SĀDHANA PĀDA

Tapaḥ-svādhyāyeśvara-praṇidhānāni kriyā-yogaḥ.

asceticism; austerity self-study; study which leads to the knowledge of the Self through Japa (and) self-surrender, or resignation to God preliminary (practical) Yoga.

1. Austerity, self-study and resignation to Iśvara constitute preliminary Yoga.

The last three of the five elements of Niyama enumerated in II-32 have been placed in the above Sūtra under the title of Kriyā-Yoga. This is rather an unusual procedure and we should try to grasp the significance of this repetition in a book which attempts to condense knowledge to the utmost limit. Obviously, the reason why Tapas, Svādhyāya and Iśvara-praṇidhāna are mentioned in two different contexts lies in the fact that they serve two different purposes. And since the development of the subject of self-culture in Section II of the Yoga-Sūtras is progressive in character it follows that the purpose of these three elements in II-1 is of a more preliminary nature than that in II-32. Their purpose in 11-32 is the same as that of the other elements of Niyama and has been discussed at the proper place. What is the purpose in the context of II-1? Let us see.

Anyone who is familiar with the goal of Yogic life and the kind of effort it involves for its attainment will realize that it is neither possible nor advisable for anybody who is absorbed in the life of the world and completely under the influence of Kleśas to plunge all at once into the regular practice of Yoga. If he is sufficiently interested in the Yogic philosophy and wants to enter the path which leads to its goal he should first accustom himself to discipline, should acquire the necessary knowledge of the Dharma-Śāstras and especially of the Yoga-Śāstras and should reduce the intensity of his egoism and all the other Kleśas which are derived from it. The difference between the outlook and the life of the ordinary worldly man and the life which the Yogi is required to live is so great that a sudden change from the one to the other is hot possible and if attempted may produce a violent reaction in the mind of the aspirant, throwing him back with still greater force into the life of the world. A preparatory period of self-training in which he gradually assimilates the Yogic philosophy and its technique and accustoms himself to self-discipline makes the transition from the one life to the other easier and safer. It also incidentally enables the mere student to find out whether he is sufficiently keen to adopt the Yogic life and make a serious attempt to realize the Yogic ideal. There are too many cases of enthusiastic aspirants who for no apparent reason cool off, or finding the Yogic discipline too irksome, give it up. They are not yet ready for the Yogic life.

Even where there is present the required earnestness and the determination to tread the path of Yoga it is necessary to establish a permanent mood and habit of pursuing its ideal. Mere wishing or willing is not enough. All the mental powers and desires of the Sādhaka should be polarized and aligned with the Yogic ideal. Many aspirants have very confused and sometimes totally wrong ideas with regard to the object and technique of Yoga. Many of them have very exaggerated notions with regard to their earnestness and capacity to tread the path of Yoga. Their ideas become clarified and their capacity and earnestness are tested severely in trying to practise Kriyā-Yoga. They either emerge from the preliminary self-discipline with a clearly defined aim and a determination and capacity to pursue it to the end with vigour and single-minded devotion, or they gradually realize that they are not yet ready for the practice of Yoga and decide to tune their aspiration to the lower key of mere intellectual study.

This preparatory self-discipline is triple in its nature corresponding to the triple nature of a human being. Tapas is related to his will, Svādhyāya to the intellect and Iśvara-praṇidhāna to the emotions. This discipline, therefore, tests and develops all the three aspects of his nature and produces an all-round and balanced growth of the individuality which is so essential for the attainment of any high ideal. This point will become clear when we consider the significance of these three elements of Kriyā-Yoga in dealing with II-32.

There exists some confusion with regard to the meaning of the Saṃskṛta word Kriyā, some commentators preferring to translate it as ‘preliminary’ others as ‘practical’. As a matter of fact Kriyā-Yoga is both practical and preliminary. It is preliminary because it has to be taken up in the initial stages of the practice of Yoga and it is practical because it puts to a practical test the aspirations and earnestness of the Sādhaka and develops in him the capacity to begin the practice of Yoga as distinguished from its mere theoretical study however deep this might be.

