compete only with those whose height is less than mine, whose complexion is even slightly muddier than mine, who lag behind me in family status, or compared to whom I have more papers or certificates. I always compete with such people.
I never keep in mind that height, complexion, or family background—none of these were in my hands, and I got those certificates too thanks to my father's prosperity. So what does this amount to? Yes, exactly—not one of these is my own achievement. Yet I look down upon those shorter than me just like everyone else does, and I never fail to call those with darker skin "black," and I also say things like, "Oh, you're from that caste? That's why you're like this!" Or, "What have you studied that would qualify you to teach me?" I say such things and find satisfaction in living this way, because doing these things is easy—it doesn't require any special expenditure of brainpower.
Those who are good and magnanimous people—forget competing with them, I don't even walk on the same road as them. Teaching myself this and that daily, battling my own desires, cravings, greed, envy, and pride, polishing and refining myself day after day—who wants to do all that? Am I mad-dog-bitten that I'd walk such a difficult path my entire life when there are so many shortcuts to display my grandiose attitude?
**Four.** Those who have never seen a horse—if a goat comes to them and introduces itself as a horse, they believe it and leap onto the goat thinking it's a horse. And those who have finished seeing horses, they call a goat a goat, never a horse.
**Five.**
The one who doesn't provoke sudden anger or hurt feelings in you, and even when you do get angry with them, that anger doesn't simply melt away at the sight of their charming smile or upon hearing a few words from them—trust me, they don't mean much to you at all. Whatever the relationship may be, their presence or absence isn't particularly crucial to your life.
Then there's someone else entirely—someone who can make you inexplicably angry even when there's absolutely no reason for anger! Sometimes your heart grows so heavy with hurt that you fall silent. You think, 'They could have done this differently,' or 'They could have at least told me that.'
Some time passes, and then what was bound to happen, happens. You forget why you were angry in the first place, and you also forget why you let go of that anger. The same person whose hair you wanted to pull just moments ago—now you want to pull your own hair thinking, 'Why did I say all that to them?' The moment you see their face, you forget entirely: 'Oh wait, wasn't I angry with them?' You feel overwhelming tenderness, an urge to love them even more deeply.
Of course, it's not always about seeing their face—most of the time we think about such people more intensely in their absence. This invisible presence of feeling for an absent person strikes me as pure magic. Yet the person who is actually present, standing just inches away from me—I can't seem to think anything about them at all!
Oh mind, what strange games you play! These games of the heart cannot be grasped even by the greatest psychologists, and we ordinary folk are just simple souls trying to make sense of it all!
Six. Inspiration alone accomplishes nothing, until you actually begin the work yourself and keep at it despite a hundred obstacles!
**Reflection: Seven Hundred Eleven**

