One day, a lioness died, while giving birth to a cub.
At that time, a herd of sheep was passing by.
The lion cub joined the herd accidentally.
The sheep also thought him to be part of their herd.
And so, the cub was brought up by sheep.
While living with the sheep, the lion cub believed himself to be a sheep.
Since he was growing up among sheep.
So, it was natural for him to live like them.
He was living with the sheep, and believe that he was one of them.
He became vegetarian and started eating grass, with great joy.
He had no conception of what a lion was.
He had no idea, not even in his dreams, that he was a lion.
How could he have, all around him were sheep, and only sheep.
He had never roared like a lion.
He had never lived alone like a lion.
With the passage of time, the cub grew up.
Slowly, he became a beautiful and young lion.
The sheep became accustomed to him, just as he became accustomed to them.
But one day, while the herd of sheep was eating grass in a field.
Another lion, attacked their heart.
When he saw this young lion among the sheep, he could not believe his eyes.
He had never seen such a scene.
He was astonished to see a young lion grazing among the sheep.
Neither were the sheep afraid of him, nor were they aware that, a lion was in their midst.
Forgetting the intention of hunting a sheep.
The old lion decided to catch hold of the young lion, and find out what was happening.
The old lion, attacked the flock of sheep to capture the young lion.
Seeing him, all the sheep started running to save their lives.
The young lion, also ran away to save his life.
Although, the young lion ran very fast.
But the old lion somehow caught him.
The old lion said to him, you fool.
Why are you running away from me?
The young lion, was crying and trembling.
He said, please leave me.
I am a poor sheep, please let me go.
He was shivering with fear and bleating, like a sheep.
It did not take long to the old lion, to understand what was happening.
He dragged the young lion, to Ward a nearby lake.
The young lion resisted, and was reluctant to go.
He thought, he was being taken to his death.
He was crying and pleading.
But the old lion, would not let go, he forced him to the lake.
The lake was calm, like a mirror.
The old lion, made the young lion look into the water and said, look at my face and look at your face.
Look at my body and look at your body in the water.
The young lion, looked into the lake, with tearful eyes.
As he saw his reflection in the water, he was astonished.
For the first time, he realized, he did not look like a sheep.
But he looked like a lion.
In that instant, he understood the truth.
He was not a sheep, but a lion.
And within a second, a mighty roar, erupted from his throat.
Hearing his roar, the whole forest trembled.
The sheep scattered and disappeared, and a lion was born that day.
He was, a totally different being now.
He recognized, his true self.
His identification with the sheep, had been an illusion.
Just a mental concept.
Now, he had seen reality.
His strange energy, surged within him.
As if, it had always been dormant.
He felt, a tremendous power.
Living among the sheep, he had always been weak and humble.
But now, all that weakness, all that false humility, evaporated in an instant.
The story teaches us, a deep truth.
The young lion grew up among sheep.
And because of the environment around him.
He started believing that, he too was a sheep.
In the same way, many of us, spend our entire lives, carrying a false identity.
We live with people, who constantly doubt themselves.
And slowly, we also begin to think that, we are no different.
Their fears, become our fears.
Their weaknesses, become our weaknesses.
And without even realizing it.
We bury, our true strength, deep within.
Just think about, what undiscovered talents and abilities, could be lying, hidden within you.
You too could be a lion, surrounded by a bunch of sheep.
That are leading you, to believe that, you are much less than, you really are.
There will always be people around you, who will make you feel that, you cannot achieve anything great in your life.
And because, you live with them.
You start believing, the same lie, about yourself.
But the truth is, you are not weak, you are not ordinary.
Deep within you, lies a roar of strength, courage, and greatness.
That is, waiting to come out.
You have to stand out, from the crowd of such people.
And recognize, your true potential.
And the day, you recognize, the potential of that lion, within yourself.
No one in this world, will be able to stop you from rising, from achieving and from becoming, what you are destined to be.
So never let the world convince you that, you are less than, what you are.
Your true identity, is not weakness, or failure.
It is power, courage, and determination.
Awaken the lion, within you, and let the world, witness the power, courage.
And greatness, that was always hidden, inside you.
Mahamudra and the Path Beyond Suffering: Removing, Transforming, and Transcending
In the Mahamudra tradition of meditation—often called the “Great Seal”—we begin with a profound view: the essence of all phenomena, of ourselves and others, is pure. This is sometimes called pure perception. At our core, each of us possesses a basic innate goodness.
Yet, despite this purity, we are often clouded by what Buddhist philosophy calls obscurations. These are layers of ignorance, craving, aversion, and other afflictions that prevent us from experiencing our true nature. Imagine the sky: vast, open, and unchanging. Clouds may pass through, sometimes thick and stormy, but they never alter the sky itself. Similarly, our innate goodness remains untouched, even when obscured.
The Five Kleishas: Roots of Suffering
Buddhist teachings describe five fundamental afflictions—called kleishas—that create suffering:
Ignorance – Not seeing reality clearly, mistaking impermanent conditions for permanent truths.
Aversion – Hatred, fear, or rejection of unwanted experiences.
Craving – Attachment, fixation, and endless grasping.
Pride – Inflated self-image or fragile self-esteem.
Jealousy – Resentment of others’ joy or success.
From these five roots, suffering branches out into countless forms: anxiety, panic, depression, loneliness, and disconnection.
For example, in my own life, I once experienced panic attacks. Ignorance made me believe they were permanent—that my life was doomed. Aversion made me fear the panic itself, creating a “panic about panic.” Craving arose as I desperately wished for a calm state of mind, which only intensified the struggle. Pride and jealousy joined in, as I compared myself with others who seemed happy and free. This web of kleishas amplified my suffering.
But the Mahamudra path offers a way through.
Three Techniques: Removing, Transforming, and Transcending
The lineage of Mahamudra practice teaches three approaches to working with kleishas:
1. Removing
At times, we need to change our behavior or environment directly.
If your phone keeps you awake, remove it from your bedroom.
If alcohol or smoking dominate your life, step into environments (such as rehab) where those triggers are absent.
