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An Introduction to the Dṛk Dṛśya Viveka

A Prakaraṇa Grantha of Advaita Vedānta

Opening Invocation

Oṃ śānti, śānti, śānti, śānti. Hare Oṃ.

Why This Text Was Chosen: The Mystery of Totāpurī

From today onwards, we will cover this beautiful prakaraṇa grantha of Advaita called the Dṛk Dṛśya Viveka. Why is it so important, and especially why have I chosen this one? There is a very special reason.

When we study the great master, there is the record of Totāpurī's behaviour. Swami Śāradā Rānji very clearly mentions that Totāpurī had attained nirvikalpa samādhi. And yet, you know what happened? After nearly eleven months, he could not accept this world as a reality. He used to say it is all mithyā.

For a knower of Brahman, he should be able to see everything — both inside as well as outside — as Brahman. Otherwise there is a defect. Now this incident raised a lot of controversy in our Rāmakṛṣṇa Order, either very obviously or invisibly. How can a man who had attained nirvikalpa samādhi have to go again through this painful experience? Did he actually experience nirvikalpa samādhi, or was it something less? Why did he have to learn a new lesson? For us, nirvikalpa samādhi means it is the highest, it is the very end. And yet such a person — why should he go through this experience? Most of us either keep quiet, saying we don't understand about these things, or in any case we say it is a useless discussion, a divine mystery.

But this book provides the answer.

The Six Types of Samādhi

There are six types of samādhis one has to practise and go through. Six types of samādhis: savikalpa samādhi and nirvikalpa samādhi. Savikalpa samādhi is again of three types, and nirvikalpa samādhi is again of three types. So there are three types of inner samādhi and three types of external samādhi, and this has been recommended by this teacher.

Until I read this book, I frankly could not understand Totāpurī's behaviour. But when I read this book, I understood why he insisted that nirvikalpa samādhi is of two types — both inner as well as outer — and that he had not practised the outer nirvikalpa samādhi. His inner nirvikalpa samādhi was fine. When he closed his eyes, he could see everything as Brahman. But when he opened his eyes, it appeared to be real. He had advanced so far, and so the Divine Mother made him go through that experience, and then his realisation was complete.

So this is a book which is very, very terse, short, and brief, and yet contains the most wonderful exposition.

What is Viveka?

So, what is viveka? Usually we translate it as discrimination — intellectual gymnastics: "I know this is better and this is inferior, this is superior." That is not a very good translation. Viveka, I would prefer to say, is an attitude of mind. Everything depends upon our attitude. Attitude determines how we interpret things, and how we interpret things is our reality.

So viveka is not merely discrimination, but the development of that faculty of mind which cultivates that particular attitude and interpretation.

What do you mean by attitude? Let us take an example. What was Śrī Rāmakṛṣṇa's attitude towards women? Divine Mother. He interpreted everything only in that light: everything is Divine Mother. So suppose a woman comes and criticises him. What would be his attitude towards that event? "Divine Mother is teaching me some lesson. She is playing with me. She wants me to learn." Whether it is a good event or a bad event — everything.

That is why in the Caṇḍī you get both the positive and negative expressions of the Divine Mother:

Adhini sarva-bhūteṣu brahante rūpeṇa saṃsthitā, nidrā rūpeṇa saṃsthitā, kṣudhā rūpeṇa saṃsthitā — as well as mātr̥ rūpeṇa saṃsthitā, dayā rūpeṇa saṃsthitā, kānti rūpeṇa saṃsthitā, kṣānti rūpeṇa saṃsthitā, śānti rūpeṇa saṃsthitā. Both. Why? Because both qualities stem from whom? From the Divine Mother.

That is why the Lord in the Gītā also tells us: whatever attitudes there are, whatever bhāvas there are, they have all originated from Me only — good and bad. That is why — I think this was in the eleventh chapter — it is said He not only destroyed the Kauravas, He also destroyed the Pāṇḍavas. Practically the whole army was destroyed. Only a few people — the five Pāṇḍavas and perhaps one or two others — remained. All the rest were completely dead.

So in līlā, you cannot discriminate between good and evil. If it is līlā, good is also līlā, evil is also līlā. If it is real, then good is desirable and evil is undesirable. But if it is līlā — līlā puṣpāyaṇa — the Divine Drama will not be very enjoyable if there is no villain. Who will watch such a movie? Imagine a movie without a villain. For a drama, contrast is necessary. This Divine Drama also requires it.

If we look at our own stage of life, we do not want the villain. Villain stands for anything unpleasant. But how do we improve? What contributes to our progress? If it is always good, if it is always happy, we are stuck like doormats. This is the simple fact. In drama, what is the most important element? Contrast. If everything is comedy, people will not enjoy it. Comedy is enjoyable only when there is tragedy. This is the simple truth.

The Nature of This Book

So, this book — the name is like Vivekacūḍāmaṇi — and viveka means discrimination. Now, any book must be practically useful for us. This one is very terse, very tough, very short, but full of meaning, and yet very, very practical, helpful, and profitable. It is profitable because, from one point of view, we are all emotional creatures. This is a very good antidote for emotion. After trying to study this book, you cannot afford to be so emotional. It needs a lot of intellect to discriminate.

Introduction to Vedāntic Scriptures: The Prasthāna Traya

Let me first give a small introduction. Vedāntic scriptures fall into three categories, as you know. They are called prasthāna traya — the foundational scriptures. Traya means triad, three. What are they? The Upaniṣads, the Brahma Sūtras, and the Bhagavad Gītā. All the scriptures are divided into three categories: śruti, smṛti, and purāṇa.

The Upaniṣads: Śruti Prasthāna

The Upaniṣads fall under the category of śruti prasthāna — that is to say, pure śruti. What is śruti? The literal meaning of the word śruti means "that which is heard." It is interpreted in two ways.

The ṛṣis heard directly. But do not mistake this to mean that some words came into their ears. Intuitive discovery is called śruti, because if you merely hear, that is purely a physical thing. It could be a vision. It could be something which people feel they heard, or it could be some other type of experience. But then why is it said to be heard?

When we have some feeling intuitively, somewhere it has got to be expressed, and that expression can only be possible through saying it. You see, if you have some experience and you just go on looking at a person, the other person will never understand it. We all have a tendency — whatever emotion, thought, knowledge, or feeling we have — to vocalise it in the mind. You can never keep a thought as a thought. Either you hear it, or you see it, or you smell it, or you touch it, or you taste it. Of all these, the most important organ is the organ of hearing.