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One. Feelings are indeed a most peculiar thing. Without warning or announcement, they come flying and settle upon us. Perhaps I'm on my way somewhere beautiful, everyone around me is making merry, when suddenly something stirs in memory and the heart gives a sharp jolt—nothing feels good anymore, no amount of effort can settle the mind on anything. In that moment, one simply has to remain melancholy; this seems to be the rule. Then again, perhaps one day the mood is foul, everything feels unbearable, when at such a time some wonderful thing from ages past suddenly comes to mind and the heart lifts without reason. No word, no message—the mind wants to spread its wings like a bird. Later, when one reflects on these sudden turns toward sadness or joy, not a single explanation can be constructed for any of them.
The truth is, feelings are genuinely emotional creatures. They exist precisely to stir up some long-buried memory! That's why most feelings are nameless. And no logic, argument, analysis, or explanation can describe them—they simply accumulate in the memory-chambers of the mind.
Two. That I love you—this very fact holds no value for you, yet you expect my desires to matter! That I too am a human being is perhaps too painful for you even to consider, isn't it? How much longer will you neglect me? My vessel for receiving neglect overflowed long ago. Now it doesn't even sting anymore. I know well that even without this COVID-nineteen situation, you wouldn't have come to see me. You don't come—you have time for everyone else, and for me there's only some pity or sympathy.
I don't want even that much! I don't need any of you. I'd never before tasted neglect this deeply—thank you for that! For neglecting me so expertly, I'm going to give you a gift. No one can neglect a person as perfectly as you can. And yes, I won't need to visit you to give this gift. You'll receive your present right on time.
My love, my tears, my pain, my emotions for you—none of these hold two cents' worth of value to you, yet with your mouth you say... "I love you!" Don't ever say that word to me again, it's shameful to hear. No man has ever loved me, never has. I know the reason too—I've never been able to become anything extraordinary to anyone, even now. You too say to me "You're a very good girl!"—this praise is my only consolation. The lovers of girls like me bid us farewell with exactly such words. Without saying all this to you, I couldn't even die—saying everything has become such a habit!
Last year too, during my illness, I sent you message after message, and you didn't even bother to read them. If not a girlfriend, at least find yourself a mature friend. Pray for me, forget everything, absolutely everything. At least remember that I am one of your students. I touch your feet in salaam from here—pray for me. Forgive all my mistakes and improprieties. I may have failed as a girlfriend, but as a student I am very obedient. Place your hand of forgiveness on my head. I asked for this, I asked for that—I received none of it. This love reduced me to a beggar. It doesn't take much time to place a hand on someone's head. Do it, won't you? And take a minute or two to pray for me. Just one minute.
Good, if after this I still insist on these meetings and make a fuss over trivialities, you'll give me another kick in the chest just like you did last time—don't you remember? I still have all those messages!—you'll kick me in the chest again like that! It's been so long since I've had one of your kicks. For two years now I've been surviving on nothing but your neglect and your kicks!
Three. She used to say often, Look, I won't be here much longer.

...No one believed her words. No one ever paid her the slightest attention.

Today she truly is no more.

...No one can believe her departure. Now everyone's attention is on her.
After someone leaves, everyone searches for that person. Then what remains but a memory? There are some people who are deeply solitude-loving—for them, not even a memory remains.
If you want to search, search when they can still be found.

If you want to speak, speak when they have no one beside them to talk to.

If you want to cry, cry when they can see that there is at least one person in this world who would weep for them.

If you want to hold their hand, hold it when their two hands are constantly groping about.

If you want to give flowers, give them when they can still smell the fragrance.
Look at those who remain silent too—before it's too late. They often slip away quietly, and you won't even notice. Don't let them have to prove by leaving—that I too was once alive!
Remember, many people live in this world completely without complaint. In some people's silence lie the tears of several oceans.
Don't weep like that after the death of someone you never understood. When hypocrisy reaches such levels, it becomes unbearable.
Four. As long as you know with certainty that the work you're doing is good work—for you and for others too, no matter how small that work might be; and if it's true that at the very least no one will be harmed by doing it—in such cases, while doing that work, you must not feel any hesitation or look back. Let people say whatever they want, let them comment as they please—whether on Facebook or in reality; all those words must be regarded merely as some pointlessly generated sounds and letters. No feelings should be allowed to develop because of them. Allowing feelings to develop within yourself and trying to respond to all that means letting those people win. Such human-shaped sewer refuse came into this world for no reason, and will leave this world for no reason. They serve no real purpose in this world—they never did in the past, nor will they in the future.
Five. Lamenting that those who need to understand me don't understand me, we often forget that I don't understand those whom I need to understand.
Life passes in just such misunderstanding and incomprehension.
Six. The wise say: You cannot carve rotten wood.

The fool says: Wood that cannot be carved is rotten.

The worker says: The wood must be carved before it rots.
Thought: Seven Hundred and Twelve

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One. Will someone bring me a little poison?

Will someone bring me some sleeping pills?

...Well, what do these requests really mean?

Is he actually depressed?

Is he actually an insomniac?

Or is he such a broke son/daughter that he doesn't even have that small amount of money?

Or is he too embarrassed to go to a shop and ask for these things?

