for years. All these are phenomena, no doubt. They are phenomena, not noumena—
not realities. This incapacity on the part of the perceiving consciousness to
distinguish between the phenomenal feature in experience and the real element
behind it is ignorance—avidya. Inasmuch as things are interconnected, interrelated,
vitally dependent upon one another—there is an organic relationship of things—it is
not true that objects are really isolated completely and that there is a necessity for the
mind to run after objects. There is no necessity for the mind to run after objects,
inasmuch as the objects are really connected with the subject. That they are not so
connected, and therefore there is a need for desiring and possessing them, is
ignorance.
The not-Self means the anatman—that is to say, that which is not one’s own Self.
Inasmuch as there is something in this world which is not myself, I have naturally to
face it in some proper manner. The way in which I face an object in this world is
called the relationship that I establish with it. This is the cause of my likes and
dislikes in respect of the object; and where there is an intense like or a dislike for
anything, that particular thing is invested with certain characteristics that do not
really belong to it. Why does one’s own child look so beautiful? Well, it has to look
beautiful merely because it is mine. If it is not mine, then it must be ugly. It is stupid
merely because it is not mine. Characters which do not really inhere in an object can
be visualised due to a prejudice of emotion. The likes and dislikes are the causative
factors behind this investment of characters which are false.
Thus, there is perception of beauty and ugliness, loveableness, etc. due to the
peculiar emotional like and dislike caused, again, by the perception of not-Self—
which is the central forte of ignorance. So we can imagine how many difficulties have
cropped up on account of a single mistake that we have committed originally. Then,
the pain that is involved in the action of the mind desiring the objects for their
possession and enjoyment is mistaken for pleasure. What toil the householder
undergoes, but he thinks it is a pleasure. He has to work hard for the maintenance of
the family, but is it a pleasure? He works hard because he enjoys it; otherwise, why
does he work?
So, even pain can be mistaken for pleasure where emotions are tied up. What we are
serving is our own emotions—not the family, not the world. Our emotions are
catching hold of us by the throat, and we are pampering the emotions under the
impression that we are pampering, helping, serving or doing work for somebody else.
There is, again, a mistake in the very thought itself. The idea becomes concretised—
takes a visible shape, as it were, and becomes the working field for all the urges of the
individual. We have studied this earlier, in connection with another sutra: pariṇāma
tāpa saṁskāra duḥkaiḥ guṇav ̈tti virodhāt ca duḥkham eva sarvaṁ vivekinaḥ (II.15). In this
sutra, Patanjali tells us that everything is pain ultimately, if it is properly analysed.
There is no joy, but everything looks like joy. If there is no joy in life, who would live
in this world? We would all perish in a few minutes. But this joy is a counterfeit joy;
it is not really there. It is a makeshift, a camouflage, a whitewash that is presented
before us. At the background, there is a pricking pain—the thorn of agony, anguish,
non-possession, anxiety, fear, dispossession, bereavement, etc. But with all this, we
take this agonising world for a field of joy, as if rivers of milk and honey are flowing.
The perception of the reality of a not-Self; the perception of permanency in
everything that is transitory or transitional; the perception of beauty, grandeur, and