So here, the meaning of śruti is intuitive understanding — not the physical hearing of something.

The second meaning is that it is also called śruti because it has been transmitted from a competent teacher to a competent disciple. Otherwise it would not be śruti. If you say something and the other person does not understand, it cannot be called śruti. Śruti means both sides: the person who is saying and the person who is listening. That conveying of knowledge is what is called śruti. So the guru had transmitted this knowledge through the mouth — from the mouth to the ears of the disciple, and from the mouth of the disciple to the ears of his disciple — that is why it is called śruti.

Now, why is it called śruti even when we have the development of written language? When you read a book, do you hear it, or do you just read it? It is possible only to hear it — either physically we vocalise, or mentally we vocalise. There is no other way, because this is the best way of conveying śruti.

Now, any type of knowledge — even the most ordinary type of truth — if you want to convey it to somebody, it can only be conveyed to a person who has the capacity to understand it. Knowledge cannot be passed to an unfit recipient.

So the word śruti has these two meanings: first, the person who intuitively discovered and uncovered the truth — he did not invent it. Nobody can invent anything. It is not possible, because it is already there.

Creation in Advaita Vedānta: Removing the Obstacles

That is why, in Advaita Vedānta, one of the important questions that comes is about creation. What do you mean by creation? Did God create? What is your understanding of the word creation?

Creation means destroying the obstacles. Creation means destroying the obstacles. In the Patañjali Yoga Sūtras, you have the concept of kṣetrika vāta. There is a river and there is a field. The field needs water. So what does the cultivator do? He removes the obstruction between the river and the field. He doesn't create water. Water is already there. The field is also already there. But he digs. Digging means removing the obstruction. So as soon as the obstruction is removed, automatically and naturally, water flows. That is the meaning of creation.

So this whole universe is a creation of God. What did God do? He removed the obstructions. Therefore, He himself has become.

Take the example of a sculptor. You give a piece of stone to a sculptor. He makes a beautiful image of Kṛṣṇa. What did he do? Did he invent Kṛṣṇa? He merely chiselled away non-Kṛṣṇa. And what remains is Kṛṣṇa. This is our definition of creation.

What about māyā? Creation is using māyā to create this illusion — it is almost like superimposing. So how is He removing the obstacles? You can put it this way: He put obstacles. Exactly. That is what a sculptor does — he covers what is not Kṛṣṇa, and what you see is Kṛṣṇa. If it is a block of stone, you cannot see Kṛṣṇa there. So what He does is put obstacles on your eyes so that you see only Kṛṣṇa and do not see all the non-Kṛṣṇa.

The point is that the substance is there. Nothing new is brought out. It is a matter of what you want to see.

If you want to experience God through your eyes, what will you see? Forms. If you want to experience God through the ears, what do you experience? Sounds. Suppose there is a blind man who cannot see colours. The function of the eyes is only to see colours, nothing else. All forms can be experienced through other means, including through the ears. That is what a whale or a dolphin does — it sends out a signal, like the radar near an airport. What do you see on the screen? An aeroplane. It is not sending a camera — it is sending sound, and what you receive is a form.

So the point is how we want to experience God. That is the Vedāntic concept of God.

Pre-Concepts and the Vedānta Scope

A person, meeting any object, has already decided: "This is how I want to see this object." That is how some people like some things, and that is how some people do not like some things. It is predetermined, depending upon past experiences. There is nothing called a completely new judgemental experience.

Say somebody brings you a sweet. How do different people experience that sweet? It all depends upon what previous concepts they carry. Suppose you like Mysore pāk — when Mysore pāk comes, you look at it not as it is, but as you would like to look at it. Another person who does not like Mysore pāk at all — how does he look at it?

Suppose a Bengali who does not like idli and chuṭney is brought first-class idli and first-class chuṭney — very nice. And suppose there is a South Indian who loves idli and chuṭney. Why do both of them react in two different ways? Is it because of the object? No. They have already come with their pre-concepts: "I like this, I don't like that."

Similarly: a man meets a woman. How does he look at the woman? He already has certain concepts — "My dream girl should be like this." So if she resembles that, he likes her. He slots her. Even if she is not objectively beautiful, she can look beautiful to him because she fits into his concept. Even if she is objectively beautiful, if she doesn't fit into his concept, he will never like her.

What is my point? We are never judging an object as it is. We are always judging an object from our pre-concepts. And even after experience, we judge the same object in exactly the same way. We have already formed opinions about every one of us — we may not express them, because it is politically incorrect to express them, but our likes and dislikes depend completely on how slavish we are to these pre-formed moulds.

This is actually useful, because there is already a mould, a pattern. If we can make that pattern what I call the Vedāntic pattern — I invented a new word for this: if you want to see very small things, how do you see? Through a microscope. If you want to see things far away, through a telescope. If you want to see God — the Vedānta scope. You must have the Vedānta scope.

If you don't have the Vedānta scope, you will never see things in a Vedāntic way. Put on this Dṛk Dṛśya Viveka, put on the Vedānta scope, and you will see everything as likeable. Why? Because the Vedānta scope shows you everything as Brahman. Unless we put that on, any other scope — microscope, telescope, or whatever — distorts things. This is the simple truth.

So Vedānta scope — that is called viveka. What is viveka? Putting on the Vedānta scope.

The Three Foundational Scriptures (Continued)

Smṛti Prasthāna: The Bhagavad Gītā

As I was mentioning, there are three types of foundational scriptures. The first is śruti. Then the next is smṛti: a person may not have had any direct experience, but he heard the direct experience from the realised person — directly or indirectly — and he has complete faith in it. Depending upon that faith, he expresses his understanding. Mind you, it is all indirect experience. You write a poem, you make a sculpture, or you write a drama, you write a bhajana. He has not realised it, but he had one hundred percent faith in it. So whatever scriptures have come under smṛti — having one hundred percent faith in the śrutis, not deviating one millimetre from the śrutis — they were composed for two reasons: for one's own enjoyment, and also in course of time to help other people.

As I said, you can only understand something if you are ready for that. So these are called smṛti. The Bhagavad Gītā is called smṛti prasthāna.