Or is all of this just an act?
Two. If someone gets hold of someone they don't deserve in any way, then generally one of three things can happen:
Three. That person becomes arrogant overnight, and this attitude shows in their behavior and speech. They gradually start seeing themselves as equal to that person; yet they don't understand that by nature's whim or by the force of fate, sometimes people receive many things they might not have gotten even through seven lifetimes of striving. It's all divine play. Only He knows whom He gives what, and from whom He takes what away when. So that person who has received never sits alone and thinks about this, never considers that if God can give him something he was never meant to receive, then that same God can take it away at any moment. God tests us in many ways like this; we don't understand, we don't even think about it. He watches us by giving, and He watches us by taking away.
Four. Then again, for some people, after receiving something unexpected, they fall into a kind of trance. They can't understand whether something like this has really happened, or if it's just their imagination. They then start behaving like a drunk person. Night seems like day to them and day like night; they speak incoherently. They want to be with that person, yet they also want to flee from them. They simply can't figure out what to do. Often, they feel insane.
Five. In this case too, they initially remain in a trance, but this person has the habit of thinking deeply about life. They always consider what's happening and why it's happening. After the trance passes, they understand: 'What I have received, I've received by the force of fate. I will try my utmost to hold onto it.' The person understands God's grace; every day they thank God for that extra blessing, expressing gratitude. If possible, even through tears, they tell God: 'Give me the strength to hold onto what You have given. If I cannot hold onto it, then take back with honor what You have bestowed upon me.' This person begins transforming into an extraordinary human being from the moment this miraculous blessing occurs. Their heart gradually becomes illuminated. This capacity for feeling brings them close to heaven. They slowly begin to recognize one or more selves within them that were always there, but which they had never understood before.
Six. You know, I deliberately think less and less about you these days. I've heard that if someone keeps thinking about someone else all the time, that other person also somehow gets connected to those thoughts, and unknowingly, both begin thinking of each other simultaneously from both sides.
Ever since I learned this, I keep myself busy with many other things, so you won't have to connect with this subconscious mind of mine. I alone will suffer in contemplation, I alone will endure the anguish. Why should you bear any of that, tell me? I find joy in saving your time. Don't even mistakenly think about me. The time of yours that I have wasted—now I want to return it with interest. I have endless time at my disposal. You have it too, but not for me—this I know. Here, I'm returning everything bit by bit. I'm settling all my debts, are you keeping count? When you go above, don't say that I still owe you something, or God will surely punish me!
Seven. Far more wretched than one who dies is one who wishes to die but cannot. Death lasts but a moment, while the torment of dying must be endured throughout life, drop by drop! To burn slowly forever is far more painful than to burn up completely at once. One can perhaps close their eyes and kill themselves, but those few lingering attachments that force a person to live on—these cannot be murdered no matter how desperately one tries. This is the greatest torment, this the ultimate defeat.
Eight. I still feel overwhelmed with tears, I've been weeping since morning. Are you all right? My heart feels so heavy. I have this urge to set out on foot right now toward your address. Oh my! You never told me your address! Why didn't you? How can I see you now? Well, suppose somehow, through one means or another, I managed to find your address. If I suddenly showed up at your house, would you turn me away? Would you tell the gatekeeper to throw me out? You don't love me anymore, so you can't understand how my soul burns with longing just to see you once! Won't you fulfill this small plea of mine? Won't you show yourself to me just once more, tell me?
Nine. Not everyone speaks the truth in the same way. Some speak it completely directly, others with restraint and circumspection or indirectly. And because of the manner of telling, the same truth sometimes becomes half-truth, sometimes near-truth. It even happens that among those to whom the truth is being told, only a few understand it—only those to whom the speaker wishes the truth to reach! From someone's way of speaking truth, one can gauge how much freedom they enjoy. The freer one is, the more unrestricted the expression of truth from their lips.
**Thought: Seven Hundred Thirteen**