On a mental level, this means cultivating the opposite of each kleisha:
Replace ignorance with wisdom.
Replace aversion with compassion.
Replace craving with awareness of impermanence.
Replace pride with humility and reflection.
Replace jealousy with rejoicing in others’ happiness.
Removing isn’t about denial—it’s about skillfully clearing space to heal.
2. Transforming
Instead of resisting, we can turn poison into medicine. This is the practice of alchemy: obstacles become opportunities, pain becomes fuel for wisdom.
In my case, panic attacks transformed into supports for meditation. They became teachers of awareness, compassion, and presence. The very energy of suffering, when embraced, can reveal wisdom.
3. Transcending
At the deepest level, we look directly into the nature of suffering itself. Waves may rise and fall, but their essence is always water. Clouds may obscure, but their essence is space.
In the same way, the essence of panic, anger, jealousy, or depression is awareness, compassion, and wisdom. Seeing this directly, we transcend suffering—not by removing or changing it, but by recognizing its true nature.
This is liberation: when poison liberates itself, when suffering is no longer an obstacle but an expression of wisdom.
The Journey Forward
These three approaches—removing, transforming, transcending—are not rigid stages but complementary tools. Sometimes, removal is best. Sometimes, transformation is possible. At the deepest level, transcendence shows us that we were never separate from our own innate goodness.
Like learning any new skill, this path takes patience and practice. Step by step, we discover that our obscurations are temporary clouds, and our true nature is as vast and pure as the sky.
Amrit Bharat Express: Easing Migration or Stopping It?
I can’t say it with absolute certainty, but I can say with confidence: Bihar has received more new trains in just these few election months than it did in the past eleven years combined.
Right now, India has nine Amrit Bharat Express trains running. Eight of them either start from Bihar or pass through it. And this has sparked a peculiar debate:
What happened to the promises of stopping migration?
Were these trains launched to ease migration—or to accelerate it?
Because the issue was never just about trains. The issue was always migration.
Trains and Bihar’s Politics
Trains have always been central to Bihar’s politics. Leaders like Ram Vilas Paswan, Nitish Kumar, and Lalu Prasad Yadav earned praise by introducing new trains. But post-2014, that political relationship faded. Slowly, the demand for new trains went silent.
And now, when there is no public outcry, Amrit Bharat Express trains are being launched one after another.
For a state like Bihar—where leaving and returning is a way of life—any new train feels like good news. But Amrit Bharat Express is not just any train. Its shiny new paint and redesigned coaches create a thrill, a sense that something new is on the rails.
But when politics starts selling you thrill in the name of progress, it’s important to unwrap the package. Because often you’ll find more salt than almonds.
“World Class”? Really?
We’re told these are world-class trains. But are they?
Delhi to Patna: Sampoorna Kranti Express → 13 hours
Mumbai to Saharsa: Amrit Bharat Express → 38 hours
If this is “world class,” then what were the older trains?
The government flaunts features: new seats, bio-toilets, LED lighting, charging ports. But are these really “world-class” in 2025? Even tea stalls have CCTV cameras today.
What matters to workers and migrants is speed. Time is money for those who travel home on short holidays, often losing daily wages. But Amrit Bharat takes longer, not shorter, to complete the same journeys.
The Politics of Stops and Speeds
Why are these trains not running daily? Why do they stop at exactly those constituencies that matter during elections?
Take the Gaya–Delhi Amrit Bharat Express:
Time: 19.5 hours
Fare: ₹560
Compare it with the Netaji Express:
Time: 15.5 hours (4 hours faster)
Fare: ₹520 (cheaper)
So what exactly makes Amrit Bharat “special”?
It seems less like a gift to workers and more like a pre-election spectacle.
The Irony of Comfort
In 2006, Lalu Yadav launched the Garib Rath—an AC train at lower fares, aimed at poor migrants. Nineteen years later, in 2025, the Modi government launches a non-AC Amrit Bharat Express from the same Saharsa.
Progress should have meant giving workers air-conditioned comfort at affordable rates. Instead, we have trains with non-AC general and sleeper coaches being dressed up as “world class.”
Is this development—or just clever branding?
Migration Made Convenient
Let’s face it: these trains are not stopping migration. They are making migration more convenient.
Because neither are jobs being created in Bihar, nor are wages improving in cities like Surat and Mumbai. The only thing ensured is that migrants can keep leaving and returning—without creating political unrest.
Amrit Bharat Express, then, is not a train against migration. It is a train for migration.
The Bigger Question
Why now? Why suddenly, in the months before elections, do Bihar’s tracks fill with new trains?
Why does a state with one-third of households earning less than ₹6,000 a month get new non-AC sleeper coaches instead of real job opportunities?
The truth is: these shiny trains are election promises on wheels. They give the appearance of development while keeping the structure of migration intact.
And Bihar knows this. Its people know the difference between a train that makes headlines and a train that makes their lives better.
So let us ask again:
Are these trains really for Bihar’s progress—or just for its votes?
The middle of life can be one of the most stressful and confusing times we face. By now, many of us have moved out of our parents’ homes, begun our careers, and are caught in the whirlwind of responsibilities, deadlines, promotions, and competition—not only with colleagues but with entire companies. Alongside work, there’s the search for love, the quest for “Mr. Perfect” or “Mrs. Perfect,” and the desire to build a life that feels whole.
But here’s the truth: there is no such thing as Mr. or Mrs. Perfect. At best, we can hope to meet a “Mr. Okay” or “Mrs. Okay,” someone with whom we can share balance and growth. The search for perfection is exhausting; what we really need is balance.
The Three Styles of Drinking Water
I often use a simple example: imagine you want to drink water. There are three styles of doing it.
Too tight. You grip the cup as if your life depends on it. Your muscles are tense, and even lifting the cup becomes difficult. You may spill the water, and drinking it isn’t easy.
Too loose. You give up. The cup slips away. You procrastinate: “I’ll drink tomorrow.” The water remains untouched.
Balanced. You relax your hand, hold the cup naturally, and drink with ease.
