If as the Gita has it, man's salvation lies in his performing all acts without aiming for a longed-for-reward, why does he go ahead and do the exact opposite? Recognizing the truth behind the injunction, he still ignores it, and seemingly against his will he goes on doing that which he knows he should not do. Can he by some means within his reach break the hold of the terrifying power which shakes his grasp of the nobler aspirations and forces him to revel in that which to his own saner view must appear reprehensible? All true scriptures give the assurance that the individual can free himself from all enslavement if he follows the time-honoured Rules that have been formulated by the Wise to help him guide his own walk in life. The Rules have to be observed and the life set on a spiritual course. But this is easier said than done, for, it is well-nigh impossible to adopt the Rules unless the money-changers (those who barter one type of desire for another) are driven out of the temple.

When the mind is filled to capacity with sense-heavy images, the thinking faculty gets energized to search avenues for gratification. In saner moments of relative calm, the reasoning faculty may display the keenness of its efficiency; but this notwithstanding, it still remains at the beck and call of the dominant desire, ready on the instant to abandon its preoccupation of the moment to engage instantly in exploiting any situation that can be turned to gratify that desire.

There are blind spots in the mind just as there are in vision and it is more the rule than the exception that a person's reasoning faculty at best puts up a tame resistance to the undesirable and then gives itself up entirely to the stronger pull that desire exerts. It thus comes about that he portrays in himself the play of two contrary forces, or to put it in clearer terms he uses the same force for either spiritual or devilish ends so that when one antagonistic side is strengthened, the other is by that very fact debilitated. A mind that is swamped by desire will refuse to accept any instruction that demands its own abdication, and later its self-immolation.

It should be abundantly clear to most that from early childhood each person inherits a set of likes and dislikes. His attraction for the company of certain types of people and his inexplicable dislike for others seem to be a heritage which strangely does not appear to descend from his parents. It rather points to a more remote linkage, a gathering of threads from previous lives, a balance—debit or credit—drawn down from the accounts of lives recorded in ledgers probably of centuries past. The attraction so inherited may sometimes be strong and almost overpowering, and exist for forbidden pleasures and sinful pursuits, and has to be acknowledged and recognized. Such undesirable tendencies which like searing winds blow into this life from matrices formed in other lives appear as mental deformities or as malaise of the soul. They cry for remedial treatment and, like physical ailments, require an active and enthusiastic participation by the patient for their cure.

The sympathies and antipathies that appear in life at early or advanced ages of a person are not something new and strange. All the lower kingdoms show marked sympathies and antipathies. These two forces can be traced in plant and mineral as of course markedly in animals. In fact all evolving life can be classified according to the degree of likes and dislikes which it exhibits. These two predilections are inherent in matter, are a product of its long evolutionary pilgrimage, and are inseparable from it in its manifold gyrations. They find their culmination in the matter which goes to make up the several material sheaths that the soul of man has to use for its sojourn upon earth. They are his by previous association and karmic affinity and unless he puts them under the guidance and governance of the divine within him, they will, like stampeding horses, carry him far from his destination, or worse still, throw him off altogether. In the Third Chapter of the Gita, Sri Krishna says that it is lust which instigates one to commit offences seemingly against his will and as if constrained by some secret force (III, 36-37). It is passion sprung from the quality of Rajas (turbulence) which is insatiable and full of sin. It is in fact a ravening hunger for things to be clasped or shunned, and because this desire-passion is a property of matter itself, it remains beyond the control of one's material aspects. The desire of the lust-ridden person becomes sin the instant that it forces its will upon the incarnated self and makes it intoxicated and obsessed by the idea that his felicity lies in its attainment.

Lust is not something that one picks up or catches from the wayside. It is there within the matter that one uses and is an intimate part of it. "As the flame is surrounded by smoke, and a mirror by rust, and as the womb envelops the foetus, so is the universe surrounded by this passion. By this...is discriminative knowledge surrounded" (III, 38-39). It is thus "lust" which becomes the constant enemy of the wise man, the more so as it forces him to do actions with a self-centred motive. The more one gets involved in things of matter, the more closely does he establish a contact with the turbulent element (Rajas) of matter, opening himself wide to the entanglements of lust. By constant association with this turbulent property of matter, the person loosens his hold upon the spiritual.

