were, if we would like to call it so, so that the objects become nil. There is no object in
front of consciousness. Prakriti has withdrawn herself, and consciousness stands in
its own pristine purity. The return of consciousness to itself is the process of
dharma-megha samadhi. It is, as it were, our energies come back to us, like prodigal
sons who have left us and are now returning home.
All our energies had got out, into the hands of the objects formed by the gunas. We
had sold ourselves little by little, like slaves, to the various forces of prakriti, so that
we look like very little, impotent, insignificant nothings. But when these forms
withdraw themselves on account of their exhaustion of the purpose, the energies that
have been dissipated—those characters of our consciousness which had gone to the
objects, in love and hatred and whatnot—come back to us. The return process, which
means the coming back of the energies of consciousness once again to the source,
looks like a rain falling upon us. How happy we feel when we are healthy, after a high
fever for days together! What has happened to us? Why do we suddenly feel happy
when the temperature comes down and we are normal? The reason is that our
energies have subsumed, once again, into the original condition, while previously
they were fighting with the toxic matter that caused the illness in the body.
We have become restless on account of our concern with the objects of sense, and so
much army force has to be employed in confronting these encounters from objects
that we have exhausted all our resources. The economy of the country can become nil
if there is a perpetual war taking place, and we will become very poor in a very short
time if the entire activity of a nation is only war. Similarly, we may become paupers
in energy and content if our entire activity is about confronting objects of sense. This
process of confronting objects has been going on since ages, aeons, through the
various lives through which we have passed, and so we have become very poor in
every respect—physically, mentally, intellectually and spiritually—looking like
nothings.
But this process ends by a miracle, as it were. We must call it a miracle, because
nobody knows how it takes place. It may be through the effort of ours, by the practice
of yoga; or it may be by the grace of God, or by some mystery. Ultimately, it is a kind
of mystery. Nobody knows how it happens. Then, immediately, there is a sudden
scudding of all the clouds and we feel as if we have come back to ourselves. That is
Infinity coming back to itself. Nobody can explain what that experience is, because
language is very inadequate. We suddenly feel filled up with an infinite content in
ourselves. That apparent process of one’s coming back to one’s own Self is really the
dharma-megha samadhi which looks like a nectarine shower poured upon oneself.
This is the penultimate condition of kaivalya, or moksha. When this condition
settles down in itself, there is not even a shower of rain afterwards. Everything is
calm, quiet, and is eternally substantiating in its own pristine original condition.
Then the purusha has nothing to do with anything outside it. There is no other
extraneous activity through the vrittis of the mind because the mind has ceased to
be.
This existence of the purusha in itself, independently, absolutely, is called kaivalya
moksha. Kaivalya means oneness. In Sanskrit, kevala means absolutely
independent, absolutely one—single; and kaivalya is the condition of being alone.
Moksha is liberation, or freedom. The freedom that is attained by oneself being
absolutely alone, in one’s own universal nature—that is called kaivalya moksha. It is