When Duality Vanishes: A Spiritual Existentialism

When you are in duality, you feel resentment. You preach. You become judgemental — not just towards others, but towards your own self, because you follow the old touchstone: believing yourself to be only body and mind. And here comes the real problem — you mistake the rope for a serpent.

Whose fault is it?

Perhaps no one's. We inherited old patterns — rituals without understanding, beliefs without experience, paths that began as sincere quests and slowly hardened into rigid structures. They taught us to divide the world to make sense of it: good and evil, pure and impure, us and them.

I don't reject spirituality. I question the second-hand kind. I find it painful when people label others as sinners, predict hell for them, and present themselves as examples of purity. The body, by nature, is imperfect — none of us can claim absolute purity.

Sometimes this self-righteousness may reflect deeper psychological patterns — a lack of empathy, an excessive need for validation — traits associated in psychology with narcissistic tendencies. I worry that many who appear deeply religious may be struggling with such inner wounds without realizing it. But does that mean we should hate them? No. They need understanding, and where needed, compassionate professional support.

And please, let us not use psychological terms as insults. Nowadays such words are thrown around as abuse rather than used with care, and that is disappointing.

True spirituality is not about temples, scriptures, or gurus as idols. It is about direct seeing. It is about learning the best from all traditions, yet still keeping alive the quest for one's own path.

It is existential in the deepest sense: you are here, now, alive, and no one can live this truth for you.

When duality vanishes, the Self flourishes — not as a religious concept, but as a lived stillness. You stop needing to label every moment as good or evil, because you see they were only judgments of a frightened mind.

Such a person doesn't become indifferent. He becomes responsible. Without waiting for outer forgiveness, without escaping toward an imagined heaven, he creates meaning here — in how he acts, how he loves, how he remains still in movement.

Break the old pattern of borrowed belief. Welcome the new way of inner inquiry.

The Forest Has No Touchstone

 In my last post, Strength Is Not About Body or Mind: It's there inside You, I wrote that true strength comes from your drive, your inner quest, your connection with yourself.

Today I want to take that further.

Do we need to think like others to look wise? Do we need a touchstone to prove our thinking is correct? I don't think so. I hardly bother.

Why? 

Because I don't like to be the shadow of someone. I am unique of my kind. And I want to give that same space to everyone, because we all are somewhere looking for our True Self.

But when we start chasing the world, the fashion, the trend, we become their prey. They successfully kill our very quest — and that quest is the key to unlock the door of self-discovery.

Yesterday I spoke about stillness in movement, about nature thinking in rhythms. Strength came from aligning with that rhythm.

Today I understand: you cannot align with nature while you are busy aligning with people who are dead inside. 

Sorry, they aren't people even. They are simply crowd -- walking Zombies, without individuality. 

Why?

Because in the race of validation, they lost themselves. They kill a possibility, a path. They killed their inner self just for others' approval and now nothing is left...only wandering...

No ill-wills. Just sympathy. Because deep down, they lost themselves. They didn't even start their journey.

But, is it really important?

Yes, it's very important to start your own journey, to discover your very origin in your own unique way.

Let there be many ways. Let there are many truths. Nothing to be worried because finally there will be only one truth -- Consciousness Without The Curtain of Mind.

The way I choose is actually not a way. It is a dense forest where danger can come anytime and from anywhere. And we don't have time to prepare. But in that danger we will get something, something which belongs to us, something which we ourselves are — Nature.

In the crowd, you learn to imitate. In the forest, you learn to originate.

I choose the forest.

Strength Is Not About Body or Mind: It's there inside You

In my last post, The Thread That Thinks, Feels and Acts, I wrote that thinking preserves our individuality, and that aligned thought strengthens us from within.

This morning's walk showed me how.

Strength is not about body or mind. It's more about your drive, your inner quest, your connection with yourself, your inner blissfulness. Achieve that connection, and your mind will get strength itself, your body will get strength itself.

I woke up early and just watched my surroundings — nothing, just stillness in movement. The sun was rising, however, it looked perfectly still. The birds were chirping all around, however, their voices didn't sound like noise.

