Hey, you know what you are made of. A powerful soul. A warrior. A man of endless possibilities. You are more than you think. But what did you do of your immense potential? You wasted it on petty issues. You prioritized all the external matters and never worried the least bit about yourself. You never thought how you would feel when you would find that you had only been wasting your power all this while. You simply kept on giving away your strengths to everyone but yourself. You dealt with problems that were not even yours. Your energy was scattered, everywhere. Nothing did you do about yourself. Just remember what an incredible kid you were back then, when you were free from the clutches of mediocrity, spending time in the solitude of your study, never caring a hang about the world. You had gone way ahead of things. You had reached where people your age could only dream of getting. Your potential went in the right directions, awarding you the right things. You were content, and happy, and inspired. And, you wanted more, always. More out of yourself. More out of your power. More and more, each day, until you got yourself entangled to the world. Alas!

The tragedy had begun far back in time, when you allowed distractions to seize you in their grip. And slowly but surely, you began to lose hold over your own self. You did not know how and when it happened. It is understandable. You were only a little kid. The lures and seductions of distractions—worldly pursuits—won the better of you and you headed the path of destruction. A child walking the path of the world, at the end of which, nothing extraordinary remains. Only ruins. Nothing but this.

You allowed people to occupy your mind. You were always in the midst of a crowd.

In the midst of nowhere.

You were loved by many. You were loved so much by others and a bit less by yourself, each day. You were not aware of it. I understand. You were just a little kid back then. You did not know you were losing yourself—the only guy who is going to be with you clear to the end. So you let them have you. You were losing yourself. You were losing your good interests. You were losing the joy of your life. And you were not aware of it. Your mind turned into a reckless thought-machine, playing scenes of the world, over and over again—that beautiful girl who was so fond of you, that friend of yours who liked hanging out with you and the many people who adored your personality. You kept thinking. You kept appreciating their affinity. But you did not know that only because you enjoyed your company did they do, too. They were with you because you were the master of everything. They wanted to learn numbers and you were an Aryabhatta. They were religious and you were their Krishna, their Mohammad, their Christ. They were learning ABCs while you read Shakespeare. You were ahead of things and they followed you. Don’t you see? You did not know that the day you lost yourself, they would turn their back on you. That is the way the world works. Nothing is wrong here. Impropriety is the only rule they know.

You were intertwined with the wrong things. Slowly, just like they were fond of you, you began to like them too. You liked hanging out with them too. You were a unique individual. But you unknowingly started following their norms. You began walking their footsteps. You began forgetting what an incredible human being you were and what a great standpoint you had and how you were in the lead of everything. You did not know you were not made to walk their path. And in the end, it plagued you like nothing else. You began to feel weak. Your chest began to shrink inside. Your shoulders began sagging day by day. Your chin started getting closer to your neck. And your eyes always watched the ground. From an ace, you turned into a layman. And you realized you had ended up joining the crowd.

And you know what, there is another rule of the world. A weak man is used by all and loved by none. Nothing cruel. Just the way of the world. Since he has lost the most important person in his life—himself—he begins to feel the urge to be identified. And so, he ties himself to anyone who promises to love him. Never once does he think that the only person he needs to love at the moment is himself. He does not realize what an immense loss he has incurred in being of the world. And he sacrifices whatever little is left of him.

And then, he is exploited and left in the gutter. His fake lovers have ruined them by now, and they have gone their way, picking whatever they needed off him. People think that’s who he is—a weak, powerless man. Nobody knows the reality. Not even the man himself.

He realizes he had been cheating himself all along. He was not true to himself and to his own potential. He had dispersed his energy everywhere. Never did he use it to remain who he had always been. If today he has turned this puny, it is his own doing. He should have made the right choices. He should have maintained his power. He should have been selective of the people he allowed in his life. But he chose to waste his energy on the world. He chose to heal people instead of himself. He took himself for granted. And so did the world.

The body is ruined. The mind has been well distorted. But the energy within still remains. The immense power over things. The control. The excellence. However, they demand intense struggle in order to manifest themselves back again.

His soul calls out to him. He is a wise man now, having had a thorough experience of the world. At a very young age, he has been through the truths of the mirror, the depths of souls and the loneliness of the nights. He has gone crazy a thousand and one times, crying over somebody else’s pain and getting his pillow wet with tears. He has awakened in the middle of the night and drunk two whole bottles of water. He has seen his perfection and he has watched his own destruction, too. He has gotten his head muddled with thoughts that had no beginnings and no ends. He has stooped so low for people, begging mercy for nothing. He has cried in the middle of the street. A man, once a master, crying. In the middle of the street. Begging mercy. For nothing. Fighting people who excel at mediocrity. Forgetting his own worth. Never daring to look back and see where he was and where he has come, how he has betrayed himself and how battered he has become.

It is like climbing the mountain top and then, jumping straight down again, just to be with people who he thought needed his love—unconditional love—something very rare in today’s world.

And now, he has fractured himself everywhere.

What of the world is left for him to behold?

He is back home now, cursing himself for the wrong choices he made. The greatest frustration lies in being unable to attain your full potential, in knowing you can do it but couldn’t since you had been distracted and frittering away your energy.

What an uneasy time it is. A fractured man has to climb the mountain once again—the mountain he himself jumped off. Disappointment captures his mind. He feels the incompleteness, the cluttered, painful feelings of having cheated himself. He isn’t happy at all. He knows there is much more he can do. He is not made for the world. He finds others having fun in their lives. They are happy since they haven’t lost themselves for others. They haven’t betrayed themselves. They are content. They have been doing what they deserve to do. They have had all of themselves. They need nothing more for they are at their best.