Nyāya Prasthāna: The Brahma Sūtras

And there are people who want to understand things in a completely non-controversial way, through logic and through reason. This is called nyāya prasthāna. The Brahma Sūtras is a work where Vyāsa himself — mind you, he was not the discoverer of the Vedas, he was only a compiler — collected whatever Vedas were already existing, divided them, classified them, and conveyed them to others for convenience. Classification is an easier way of understanding complicated things.

But different ṛṣis had intuitively expressed their experiences through different words, and those words created controversies. So is it a really controversial thing, or have the words used simply different meanings, all ultimately meaning the same thing? Vyāsa himself brought out a number of such apparently contradictory statements and in the end proved that they all have only one meaning. The entire śruti has got only one purport, and that purport is the word tat — "that." Everything else must support that statement, in whichever way the words are expressed or used. Such a work is called the Brahma Sūtras.

Now the Brahma Sūtras emphasise logic, rationality, and reasoning — how to understand logically — because if you are understanding intuitively, there is no need for logic. But when you are incapable of understanding intuitively, you need logic to understand correctly. This is called nyāya prasthāna.

Prakaraṇa Granthas: Shorter Works of Clarification

On all three of these foundational works, hundreds of commentaries have been written, leading to contradictory schools of philosophy and views, creating further confusion. So the great teachers, out of their compassion, invariably composed certain shorter works called prakaraṇa granthas. For example: Vivekacūḍāmaṇi, Ātmabodha, Vākya Vṛtti, Dṛg Dṛśya Viveka, Upadeśa Sāhasrī, and so many others. I am quoting because these are all Śaṃkarācārya's works — though of course the Dṛg Dṛśya Viveka is not Śaṃkara's work. Some people consider it so, but most do not.

Now among these prakaraṇa granthas, there are two types. One type generally treats the entire Vedānta subject in a very brief manner — Vivekacūḍāmaṇi and Upadeśa Sāhasrī are examples. But certain prakaraṇa granthas treat a particular subject elaborately. For example, some treat the tvaṃ padartha elaborately, some treat the tat padartha elaborately, some treat the asi padartha elaborately.

Vivekacūḍāmaṇi falls under the category which treats the entire Vedānta briefly. But the Dṛg Dṛśya Viveka treats tvaṃ padartha more importantly than tat padartha or asi padartha. Tat — tvaṃ — asi: the emphasis here is on tvaṃ. Some treat all three equally, but this particular one treats tvaṃ padartha. That is why it is very useful.

Now every prakaraṇa grantha avoids controversies completely. It is meant for the general public, meant to be easy of comprehension — though some of them make it so tough that you need hundreds of commentaries on them. They go on saying, "For the easy understanding of people, by the grace of God I am starting this book" — and by that time they finish. We need the help of God.

This particular prakaraṇa grantha is very short. It contains only, I think, forty-five or forty-six ślokas.

The Three Essential Topics of Every Prakaraṇa Grantha

Every prakaraṇa grantha must be very practical. Not only does it state "this is the goal," but it also elaborates how one can reach that goal. Every such book must treat three things: tattva, puruṣārtha, and hita.

Tattva means: what is the reality? What is the truth? What is the meaning of human life? Puruṣārtha means: why should human beings take to that goal, be very conscious and clear, and make effort to reach it? And hita means: how to reach it. So this is the goal, this is the reason why you should reach this goal, and this is how to reach that goal — tattva, puruṣārtha, and hita. Every book treats these three.

Anubandha Catuṣṭaya and Sādhana Catuṣṭaya

To make this point clear, the teachers of these books have clarified two very important things: one is called anubandha catuṣṭaya and another is called sādhana catuṣṭaya.

What is the difference between them? Anubandha catuṣṭaya is meant to clarify: what is the subject matter, what is the connection with this book, what is the purpose, what is it that you want to achieve, and who is fit — who is the adhikārī? And if one is an adhikārī, then what qualifications one should develop falls under sādhana catuṣṭaya sampatti. In brief, these four plus four are common for all spiritual aspirants, common for all scriptures — whether it is Christianity, Buddhism, or anything.

The First Component: Prayojana

So what is anubandha catuṣṭaya? First of all, what is the prayojana? Prayojana means: why do you want to read this book? Not only reading — why do you want to sit at the feet of a teacher and why do you want to listen to him? The prayojana is the first thing we have to be clear about before doing anything else. What do you want? Be very clear about what you want.

Here in this case, there is only one goal: tāpatraya avicchinna muktiḥ — liberation from threefold misery.

Now miseries are of two types: present, experienced misery, and future, coming misery. Sometimes we may not be experiencing misery right now. If we are experiencing misery now, we want to be free from it — most of us fall under this category. But there are some more intelligent people who want to be free not only from present misery but also from a misery which has not yet made its appearance but which is sure to appear later on. Because that is the nature of the world. Jagat means that which is changing. So today, if I am not undergoing misery, soon it will change. This is the truth. If we don't understand it through wisdom, through painful experience we will be made to understand it.

So what is the purpose? To get rid of misery. But if we are free from misery, then what is it that we are going to attain? A state which is free from misery — but there could be a misunderstanding about that. There is a stone and somebody is beating the stone. The stone, assuming it can speak, says, "Please do not beat me." Somebody goes and stops the beating. Thereafter what does the stone remain? A stone only. That is not the state we want.

What we want is complete happiness: satyam, jñānam, anantam, brahma. Saccidānanda is usually the word we use — sat, cit, and ānanda; or asti, bhāti, and priyam. Here the Chāndogya Upaniṣad says satyam, jñānam, anantam. Satyam and jñānam correspond to sat and cit, asti and bhāti — exactly the same. But instead of ānanda, we use the word anantam. That is the more appropriate word. Why? Because what is ānanda? Usually we mistranslate it as happiness. But here, bliss means anantam. Anantam means it is eternal. Eternal state is happiness. So that state is what we want to attain. This is the prayojana.

The Second Component: Viṣaya and Sambandha

Then what is the viṣaya and the sambandha? What is the viṣaya? My purpose is to attain God. This book is teaching about chemistry. What is the connection between chemistry and my goal? There is no relationship. So this book must have a subject matter which deals exclusively with spirituality. That is the viṣaya — subject matter. And the sambandha is this: this book teaches spirituality, my purpose is spirituality — how to become spiritual — so this book helps me in being spiritual. That is the sambandha, the relationship.