I stood for 5 minutes. It worked like meditation.

As I wrote yesterday, nature thinks in rhythms, not in anxious movements. When we connect our mind to that rhythm, we become self-aware. Let the creator of mind and body be with us. Let nature be with us.

When we remember our origin, thinking stops being a burden and becomes meditation itself. And from that divinity, true strength comes.

The Thread That Thinks, Feels and Acts: Returning to Our Origin

Thinking makes us different. Not better, not worse — just unique.

In a world that rewards copying, reacting, and fitting in, the simple act of truly thinking preserves our individuality. No two minds think alike, and that is not a flaw to fix. It is a divinity to protect.

Thinking is good — when it is aligned. An aligned thought strengthens us from within. It doesn't scatter, it gathers. It doesn't shout, it clarifies.

And when that thinking is connected with nature, it beautifies life. Watch a tree: it does not hurry, yet it grows. Watch a river: it does not force, yet it reaches the ocean. Nature thinks in rhythms, not in anxieties. When we connect our mind to that rhythm, we become self-aware, not self-conscious.

We should, we have, we need to get that divinity which enlightens us.

Let the divinity of that thread be with us — that connects thought to source. Let's be united with our origin, the very origin from where the mind gets the energy to think, to feel, to act and to work.

We did not create the mind and body. It's creator is nature itself.  So let the creator of mind and body be with us.

Let the nature be with us, for it gives us strength to think, to feel and to act — not in isolation, but in harmony.

When we remember our origin, thinking stops being a burden and becomes meditation itself.

Faith In Self, Not In People

People often place their faith in other individuals. A teacher, a leader, a friend, a saint. But this always brings pain.

Why? 

Because individuals have shortcomings and weaknesses. And that's why, they get afraid. They hide things. They play behind a veil. Sometimes they simply do not understand us.

When we depend on them fully, we break. But even then we should not be resentful. We should forgive them for they are human. Let them start their journey.

Let them think what they wish to think about you. Let them.

With the passage of time, they will comprehend. 

We all will. 

Sooner or later...

True spirituality is different. It is quiet. It is inner. It does not ask you to follow someone blindly. It asks you to listen to your own Self.

Trust the divine within you. People may change, but your inner Self will never leave you.

I strongly believe that Spirituality should come from the core of our inner Self, not from any outer doctrines.

True faith is inner. It does not depend on others.

Here is my old poem (written in 2023):

The Last Faith

(~ Sudhir Singh)

Faith is a poison,

Faith is a disease,

Faith can't enlighten

thy dead mind indeed.

Faith is quite dear,

faith causes ye fear,

Avoid this gear,

Otherwise thy life'll be full of tears.

Otherwise thy life'll be full of tears.

People whom you faith, they care not,

They put you in trouble & tell ye fear not,

So my dear just avoid this gear,

'cause it will cause ye fear,

Just be fair with you fear.

This should be your last faith,

let the faith be buried,

And live a life without faith,

else ye will lose thy fate,

So let it be your last faith.

So let it be your last faith.

Draupadi: The Fire That Held the Mahabharata Together

She is perhaps the most misunderstood woman in Indian History. TV serials turned her into a proud, sharp-tongued queen who "provoked" Duryodhana. WhatsApp forwards turned Karna into the tragic hero and Draupadi into the villain.

The truth is far deeper — and far more painful.

The Myth of "She Insulted Duryodhana"

We are told Draupadi laughed at Duryodhana and called him "blind son of a blind father," and that the vastraharan was his revenge.

But the critical editions of the Mahabharata do not support this popular dialogue. It was a later addition, a convenient excuse to justify a crime.

And what about Karna, the"misunderstood character"? 

Let's be honest. It was Karna who called Draupadi a veshya in the full sabha and ordered her disrobing. It was Karna who constantly instigated Duryodhana for war, playing the victim card while lighting the fire from behind because he wanted to prove that he is better than Arjuna.

This is how history works. Those who never come to the front lay the trap, and then decide who will be shown as culprit and who as victim.

