Author – Labib Mahfuj Chisty
This life is built on ups and downs. A life whose constant companions are misery, despair, lamentation and the accumulated pride of failure. In this world, which is faced with the thorny, dusty, extreme reality, those who are enlightened are the ones who have been able to accept only a few worldly barbaric blows with unfading courage. The one who abandons the vast happiness in the palace of life, who is obsessed with self-arrogance, who is spread out in the display of the pinnacle of self-glory, who can tread the streets of arrogance with perfect feet, who can always accompany only this little feeling given by God, and who can move forward with indomitable steps on the path of the desert to an uncertain destination – to me, that true messenger of goodness. In his arms, a reliable form of uncertain nectar, he has infinite madness. I will call him a nomad, I will bow my head at his lotus feet in utmost respect.
Just as the enchanting touch of the inner atrium is pursued by the nectar-blessed, the call of the emotional and alluring is even more captivating – the human being who is free from the smell of death, the human being who, like a two-day tenant, stays in this perishable, impermanent house and abandons the eternal truth and cannot be swayed by the obsession of lies, the human being who does not want to spend his life in the mist, facing the impermanence of the impermanence, leaving behind the breath-taking beauty, must ignore the temptation of decay. Because – the seed of immortality is seated in his heart. The seed that will bloom in the good gathering of his radiant, radiant, untouchable, invisible inner feelings and the ability to dissolve himself in the Creator and his creation.
The soul that is intoxicated with the taste of philosophy till death, is the disciple of truth in Gokul. It is not impossible that a human being, unencumbered by the worldly delusion, can consider a whimsical power as mere imagination. Yet in this ever-flowing field of play, shrouded in routine, how does an exception become functional, how does a heart that is filled with a base become illuminated by some attraction, is this great truth known in every age? Or is it unknown according to the rules? Or is it a riddle like a child’s play with dust?
This unthinking touch – which, in the form of a heart-rending call, is constantly echoing in the dust of death, in the form of a call to the worldly-intoxicated stupa, which enters the vague ear cavities of some who are confined to the cries of heart-rending neglect and the cries of failure. Just this little bit, some become drunk. They forget all the bonds. In the eyes of everyone, they become fierce and anti-conventional. With a little emotion of a moment, they reach beyond the limits of human ability, they cross hundreds of destinations in a moment, yet they themselves are not familiar with their place, time, and context, and how much do they have the ability to understand others?
Who can express sympathy for the thirsty Majnun who, despite his desire, cannot quench his thirst? Who has the capacity to sympathize with his thirst-induced madness? The mind that is convinced of suffering and suffering, ignoring its own life, and is always attracted to the nectar of Kausar, since everything opposite to this nectar is a poison, and consequently is ignored in eternal thirst, then who will quench this passion for nectar? With what wealth in the world?
The seeker of truth, the seeker of nectar, standing at a closed door covered in eternal fog, will reveal his bravery, break the door and make a shield, cry silently alone, laugh again alone, is he mad? – Yes, he is mad. He is mad for you, not for himself – he is only his own, his eternal madness is his own, not anyone else’s.
Date of writing – 15/02/2015
Author – Labib Mahfuj Chisty