"Lust" has its empire and dominion over the senses and organs, the thinking faculty and even the discriminating part of the individual. It has therefore the power to force him away from the path of meditation; turn him from altruism and justice and inject into his decisions the taint of an unquenchable longing for rewards. Lust finds a ready inlet into his citadel through his senses and organs and rebels most vehemently against his efforts to liberate these from its domain. Since knowledge and spiritual discernment are impossible to the person in the presence of "lust," his preliminary efforts have to be directed towards its removal from hitherto entrenched positions. This, no instrumentation fabricated of matter will be able to achieve. As in the case of Arjuna, the Mahabharata war has to be fought with celestial weapons. The dominating force and the harnessing endeavour must arise from that part of the person which is unaffected by matter and things of matter.

"Lust" alone is described in the Gita as "this sin which is the destroyer of knowledge and of spiritual discernment" (III, 41). It is said to have dominion over the senses, the thinking principle and even the discriminating faculty. It has the means to cloud discrimination and delude the Lord of the body. It therefore follows that though resistance can be offered at each of these points, the force to scotch and then to kill it must come from the immortal and unchanging aspect of the person. No mortal aspect of matter has the power to resist and overpower the force of spirit. Therefore says the Gita (III, 42):

The senses and organs are esteemed great, but the thinking self is greater than they. The discriminating principle (Buddhi) is greater than the thinking self, and that which is greater than the discriminating principle is He (the Supreme Spirit, the true Ego).

Herein lies an instruction which is not often taken to heart. It in effect lays down the line of control. The senses must submit their data to the reasoning faculty which in turn must bring its findings for the higher scrutiny that discrimination can bring to bear upon the information. The result of study through these various instruments must then be brought before the Real Self that overbroods the whole. The directive received from It has then to travel down the same stairways until it reaches the senses and the organs, which on receiving the divine guidance have the duty to act in obedience to its behests. In this ascending and descending pathway, there can be no place or relevance for human intention (VI, 2). To one who has not reached beyond intellection to Buddhi (Discrimination), the living existence of the Self remains only an exercise of a mental imaging, the product of a belief rooted in faith. But this faith is not blind. There exists the testimony of the Wise in all ages. This Self must have a voice, this Self must have the omniscience that can give one unerring answer to any problem and can therefore repel lust and its progeny ignorance in the same manner that light eradicates darkness.

That its voice is not heard by the many or that the Self is rarely referred to in the pronouncements of those whom the age calls learned is no proof of its non-existence. In this age, the thinking self is so extolled, its powers so coveted, that even the discriminating faculty finds but few votaries. There are very few persons—hardly any in public life—who have the power to discern the true from the false, the ever-fleeting from the everlasting. With this faculty dulled and even atrophied, the dividing line between the gold of life and the tinsel glitter of things is barely perceived. Vice is condoned (the modern term is "permissive") and is ofttimes hailed as a virtue and a necessity. The abomination behind vivisection is not seen and the wanton slaughter of animals and even of men is glossed over under the name of "sport," "war" and "scientific experiment." The modern man gives such false values to asceticism, truthfulness, poverty (not insolvency) and obedience that public assessment of merit in human endeavour is no longer correct.

Even if the thinking be flawless and the discrimination true, the individual reaches no high estate until he makes his obeisance to the sovereign Lord within. This SELF has its own programme for the incarnated ray. The lessons and the experiences for this life have all been planned during the grand prospective review that precedes birth. Deviation from these is obstructive of the spiritual effort, a departure from the discipline set for the incarnation. The Supreme alone has to be recognized as the asylum and the friend. The importance given to the programme set for the incarnation can be judged from the statement: "It is better to do one's own duty, even though it be devoid of excellence, than to perform another's duty well. It is better to perish in the performance of one's own duty; the duty of another is full of danger." (III, 35)

You think that good is hating what is bad. What is bad is the hating mind itself.

—Bon Kai (Buddhist monk)