Who Was Draupadi, Really?

She was not an ordinary woman. She was Agni-putri, born of fire.

Tradition says she was the incarnation of Chaya Sita. In Ramayana, when Ravana abducted Maa Sita, it was Chaya Sita — the shadow form, daughter of Agni — who went to Lanka, while the real Sita remained protected in fire.

After that trauma, Chaya Sita did intense tapasya of Lord Shiva, wishing for a husband like Shri Ram.

Shiva smiled and said, "There is no one like Ram."

So she cleverly asked for five qualities instead: a great archer, a truthful man, a physically strong man, an intuitive man, and a handsome man.

Shiva granted the boon.

In Dwapara Yuga, she received exactly what she asked:

Arjuna — the great Dhanurdhar

Yudhishthira — the embodiment of Satya

Bhim — the immensely strong

Sahadeva — the intuitive, wise

Nakula — the most handsome

She got what she prayed for. But fate rarely gives without a test.

And here is the subtle twist few know: Arjuna himself was Nara, the partial amsha of Vishnu in his previous life. Draupadi's life was thus intertwined with divinity itself.

Why Didn't She Just Destroy Them?

Draupadi was fire. In her rage, she could have cursed and burnt the entire Kaurava army to ashes.

She didn't.

If she had, society would have learned a dangerous lesson: Only the strong have the right to justice, the weak must remain submissive.

That is why Krishna also did not end the war single-handedly. If God does everything, humans learn inactivity and fatalism.

Draupadi chose to become the sutra — the thread — of the Mahabharata. Without her suffering, there would be no questions of dharma, no lessons on morality, no mirror to a sinful society.

She endured humiliation so that dharma could be re-established not by miracle, but by struggle, choice, and sacrifice.

Draupadi was not the cause of the war. She was the reason we still understand what justice means.

The Boy Who Was Late to Walk, But Early to the Gita

They say life is a race. I lost it at the starting line itself.

My heels were thin as a child, so walking was an adventure sport for me. While other toddlers were running around at 1, I made my grand debut at 3 — with full assistance, shivering legs, and zero confidence. The doctor checked me thoroughly and gave the most philosophical diagnosis of my life: "There's no physical issue. It's just fear."

But....

Thank God for Lal Chand Uncle, the carpenter and my father's friend. While others got toys, I got a custom-made vehicle. Elon Musk builds Teslas; Lal Chand Uncle built my first mobility scooter made of wood. Necessity may be the mother of invention, but in my case, the carpenter was the father.

School? I joined late too. Nursery at 5 or 6 didn't remember exactly. But here’s the twist — I was that annoying kid who was too good at letters. After Nursery, the teachers looked at me, looked at KG, and said, "Skip it." I jumped straight to 1st. I couldn't walk on time, but I could fast-forward classes.

Cycling came in Class 9. Scooter at 26. My friends learned balance on two wheels; I was still negotiating how to balance? How can they ride it? Why don't they fall? People get license at 18, I got courage at 26. Better late than never, right?

But while my legs were hesitant, my mind was sprinting.

In 2nd class, while others were suffering to complete their syllabus, I was reading the Gita. Did I understand it? Not completely. It was like watching Avengers' movie at age 7 — you enjoy the music and action, story comes later. By Class 9, around 13-14, it finally clicked.

At 9, my favorite evening pastime wasn't cartoons because we have only Doordarshan. So I like watching Shree Krishna, Mahabharata and Chandrakanta. I did debate about Mahabharata characters with my father. "Was Karna right or wrong?" "Was Arjuna stronger than Karana?" "What is the Self about which Shree Krishna is talking about?" "Who is a true Yogi?" "What is his state?" "How does he look?" "If Soul and Brahm (God) are same then why don't I have Super powers like that of Lord Krishna?" My father must have wondered...

Fear delayed my steps, but it could never stop my questions.

And maybe that's the real lesson — some learn to walk first, some learn to wonder first. I just did things in my own order.

Late walker. Early reader. Lifelong learner.