The Plaster of Thought-walls: 144

Reflection: One Thousand Two
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One. Truth on the lips of a worthy person sounds like arrogance.
Truth on the lips of an unworthy person sounds like humility.
Two. If you can accept it, carry on,
if you cannot accept it, run away.
And if you have endless time on your hands . . . burn it down!
Three. Someone very close to me asked: Why do you work so hard? Do you desperately need money, or are you trying to be a careerist?
I replied: Both. I need both money and career—whether someone is there in life or not. And trust me, if you have money and career, you won't lack for people in life even without asking. In my life, I keep no extra people except for a handful I can count on my fingers. More people means more suffering. Position matters. Creating your own position is more important than everything else.
The Creator sent me to this world, which means: surely He sent me for some purpose, I have something to do in this world. I am moving toward that goal. Surely He doesn't send anyone just to eat, sleep, dress, and waste money; and this cannot be the purpose of human life either.
A person doesn't die from being alone, but dies inside without money, and without a reasonably good career, one gradually moves toward spiritual death. Especially if one is the eldest child of the family, there can be no compromise on these matters. What could be more beautiful than a strong position!
Even if I fail, I will have no regrets, because I tried with everything I had. It's better to die than to live with the regret of not trying. Even after failing, I can live in peace, I can say with satisfaction that I fought every kind of battle patiently to survive.
No, not everyone's life will align with my thoughts, beliefs, or opinions, and there's no need for it to align. One person's life philosophy cannot measure another's life—life is that strange equation that has no solution!
Four. You visit someone's home. You find his wife very appealing. Would you then tell that lady, "I found you very attractive. You don't suit this 'wrong house' at all. Come with me to my house. I want to keep you in my home."?
No, you wouldn't say that. This is called courtesy. You don't need to know rocket science to learn this; a little common sense will do. A person is most beautiful in their own place.
Or suppose a showpiece in that house appeals to you greatly. Would you want to take it along to your own home? If you're a gentleman, you wouldn't want that. Such wanting is called theft! You know this.
Yet when someone appeals to you, you want to bring them to your religion or belief or path. Sometimes, shamelessly, you even start pressuring them.
The snack vendor hangs snacks around his neck and goes around shouting "snaaaacks..." following people; but the gold merchant never follows people around with gold, because gold is precious.
Religion is like a home. Whose home, their peace. Someone else's home, everyone's fear!
Think about it! If your path made you beautiful, then seeing you, that person would also be enchanted, just as you became enchanted seeing them.
All paths are good and beautiful; if her path was wrong, how could you be so attracted to her? Look, your own path and views couldn't make you half as alluring!
Try to become attractive. When you know how to attract, you don't have to chase after people so desperately.
Just because you like a flower doesn't mean you have to pluck it and stuff it in your pocket. Anyone who lacks even this basic sense of decency can never be truly religious. The first step of religiosity is civility. I have never seen a single uncivil religious person in my life.
Five. Don't break down and crumble so completely. Nothing worldly is permanent. What is permanent is this: only your 'you'-ness! Remember, the infinite into which your 'you' dissolves never itself dissolves—so how could you ever be transient? Even if you wanted to, could you manage it!
Don't think. Just reconcile yourself—just as time once peeked out momentarily, exactly like that, today's time will one day plunge deep into the mind's depths. And then... everything will be simple and natural again.
Six. You will forget. I will forget too.
Time's remedy will eventually heal this era's wounds and the ravages of festering. Memory's torment will also become gentle someday.
You are now somewhere else, happy with some other companion in the normalcy of ordinary life, hence proud; with them, you have surely disowned all unwelcome pasts.
Our touching, the intensity of our loving, becomes incorporeal like shadow detaching from body. The mind within the mind also forgets its own restless murmuring one day.
In your busy life, all the old resentments, complaints... like paid gas bills, end up in the waste-paper basket as meaningless rejected items on a list.
Happy, you forget the golden tales of that poetic past love, "definitely forgettable at this moment."
"Be happy"—even then the shameless heart joins in this blessed curse hurled your way. Poor thing, remembering everything, still says—stay well. Be happy.
Night deepens. The platinum violet mobile phone still provides shelter, warmth in solitude's long days and longer nights during the cold, silent watches.
The hungry lonely mind's feast—through silent yet existential presence. It gives company, gives closeness—in the most inopportune you-less you-filled solitary hours.
Seven. Through the lengthening night, how much I think! The mind within the mind, exhausted by thousands of questions, gradually becomes more exhausted.
Suffering increases. Suppressed suffering. When homes flood without rain or boats sink without storms, knowing how to swim or not becomes equally meaningless.
Who will take the test on suffering's touchstone? We are all oxen at the mill. Whatever is held before our mouths, we accept without question.
Days pass. Nights pass too.
What a strange magician this silent mobile phone is! It simultaneously gives me company and keeps me companionless.
Eight. What is the nature of a guilty mind? Pressing the phone to my ear, I sometimes feast my ears on my beloved's honey voice. From unknown numbers, hypocrisy continues to be nurtured inside and out.
The unbearable past gleefully bares its teeth in an ugly grin, making the present stink; sometimes making it quite repulsive.
Fireworks of all kinds explode in the heart's inner chambers. Where does the whimsical person fly off to?
I sigh thinking of the complete story of a half-wasted moon, the way a person sits on one life's veranda turning the pages of another life's memories.
Sometimes there's a little mingling with sorrow—sometimes it makes sense, sometimes it doesn't.
No audible communication occurs through the mobile phone's tunnel. Yet the disobedient horse of attention still roams and keeps roaming near that attractive sphere for no reason.
At the other end of your telephone, you too spend restless hours just like me.
In love's deluge, a thousand years of household drowns. When the heart breaks, new land doesn't suddenly emerge there.
**Thought: One Thousand Three