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One. Deep into the night, I used to feel like crying terribly. Sorry, I misspoke—not "feel like," but "used to feel like." What's happened these days, you know, I don't feel like crying anymore. Lately I don't feel like anything at all. I just open my eyes and stare, then close them again, then stare again. These days nothing touches me anymore, you know?
I often wonder, how do you manage to neglect me so beautifully? You've turned someone restless and daring and cheerful like me into such a still river! Such is the power of neglect! Listen, it's gotten very late—I'll fall asleep right after writing you this message.
This neglect you've accustomed me to with such persistence—please never, even by mistake, come back to love me again! Even if you multiply your love tenfold and return to me, you'll see what a living corpse I've become. Don't ever come to see me again! If you see me now you'll be frightened—terribly, terribly frightened!
That beauty I had on that first day, the kind that could make you fall in love at first sight—it's gone now. So I don't want to drown you in disgust with what remains. Don't come before me!
Two. Since building muscle strength is easier than building mental strength, gyms are valued more than libraries everywhere. Experience shows that muscle power and brain power are inversely proportional—when one increases, the other decreases. When muscles grow, you can show off to the whole world, but when the brain grows, you can only make sense to other brainy people. So in terms of popularity, the muscle-bound triumph!
Three. To lift someone's melancholy, listening patiently to what's on their mind works far better than offering advice. Every melancholy person in the world has accumulated countless thoughts inside them, thoughts for which they find no trustworthy, reliable person to confide in. When you place yourself in the role of that person, their melancholy diminishes considerably.
Four. A good person's responsibility is to stand by those in trouble. But not everyone who stands by people in trouble is necessarily good. Many exploit that person's mental distress to extract various benefits, appearing at their side precisely in such moments.
Five. Silence signals consent—this doesn't hold true in every case. People sometimes remain silent out of fear as well. So silence is, at times, also a sign of fear. When facing someone I cannot match in strength, or someone for whom I have no desire to expend energy, whatever they might say, remaining silent is wisdom. Before the worthless and the powerful fool—these two categories of people—there's no point in wasting even a single word. Even when others provoke you, it's wrong to speak up there. Because you alone will bear the consequences; those people won't come to your rescue then.
Six. To live well, two things must be done: acquiring knowledge and increasing the security of one's life. The reason is this: it's been observed that fools cannot tolerate wise people and attempt to attack them. Wise people do better to stay beyond the reach of fools.
Those who are neither wise nor foolish—ordinary people positioned between these extremes—should try to receive the knowledge of the wise, but while keeping themselves as far as possible from the wise. The wise are always beautiful from a distance.
Draw too close to that person and they will seem utterly insignificant, all their flaws will leap out at you with stark clarity, and whatever there was to learn from them will become impossible to grasp. If you wish to be enchanted by Tendulkar, you must watch him on the playing field...from a distance, not sitting beside you over tea, making conversation.
The wise deliberately lose all arguments to fools. Fools win arguments and take satisfaction in firmly establishing their own foolishness. True knowledge is gained by losing arguments with oneself, not by winning arguments with others. To win arguments with others requires only a clever mind, but to lose arguments with oneself demands genius.
Seven. One who dreams alone, unable to share dreams with anyone, eventually grows weary. To escape this weariness, one must learn to divide the dream.
Eight. People generally commit sins knowingly for two reasons:

To taste the pleasure of sin

To fulfill some ambition
Nine. Once, I thought you were precious to me.

Now I realize—damn! What rubbish I used to think back then!
Ten. Just as it is difficult to embrace poverty without resentment, so too is it difficult to enjoy wealth without arrogance. Therefore the wise person always accepts with equanimity both the anger of the poor and the pride of the rich.
Reflection: Seven Hundred Fourteen