Most people say they want the third style. But in practice, many of us live in the first or second style—either too tight or too loose. Balance is the key.
Finding Purpose in Work
How do we find this balance? It begins with purpose. Every profession—whether you are a doctor, engineer, teacher, businessperson, or salesperson—has meaning. Unless the work directly harms others, there is always a positive contribution.
What matters most is intention. Ask yourself: Through my work, how am I benefiting others? Even if your company doesn’t align fully with your values, you can still bring positive impact through your actions.
Results may not always match our efforts. Some days we succeed; other days we fall short. Life, like the stock market, goes up and down. The highs bring joy, but the lows bring growth. Problems can become solutions, and obstacles can open new opportunities.
If you face a wall in life, don’t only think of smashing through it. Maybe you can climb over, go around, or even find a new path altogether. Don’t give up—just let go of rigid expectations.
Managing Stress in Daily Life
Balance also means managing our time and energy. Stress grows when every day looks the same: home to office, office to home, the same road, the same routine. Life is impermanent, and change is natural. Bring small shifts into your daily life—take a new path to work, spend a weekend in nature, exercise, or simply rest.
Sleep is essential. Without proper rest, we risk becoming machines, living only for deadlines, promotions, and money. And when we lose touch with sunlight, friends, and family, we lose life itself.
Even five minutes of meditation—watching your breath, noticing sensations in your body, connecting with gratitude and compassion—can change your entire day.
Midlife Crisis and Transformation
Many people face a “midlife crisis,” a sense that everything they have done is useless, leading to the temptation to throw it all away. But changing your environment won’t help if you don’t transform inside. Stress will follow you wherever you go.
The real solution is to connect with your inner well-being—awareness, love, compassion, and wisdom. You don’t need to abandon your responsibilities or retreat into a monastery. Instead, integrate your spiritual practice into daily life.
Personally, I juggle many roles and projects, yet I find joy because my work connects to my heart. My meditation practice—formal in the mornings and informal throughout the day—helps me bring awareness and compassion into every task. That way, even in stress and challenges, there is contentment beneath the surface.
Closing Thoughts
Life in the middle years is intense. Careers, relationships, responsibilities, and crises all converge. But balance is possible.
Don’t grip life too tightly or let it slip away.
Find meaning in your work and intention in your actions.
Embrace impermanence and allow for change in routine.
Nurture your inner well-being through meditation, rest, and compassion.
Stress will come and go, but with balance, every obstacle becomes an opportunity to grow.
Four things to remember on hard days.
Number one.
Today is just a chapter of your life, not your whole life story.
Number two.
Focus on the things that you can control, not on the things you cannot.
Number three.
Sometimes, we just need a help, so don't be shy to ask for it.
And number four.
Always remember, there will be hard days, but they won't last forever.
The bell rang. All the students ran to their classrooms and so did Zawa. It was Zawa's first day at school. He had never been to school before in his life. Zawa was 15 years old. He was born to a woodcutter, named Kayo. Both Zawa and Kayo lived on the hill. In his initial years, Zawa helped his father to cut the wood on the hilltops. This wood was sold in the city to run their family, and also to keep them warm in their hut.
Due to extreme poverty, Kayo could not afford to send his son to school, although he dreamt of it always. Zawa had always been helping his father and also learned the woodcutters' work. He was perfect to sharpen the ax and hit the tree at the right spots. He never had friends and never had been to the city. From his birth till now, he was only cutting trees and carrying wood.
One day, Kayo told Zawa about his plans to send him to school. What is a school? asked Zawa. Kayo laughed and pointed to the red building down the hill. That is a school and you will get education there. With education, you will become intelligent and find better work than this, replied Kayo. Not sure Zawa understood what his father meant, he just nodded a blank yes. He had no idea if there exists a better work than cutting and carrying wood, as he had never seen any, while living at the hilltop.
So one day Zawa was sitting in the classroom with all the new kids. The teacher entered the room and everyone greeted and respect. Zawa did as the others did. The teacher announced that today every student had to tell the whole class what their ambition in life was. Zawa had never heard the word ambition before in his life. He was just told by his father that he would learn something at school. So all the students got up one by one. Someone's ambition was to be a pilot and the other one wanted to be a doctor. Another one, again an engineer or a soldier and so on. But Zawa, he had no clue. When his turn came, he stood blank. The teacher asked Zawa what his ambition in life was and Zawa asked the teacher, teacher, what is ambition? The whole class burst out laughing. The teacher silenced the class and explained to Zawa that ambition was something that he wants to achieve in life, something that he wanted to do or something that he wants to become.
Zawa still stood blank. All his life he had chopped and carried wood. He had no idea that there was something called ambition in which he had to get something, which was supposed to be far from him as per the definition of ambition given to him. Zawa replied slowly, I don't have ambition. I cut wood and carry branches from hill trees with my father. We work during the day, eat in the evenings and sleep during the night. There is nothing more than that. I and my father achieve all that we plan in the morning by the night.
The whole class started laughing again. The teacher silenced the class again. Of course Zawa was not telling a lie and the children were just conditioned to laugh at anything that wasn't something that they knew. So the teacher told Zawa, you must have an ambition. Without ambition, you are a goalless person, an empty person, who is lacking any sense of direction. So Zawa went deep into thoughts. He stood blank. He couldn't understand why the teacher was asking him to imagine something, a goal or a destination. It made no sense to him. All his life, he thought that cutting wood in the morning and sleeping at night is all that there had to be done. There was nothing else to be done. And now he was being told that there was something else to be done, which had not been done yet and he must do it because he was born without it and he must get it.