Otherwise people can make a mistake — they want to meditate and they go on watching movies. What is the relationship between these two? There is no relationship. There should be a definite relationship between our prayojana, viṣaya, and sambandha.

The Third and Fourth Components: Adhikārī

Even if all three of these are wonderful, then who is the adhikārī? The adhikārī is one who sincerely wishes to have that prayojana. The prayojana is God — attaining God. And billions of human beings are not adhikārīs in that respect, because they are not interested in God. So they must become interested in God.

These are called anubandha catuṣṭaya — very preliminary relationships.

Desire vs. Qualification: The Adhikārī

Now the adhikārī is the most important person. Just as a medical student has a desire to study medicine and become a doctor, he may have desire, but whether he is qualified is another matter. Desire is different from qualification.

Suppose there is a person who is blind, a person who is lame, a person who is unintelligent — he may have desire. In fact, we all have desires. Only thing is, we don't have qualifications. This is the truth.

If somebody says, "You just become the President of the United States," no objection — but do you have the qualification? We don't have even the negative qualification, not only the positive one. The positive qualification is: you must have knowledge, you must have policy, you must have firm determination, and all that. What is the negative qualification? Why do 100,000 police, CID, and FBI try to protect the President? Because if he just walks, how many minutes is he going to survive? And still he knows it — he has that courage: "This is a risk I have to take." And he takes it. So you may have the positive qualities, but do you also have the negative quality? All qualities must be there.

So desire is wonderful, but once you have desire, that is the first step. What is the second step? You must acquire four qualifications. This is called sādhana catuṣṭaya sampatti.

Sādhana Catuṣṭaya Sampatti: The Four Qualifications

What are the sādhana catuṣṭaya sampatti?

First is viveka. Second is vairāgya. Third is samādhamādi ṣaṭ sampatti — the sixfold inner wealth. And the fourth is intense desire — mumukṣutva — and that is a very important point we have to briefly discuss. We all have desire, but what is the intensity of that desire? Do we have one hundred percent desire, fifty percent, ten percent, or one percent? That is very necessary.

These are most important — common for the study of any scripture, not only spiritual scripture but any scripture. Whether you want to be a chemist, want to be in IT, or even want to be a cook — even a cook must have these four qualities. Otherwise he will be cooking — he also cooks — but whether people will be happy with his cooking is a different issue.

Authorship of the Dṛk Dṛśya Viveka

So, first briefly about the authorship. A few people believe it was written by Śaṃkarācārya, but that is not supported by the evidence. Some people — a few more — claim it has been written by Swami Vidyāraṇya. But most people believe it was Bhāratī Tīrtha, one of the Śaṃkarācāryas of the Śṛṃgerī Pīṭha, who was also supposed to be the guru of Vidyāraṇya Swami himself.

For our study, it is not really necessary who has written it. Whether it is a wonderful book — there is no controversy about it. It is a most marvellous book and it is very specialised. Even Vivekacūḍāmaṇi doesn't give certain points which are given here — and of that, the second part is the six types of samādhi and meditation, which we will come to later on.

The Title: Dṛk Dṛśya Viveka

Now about the title: Dṛk Dṛśya Viveka. As I said, any scripture must be very practical, very useful in our day-to-day life. So this Dṛk Dṛśya Viveka need not be interpreted only in the highest spiritual sense of the real and the unreal. It can also be used in our day-to-day life.

What is Dṛk? The experiencer. What is Dṛśya? Whatever is experienced. What is viveka? The correct, right way of establishing the relationship between these two.

Now let me give a small example. Suppose one morning you want to go to the office and you want to have breakfast first. For some reason, the breakfast has not turned out to be good. But you need to have breakfast. What type of attitude do you have towards that? If you have the right attitude, you will have no problem: "All that I need is some breakfast. It may not be tasty, but it is substantial. It is very good for my health. Let me have it and go." If you have that type of attitude, then your day will start in a nice manner.

Or you may be having some talk with somebody and it may not be very pleasant. Should it ruin your whole life, your whole day? So it depends.

The Story of Bīrbal and Akbar: Whose Face Is Bad?

"Whose face did I see early in the morning?" Most often we see our own faces. That is why the story of Bīrbal and Akbar is so wonderful. You know, one day Akbar's sleep was broken in the morning. It was summer, still dark, and he said, "I can't sleep now, let me have a walk in the garden." So he went out, and an old servant who had been working in the garden for more than forty years was sweeping and clearing. That was the first face Akbar looked at. And then as he was walking, he stumbled, fell down, and was injured.

So immediately he remembered: "The first face I saw was this gardener's. Chop off his head!" he gave this advice. Fortunately, the old man heard it, ran to Bīrbal, and was saved. Bīrbal said, "Don't worry, I will save you."

So about nine-thirty or ten o'clock, Akbar, still fuming, opened his Darbār. Bīrbal entered with this old man. Akbar became furious: "You are protecting this fellow? I wanted to chop off his head. Why did you do it?" Bīrbal said, "Before you decide to do anything, let us have a conversation. Why do you want to chop off his head?" Akbar said, "The first thing I saw was this fellow's face, and then immediately I fell down and got injured." Bīrbal asked, "Then what did you do?" "I ordered his head to be chopped off." "And what have you got to say?" Akbar asked the old man. Bīrbal said only this much: "He claims yours is the first face he saw. Now whose face is bad?" Laughter. Of course Akbar had no option but to laugh.

So most often we see our own faces. But this is the attitude — how to take everything, every experience, in our stride. The dṛśya is not in our control, but the dṛk — we have a lot of control. We don't have control over the event, but we can determine how we view it in a better way. This is called the Vedānta scope. This is called Vedānta.

How does a devotee see? He says, "Whatever good or bad happens is God's will." If he is a karma yogī, he says, "Whatever happens is the result of my own actions." If it is a jñānī, he says, "It is my own doing. After all, I am Brahman. So if something happens, whom else can you blame? Only oneself."

Happiness is a Matter of Interpretation

Why can't we be happier? As we are now, we can be a million times happier than we are — with our present circumstances. Imagine children in Africa. If in your childhood you had lived like that, and then if magically somebody transported you into your present situation, you would consider you are in heaven. We are already in heaven, and so many things we are taking for granted every minute of our life.

Our happiness or unhappiness is no better than that of many millions of people in the world. The most marvellous thing is this māyā. One important factor is that our happiness does not depend upon what things we are getting, but how we take those things, how we interpret those things.