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One. The ability to offer the right criticism at the right time is, in my view, an immense qualification. Yet look around you — what do you see? Those who know how to offer proper, constructive criticism simply don't do it. On the other hand, those who do criticize are precisely the ones whose silence would save the country. Those very people come forward to spout all manner of nonsense who don't even know what criticism is.
Some people even believe, "I can say whatever I want to someone I love — it's my right!" Wow! What excellent logic you have there. Why don't you wash and dry this logic, rub it with mustard oil, pickle it, and store it in a jar? Lovingly correcting someone's mistakes and forcibly imposing your opinions on them — are these two things the same? Not at all.
Let me give you an example. Suppose you failed English when you were in seventh grade. You felt deeply ashamed at the time. But today your own son goes to school. Like everyone else, you've forgotten all about that seventh-grade failure. Now, after your son's distant cousin fails an exam, if his grandmother — your aunt — says in front of your son, "Don't cry, Jodu! Your Madhu uncle failed in seventh grade just like you! So what? Look at him today — he even studied abroad. Isn't that right, Madhu? You explain it to him!"
How would that make you feel? You might even laugh. But you know what? You yourself have no memory of that failure today, yet someone is using it as an example. Perhaps she loves you, but her way of giving this example is wrong.
Those people who will constantly come and say, "Hey, remember that mistake you made? Do you remember? Why don't you remember? Think about it right now" — unless absolutely essential, I really see no need to keep such people in one's life. Someone who only reminds you of your failures is anything but a friend or well-wisher.
Two. I somehow can't engage in any pretense anymore these days. I don't know why I can't, but despite a thousand attempts, I truly cannot. My surroundings have filled up with people wearing masks. I want to keep them away from my life. Rather than staying with them, it's much better to spend the entire day alone. One can easily pass the day very well in solitude. There's plenty of work to be done.
I won't torture myself anymore by staying in pointless, fake relationships. What's done is done, what's gone is gone — let it be. Whatever must leave will leave, today or tomorrow, it leaves just the same. No one waits for anyone. No one can be held back by anything or anyone. So instead of trying to hold someone back, it's most important to let them be as they are and to be oneself as one is. And after so many years of life, I've understood at least this much: a fake relationship, today or tomorrow, will surely end.
I don't really need anyone anymore. I can perfectly well live this life alone, without anyone. Yes, many things are still hard to accept, but I'm a realist. Any truth, however difficult to accept, I know I'll never have trouble adapting to.
At day's end, I remain alone with myself. Who really inquires after me? No one does. No one has, and when no one asks, when no one loves you, it does hurt. To fight in this world, you need at least one person who loves you. When I see that this one person isn't beside me, it truly pains me. But even so, it's far better to be alone than to be with the wrong person.
Who is the wrong person? Who do we call the wrong people? Those who don't respect me as I am; those who are afraid to introduce me as their friend, their close companion, their beloved; those who want to be involved with me but deny our relationship in public, keep it hidden—these are the wrong people for me. My life wouldn't suffer if such people weren't in it. Then there are some opportunists who spread rumors about me while scheming to marry me, because they know I won't marry them. I carefully avoid these people too.
These days, observing people closely, watching their true nature emerge, I can read them very well. I can tell what's going on in someone's mind and when, even when they say nothing. I have no difficulty being alone. I can live my life perfectly well by myself, but I don't want anyone in my life who will be there merely to use me, who will exploit me only for their convenience. I told myself long ago that I would never again be anyone's tool. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how terrible I feel, I will remain alone this way. Yes, completely alone.
I love someone, and they too love me in secret, but say nothing aloud. Fine, let them be as they are, I'll be as I am. I don't like complications about such matters anymore. It's impossible for me to force myself to be with them. If they can't be honest about me, then I'll step back, stay away. However painful it may be, I must do this, because I have self-respect.
Three. A person can destroy themselves through ego alone. I believe that even the greatest or most precious person in the world has no reason for ego. Why, you ask? Because there really is no such thing as "best." The very concept of "best" is relative. No matter how well someone performs in this world, or however much they become the best, at that very moment, somewhere in some other corner of the world, someone is perhaps creating their work or themselves to be truly "better than this best." Who can say otherwise!
I might write an exquisite poem, paint a wonderful picture. Among those I know, perhaps none can write or paint better than I can. So I could very well think myself something great. Yet there are so many people I don't even know, whose work reaches such heights that beside them, my creations would seem merely childish.
Many of us refuse to accept this. Either we claim ourselves to be the best, or we satisfy ourselves by hearing others call us the best.
The moment you accomplish something, achieve tremendous success, and begin to think that you have reached the ultimate pinnacle of achievement—that there's nothing left for you to pursue—that very moment you have actually failed in the most complete sense. Yes, from that point onward, you begin chasing after failure itself. Self-satisfaction is fundamentally the satisfaction of death! To remain alive, one must stay eternally unsatisfied.
Today's success will have to be called "past success" when tomorrow arrives. To keep walking along life's path means to live life itself. In this living, there are no separate rewards or reproaches for success or failure. What exists are experiences and lessons. The rule of this living is this: whatever happens, without letting it affect you deeply, to walk steadily and unwavering until life's final moment arrives.