Only a mediocre person is always at its best.

“You will find me
Sitting
Quietly, forcing myself still
Practicing
Patience as my bones begin to ache
Breathing
Slowing my manic heart,
Calm,
Letting go of the ropes that pulled me
Standing
Feeling my feet, firm on the ground
Crying,
Grateful to have found some peace,
Whispering—
I am here now
Bowing,
Say ‘Namaste’ to
The Yogi!”

If you meet a Yogi, you will know it. 

A Yogi is unidentified, always, living a thousand lives in one. He is not what you see. He is not what he has been. He is not what he has done. He is not what he seems. He himself is ignorant of his vastness, his timeless relation to the universe that resembles his interior self. It is not late until he will come face to face with the godliness that dwells within him.

A Yogi is never the same. Before he knows his true self and the purpose of his life, he exposes himself audaciously to almost everything that is unfolded before him, regardless of the consequences. This is the first identification of a true Yogi. As a child, he exhibits bits of a yogic attitude—sheer devotion to his duty, hunger for expansion, persistent attention to the world around him, cheerfulness, an empathetic heart and rootedness to the earth that shows in the environmental pursuits he enjoys, like gardening and trying to communicate with trees and animals. People adore him and look for reasons to be around him. There is not a human who meets him and shows dislike. Not one. It happens because knowingly or unknowingly, the Yogi develops qualities of a refined human being, obliterating the tamasic (pleasure-seeking) attitudes that every human is born with and carries all through his life. So being pure at heart, he vibrates with the positivity that draws all towards him. 

However, this is not all. A Yogi, being prone to alteration at the outset, might get caught in tamas once in a while. But that is possible only until he is unknown to his true nature. As mentioned earlier, he exposes himself unthinkably to every experience that unfolds regardless of the consequences. So for him, there is nothing as a good deed or a bad one. He simply plunges into it and sees what happens. Fear does not dare to wander around his life. He might get triggered by worldly pursuits of fame, love and carnal pleasures, nothing of which is ever a tough deal for him. With the ease that he obtains it all, the likelihood of being stuck with it increases manifold. To him, it is all a child’s play. And until the Yogi realizes who he is, he is considered a child himself. He remains so till the awareness happens. 

In the material world, the Yogi gets all that he wants. But that does not satisfy him the least bit. At a certain point in time, his worldly accomplishments even take the better of him and he starts living in a constant state of despair. Unlike others, he is unable to live with all of these. They begin to consume him from within, and he keeps wondering what the reason could be. The decline is unfathomable. The godliness within him ceases to grow. And he almost accepts his stagnation with resignation. 

In order to fill the void, he foolishly finds his savior in the reason behind his slow downfall—the worldly pursuits. Unable to find it aligned with his true nature, he welcomes more pain, frustration and agony in his life. His grip loosens and his own self starts slipping away. This is an unbearable pain. Acceptance is what he needs. 

A drug.

Acceptance is what becomes his craving. And he goes on begging people for it. As the time rolls by and his true identity fades away, bringing more distress, he does not even shy away from coming down to the streets. When people look at him, all they can think of is, a beggar is begging on the streets. They may show a moment of pity but soon, forget it, believing that is what he is destined for. Nobody knows who is behind the disguise. It takes a Yogi to identify one. 

The beggar is kicked and crushed by the people who find the good opportunity to express their superiority. And the beggar accepts it—no anger, no resentment, no hurt. 

My destiny, my Karma, he thinks. 

And they exploit him for their good and turn their back.

This is what happens when a Yogi decides to become a bhogi (pleasure-seeker). To his utter ignorance, his life slips downhill and only when he falls into the mud does he realize what he had been up to.

The realization hits him, hard. And regret, shame and self-hatred seize him for what seems forever. But the Yogi does not give up. He is not made to. He cannot live being what he is not. So he gets back up, dusts off and vows to shed all the negative, self-destructive beliefs that have formed a thick layer over his true identity.   

And the journey back home begins. 



When the Yogi takes the road home, the world gets in awe of him. There is something that forces them to. This is his charm, his charisma and the never-ceasing energy flowing through his veins. Ask those who have witnessed his yogic stature. They will tell you what he is capable of. 

The Yogi has no choice in reality. He is born to live for one idea and no matter his liking, he cannot take another road. He is not built for anything else. In the beginning, he opens himself to new experiences since that is his very nature. It makes him aware of the consequences of taking up a bhogi’s path—the path that is totally opposite to his true nature. The world walks that way but he cannot. He must go the other way. The world may be engrossed in worldly pleasures—women, money, fame, company, friendship, love and sex—but to him, it all reduces to nothingness in the end. Unlike others, he cannot engage with the world and be all okay. He has already been face to face with the consequences of choosing that road. He knows if he does, he will become a child again. He knows he will act stupidly. He knows he will hate himself and in turn, be hated by the people. He knows he will forget to laugh and in turn, to make people laugh. He knows he will never be able to find the joy in his duties. He knows he will become the object of ridicule. He knows he will have to expend his precious energy battling his own body and mind. And he knows he will lose himself in the end. 

This is what the Yogi sows when he decides to walk the world’s path.

As he realizes this and starts distinguishing between what he is built for and what not, he determines on always choosing the former. With this begins his sadhana. And then, there is no looking back. 

Say ‘Namaste’ to the Yogi!