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One.
What unforgivable shame we inhabitants of solitary islands harbor in our remorseful hearts, without protest!
What boundless fury burns like a wick through the night within our chests! The mind yearns to rise in rebellion against the smoldering fire of husks...against the diary of time—which bears the false name of "life."
Vendors sit at the book fair. People come. Dust swirls. The fair breaks up. Everyone walks their separate ways.
The unforgivable shame still clings everywhere, like darkness pooled in the broken marketplace.
Night deepens. The mobile phone offers its gray companionship—though vivid in color, the poor thing remains mute in sound. Apart from that one thing I can call my own, I have no one else.
Two. Are you happy now?
After painting me head to toe in the vermillion of humiliation, announcing to all and sundry within your domain—though it sounds absurd, I find myself wanting to measure just how many inches your chest swelled with pride.
I want to know: when distance begins for the sake of living well, when love could have been preserved properly—why did such a miscalculation of time occur?
Did I become happy?
What priceless sapphire necklace was I seeking when I, transformed by the curse of fertile solitude, led promises astray?
Today I am bewildered by the deception of my own reflection in the mirror. Now even if I suck my thumb all day long, truth and falsehood will not exchange places.
What happens, happens. This much alone is pure truth.
Three. What pain! All the world's thoughts keep jabbing and poking constantly within the chest.
A sharp resentment, like the razor-edged string of a kite of terrible humiliation, somehow becomes—leaving all anger and accusations behind—a drooping thread of approaching sorrow.
My right arm goes numb from propping up my head. I don't move it. I've moved everything else! How much more!
Fire burns in the soles of my feet. Yet I don't even remove the sheet covering half my body.
Just as the foolish Taj Mahal and the unnaturally blue sky on the calendar pointlessly occupy space on the wall, so too does this silent hour of stubborn melancholy, stuck like glue—the night keeps growing longer. Night has never learned to grow shorter.
The mobile phone remains silent still. Both the reason and the truth of this are known. Yet eyes-ears-mind become disobedient, or perhaps rehearse old habits.
Today I have no one I could call if I wanted to, in this night. Can a person become this alone!
Four. Overhead, the blue fan spins round and round. Metal blades cut whirling sounds through the air. Clothes hanging on the line sway sadly, bit by bit, in the wind's stirring. Fallen plaster caught in spider webs hanging from the ceiling swings carelessly toward certain death. A plastic bag fills with air and rustles. An opportunistic mosquito or two, given the chance, buzzes and scores the skin.
Night keeps growing. The only companion: an orange-colored, living yet currently speechless mobile phone, curled up quietly on the bed.
Five. Silent night. Two or three minutes until three o'clock strikes.
Midnight—such an unguarded time. Shedding all shells, the inner person emerges. A few genuine testimonies get written in the conscience's diary. Willing or not, everything becomes clear here and there on the naked body—the darkness of hidden alleys is effortlessly seen.
The mind doesn't stay well, it turns bad. Bad meaning very bad. Needles of pain embroider patterns on the heart. In the endless weave of thoughts, I keep my gaze fixed and unblinking in the darkness.
Night keeps growing. One watch. Two watches.
Six. In the end, staying with you didn't happen. Where was the fault, tell me? Was there no pull? Or was there, but we needed to hold on a little longer?
What we failed to find together—I still cannot understand that to this day.
When love first bloomed at seventeen, when the innocent leaves of affection wanted to stretch their joyful bodies in the dazzling light of your enchanting personality, you were terribly busy with tales of the past. And when you finally turned around, I was already lost in the intoxicating search for an illusory guest-bird called 'peace of mind.'
This is how we sank up to our necks in the quicksand of disbelief, when I discovered that you—that same unruly you—were drowning deep within me. Who knows why, just when my time was up, that's when you decided it was time to look back!
Through our destructive, senseless mud-slinging, the two of us had already sullied love's pristine white bungalow beyond recognition. Our wounds were of our own making!
