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Aham Brahmasmi


The Atman cries out to the Brahman “Who am I?” Not hearing a response, he cries out again “Why am I here?” Baffled by the silence of the Brahman, the Atman proclaims “I am the supreme manifestation of reality.” To which he hears no argument but what stirs within him is an unexplained restlessness. He is angered by his mute spectator. “Your silence only tells a story of ignorance”, he reluctantly exclaims, half in anger, half in despair. “I will figure this out on my own”, he says determinedly and sets out. 

He travels far and wide. He consults with magicians. He consults with ascetics. He asks the winds and the rain. He asks the swift sand about her maker. “Who made you?” she retorts sarcastically. Stamping her into the earth with a hurt ego, he sets out further. He speaks to the mountains, he speaks to the snow. “Shouldn’t you aim to climb up once in a while?” he asks the snow over Mount Kailash. “Your descent is your end- as you melt and trickle down the plains only to end in obscurity in the seas where no one knows you from the others.” “My descent is your life. And my end is the beginning of bliss”, the snow calmly replies. Baffled, he moves on- enraged at first by her audacity, confused after a while by her cryptic reply. He smells the flowers and hears the bird coo. 

Weary, he sits down. “My mind is tired, I should rest it”, he decides. And he does. He lets the fight go- “for just a bit”, he decides.  “Here I am.” She suddenly proclaims. His eyes open wide as he looks within. “I descend into a life of anonomy – where there is no “I”. I descend to a life bereft of an identity only to ascend to a larger reality.” The snow melts. The Atman looks up, hoping to see her. And then realizes that he can’t strain to look up, neither can he stoop to look down.  He looks nowhere for he knows now “Aham Brahmasmi”. 

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