One simple example Swami Bhajānānandajī gives: a peasant sitting for his rough breakfast, maybe a ragi roti, and another person sitting in a seven-star hotel with caviar and other things. The peasant is ravenously hungry. The hotel guest has to take a lot of appetisers before he can even swallow. So even if both of them are hungry, is there any difference in the quantum of happiness each one gets? So long as it is an experience of the mouth, it is exactly the same.

Any experience we have of our five sense organs — it makes no difference whether it is a villager seeing an ordinary sight, or a city person exotically seeing, or even the President of the United States at his breakfast table. Whose happiness is better? Ours.

But if a saint is eating something, his happiness is inexpressible because he is eating prasāda. A happy, positive person's happiness is marvellous. But if a person is grumbling, grumpy, temperamental, short-tempered, worried, and depressed — it makes no difference what he is experiencing; worse, in fact. So it does not matter what we are experiencing. Everything depends upon who is experiencing it. It is very practical.

Dṛk and Dṛśya: The Experiencer and the Experienced

So, viveka means: the highest type of attitude we can bring to any one of our experiences. What is Dṛk? A seer — whoever is seeing or experiencing. What is Dṛśya? Whatever is experienced.

Now what is important here? I am here, this sofa is here. I am the Dṛk. Now here Dṛk means the one who is seeing — and seeing doesn't mean related only to the eyes. Seeing means experiencing through any one of our sense organs, including the mind, because the mind interprets and imposes its own way of experiencing things.

The same event: if I have a cataract, I have one way of looking at it. If I have impaired hearing, it creates another type of experience.

You know, there is an old couple sitting together. The old man is reading and the old lady is sewing. Suddenly the man takes it into his head to express something, so he shouts, "Mary, I love you." She was very deaf. "What?" He went near and shouted louder, "Mary, I love you." "What?" He went very near and shouted into her ear, "Mary, I love you." She said, "That is all right. I also don't love you."

The Priority of Dṛk Over Dṛśya

When I am seeing something — this sofa — the sofa is called Dṛśya, and I am called the experiencer, the Dṛk. Now, in these two, who is most important? The Dṛśya has no consciousness. Therefore it doesn't even know it is a Dṛśya, let alone that it is a Dṛk. The Dṛk alone has complete control. Without Dṛśya, Dṛk can remain. Without Dṛk, Dṛśya can never remain. So Dṛk is in charge of everything — it is the most important thing.

The second point is: there could be billions and billions of Dṛśyas. But how many Dṛks? Only one. When I say "this is the world," the whole world falls into the category of Dṛśya, and I — the conscious, intelligent experiencer — alone am only one.

We can understand this with regard to non-living things easily. But when it comes to living things, we have a confusion. Say, I am seeing all of you sitting here, but I am also seeing this sofa, this carpet, this book, these windows. When it comes to you, I am seeing you and you are also seeing me — that confusion comes.

We have to be very clear that all of you also fall under that Dṛśya category only. Why? Because there is only one criterion: you may be there or you may not be there — even if you are not there, I am there. But if I am not there, you are not there at all. Everything depends upon me — upon how I interpret you.

The Scope of Viveka: Misunderstanding vs. Right Understanding

When there is a Dṛk and a Dṛśya, then there must be some kind of scope. If it is microscope vision, you will see even the smallest faults. If it is telescope vision, you will magnify even the smallest thing and blow it up into the biggest. When I am looking in a particular way, it will never affect the Dṛśya — but it is going to affect me. For my own good, I must have the right type of scope. That is where viveka is necessary. Viveka means the right type of view, attitude, understanding.

What is the right type of understanding? There are two possibilities: one is called misunderstanding, and the other is called right understanding. Misunderstanding is when, even though the Dṛśya has some nature, I do not understand it. It is my subjective understanding of the Dṛśya — I consider poison as nectar. It has nothing to do with the object. It has everything to do with the subject. That is called misunderstanding. Right understanding is knowing an object as it is, and not as I interpret it, understand it, or experience it.

Now the whole subject matter of Vedānta is this: what you consider as an object is, first of all, not an object — it is nothing but subject. Second, by calling something the object, you are making an unnecessary division: "I am the subject and you are the object." The undivided akhanda is being made into khanda — subject and object. That is why it is called māyā. Thirdly, even if you make this division, if you can understand an object's true value and true nature, then it would help you a lot.

The classical example: there is a rope and here is me. If I see it as a snake, it is a wrong understanding on my part and it produces only misery. If I understand it as a rope, then at least I will be free from misery. But if I understand that rope as nothing but my own self — as God — then it produces ananta sukha, because I am seeing God. Three types of experiences: experiencing a rope as a snake produces only misery; experiencing the rope as a rope may not produce happiness, but at least does not produce misery; experiencing the rope as none other than Brahman produces infinite happiness. This is the prayojana of this viveka buddhi.

How Many Dṛks? Only One

So, Dṛk and Dṛśya. How many Dṛśyas? Any number. How many Dṛks? Only one Dṛk.

Now there is a further point to be understood. Is there really a Dṛśya, or is it because the Dṛk is himself looking into his own mirror and creating many Dṛśyas? Is there a Dṛśya at all? The example given is: when you are dreaming, how many Dṛśyas are there? Is there any actual Dṛśya? Who is creating it? We are creating it. But at that time, if someone were to say, "All this Dṛśya is completely your own creation," would you believe it? You will never believe it.

But when you wake up, you will see that all the Dṛśyas you had seen were only your own imagination. That is the important point these scriptures are making — whether Vivekacūḍāmaṇi, Upaniṣads, or everything. Because if Brahman is one, where from has the Dṛśya come? Where from have Dṛk and Dṛśya come?

So the first thing is not to misinterpret any Dṛśya. The second is to recognise a Dṛśya as it is. And the last impediment is to understand that Dṛśya is none other than Dṛk only.

The Three States of Experience

So this Dṛśya is divided into three categories: jāgrat avasthā, svapna avasthā, and suṣupti avasthā. The Dṛk imparts reality to each of them. That is a very important point to understand at this stage.

Now, this is the waking state. Is the waking state a reality, or am I imparting reality to it? See, you are looking at me and you are experiencing me, is it not? Suppose you happen to doze off — what would be my fate as far as you are concerned? Finished. As far as you are concerned, the whole visible world is gone.