What a foolish and helpless creature this two-legged innocent beast called human! How many beautiful moments die unnoticed in the tug-of-war between understanding and misunderstanding, even before the first teardrop falls!
Seven. Does someone confident in their own beauty ever go door to door begging (read: 'bothering') people to say, "Please tell me I'm beautiful"? Only those confused about their own beauty need validation! Humans love beauty. If you are beautiful, people will naturally call you beautiful. There's no need to plead or force anyone.
Those who can say, "Look at me! See how beautiful I am!"—their beauty has long since faded!
Eight. Long conversations give birth to even longer ramblings.
I have written somewhere in my office: Please keep conversations brief.
Yet most people deny me this courtesy. Why such cruelty, I don't know. I fear long conversations.
Nine. Those who lie around, their fate lies around too. Those who walk, their fate walks; those who run, their fate runs. What's not in fate sometimes lies in effort. Work hard and you'll get it. Without effort... wit increases, obstacles decrease—only in fairy tales.
Ten. I am loyal to only two things: my work and myself. I want there to be no deception in my work, and I want to understand that at day's end, I am a good person. Beyond these two, I'm not particularly loyal to anything else. Whatever I need to do for these two, I do at any cost. Nothing anyone in the world says matters to me, as long as I remain loyal to these two things. Praise irritates me, criticism I ignore. (Both flatterers and critics are scheming types of creatures.) Interestingly, I believe I am indispensable to no one, and no one is indispensable to me. So beyond very close people and family, I have not the slightest headache about anyone else. Let whoever do whatever they want, let them live however they wish. Nothing about anyone concerns me. I never overthink any matter, never judge anyone in the world by mistake. I simply assume I know no one, and this gives me peace. Whatever annoys or embarrasses me, I remove from before my eyes or remove myself from there; because I'm terribly busy with my own work. None of this happened overnight—I've had to work to achieve all this.
Thoughts: One Thousand Four
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One. Being able to sleep on your own pillow in your own room is a tremendously comfortable thing. Not everyone has that good fortune.
Two.
Many people ask me, Brother, should I start studying for jobs from now on? (Holy cow!)
I don't answer. I truly don't know what the answer to this is. I only know this much: someone who needs to defecate never asks anyone before doing it; similarly, someone who needs to study never asks anyone before studying. Sir, is the matter clear?
The urgency to defecate and the passion to study are the same thing.
Three. Will you score 115 in today's exam? Then start studying for the written test. Don't waste time, don't give your time to just anyone without reason. Spend time on your own work, give time to yourself; you'll see, the work gets done! Success begins by taking selfishness by the hand. (Here being selfish means being conscious.)
Even if you don't score 115, start studying anyway. If you want to get a job, there's nothing better you can do for now. And if you don't want to get one, do whatever your heart desires. It's a world of just two days! Pour some Coke in a glass and say to the wind: Cheers!!
Four. Never jump into water at the instigation of someone who doesn't know how to swim.
Five. Extremely worthless boys are preferred by extremely good girls, yet extremely good boys aren't preferred even by extremely worthless girls.
Six. Those who think badly of you are less troublesome than those who think well of you. And those who don't know you at all are the safest for you. Being among the strangers is the best thing.
Seven. Everyone seems good until you get into trouble or get bamboozled.
Eight. When you mix with someone, do it in such a way that even if you never mix with them later, you don't fall into inconvenience or trouble. Let your head go crazy if it must, but keep your wits intact. Whatever the relationship, you mustn't become dependent on anyone. Life was going on before they came, life will go on after they leave. Maintain your independence at any cost. Indispensability is the mother of slavery.
Nine. God appears in dreams from time to time giving various orders and instructions mainly to two types of people: the poor and the rich. The middle class sleeps less, so they dream less too.
Ten. Beside the epitaph
those few flowers you left behind,
I can clearly see...
clinging to their bodies
is burning rage.
This rage can at most
make the pure tulips
lose their luster.
Yet...they cannot touch me at all,