Samādhi-bhāvanārthaḥ kleśa-tanūkara-ṇārthaś ca.

trance for bringing about afflictions for reducing; for making attenuated and.

2. (Kriyā-Yoga) is practised for attenuating Kleśas and bringing about Samādhi.

Although the practice of the three elements of Kriyā-Yoga is supposed to subserve the preparatory training of the aspirant it should not therefore be assumed that they are of secondary importance and have only a limited use in the life of the Sādhaka. How effective this training is and to what exalted stage of development it is capable of leading the aspirant will be seen from the second Sūtra which we are considering and which gives the results of practising Kriyā-Yoga. Kriyā-Yoga not only attenuates the Kleśas and thus lays the foundation of the Yogic life but it also leads the aspirant to Samādhi, the essential and final technique of Yoga. It is, therefore, also capable of building to a great extent the superstructure of the Yogic life. The importance of Kriyā-Yoga and the high stage of development to which it can lead the Sādhaka will be clear when we have considered the ultimate results of practising Tapas, Svādhyāya and Iśvara-praṇidhāna in II-43-45.

The ultimate stage of Samādhi is, of course, reached through the practice of Iśvara-praṇidhāna as indicated in I-23 and II-45. Although the two results of practising Kriyā-Yoga enumerated in II-2 are related to the initial and ultimate stages of Yogic practice they are really very closely connected and in a sense complementary. The more the Kleśas are attenuated the greater becomes the capacity of the Sādhaka to practise Samādhi and the nearer he draws to his goal of Kaivalya. When the Kleśas have been reduced to the vanishing point he is in habitual Samādhi (Sahaja-Samādhi), at the threshold of Kaivalya.

We shall take up the discussion of these three elements of Kriyā-Yoga as part of Niyama in II-32.

Avidyāsmitā-rāga-dveṣābhiniveśāḥ kleśāḥ.

ignorance; lack of awareness; illusion ‘I-amness’ egoism; attraction; liking repulsion; dislike (and) clinging (to life); fear of death pains; afflictions; miseries; causes of pain.

3. The lack of awareness of Reality, the sense of egoism or ‘I-am-ness’ attractions and repulsions towards objects and the strong desire for life are the great afflictions or causes of all miseries in life.

The philosophy of Kleśas is really the foundation of the system of Yoga outlined by Patañjali. It is necessary to understand this philosophy thoroughly because it provides a satisfactory answer to the initial and pertinent question, ‘Why should we practise Yoga?’ The philosophy of Kleśas is not peculiar to this system of Yoga. In its essential ideas it forms the substratum of all schools of Yoga in India though perhaps it has not been expounded as clearly and systematically as in the Sāṃkhya and Yoga Darśanas.

Many Western scholars have not fully understood the real significance of the philosophy of Kleśas and tend to regard it merely as an expression of the pessimism which they think characterizes Hindu philosophical thought. At best they take it in the light of an ingenious philosophical conception which provides the necessary foundation for certain systems of philosophy. That it is related to the hard facts of existence and is based upon a close and scientific analysis of the phenomena of human life, they would be hardly prepared to accept.

Purely academic philosophy has always been speculative and the essential task of the expounder of a new philosophical system is considered to be to provide a plausible explanation of the fundamental facts of life and existence. Some of these explanations which form the basis of certain philosophical systems are extraordinarily ingenious expositions and illustrations of reasoned thought, but they are purely speculative and are based on the superficial phenomena of life observed through the senses. Philosophy is considered to be a branch of learning concerned with evolving theories about life and the Universe. Whether these theories are correct and help in solving the real problems of life is not the concern of the philosopher. He has only to see that the theory which he puts forward is intellectually sound and provides an explanation of the observed facts of life with the maximum of plausibility. Its value lies in its rationality and ingeniousness and possibly intellectual brilliance, not in its capacity to provide a means of overcoming the miseries and sufferings incidental to human life. No wonder, academic philosophy is considered barren and futile by the common man and treated with indifference, if not with veiled contempt.