The teacher continued. You have to walk the path Zawa. You have to work hard. If you continue to work hard, one day you will surely reach your destination. But Zawa asked, what road, what destination? The teacher got impatient. The road to your ultimate goal, your destination, your real home. Zawa thought to himself, why am I being asked to walk hard on a road to go to a place where I don't want to go? They call this place a goal, a destination. They think everyone must keep walking on that road to reach that place. But what if I do not want to reach my goal? What if I do not want to reach the destination? I don't even know how far it is. How do I know and if I reach there, how do I know that I am there? Do I sit and keep waiting or do I get bored and move beyond it or do I walk back to where I started. I don't feel I have to walk so far to a place which does not look any more beautiful than my hilltop house. Is it compulsory for everyone to walk to their goals? What about people who choose not to? Are they called directionless? But what does it matter if someone is already at his destination. Is that a horrible idea to be at your destination without walking a path of difficulty and pain? The students kept giggling as Zawa looked immersed in his thoughts. The teacher continued, Zawa, you don't have any goal? Yes, I do, Zawa replied suddenly. There was a big smile on the teacher's face. His student finally had gotten the message. So what is your ambition? What is your goal? What is your destination Zawa? The teacher asked with curiosity.
Zawa replied looking outside of the window, as if a deep imagination was going on in his mind. He said, I want to cut the wood in the morning, drink my tea in the evening and sleep at night. And the teacher said, no, that is not an ambition Zawa, because you are already doing it. Zawa replied, yes, isn't that great, because I have already reached my destination. The teacher got angry and dismissed the class. Zawa looked confused and unanswered. That night Zawa told his father Kayo what had happened at school. Father, we are cutting the wood from the trees which are already there, but the school is telling me to cut the wood from the trees which are not there. They are asking everyone to first grow a tree, wait for it to grow up and then cut the wood, something which we are doing right now without growing one. Kayo laughed at the intelligent feedback of such a simple question. He asked Zawa how he felt about his life. Zawa was happy, chopping wood because that is all he had done. He found satisfaction and happiness in his work. But the new word at school, called ambition, was supposed to be telling him that happiness and satisfaction were not to be felt so easily, but after a lot of hard work and pain. You can never be already at your goal at the start of your life and calmness is always to be away from you and you must walk that path to reach those feelings, only to realize that when you reach there, there isn't anything there and you could have all those feelings from any point in your journey or without a journey itself.
Tell them what they want to hear Zawa. They also have ambitions to be successful teachers, Kayo said laughingly and left his son alone to ponder his thoughts at night on the hilltop. The next day at school, Zawa was the first student to continue from where the teacher had finished the day before. I thought about it and I feel I want to be a doctor, said Zawa. The teacher gave a big smile and clapped for Zawa, as he took his seat and the class continued. Zawa looked out of the window. He saw it was raining and great clouds growled in the sky. The clouds never moved in one direction, they just moved. The rain did not fall in any direction, it just rained. The grass didn't grow in any pattern, it just grew. None of these elements in nature looked as if they had a plan. They were just being themselves, true to their real nature. Then he saw a gardener cutting the grass into a beautiful design to give it a shape. He realized that humans couldn't live with nature without changing it.
And humans themselves are a part of that nature, ironically. You see in life, in your life, is there really a path for you to walk? Is there a goal for you to reach? Are you cutting the grass in a design or are you just letting the grass of life grow? Are you letting the rain of life rain? Are you letting the tree of life grow? It's okay to have ambitions and it's okay to be happy where you are right now. Life is continuously evolving. New things are discovered, new ways of life are discovered everyday, every second in this universe.
Thank you so much for reading and stay blessed.
There was a young man, 25, who came to stay at our monastery. He wasn't religious, he told me that right away, as if he needed to make sure I didn't try to convert him.
I am not here for God, he said. I'm just tired. Everything feels off. He had one of those tech jobs, remote, well-paid, lots of perks. But he talked like someone whose soul had been evicted from his body.
I used to be excited, he told me on his second day. Now I wake up with this weight, like I'm late for something I can't name.
On his third morning, he burnt his toast. We have an old wood-fired toaster here. No buttons, no tech, just you, the fire, and your attention. He forgot it for a few seconds too long, and when he pulled it out, it was pitch black, charred.
He stared at it, like he'd just failed some unspoken exam. Then he started aggressively scraping it with the edge of his spoon, sighing under his breath. He kept muttering: Stupid toaster, stupid.
I watched him for a moment. Then I said: Eat it. He stopped. What? Eat it, don't fix it. Just taste it. He looked at me like I was joking. I wasn't. He took a bite reluctantly. Then another. His face twisted. He chuckled awkwardly and said: It's awful. I nodded. Yeah, but it's yours. He looked at me, unsure.
I asked: Why are you really here?
He paused, and then he said: Because I think I messed up. My job, my relationships, my 20s. I look around and everyone else seems to know where they are going. And I am just burnt out. I feel like I missed the window.
I said: You're trying to scrape your life back to something that doesn't exist. You think if you fix it enough, edit your past, clean up the regrets, it'll taste the way you want it. But life doesn't work that way. He was quiet.
I continued: What if the goal isn't to make it perfect? What if the goal is to taste it as it is, and learn what you want different next time? He didn't respond, but something in him softened. The next morning, he burnt his toast again, on purpose. Ate it slowly, no spoon, no scraping, then he smiled, just a little.
Before he left, he said: I think I've been so obsessed with getting everything right, that I forgot life isn't the final draft, it's just breakfast, over and over. You burn some, you get better.
I said: Exactly. You see in life, in your life, perfection isn't the point, presence is. Stop scraping your past, taste what's here, and let each burnt moment teach you how to cook the next morning better.
Thank you so much for reading, and stay blessed.
Now, once upon a time, there was a young boy named Zico, who lived with his father in a village.
Zico's father planted a tree near their house. And the tree was watered every day by Zico's father, while Zico used to watch silently. One day, he asked his father why they would grow this tree. And his father told him that the trees are like children, and that in the beginning you have to water them and nourish them. And if they grow right, you can sit under their shade and they nourish you afterwards.
The tree grew up big and strong. It grew older and older and bigger and bigger.
The tree felt great satisfaction in doing its daily duties. Every day, the tree spread its branches like its arms, so that the tired birds could sit down and take some rest during their journey. It grew in abundance and shady leaves which gave relief to the animals and humans from the heat of the sun. It grew fruits, too, which dropped down and fulfilled the hunger of beings.