just as my death
could not touch you.
Eleven. What the mind wants,
the heart desires.
That's why I can't
say 'no'!
Twelve. Then tell me, why didn't you all go to Atif Aslam's concert? Are you all taking the BCS preliminary exam? Or is going to concerts forbidden if you follow me?
Thirteen. A mother is her own daughter. A woman becomes a mother only by giving birth to a child; if she hadn't given birth, could that woman be that child's (biological) mother? Then the credit for the essential act of childbirth that enables a woman's emergence as a mother belongs to that woman herself. This is why when a woman becomes a mother, the source of that maternal birth is herself; thus she is her own offspring or daughter.
Fourteen. Why do I look at her and think,
"May she not push me away!",
when she has never pulled me close?
Why do I fall at her feet and say,
"Never leave me!",
when she has never come to my side?
Does one who loves only talk to themselves? Is all the pain they feel just a mistake of the mind?
Fifteen. After twenty-seven springs, coming close to the world, I suddenly see that nowadays my heart has begun to rot. I must now preserve my feelings, and if I cannot, then what kind of strong man am I?
Let me burn to ashes deep within, so be it, but not a single drop of water will I allow to reach my eyes.
Now I can bury my dreams with complete ease. To paint an elevated head of myself in society's portrait, how easily I hang heavy stones around my conscience's neck and force the wretch to bow!
I have learned now to understand that to preserve family honor, sometimes one must make even one's own helpless form smile, must think of others while setting oneself aside. Whether I'm right or wrong—shelving such concerns, how many times I've had to sing the praises of so many others, and still do! The reason? Very simple... it's because I've grown up now! If you say family is worthless, society never accepts it. How could it? If it did, its own face would come right into view!
Yes, precisely because I've grown up, I must give up my portion of happiness. Even with a chest full of thirst, I must push the water pitcher toward another. So what if there's a little erosion of life! Gripping my own parched throat with my own hand, I must say: Brother, drink some water... water! Your throat has gone dry! Wet it a little!
No, no, this burden truly belongs to no one. Whoever's fault it may be, these days I feel disgust only toward myself. Even without loving, at day's end one must take someone's hand. What defeat could be greater than this? Perhaps everyone is born only to be defeated.
So I sing songs to forget everything, I watch birds. I post pictures on Facebook, sometimes I babble. What else was there for me to do? But do you know what, sir—crossing twenty-seven, I understood that some people simply must grow up out of the compulsion to survive! Damn this life... what a wretched thing it is!
Sixteen. Even if someone gives you grass,
don't forget... even if you rise onto the pyre.
Even if you give someone a forest,
don't keep it in mind the next moment... in vain.
Thought: One Thousand Five
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One. I just don't understand—what's the use of reading? Or how should I read?
Let me give you simple advice. Reading with understanding is good, but if you can't do that, you can try reading and reading to understand. My experience says this works. Just one condition: whether you understand or not, whether your mind wants to read or not, you must never stop reading. Not by understanding first and then reading, but by reading and reading to understand—I've seen many of my friends and students become toppers this way.
(If you haven't read my piece "The Mind Won't Settle at the Study Table," you absolutely must read it, and do exactly what's described there for just 15 days. If you still fail to get into reading after that, come to my office and slap me twice for wasting your time—but before doing that, you must follow those instructions to the letter.)
Two. Those who have nothing much to say beyond giving their own or their husband's or father-in-law's or friends' or family members' professional, political, financial introductions—talking to them is the world's most tedious task. Having to tolerate them is the tax one pays for being established.
Three. A person spends 60 percent of their life acquiring wealth, the remaining 40 percent protecting that wealth.
When then does a person actually live?
Four. One who thinks there's no love in their heart
has actually never come into contact with someone
who could shatter that illusion.
Even in the heart of a dry, lifeless person there is love, but they don't know it.