There is a story: one priest was giving a sermon. An old woman came and sat with her grandson, and very soon the old woman started snoring. The priest got annoyed for several reasons: she was sitting in the front row, her snoring was louder than his sermon, and it was an insult — even if you don't listen, you pretend to listen, and he could tolerate that. But snoring openly — so he called her grandson and said, "You, wake up your grandma." The grandson said, "No way. You put her to sleep. You wake her up. It is your responsibility."

So jāgrat avasthā is our creation. How do we know? Because the moment we withdraw from it — by going to the svapna avasthā — we have withdrawn the authority to make it real. We are the real.

A simple illustration: imagine three rooms in complete pitch darkness. There are many things in each room, but if you look at any of them, what do you see? Nothing. But take a torch and put it in one room — you will see many things in that room. The moment you go to the next room, the first room remains pitch dark. There may be things there, but nobody can see them. And if you come to the third room, the other two rooms become completely dark.

The person carrying the torchlight alone makes those rooms come alive, real, useful. Without that torchlight, the rooms themselves are completely dark and useless. So when we go to the svapna avasthā, both suṣupti and jāgrat avasthā become unreal — they do not even exist. When we are in the jāgrat avasthā, the other two do not exist. When we are in deep sleep, those other two do not exist.

What is the conclusion? We are giving reality to each one of those states. And that means those three states are the Dṛśya, and we are the Dṛk. Which of these three states is real? All of them are completely unreal until I decide to give reality to them. Anything that I experience, I am giving reality to that object. This is the simplest truth.

The Practical Result: Our Happiness Depends Upon Ourselves

So what is the practical result of this? Our happiness or unhappiness depends totally on ourselves. Is it a fiction? Is it brainwashing? Or is it reality? It is true. If a worldly person looks at the world, he gets one type of experience. If a scientist looks at the same world, he gets a totally different experience. If a saint looks at the same world, he experiences something completely different. Depending upon what way we look, and how much reality we give to these states, my happiness totally depends upon that viewpoint.

So how wonderful it is! If I want to be happy, what are we ordinarily doing? We are saying, "You be real and let me experience it." What is this book saying? "You are unreal — let me experience it." The example given again in the Dakṣiṇāmūrty Stotra: viśvaṃ darpaṇa dṛśyamāna nagarī tullyam. After bathing, whenever you go and sit in front of the mirror, who gives reality to that image? You put bhāva — you will see bhāva. The mirror just reflects. If I don't smile, it will not smile. If I smile, then it smiles. Whatever I do, I give reality to that image. But I go on looking and saying, "This is looking very bad." So what should you do? Give a slap — not to the mirror, to oneself. Because the poor mirror is only reflecting what I am.

The whole world is nothing but a mirror. How I decorate myself, how I appear — that is what is very important.

The Practical Usefulness of Dṛk Dṛśya Viveka

So this is the practical usefulness of the Dṛk Dṛśya Viveka. Do not think it is merely an Advaitic work. All these Advaitic works have got only one purpose: how to make our life very useful and practical — not only in the spiritual field, but in every field.

Does it say so specifically? Yes. It says — with regard to the sādhana catuṣṭaya sampatti — if your health is bad, then your mood will be bad. If your mood is bad, then your understanding will be incomplete. If your understanding is incomplete, your attitude will be wrong. If your attitude is wrong, then your interaction will be wrong. If your interaction is wrong, your sukha and duḥkha depend upon your interaction. All these follow step by step.

So the body is like a mirror. The mind also is like a mirror. Both are instruments. The more fit you make the instruments, even the act of making the instrument fit itself gives tremendous happiness.

Suppose you have an ordinary bike or car. If it is, as they say, MOT fit — everything fine, tyre pressure correct — to that extent your travel will be comfortable. But suppose you buy a very high-cost car with more luxury, more controls, more gadgets — then it might increase your comfort a little more. But so far as any instrument is defective, it will make you immediately uncomfortable.

And the person who is inside has another instrument: the mind. If the mind is made normally healthy, it will at least avoid misery even if it doesn't give higher happiness. For example, suppose you work very hard and become very hungry — then you can enjoy even ordinary food very nicely. In that way, if your mind is not very highly developed but does not have negative things like worrying, misinterpreting, finding fault — you may not get higher happiness, but you won't get misery either.

One day, your normal day in an office with a bad boss and bad colleagues who every day try to make your life very hard — imagine that one day all of them work very normally. They have not praised you, but they have also not unnecessarily created any problem. That day, how much happiness you experience! That much happiness we can experience if our mind is made to work normally.

But if you want extra happiness, then you must make it go higher and higher in its way of looking at things.

So how to make both body and mind fit? That is in a way the very first step — yama and niyama, āsana, prāṇāyāma — and even pratyāhāra, even dhāraṇā. That is why sādhana catuṣṭaya is very, very important — not only for spiritual progress, but even to enjoy normal life properly.

The Structure of the Text: Three Driks and One Absolute Dṛśya

So with this very brief introduction, let us proceed to the first few ślokas — five ślokas — which establish that there are three seers, three Dṛks. And how many Dṛśyas? One absolute Dṛk, one absolute Dṛśya, and two that are a combination of both Dṛk and Dṛśya.

Three types of seers: out of these, one seer is an absolute seer, one seen is absolute Dṛśya, but two in between are both seers and also seen.

The author, Bhāratī Tīrtha, brings these three seers. The first seer is the sense organs, the second seer is the mind, and the third seer is the sākṣī.

The World as Absolute Dṛśya

The world is the Dṛśya. What is the world experienced by? First, by the sense organs — and when I say "eye," note that I am not talking about this physical eye, this golaka. I am talking about the indriya, the subtle faculty. Never forget that. Whenever you use the word "eye," never identify it with this physical eye — this is like a camera lens. Inside this, there is an intelligent agent who is called the indriya. That is why they are also called devas.

Without this indriya, even the sākṣī cannot see the world, because there is no world if there is no indriya. You must remember that. Even though it is God, God cannot see anything if He doesn't have the sense organs. When you see through the eye, what do you see? Colours. So if somebody is blind, he has the same sākṣī — but can he see colours? He can never see colours. Not because the colours are not there, but because the instrument is not there.