It also had beautiful flowers that calmed down the minds and hearts of those who watched them.
Its roots run deep, and helped drain the water in the thirsty Earth. It absorbed the carbon of the air and returned happy and fresh air back to the creation.
The tree led a very happy and satisfied life. Years passed, and the tree left no day wasted to serve the planet. It had lost itself in the duty of its existence.
It served and served, helped and helped, gave and gave, and stood upright, silently, not seeking anything back from the world, not remembering what all it had done for the world, not even a moment of thought that the world owed it something in return. The tree had no ego to seek anything back from those he served.
With this nature of giving, the tree grew older and came to be known as the giving tree.
Meanwhile, Zico grew up in a different thought process. He grew up as a seeker, totally opposite to the tree which his father grew, which was a giver.
Zico was a selfish man.
He had a lot of greed. His desires were never ending. Whenever his desires could not be fulfilled, Zico grew angry and upset, picking up and throwing things around. And whenever his desires got fulfilled, he immediately had another set of desires.
So, in this way, Zico lived unhappily, seeking, being greedy, and ever unfulfilled.
He was caught in the mischievous cycle of desires, which, when unfulfilled, always leads to anger, and when fulfilled, leads to new desires. A typical cycle of desire.
Due to Zico's angry nature, he was abandoned by his friends, his wife, his children, and in the end, his village. He was left all alone.
He became homeless.
He felt that all his life he had worked and lived for his family, his friends, his neighbors, and his community. And today he was abandoned and was left alone by everyone. He went into self pity mode.
The feelings of self victimization and self pity swallowed him, and he lived his life cursing the world, and calling out loud that the world used him. He would walk around the village like a mad man, screaming out loudly, "This world has abandoned me and used me." And eventually, he sat down under the shade of the tree which his father had planted.
The tree, as usual, was singing in the joy of his daily service to the world, with birds on his branches, eating its fruits and enjoying its shade. The tree had lost itself in the joy of serving the world, when suddenly its meditation and its duties were broken by Zico, sitting along its trunk and crying.
"Zico, what happened?" the giving tree asked, when he saw him crying.
"Can't you see yourself?" Zico replied. "This world used me. Everyone has used me. I just came to this world to be used."
The Zen Owl Nishitzu was watching the whole scene from a distance on his mountain, and started laughing out loudly.
Laughing and holding his belly, he asked Rico, the anxious rabbit, to look at the scene, pointing to the tree and Zico.
"Look at them, Rico." Nishitzu said. "That is the irony of life. One man has lost himself in the grief of existence just because he wants and wants. That man feels heavy, so he will suffer and suffer, and will die craving.
The other, which is the tree, has lost itself in the bliss and joy of giving and giving.
That tree will blossom even more. It feels light, it will rise and rise to the highest heavens.
Both were planted by the same man, but both have taken different paths.
Both got used by the world.
We all are here to be used by the world.
And it is a wonderful thing to be used by existence."
Saying this, Nishitzu, the Zen Owl, retired into his hut to prepare his cup of tea.
This was the story: The World Used Us. From the book, Nishitzu: Tibetan Buddhism Stories by Zen Owl. Thank you so much and stay blessed.
1:
Non-Acceptance of Negativity:
Buddha teaches that insults and anger are like gifts. If you refuse to accept them, they remain with the giver, protecting your inner peace. (Illustrated by Buddha's response to the abuser).
2:
Restraint as Active Strength:
True strength lies not in reacting with anger, but in consciously choosing restraint, compassion, and silence. It's mastery over mind, speech, and action, not passive avoidance. (Buddha's core teaching and Chandrak/Kumar/Malav's lived example).
3:
Restraint is a Lifelong Practice:
Transformation isn't instantaneous or permanent without effort. Restraint requires continuous, daily practice in all aspects of life (eating, speaking, thinking) and persistence through repeated failures. (Chandrak's ongoing tests, Kumar's water pot lesson, Buddha's lamp analogy).
4:
Inner Transformation Creates Outer Change:
Mastering oneself through restraint is the foundation for positively influencing others and transforming society. Personal peace radiates outward, fostering dialogue, forgiveness, and harmony. (Chandrak changing his village, Kumar's centers, Malav converting Agnivesh).
5:
Conquering the Self is the Greatest Victory:
True victory isn't over external enemies, but over one's own anger, ego, and impulses. This internal victory brings lasting peace and is the source of genuine influence and societal change. (The recurring theme from Buddha to Chandrak to Kumar to Malav's final teachings).
Bonus:
The ultimate teaching: 1: When the mind says speak, keep silence. 2: When the heart says run, stop. 3: When the ego says win, embrace someone. (The concise essence of a restrained life).
Story
Very long ago. Gautam Buddha went to a village with his disciples to give a sermon. There was a young man there who was jealous of Buddha’s knowledge and influence. He wanted to humiliate Buddha so that people would stop respecting him. One day, while Buddha was teaching the villagers, that young man came and started abusing him in front of the whole assembly. He used foul words, insulted him, and even called him a hypocrite. The entire gathering was stunned. The disciples became angry and said, "Lord, permit us, we will teach this arrogant man a lesson." But Buddha smiled and said, "No, stay restrained." Then Buddha looked at the young man and said, "Son, if someone wants to give a gift and the other person does not accept it, then with whom does the gift remain?" The young man thought for a moment and said, "It stays with the one who gave it." Buddha calmly replied, "Exactly so; the foul words you spoke to me, I did not accept, so those foul words are still with you." Silence fell over the assembly. The young man was ashamed, tears rolled from his eyes. He fell at Buddha’s feet and began to ask for forgiveness.
Buddha caressed his head and said, "When anger is answered not with anger but with restraint and compassion, only then does peace come to society. Restraint is true strength."
After that day, the young man who had come to insult Buddha was completely transformed. He not only became a follower of Buddha but also began trying to walk the path of restraint. His name was Chandrak.
