value in objects of sense; the perception of joy in the contact of the senses with
objects—these are the ways in which ignorance works. And, because of the
vehemence with which these forms of ignorance work, because of the force with
which they impinge upon us, because of the velocity with which they come and sit on
our heads, we cannot escape them. Like vultures they come and sit on us, threatening
us and subjugating us with their powers. Because of the force with which they sit
upon us, we have to yield to them. Then, coming under their thumb, we act according
to their commands, because this ignorance does not merely end with these
perceptions. They have other demands, and once we fulfil a single demand, another
will come.
The demands that follow from this ignorance have already been mentioned—raga,
dvesha, abhinivesha, etc. Because of the fact that the mind is completely involved,
root and branch, in this mix-up of values, it is unable to concentrate itself on any
given point. How is it possible for the mind to meditate? It is simply out of the
question. It is a slave of slaves—dasa se dasaha—and such a slave cannot have any
independence of its own. Where there is no independence, how can there be
deliberate action? The question of the practice of yoga does not arise. It is gone, if
this is to be the case.
But this is precisely what has happened. All our so-called endeavours are backed up
by a misconception. Because of the misconception, there is erroneous movement of
the mind in its activities. Therefore, the expected results do not follow. It does not
matter if we sit for meditation for hours together—nothing will happen. No fruit is
going to drop from the trees, because this meditation may be like the meditation of
the crane for catching fish. That is also meditation. The crane keeps quiet for hours
together, without doing anything, and we call it meditation. We call it bahula dhyana
in Hindi. Bahula dhyana is a peculiar kind of meditation practised by the crane. It
stands on one leg. It is also a great tapasvi and does not budge an inch from that
place. We think that the crane is a great yogi—but its mind is on the fish. It wants to
see where the fish comes up, and then darts upon it immediately and catches it.
This ignorance is like this peculiar sleeping crane which is ready to pounce upon its
objects, and it will not allow us to be in peace. As was mentioned previously, unless
the cause is tackled properly and treated, there is no use merely catching hold of the
effects. These effects are like ambassadors who have come merely to convey the
message of the government to which they belong. There is no use in talking to the
ambassador with a wry face or in language which is unbecoming, as he is only a
representative of the force that is there behind him. The force is something different,
and what we see with our eyes is a different thing altogether. But yet, we are likely to
mistake these effects for the causes, and then it is that we practise wrong tapas. We
may stand on one leg but it will not help us, though it is a tapas, no doubt. We may
sit in the sun, we may drink cold water and take a bath in cold water in winter. All
these treatments of the effects will produce only a temporary suppression of their
manifestations. But suppressing the effects is not the treatment of the cause, because
the cause pushes the effect, and as long as the living force of the cause is present, the
possibility of the effects getting projected on to the surface again and again is always
there.
These manifestations of avidya cannot be overcome by ordinary individual effort,
because all efforts are the effects of this avidya itself. It requires a superior insight; a