Sometimes a person is free from all worries and he has no fear, no sorrow, no worries, and the narrator writes of peace everywhere. In such a situation, some nameless pain or unknown sorrow awakens him and he seeks its solution in wealth, in lust, in physical and psychological comfort, or in worldly pleasures. But that pain does not disappear, but rather becomes stronger and more powerful with time.
2
The same thing happened to me. Life was passing very peacefully. The noisy bustle of youth had subsided. The sorrow of the working man had passed away. Business had stopped.
The place of misery and misery was taken by prosperity. The house was also settled. In other words, prosperity and freedom from worries had set up camp. The narrator was playing the flute of peace and tranquility far and wide.
But in such a situation, one day it arose like a hook, then it became a hook. When the hook became young, the heart became restless. The heart was restless for no reason. In such a busy life, I did not understand the reason for the restlessness of the heart. When the restlessness increased to the limit, what did I do to entertain the heart, saying that the heart itself is happy and will continue to be happy. After all, even after enduring so many accidents, it had become happy, but the disease continued to worsen. I was looking for something like a medicine, but I did not understand what it was.
Ž3
I have heard that those who seek such a search turn to ruins. In such a situation, by coincidence or by bad coincidence, some friends arranged a tour of archaeological sites. By coincidence, because history was my favorite subject and archaeology was a subject related to history, and by coincidence, because the heart's desolation increases in ruins.
So we headed to the ruins of Harappa.
I do not know what incitement was forcing us to wander in these ruins. To find out, we planned to go to Taxila alone next time.
4
We were not yet so immersed in deep thought that a person becomes alienated from himself that we saw a shadow waving in front of us.
Looking carefully, we felt that perhaps we were standing in front of ourselves as if we were looking at ourselves in a mirror. We asked, "Who are you?" The answer was, "I am your friend, you do not know me, but I have known you for a long time."
"Then, without waiting for my next question, he said spontaneously. You have come to discover ancient man in these archaeological sites.
But in fact, it is your nostalgia for the past that is leading you here. In fact, you are searching for yourself here."
"Then tell us how we should begin our search, "Read the book of the heart," he replied, and walked away slowly.
The poet also supported this.
Occasionally, the old office is opened
The chest with the imprint of life
(Sometimes, read the book of the heart so that the scars of your heart remain fresh) Finally, we knocked on the heart, otherwise this would have been our situation.
Thus, a lifetime has passed together
The body has not spoken to the heart
5
For centuries, the fixed door of the heart opened with a creak in the silence of the night. A gust of wind filled with imprisonment, suffocation and suffocation welcomed us from within. Inside was the deep darkness of darkness. Hand could not see hand. When the eyes became somewhat accustomed, they saw that a desert inhabited inside.
On one side, a swamp of sins. On the other side, a dirty field of shortcomings. On the third side, the iron net of negligence. On the fourth side was an oasis of useless desires, and in the middle was a dim lamp, whose burning flame flickered between hope and despair like a desert mirage. Whatever was visible was visible in that dim light. The floor was littered with centuries of wooden junk.
‘6
I thought that the 'Book of the Heart' must be lying somewhere above the heart, just as pictures are always stuck above.
The picture is in the mirror of the heart, my friend
When I bent my neck a little, I saw
But finding the book of the heart was a pain. It was obvious that it was not there above the heart, but when I looked a little deeper in search of it, there were centuries of wooden junk, rustling bushes, iron webs, and terrible desolations.
Now the problem was how to find the book of the heart without cleaning the heart.
’7
I somehow, out of ignorance, decided to clean up, but this cleaning was to bring joy to the lion. The more I cleaned one day, the more dirt there would be the next day. I took a quick look at the environment to see how much work was left.
On one side, I saw a green garden of vain hopes and empty desires, in which the trees and bushes of unbridled desires were tangled together. I thought that pruning their thorns would be a little easier, but it turned out to be even more difficult than before. After all, cutting down the green gardens of sweet dreams is no easy task.
The whole scourge of fatigue, pain, sadness, anger, disappointment and annoyance shifted to the lamp of the path.
Whose dim light was trying in vain to save the mixed darkness of the evening from the darkness of the night. In this confusion, I thought
This light is like a delusion of desire in the night of sorrow
This lamp is burning, let this lamp also be extinguished
Just as a person desires to extinguish every bright object in a state of despair. Then, thinking patiently, I thought that this is the fire of love, if this lamp burns, there will be light.