Chandrak now attended Buddha’s sermons every day, meditated, and practiced restraint, yet changing one’s nature is not easy. One day some children saw him meditating and started teasing him. One child came up and said, "Hey Chandrak, now you’ve become a saint? Even though everyone knew how angry you used to be." The other children laughed. Anger arose in Chandrak’s mind, but he immediately remembered Buddha’s words—if a gift is not accepted, it returns to the giver. Chandrak closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled. After a while the children saw that he had become absorbed in meditation without saying a word. They quietly slipped away. Within Chandrak, the flame of restraint had begun to burn. Another test: A few months later, Buddha set out on a journey with his disciples. When they reached a village that had once been terrorized by robbers, the village head came to invite them. He said, "Lord, in our village there was a robber named Angulimal; you had changed him too. Bless our village." Buddha smiled and decided to stay there. Chandrak was with them. An old woman came and fell at Buddha’s feet. Crying, she said, "Lord, my son has left the path of restraint. He is lost in gambling and drink. Will you talk to him?"
Buddha looked at Chandrak and said, "Chandrak, will you meet that young man?" Chandrak was surprised; it was the first time Buddha had entrusted him with guiding someone else. But he bowed his head and said, "As you command, Lord." The youth was very arrogant and proud.
When Chandrak reached him, the youth laughed and said, "O saint, come to teach me? First tell me the story of your own life!" Chandrak calmly told his past—how he had been angry, proud, and arrogant; how he had insulted Buddha, and how Buddha’s restrained gaze had changed his life. The youth was silent for a while, then said, "Can a person really change?" Chandrak replied, "Everyone can change, if they understand themselves and practice restraint. Restraint is not bondage, but inner strength." From that day the youth kept coming to meet Chandrak. Gradually he began to change. He distanced himself from gambling and drink, and one day he also came to see Buddha. Depth of restraint: One night during a meditation retreat, Buddha asked his disciples, "What is restraint?" Many answers came— not to be angry, to avoid greed, to remain calm. Buddha smiled and said, "Restraint is not merely controlling anger. It is watchfulness over mind, speech, and action. When the mind thinks something bad, restraint recognizes it and stops it; when speech is harsh, restraint makes it sweet; when hands wish to strike, restraint shows them the path of peace." Chandrak asked, "Lord, if a person repeatedly makes mistakes, repents, then makes mistakes again, can restraint enter him?" Buddha looked at him deeply and said, "Restraint comes through practice and practice through continuity. Just as dripping water carves stone, so practice one day changes even a hard nature. The most important thing is not to give up." Chandrak’s test: Time passed. Chandrak had become an ideal disciple, but life’s tests never end. One day while travelling, a man told Buddha and his disciples to move off the road. When they refused, the man became furious. He pushed Chandrak. The disciples were startled. Anger rose in Chandrak, but he kept restraint. He stood still. Humbly he said to the man, "Brother, we do not wish to block anyone’s way. If our presence has caused you trouble, please forgive us; we will move aside at once." Tears came to the man’s eyes. He said, "I have seen many saints, but seldom have I seen such restraint as yours." Buddha smiled. He who conquers himself is the true victor. Final lesson: Chandrak’s life had changed. He had become a living symbol of restraint. From village to town people listened to him and were transformed. One day he asked Buddha, "Lord, should I now return home? Should I light the lamp of restraint in my own village?" Buddha said, "The lamp that has lit itself will spread light wherever it goes." Chandrak returned, and in his village a tradition of restraint and peace began. Teaching: This story teaches us that restraint is not a one-time act; it is a way of life. One who keeps restraint not only elevates his own life but also raises others. The life of Buddha and the stories of his disciples prove that self-control is the first step to self-development. After returning to the village Chandrak began the work of restraint and practice. On the first day when he arrived, people looked at him with contempt. An old farmer mocked, "Is this the same Chandrak who used to burn like fire with anger? Now become a priest of peace?" Chandrak bowed humbly and said, "Yes, I am the same, but now I am on the journey to know myself. I have burned much in the fire of anger; I have come now to turn that burning into coolness." Gradually he began teaching meditation to the village children, telling stories of restraint to the youth, and serving the elderly. After a few days the atmosphere of the village began to change. Where once abuse and fights were common, now showers of peace and cooperation were visible. Old test, new path: One day a man from the village itself, Dharmadutt, who had once been Chandrak’s bitter enemy, came to insult him. In the village square, before everyone, Dharmadutt said, "Chandrak, you wander about as a holy man? Have you forgotten you once insulted my mother? Today in my eyes you are a hypocrite." The whole crowd was silent. All eyes were on Chandrak. He neither panicked nor became angry. In a calm voice he said, "Dharmadutt, I admit I have made many mistakes in the past. If any word of mine has hurt you, I ask forgiveness from my heart. The first rule of restraint for me is to renounce ego." Dharmadutt was dumbfounded. The very man he had come to insult was joining his palms and asking forgiveness. This scene touched people’s hearts deeply. Within days Dharmadutt himself became Chandrak’s disciple. Effect of meditation: Chandrak built a small hut near the village where daily meditation and talks were held. He said the practice of restraint should be done not only in difficult times but every moment—while eating, speaking, walking, thinking. One day a woman came; her son stole and raged at home. She said, "Teach my son restraint, I am exhausted." Chandrak asked her to come after three days. On the third day she returned; Chandrak called the boy and gently asked, "Do you think someone can always cook for you, give you clothes, endure your lies and stealing? Your childhood will end." The boy lowered his head and said, "No." Then will you become one whom people fear or whom people love? The boy said, "Whom they love." Chandrak smiled and said, "Then restraint is your path. One who keeps restraint becomes worthy of true love." The boy bowed his head at Chandrak’s feet. This was the same Chandrak who once insulted others with harsh words, and today he was lifting people with love, restraint, and compassion. Chandrak’s inner journey: One day while meditating, a question arose within: Have I really changed, or am I still deceiving myself? He decided to go and ask Buddha. He set out for Bodhgaya. After many days he reached Buddha, bowed, and asked, "Lord, how does change become