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The Search
Rup began to see through the dark lens of futility.
Are our lives to be spent merely on filling and emptying the stomach, on collecting and rearranging things? Whatever people have, money, cars, degrees, status, cannot protect them. Still they die. What to do with my degree? What good is all my education? Anytime, I too will go. Yes, and since I am going to die, what difference does it make what I do? When my time comes, it will be without any notice. No one tells anyone in advance. Death could deport me from here at any time.
For a few weeks, his entire consciousness was bleak with these thoughts. His father's cloth shop appeared meaningless to him. He had no desire to work there. He felt a kind of throbbing pain in his heart. Finally it goaded him to seek some solace and understanding. His tears and obsession had drained his energy.
I have to find some answer. This depression is swallowing me up. Somewhere, someone must have a clue to this mystery. If life is nothing but meetings and partings, then why are we here? Is there anything pennanent?
He told his father he was going to spend some time at the ashram closest to his home town, Shri Aurobindo's ashram. He stayed there for a month, but went away disappointed. Sometimes the Master would come on the balcony and greet the students.
I am here for communication to find meaning, understanding, but here, there is distance and mystery. This cannot help me.
So he decided to move on. But first he remembered Gandhiji.
It will be good for me to say goodbye to him and tell him that I am not coming back. Rup found him in Vardha. “Bapuji,” he addressed him, “I
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