The Sense Organs: Both Dṛk and Dṛśya

So the first relationship is: the world is the Dṛśya and the sense organ is the Dṛk. The second is that the sense organ becomes Dṛśya for the mind — so the mind is the Dṛk and the sense organs are the Dṛśyas. So the sense organs are both Dṛk and also Dṛśya. The world is only Dṛśya — it doesn't see anything else. So the sense organ is both Dṛk and Dṛśya.

The Mind: Dṛk of the Sense Organs, Dṛśya for the Sākṣī

The mind is the Dṛk of the sense organs, and the sense organs are the Dṛśya for the mind. The mind in its turn becomes Dṛśya for the sākṣī — not intellect: sākṣī. And sākṣī becomes the Dṛk.

The Sākṣī: The Absolute Seer

Now sākṣī is Dṛśya for whom? For no one — sākṣī alone. There is no one else, nothing else besides sākṣī. That is why sākṣī is the absolute seer. The world is the absolute seen — it is not Dṛk for anything else. But in between, the sense organs and the mind are both Dṛk and Dṛśya in combination.

Now, at any one point, the sense organs can either be Dṛk or Dṛśya — but they cannot be both at the same time, from their own perspective. From different perspectives, however, it is possible. When you are looking at the sofa, you become the Dṛk so far as it is concerned. When I am looking at you at the same moment, you become the Dṛśya so far as I am concerned. Because these are two separate relationships, the time-space conflict doesn't arise. But even for the same sense organ, it is not possible to be both Dṛk and Dṛśya for itself at the same time. Somebody else can make it Dṛśya, but it cannot simultaneously be its own Dṛk and Dṛśya.

The Practical Implication: We Are the Master

Why is it necessary for us to understand these three Dṛks? Because if something is the absolute seer, it has absolute control. If something is both Dṛk and Dṛśya, its control is on a shaky ground.

When you are looking at something and interpreting it in a particular way, if you remember that you are both the Dṛk and the Dṛśya, then you as Dṛk have control over the Dṛśya. But if you identify yourself with the Dṛśya, then you become a slave to the Dṛśya, and Dṛśya will take over you. But if you remember "I am the master, I can see something as I like to see it" — this is the prerogative of saints.

The saint says, "You may be a rākṣasa, but I look upon you as God himself. Then I won't suffer." Immediately the question comes: "But what if the rākṣasa tries to kill you?" That question is coming from the rākṣasa's point of view, not from the saint's point of view. The saint thinks the rākṣasa is lovingly expressing himself to him. And so long as the saint is happy, what is your headache? Any incident that happens to a saint, he interprets it in the best possible way: "This is the Divine Mother's way. It must be very good for me."

Why Understanding the Background Matters More Than Completing the Shlokas

So I think this is quite a good introduction. Once the introduction is over, we can proceed very quickly. Once the foreground is prepared, you know what to expect. Then we can progress quite fast. Do not think that if I go on talking like this, how many ślokas are we going to cover? You are always thinking: will he complete or not? What does it matter? Right understanding of even one śloka is much more important than trying to go through them fast and then saying, "I have completed this, this, and this." What did you learn?

Once you understand the background, the rest is only an elaboration and expression. If you get the idea right, then you understand what the author is going to say very clearly. In this whole book, the conceptual framework is not difficult. But the six types of samādhis are slightly subtle — though not really very difficult. I will give you some examples so that you can understand them very clearly. You don't even need to go through the Sanskrit, because Sanskrit can create confusion about what this word means, what that word means.

Six kinds of samādhi — what are they? A very crystal-clear division: savikalpa and nirvikalpa; āntarika and bāhika; śabdānuvidha and dṛśyānuvidha; nirvikalpa. Two into three, six. Both savikalpa and nirvikalpa apply to internal and external experience.

Spiritual Life Begins with Knowing "I Am God"

When Rāja Mahārāj said that spirituality starts from nirvikalpa samādhi — what is he actually telling us? What is, first of all, spiritual life? If you understand that word properly, then it is very easy to understand his statement. What is spiritual life? Seeing God everywhere. Who can see God everywhere? Only a person who is God. Only God can see God.

So what is nirvikalpa samādhi? To know that I am God. Once you attain that state, then you see everything as God. Until that time, you are having faith, you are believing — "scriptures say everything is God, so I must look upon everything as God" — but you are not actually experiencing it. This is helpful, until you have actual experience. But actually, no knowledge ever comes until you experience — even in the ordinary world. When will you know what milk is? Only after you taste it. Even if you taste one drop, after that nobody can take away that knowledge of milk from you for eternity.

The Story of Upamanya: The Importance of Direct Experience

That is why there is the story of Upamanyu. Upamanyu muni kare tapasyā, dugdha samudra vāya vayu. He was the son of a very poor Brahmin — so poor that even the poorest in those days had at least one cow, but he didn't have any cow at all. His friends and colleagues all talked of what they had, and only he had nothing. His mother used to mix rice with water until it became pale white, and she used to say, "This is milk, you drink it." He was very happy, because he thought that was milk.

Then one day he was invited for a feast and that day he got real milk. He came home and said, "You have never given me real milk?" The mother fell into tears. She said, "My son, it is not that we don't want to give you — we don't have it. There is no way we can get any cow." And I want milk — because after tasting real milk, he never wants to go back to the old rice-water. So the mother said, "Go and pray to Lord Śiva. He alone can fulfil your desire." So he went and prayed to Lord Śiva, and Śiva gave him not only one glass of milk — he gave him a whole ocean of milk to swim in.

So the point is: until we experience something ourselves, intellectual knowledge will be only information. But once we experience, that is real knowledge. The same applies to spiritual life. Until we have some experience, we are only thinking, "This is God, that is God" — it is on very, very shaky ground. But if you have one experience, then you know for certain. At least you know the possibilities. That is why Hinduism places so much importance on direct experience — because once you have that experience, nobody can shake you. But until then, you can be shaken any number of times.

Everything is Imagination: Science and Spirituality Agree

That is why Brahmanandajī said that until you experience nirvikalpa samādhi — but why nirvikalpa? What about savikalpa samādhi? Because savikalpa samādhi is also your own imagination. Any object is whose imagination? That is why image and imagination fall into the same world. An image is nothing but imagination.

So anything — a tree — is my imagination. Is it my imagination, or is it reality? This fundamental law of psychology we always forget. We don't know what is actually out there. We only know what falls on our mind. When that image falls into the mirror of my mind, it becomes imagination. I imagine it is called a tree.