permanent? Often doubt arises within." Buddha smiled, lit a lamp, and said, "Chandrak, as long as this lamp burns, darkness cannot come, but if not tended it can go out. Change is the same; it needs daily ghee of practice and wick of restraint, only then will the lamp burn forever." Tears were in Chandrak’s eyes. He understood that this practice would continue lifelong. There is no final destination in self-building, only the journey. Final scene: Time passed. Chandrak grew old, but in the village his place had become that of a guru. Children called him Baba Sanyam. One day he called a young disciple and said, "Son, conquering the world is easy, but conquering oneself is the hardest. Yet whoever conquers himself, wherever he goes, spreads peace—this is the fruit of restraint." He closed his eyes and breathed his last. There was silence in the village, but within a light had spread—the light of restraint. Though Chandrak was no more, his teaching, his life, and his restraint lived on in people. Although Chandrak had aged in body, his restraint, his thought, and his inner strength had become sharper than ever. People of the village called him Sanyam Baba. His ashram was now not just a meditation center but a school of peace. Every morning villagers gathered there. Some sought control over anger, others to teach discipline to their children, still others balance in life. Chandrak listened to all, smiled, and spoke a few lines that changed the direction of life. One day’s incident: One day a wealthy merchant brought his son. The boy was arrogant, proud, and selfish. The merchant said, "Baba, I have given him wealth, education, comforts, but he loves no one, knows no humility. I leave him with you; change him." Chandrak smiled and said, "Restraint cannot be forced on anyone; it arises from within, but I shall try." The youth, named Kumar, said on the first day, "Baba, you are old; what will you teach? I want to learn nothing." Chandrak gave no reaction. He simply smiled, placed in Kumar’s hand a thin rope and an earthen pot filled with water, and said, "Every morning when this pot is completely empty, bring it to me and until then do not speak a word." Kumar first took it as a joke, but he did as told. Effect of silence: On the first day when the pot emptied he brought it to Chandrak without a word. Second day the same, third day the same. Gradually the process became habit. Where he once spoke at every little thing, now during that morning hour he kept silent. Silence increased his attention; attention led to thought, and thought to inner peace. One day he asked, "Baba, why are you only teaching me to stay silent?" Chandrak said, "Because the first restraint is of speech. When you gain control over your words, only then can you win over thoughts and actions." Kumar bowed his head. Inner revolution: Kumar had changed greatly. All day he served Chandrak, meditated, and taught village children. One day outside the village an angry youth slapped an old farmer. People ran to beat the youth, but Kumar stepped in. Stopping them he said, "One in anger is blind. If you punish him in the same blindness, what difference will remain?" The youth began to cry. Kumar embraced him. Chandrak watched from afar, closed his eyes, and smiled within. The seed of restraint was now bearing fruit. Chandrak’s final teaching: One evening Chandrak called Kumar and other disciples. "Restraint is not merely a weapon of self-defense but the power to save society. When restraint is within you, it begins to spread around you." Kumar asked, "Baba, if the mind ever wavers, what should be done?" Chandrak said, "Then remember, no answer is greater than silence, no practice greater than breath, no victory greater than forgiveness." That night Chandrak sat in meditation and left his body. A smile of peace was on his face. The whole village wept, yet felt proud that their village had seen a saint who had lived restraint. Years later Kumar himself had become a guru. He built centers of restraint across the land, teaching how to avoid anger, desire, delusion, and pride. One day a youth asked, "Gurudev, what is the greatest victory in the world?" Kumar pointed silently to the hair on his head, then to his palm. The youth did not understand. Kumar smiled and said, "One who keeps his head—thoughts—and his hands—actions—in restraint has conquered the world." Without lifting a sword Kumar had become renowned as a great ascetic and teacher. From every corner people came to learn the path of restraint and peace. Scholars, merchants, even royal family members came to his ashram, but with height came greater tests. The path of restraint looks simple yet is hardest within. Seed of ego: One day a young man named Malav came to the ashram. His face was radiant but his eyes held deep conflict. He said, "Gurudev, I have learnt meditation in many places, done yoga, practiced penance, but peace does not come. All say you can change life. I wish to stay with you for a year." Kumar smiled and said, "Peace is not found outside but within, but first tell me: can you leave your knowledge?" Malav was startled. "Why? Can knowledge also be an obstacle?" Kumar said, "When knowledge becomes ego it is the greatest obstacle. The first step of restraint is to drop the illusion of being knowledgeable." Malav bowed and began living in the ashram. At first he was irritated by strict rules, silence, and service work; he felt above it all, but gradually Kumar’s humility, the power of silence, and the atmosphere of restraint began to touch him. Hour of test: One day there was a great uproar in the ashram. A rich man from a neighboring village, Suresh, accused Kumar’s disciples of stealing from his fields. He declared, "Your restraint is a show, your disciples are hypocrites. If you have truth within, hand over your dear disciple to me." Malav knew the accused were innocent. The other disciples were angry, but Kumar was calm. He signaled silence and went to Suresh and said, "Brother, if you believe my disciples are guilty, I am ready to come with you. Let us go before the village court." Suresh was shaken. His face dropped in shame. He said, "Before a sage like you my false words cannot stand. Forgive me." Kumar smiled and said, "When the lamp of truth burns within, the storm of lies cannot last long. Restraint is the greatest shield of truth." Malav watched and the knots within him began to loosen. End of ego: One evening after meditation Kumar told all disciples, "Tomorrow bring one pot each, fill it with water, and come to me. If any pot spills I will send that person back." Next day all came. Some pots were half full, some full; all walked slowly so no water would fall. Malav walked proudly. He had filled his pot completely and said, "See, Gurudev, not a drop spilled." Kumar smiled and softly asked, "Tell me, is the pot of your mind also as full without a drop of ego?" Malav was shaken to the core. He understood: restraint is not outward balance but inner silence, humility, and awareness. That day Malav placed all his medals, degrees, and honors at Chandrak’s samadhi and said, "Now I wish to learn as an empty pot." Kumar caressed his head and said, "This is the first step. Only when the pot is empty can the nectar of restraint be poured in." Change in society: Kumar now began sending disciples to villages. Each was given a lamp, symbol of restraint, patience, and compassion. He said, "Go to every village and set up a restraint center. There people will meditate and practice dialogue, forgiveness, and service." Gradually restraint centers sprang up across the region. Where quarrels once occurred, people now sat together to find solutions; where abuses flew, now peace chants echoed. Even the king heard and came to Kumar and said, "Gurudev, without lifting a sword you have changed the whole kingdom. How is this possible?" Kumar said, "King, for one who wins the war within, no external enemy remains, and when the whole society wins within, no external war is needed." The king bowed and ordered restraint centers in his palace. Final moments: Kumar had grown old. One day he called all chief disciples—Malav, Sudama, Priya, Anant, and others. He said, "My dear ones, the time has come for me to enter the final depth of silence. You must now carry this lamp forward." Malav said, "Gurudev, you taught us the meaning of restraint: patience in anger, forgiveness in insult, steadiness in sorrow, humility in success." Kumar replied, "And now to live it—this is my last wish. Remember, restraint is not merely to be learnt; it is the art of living. It is meaningful only when the world around you also changes because of it." Saying this, Kumar sat in meditation and entered samadhi. Legacy: Malav recorded the teachings on restraint and composed a scripture—Sanyam Sutra. Thousands of students later read it. The fire that had reached Chandrak from Buddha now spread worldwide through Malav and his disciples. Teaching: Restraint is the power that lifts a person from within. It is not just a virtue but the foundation of life. This story repeatedly reminds us that one who conquers himself is the true victor, and this victory begins with silence, patience, and forgiveness. After Kumar’s passing his teachings spread like a banyan tree across the region. Malav was now head guru of the Sanyam Sutra ashram. He did not want the flame Kumar had lit to go out. He not only preached restraint but emphasized living it in every person’s life. Thousands now came to his talks, yet challenges also grew. New problems arose—ego of wealth, political cunning, religious divisions. Malav knew these could be met not with swords but with restraint, yet this test was harder. A new challenge: A new sect had begun near the city. Its leader, Agnivesh, attracted youth by influence and harsh rhetoric. He claimed, "Mercy, forgiveness, restraint are for the weak. To move ahead in the world one needs power, competition, victory at any cost." Gradually his followers increased. They mocked restraint centers; in places they even burned restraint books. When Malav heard, his disciples were furious. "Gurudev, shall we still remain silent? They have insulted our gurus." Malav took a deep breath and said, "This is the test of our age. Restraint is meaningful only when faced with lack of restraint; else if we descend to their language, what difference remains?" Meeting Agnivesh: Malav decided to meet Agnivesh himself. All were surprised, yet they knew that when Kumar had kept silence against insult, the angry Chandrak had become Sanyam Baba; perhaps the same miracle would repeat. Meeting Agnivesh, Malav smiled and said, "I respect your power. You have leadership and energy, but have you ever turned that energy inward?" Agnivesh laughed. "Malav, your restraint is childish. This world runs on strength, not on compassion." Malav softly replied, "The day you need to be most powerful, that day you will need restraint the most." Agnivesh dismissed it, but the matter did not end. Agnivesh’s test: Some months later some of Agnivesh’s followers set fire to a village that opposed him. One follower, Krishna, and his mother were burnt. Agnivesh was shattered. Filled with anger he came to Kumar’s samadhi. A silent gathering was underway. All bowed to him. Malav came forward and said, "Now tell us, Agnivesh." Malav asked, "Has power given you peace?" Agnivesh wept. "Gurudev, forgive me. I did not know my fire would one day burn my own courtyard." Malav said, "This is the value of restraint. One who extinguishes his own flames does not need to set fires outside." That day Agnivesh called all his followers, entered the restraint center, and became a disciple. After this revolutionary event in society Malav’s message spread far and wide. Restraint was no longer a philosophical topic but a necessity of life. The number of restraint centers multiplied. Culture of dialogue, forgiveness, and service grew among people. A time came when anger, delusion, and violence had been replaced by peaceful councils, family unity, and social cooperation. Malav had grown old, yet his face, his smile, his restraint remained the same. Final discourse: One day he called all disciples—youth from many states, doctors, teachers, soldiers, farmers, housewives. Malav said, "Today I wish to give you the final lesson of the Sanyam Sutra. Three things will be the threads of your life. First, when your mind says speak, then keep silence. Second, when your heart says run, then stop. Third, when your ego says win, then embrace someone. This is restraint, this is life." The disciples fell silent. A youth asked, "Gurudev, how shall we keep you alive?" Malav smiled: whenever you smile in anger, remain humble in insult, and keep patience in difficulty, I will live within you. The immortal flame of restraint: Malav took samadhi at the same place where Chandrak rested. That land became Sanyam Van. Every year thousands come there to meditate, read the Sanyam Sutra, and better their lives. Times changed, ages changed, yet the lamp Buddha lit, carried first by Chandrak, then Kumar, then Malav, kept burning through the ages. Final lesson: Restraint is not merely self-restraint but the foundation of social restraint. It is the power that can keep silence in noise, awaken love in hate, and spread harmony in discord. One who keeps restraint truly wins. Friends, restraint is no ordinary word; it is life’s deepest practice. This story shows how an angry, egoistic man named Chandrak was transformed by Gautam Buddha’s compassion and touch of restraint. He not only changed himself but touched countless lives. Restraint means not merely stopping anger but recognizing every feeling within, understanding it, and converting it into peace. When someone insults us, shouting is easy, but answering with silence is true courage. When life is hard, giving up is easy, but staying patient is real penance. The journey of Malav shows change occurs when we look within. If people like Agnivesh, once symbols of ego and violence, can change through restraint, why not you and I? Whatever the time, if you have restraint, you can cross the greatest challenges with a smile. Remember: when words are bitter, keep silence; when insult comes, forgive; when the path is hard, do not stop but become steadier. This is restraint, this is Buddha’s message, this is the sign of being truly human. If you found this story inspiring, share it, light the lamp of restraint within yourself, and spread the light of peace in others’ lives. Thank you—keep restraint, for it is life’s greatest victory.