Five. Suddenly I realized that even if I reach out my hand, there's really no one around to hold it.
When I extended my hand and saw there was no one there to hold it, that's when I realized I had grown up.
Growing up brings so many troubles—you can't make any old demand of anyone at any time, you can't bury your nose in a trusting chest like a kitten, you can't burst into laughter for no reason at all, you can't wail and cry out loud, you can't eat two morsels of rice seasoned with mother's love, you can't pour out the words of your heart in a rush to anyone.
From childhood to growing up, there's always someone or other around, but once you've grown up, even close people aren't there—not even one person with whom you can take the weight of a melancholy, wooden afternoon on your head and collapse into evening. Not a single afternoon can be crossed without thoughts within thoughts, you can't fly with wings spread like a bird.
Oh, this age!
Six. Some find happiness in love,
some find profit in the stock market.
Brother, can't we start a ticket system for rubbing foreheads with their lucky foreheads?
Seven. — What's this! This is a deadly disease! What poison did she give you?
— Quite seriously... 'neglect.'
— Then why do you still wait and watch the road?
— In exchange for a sky full of neglect... to give back 'attention'!
— This will only bring your complete ruin!
— Can that pierce through my sighs?
Eight. I had prayed for someone hot,
and God promptly sent hot weather instead!
Nine. Since I know that you don't eat grass, you too should know that I don't eat grass either; if you don't know this, then certainly there's an error in my knowledge. I apologize for the unintentional mistake.
Ten. Not feeling like studying a subject cannot be an excuse to leave the study table—at most it can be an excuse to start studying a favorite subject.
What do I do on Facebook? If I don't like watching one reel, I move to the next reel. But I don't leave Facebook then!
Eleven. You have a belly. Eat a little less and exercise for six months. You'll see, even if you want to keep it, the belly won't stay.
You have six-pack abs. Eat a little more and stop exercising for six months. You'll see, even if you want to keep them, the six-pack won't stay.
You have knowledge within you. Stop all kinds of efforts related to acquiring knowledge for six months—rather, if possible, do something (whatever your heart desires) that destroys or diminishes your acquired knowledge. You'll see, even if you don't want to keep it, knowledge will still remain. Knowledge has the greatest permanence.
Now you tell me, what is the true wealth in this world? History bears witness that even if you kill a person, you cannot kill their knowledge—on the contrary, it spreads further! Yet you're absorbed day and night in research about bellies and six-packs! Look at those who do manual labor on the streets. You'll find bellies or six-packs on many of their bodies. Will you find knowledge?
Wherever one continuously invests time, one day they become king there. Now you decide which wealth you want to be king of.
Thought: One Thousand and Six
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One. The year of inception was 1921. It has crossed 103 years. Toward the end of the coming June, the centenary of Faridpur Ramakrishna Mission will be celebrated. Preparations are in full swing. Through the sincere efforts of the head monk, a seven-story modern building has risen in the ashram compound. A quite beautiful statue of Swami Vivekananda awaits installation on the front of the second floor of that building during the centenary celebration, currently waiting in the conference room there.
A few months ago, the centenary of the Dinajpur Ramakrishna Mission was celebrated. What a grand occasion it was! Many monks came from both Bangladesh and India; they will come to Faridpur as well.
For enriching oneself through the path of knowledge, the Ramakrishna Mission is an ideally suited place. Such a treasury of gems is rarely found elsewhere. Whatever your creed or path may be, you will find profound peace when you come to the Ramakrishna Mission. Here, the wonderful manifestation of the equanimity described in the Gita has truly taken place. You might have some interesting experiences when you visit the Ramakrishna Mission. Perhaps you'll see a monk working in the garden or sweeping the dust from the pathways. You won't even realize that the person who just served you moments ago used to teach at Oxford or MIT before taking monastic vows. (There are many former students of such universities here.) They never tell anyone their true identity from their previous life. A monk has only one identity: he is a monk—"The saint will burn, the ashes will fly... only then shall we sing the saint's virtues." I had exactly such an extraordinary experience in Bodhgaya as well. Let me tell you about it.