Why do I say it is a tree? I see this object and I say this is a human being, this is a tree, this tree is tall, this tree is small, this is a green tree, this is a red tree. All these names we are giving only in our imagination. This has nothing to do with scriptures — this is science, pure science.

We don't know what is outside. We only know what falls within the range of our sense organs. There are billions of microbes roaming all around us — do you see them? No, because they are not in the range of our sense organs. Whatever falls within the range, that only we imagine. And does the mind image things exactly as they fall?

Even from the physiological point of view, it is very interesting. Here is a tree that falls into these two eyes. Where does the right eye's image go? Into the left side of the brain. Where does the left eye's image go? Into the right side. The tree is standing upright, but how does the image stand? Upside down — inverted. And it is the brain which resolves all of this: it makes the image upright, makes it one instead of two, coordinates left and right. It does so much video editing before it presents itself to your mind. I am not talking about spirituality — I am talking about pure physiology. Is it not a fact? If you are a scientist, you will learn all those things.

So we don't know what is outside. We only know what falls on the mind. That is why everything is an imagination. That is why even if you think of God, it is only an image, an imagination. But this imagination is based upon scriptural direction. What is the purpose? That you take this image as a help — not as reality, but as a pointer. That is why it is called a symbol. Any idol, any thought is nothing but a pointer to the reality.

God has no qualities. God is nirguṇa, nirviśeṣa, niṣkriya. Yet He is both — as the Khaṇḍana Bhavabandana stotra says: nirguṇa guṇamaya. He is both. He is sākāra and nirākāra. These are all imaginations in the brain. You have to go beyond to the reality — beyond the imagination.

The Mould of the Mind: Seeing God in Everything

Our whole life is how we imagine. If it is the guru image, then everything appears in that image. If it is the God image, everything appears in a godly way. How we make a mould — everything falls within that mould. That is called experiencing God in every way.

Gopāler Mā — what was she seeing? Why was her brain moulded into the image of Gopāla? So whatever was falling into that mould, it appeared only as Gopāla. Holy Mother's brain was moulded into motherliness. So whatever fell into her brain, she thought, "I am her mother." This is very wonderful.

There is a well-known experiment: most chicks, the first time they see something, consider it as their mother. So one researcher was hatching wild turkey eggs — collecting the eggs and twice daily moving them from upside to downside and maintaining the correct temperature, just like a mother. One of the things he wanted to prove is that the first time the chick looks at him, she will mistake him for her mother. Babies also do that — whomsoever they look at, whatever they hear, "this is my mom." So slowly the egg hatched, it came out, and he was sitting there staring at it. Immediately the chick flew into his hands, because it is instinct — if it perceives its own mother, it will fly to her.

So here it is a human being, and he was actually behaving like a mother — looking after them a thousand times better than their own mom. He was a veterinary doctor, an entertainer, a caretaker, a walker — they would sit on his shoulders and he would walk there. All these roles rolled into one.

So that is how nature itself works — whoever our eyes first fall upon, love at first sight. Only hindsight makes us realise otherwise.

A Closing Question: Why Do We See the Negative?

One last question: if we are all seeking happiness, if we all want to be happy, why is it that we see the negative in whatever we are going through, in whatever situation we are placed?

There are two explanations. One explanation is māyā: the origin — how and when it started — because in the beginning only God was there, and the creation itself is because of māyā. Within māyā itself these variations are there. That is the original cause. That has to be accepted on faith, because we can never probe our way back to the very beginning.

But the next best understanding is that everything depends upon our mind. One man has written a beautiful book about a goldfish and a shark. Essentially, what happened: there was a boy who had a beautiful goldfish in a bowl, which he was feeding regularly. One day he takes it to the seashore so that he can both play in the sea and have his favourite pet nearby. Suddenly a huge wave comes and sweeps the whole bowl away. The goldfish was thrown suddenly into the salty sea. Now the goldfish started becoming hungry, because every day the boy used to feed it — it did not know how to hunt. Suddenly a shark comes. It looks at the goldfish — and it is a good kind of shark. It thinks, "People have a very bad idea about me. Let me show my good side."

So it says, "Buddy, come here. I will teach you." The goldfish thinks, "I am going to die." The shark says, "Yes, but anyway, before dying you can learn something. There is a miserable way of dying and there is a happy way of dying. At least I can teach you the happy way." So the shark gives some good advice: "You must become a philosopher. First, do your best to find your food and protect yourself, whatever you can. After that, whatever comes, sit with it. Ask: what does this situation teach me? What is the best I can do? What opportunities present themselves? What new meaning can I derive?" So it gives some good sermon and then says, "Look, I have urgent work, I am going." By that time the goldfish had learned, and the only question it needed to ask itself was: do I want to remain a goldfish, or do I want to become a shark? What does the shark do? It finds its own food. It hunts and looks after itself.

This, in a way, is a good lesson for us to learn. So this Dṛk Dṛśya Viveka also says exactly the same thing: do we want to remain miserable — or how do we get happiness? The ordinary goldfish understanding is, "Somebody feeds me, everything should be very nice — then only I will sit and hear these Dṛk Dṛśya Viveka lessons." No. The other way is: whatever be the situation, what shall I do? What has this got to teach me? Do I depend on others, or do I depend upon my own self? This is the lesson Vedānta ultimately wants to teach.

Māyā, Habit, and What Is Within Our Power

So, the first cause of seeing the negative is the positive mind we fail to cultivate. The second is our own circumstances — the law of cause and effect — and within our limits, we ourselves can change our fate. That much we can do.

But the rest — Mahāmāyā — for that a different lesson:

Śaraṇāgata dīnārta paritrāṇa parāyaṇe, sarvasyārti hare devi nārāyaṇi namas te.

For that there is no ordinary remedy. But for whatever is within our means, Mahāmāyā is not going to come — she has already provided the means for us. That is the important lesson.

Essentially, the whole of life is a rediscovery of one's own self. It is almost as if we want to be miserable — but no, that is not correct. No one wants to be miserable. But then why do we create it? That is because of two reasons: originally, it is because of Mahāmāyā; secondly, it is because of the habits we have developed ourselves. Habits can be changed by ourselves with some effort. But the original Mahāmāyā will never go until the Mother herself removes it. But if we do our part, she will do her part.

Drg Drsya Viveka Lecture 01: Difference between revisions