We had gone to see the Bodhi Tree. You have to remove your shoes before entering. Outside, a monk was cleaning and arranging everyone's shoes with a brush and a piece of cloth. Naturally not paying much attention to him, we were wandering around looking at the surroundings. After coming out, seeing the shoes so neatly arranged made our hearts feel good. I began looking for that worker to thank him and give him some tip. When I couldn't find him, I asked a gentleman there in English: "Where is the person who was arranging the shoes here?" (I still didn't know that this cleanliness worker was a monk.) "He just went somewhere on work. Why?" "Well, I wanted to thank him and give him some tip." "What are you saying! He won't take any tip! Serving you all is his duty—he's a monk!" Then he pointed to that gentleman with a gesture. A little distance away, he was standing and talking with two people. Looking carefully, I noticed the monk looked European. To satisfy my curiosity, I asked where he had come from. The answer came: from America. "I see. What did he do in America? Where is his family?" "He used to teach at Stanford University. He has two PhDs. His name even came up for the Nobel Prize. His family is still in America; he lives here alone."
That great soul who had renounced such fame, family, and everything else, purely in search of peace, to become a Buddhist monk—and I was searching for him to give him a tip! That infinite self-reproach and shame within me lingered for many days. In my later experience, I see Sri Ramakrishna too, ensuring that pride doesn't take root even unconsciously in his mind—for this, he keeps his hair long and uses it to secretly clean the dirt from the sweepers' toilets when no one is watching. Ah, what supreme heights of silent, solitary reckoning at the very moment before the soul's union with the Supreme!
I had never visited the century-old Faridpur Ramakrishna Mission before. I had planned to come, but couldn't manage it. Today it worked out, so I came. Speaking with Siddhartha Maharaj here reminds me of Imon Maharaj from Mymensingh; both are extremely friendly. Seeing Nityananda Maharaj initially gave me a bit of a shock; his appearance resembles quite closely that of Vibhatmananda Maharaj, the head of Dinajpur Ramakrishna Mission. I met another person, Prakash Maharaj; he loves to converse, and like the others, is quite simple and sincere. I have known Tulsi Maharaj, the head of the ashram, for many years. He was in charge of the bookstall at Chittagong Ramakrishna Mission for a long time.
Without any particularly intelligible reason, he loves me dearly.
The Ramakrishna Mission is quite a peaceful place, the birthplace and center of practice for the philosophy of "as many views, so many paths." I find it wonderful. Whenever I get the chance, I come here. Though I come here for another pull as well. The source of this pull lies in the structure of my mind, the chamber of my consciousness. Those who browse through books at the Ramakrishna Mission bookstall know that for those who are devotees of traditional religious philosophy—from the Vedas, Gita, Upanishads, Vedanta, Bhagavata, Puranas to other schools—this bookstall is an absolutely ideal place. I and many others like me are indebted to the Ramakrishna Mission bookstall, having gathered much of the essential nourishment needed to shape ourselves from here. The collection at the Faridpur Ramakrishna Mission bookstall is truly excellent. You will be enchanted if you come here.
If one wishes to live well with dignity, there is no alternative to acquiring knowledge and applying it. Does all this happen just like that, out of thin air? One must read extensively, must live one's days with books. Traditional religious philosophy teaches us to bow our heads before those who are great in knowledge, regardless of age. By bowing the head, one actually rises higher. The more you bow, the more you grow—this is a strange magic of Hinduism! Here lies our distinctiveness.
Do come visit the Faridpur Ramakrishna Mission. Bookstalls as enriched as this one exist in only a few missions.
Two. Having spent so many days of life without whose presence, I can perfectly well spend the remaining days of life without that presence as well.
This is why when any stranger (even acquaintances) annoys/embarrasses me or makes me feel bad, I block them without thinking for even a second. Let everyone be as they are. May all live in peace.
If I don't block, there are two inconveniences:

It expresses silent consent to such intrusive behavior

It keeps open the opportunity for such behavior in the future
Goats need fences.
Yes, one could ignore. But in that case, one might have to ignore repeatedly. Such people are not even worthy of your indifference! Where is the time for all that? Time is so precious!
What's the need! When humans can live perfectly well even without their children or parents, I see no reason to think twice about some random person! Man's best friends are only two: himself and his busyness. Nothing beyond this is essential for living beautifully.
You may have a grand palace, but my little hut is not yours—even if you wish, you cannot enter here. Is that clear?
Three. Never judge people by their religion, because the inhuman have no religion.
Four. Talented people and good students are not the same thing. Learn to understand.
Schools, colleges, and universities can create good students, but talented people are a different matter. Good students can be made, while talented people develop.
Don't immediately call those who do well in exams "talented people"—call them "good students."
A talented person can become a good student if they wish, but a good student may not become a talented person even if they wish.
**Thought: One Thousand Seven

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One. Whether you celebrate Pohela Boishakh or not, it will be hot; whether you celebrate it or not, you will eat delicious mangoes.
At day's end, the story remains the same.
Those who don't celebrate understand their reasons for not celebrating; just as those who do celebrate also understand their reasons for celebrating. To each their own understanding.
What's the point of all this fuss? Come, brother, let's have ice cream together instead. It's hot, so hot...
Two.
Don't make friends based on results — make friends by understanding hearts. At the end of the day, all those results and achievements amount to nothing; only the heart remains. Let me put it more simply. Befriend only those whose hearts are willing to accept you. Whether they fail or pass, whether they're toppers or dunces — what's it to you? A person has to wash their own brain to drink water; there's no chance of washing someone else's brain for water, is there? So whether they're toppers or Harvard returnees — what's that to you? Why must you associate with those who make you sell your self-respect or feel inferior? The more you increase contact, the more your suffering will multiply. If you want to, let people go.
Let me share a small fact. (I don't think it'll be irrelevant.) My beloved poet Jibanananda Das was a terribly introverted person. He never really mixed with anyone. We don't know of any notable poet-friends he had. He never went to literary gatherings of his own accord. (Even when compelled to go, he couldn't or wouldn't speak properly, keeping himself hidden.) He consciously avoided all kinds of literary conversations. Yet he remains one of the greatest poets in Bengali literature. Once you recognize the path to greatness, you can walk that path without mingling with fellow travelers. (That's actually preferable, since too much socializing only wastes time unnecessarily.)
Friendships born from worldly calculations always cause more pain. Can you really call it friendship with someone before whom you can't speak uncensored thoughts or cry your heart out?
Three. If there's no good company,
can there be good cheer?
Four. We who follow the eternal faith worship the true guru (even if they are younger in age). This guru need not be human — for instance, the Bhagavad Gita is our book-guru; even then, they are worshipped in our eternal tradition. Through such worship, the worshipper and the worshipped eventually become one, just as Rahu and Rahu's head are essentially the same entity. (Comparable to: through single-minded meditation on Brahman, attaining knowledge of Brahman and thus achieving Brahmanhood)
Where else but in Advaita and Sufism will you find this extraordinary magic of spiritual philosophy? This is where the beauty of religion lies.
Five. Work hard, work like a demon.
What harm can come from working too much? The body will give out, that's all, no?
Better for the body to burn to ashes
than for dreams to burn to ashes.
What say you?
Work hard! I've learned that working yourself to the bone is what we call 'being alive.'
Six. Just now a friend called.
: Buddy, Eid Mubarak.
: (yawning) Yeah buddy, Eid Mubarak.
: What are you doing?
: Sleeping.
: Still haven't gotten up?
: I have gotten up! Had tea and went back to sleep.
: Nice! That's exactly what I'm doing too. Suddenly thought I'd give you a call. So what's today's plan?
: Buddy, the question's not common knowledge. Ask something easier. Otherwise I'll have to make up answers like in the BCS exam. I never have any plans.
: Ha ha ha... what will you do, just tell me that. Will you go out? Come to my place, have some vermicelli.
: What would I do, how would I say? Don't feel like coming to your place. I'm sleeping now, rolling around in bed, this feels good. If I feel like moving around after lunch, then I'll see...
: You're in the same state as my brother-in-law! When he comes to Barisal, even after much research he can't figure out what to do!
: You see, we've become innocent types of people. Innocent people have no plans other than sleeping.
All my plans remain with only sinners.

: Sleep on, you monkey! Let's go this evening and take everyone to the other side of Taltoli Bridge.

: Friend, the mutton is cooking; let's see if the belly's weight allows any movement after lunch!

: Won't you meet with your devotees?

: Brother, I beg forgiveness and prayers too! All that stuff is fake. Only sleep is real. I slept all day yesterday too. Hang up the phone now! Go away! I'll call in the evening. I'll take a bunch of kids and eat fuchka and ice cream and roam the city in rickshaws.
(After finishing the chat with my friend, now I'll have black coffee. After drinking, I'll either write or sleep. This is life!)
Thought: One Thousand Eight

……………………………………………………………… 
One. Don't misunderstand me.

When no one cared for me, I was still the damn-care type.

Now many people care for me, and I'm still the damn-care type.
To me, being 'damn-care' means two things: self-respect and being busy.
It's actually better when time is short: you don't get time to become worthless yourself, you don't get time to tolerate worthless people.
Busyness, illness, rest, or entertainment... life consists of these three.

Researching another person or chasing after someone else? No way!
Two. When someone says nothing if the cooking is good, but speaks all the world's harsh words if it's bad—who would want to cook for such a person?
Three. When there's a shortage of love at home, that's when people seek attention and love outside the home, in their own private way, from someone who will simply love them a little, understand them, stroke their head and give them a bit of reassurance. They search desperately for such a person. No negative thoughts work in them here.
Four. What is forbidden in the East through religious commandments is forbidden in the West through legal commandments. People there obey laws as much as they don't obey religion. For people here, it's the opposite. They are as busy with life before death as we are fearful of life after death. The inspiration for most of our good deeds is either greed for happiness after death or fear of punishment—which never enters their minds. So they have fear of action in their minds, and we have fear of religion in ours.
Educated and civilized people must be bound by law, not religion. A person becomes quite advanced on the path of religion simply by being civilized. But both policies are good. Whatever you need to say or explain to someone to get the job done, say or explain that to them—and the job is accomplished! Not doing bad deeds because of belief in God and not doing bad deeds because of legal constraints—it's the same thing. The end justifies the means. It's about getting things done, however that happens—through the rule of law (fear of action) or scriptural prohibition (fear of religion). Law for nations that follow the principle 'action is religion,' faith for nations that follow 'religion is action.' Action protects law, and religion protects faith.
If not religion, then law;

If not law, then religion.
So the question is: which is greater—religion or law? The simple answer: neither—rather, humanity is greater. Whether people live by law or by religion doesn't matter; however it happens... let them live.
Five. Never give explanations or time to things you're not obligated to explain or spend time on. Some people have too much free time, so they dwell even on explanations they don't need. Though it's different if you also have time to spare.
Let me make it simple.
If someone who has never made you feel good suddenly appears to make you feel bad, ignore them completely. They need you to chase after them, but you certainly don't need them chasing after you, do you?
Six. Being the wife or girlfriend of a foolish man is deeply sorrowful.
Seven. Do you know where the fundamental difference between you and me lies?
You simply cannot tolerate me, while I don't even know you.
Why don't you come to the office one day instead? We'll chat over tea. Doesn't it bother you to judge someone like this when you've never even met them?
I understand you don't have time to think about me; so where does this intolerance come from? Those I know whom I don't care to tolerate, I simply don't remember due to my busyness; yet I never speak ill of anyone. (If any of my acquaintances have ever heard me say a single bad or disrespectful thing about anyone, please tell me to my face in the comments.)
Forget all this! You truly know me wrong. Come, let's have tea together. Accept or extend an invitation for tea. Life is only two days long!
Eight. Believe it or not, when you don't come online, no one's soul writhes in agony except your own. So by coming online, you haven't rescued anyone except yourself. Brother, if you don't come online for seven days, people will simply forget you on the eighth!
Nine. Boys, be envious,

Girls, have crushes.
The rest of you, give ha-ha/angry reacts.
Why can't you tolerate me? Are your faces just a bit too ugly?
Ten. In the courtyard of Rabindra Kachari Bari with the hibiscus playboy boyfriend. One BF, four GFs. Absolutely gorgeous!
I'm enchanted and 'inspired' by this tree; tears of emotion came to my eyes! Four colors of flowers, in peaceful coexistence... no quarrels anywhere. This tree was Superman in its previous life! In this life, it became a tree out of wounded pride, but hasn't strayed from the noble ideal of service. What magnificent glory of service it silently proclaims in its solitude!
Girls, learn, understand? Learn! What's the point of endless jealous squabbling? Live together like sisters, share everything (including Five-X Korean spicy ramen), drain your boyfriend's/husband's pockets to your heart's content and make him content too. You'll see, life becomes worth living, the world becomes truly beautiful. If your BF or husband can live in peace despite having you around, then what's the point of your existence?
Now I'm off to do some servitude in Enayetpur... hoping to find some food! Seeking everyone's prayers.