Now, in the East, though many ingenious and purely speculative philosophies have been expounded from time to time, philosophy has been considered, on die whole, as a means of expounding the real and deeper problems of human life and providing clear-cut and effective means for their solution. There is not much demand for purely speculative systems of philosophy and such as exist are treated with a kind of amused tolerance as intellectual curiosities—nothing more. The great problem of human life is too urgent, too serious, too profound, too awful to leave any room for the consideration of mere intellectual theories, however brilliant these might be. If your house is on fire you want a means of escape and are not in a mood to sit down and read a brilliant thesis on architecture at that time. Those who can remain satisfied with purely speculative philosophies have not really understood the great and urgent problem of human life and its deeper significance. If they see this problem as it really is then they can be interested only in such philosophies as offer effective means for its solution.

Although the perception of the inner significance of the real problem of human life is dependent upon an inner change in consciousness and awakening of our spiritual faculties and cannot be brought about by an intellectual process of reasoning imposed from without, still, let us consider man in time and space and see whether his circumstances justify the extraordinary complacency which we find not only among the common people but also among the so-called philosophers.

Let us first consider man in space. In giving us a true picture of man in the physical Universe of which he is a part nothing has helped us so much as the discoveries of modern Science. Even before man could use a telescope the vision of the sky at night filled him with awe and wonder at the immensity of the Universe of which he was an insignificant part. But the researches of astronomers have shown that the physical Universe is almost unbelievably larger than what it appears to the naked eye. The 6,000 stars that are within the range of our unaided vision form, according to Science, a group which is only one among at least a billion other groups which stretch out to infinity in every direction. Astronomers have made a rough calculation of the number of stars that are within the range of the high-powered telescopes available these days and think there may be as many as 100 billion stars in our galaxy alone, some smaller than our sun and others very much bigger. This galaxy which is only one of 100,000 already definitely known to astronomers is so vast that light with a speed of 186,000 miles per second takes about 100,000 years to travel from one side to the other. In this vast ‘known’ Universe even our Solar system with its maximum orbital (of planets) diameter of 7 billion miles occupies an insignificant place by comparison. Narrowing down our vision to the Solar system we again find that the earth occupies only an insignificant place in the huge distances that are involved. It has a diameter of 8,000 miles compared with 865,000 miles of the sun and moves slowly in its orbit round the sun at an approximate distance of 93 million miles. Coming down still further to our earth we find man occupying an insignificant position as far as his physical body is considered. A microbe moving over the surface of a big school globe is physically a formidable object in comparison with man moving over the surface of the earth.

This is the awful picture that Science gives of man in the physical Universe, but so great is the illusion of Māyā and the complacence which it engenders that we not only do not wonder about human life and tremble at our destiny but go through life engrossed in our petty pursuits, and sometimes even obsessed with a sense of self-importance. Even the scientists who scan this vast Universe every night with their telescopes remain unaware of the profound significance of what they see.

The picture which Science presents of our physical world in its infinitesimal aspect is no less disconcerting. That physical matter constituting our bodies consisted of atoms and molecules has been known for quite a long time. But the recent researches of Science in this field have led to some startling discoveries. The hard and indestructible atoms which constituted the bed-rock of modem scientific materialism have been found to be nothing more than different permutations and combinations of two fundamental types of positive and negative charged particles—protons and electrons. The protons form the core of the atom with electrons in varying numbers revolving round it in different orbits with tremendous speed, an atom being thus a Solar system in miniature. And what is still more startling, it has been found that these electrons may be nothing but charges of electricity with no material basis because mass and energy become indistinguishable at the high speed at which electrons move in their orbits. In fact, the conversion of matter into energy which has now become an accomplished fact shows that matter may be nothing more than an expression of locked-up energy. This conclusion which really means that matter disappears into energy has been arrived at, by an irony of fate, by the efforts of materialistic science which was responsible for giving a tremendous materialistic bias to our thinking and living. This hard fact means—and let the reader ponder carefully over this problem—that the well-known and so-called real world which we cognize with our sense-organs, a world of forms, colour, sound, etc., is based upon a phantom world containing nothing more than protons and electrons. These facts have become matters of common knowledge but how many of us, even scientists who work on these problems, seem to grasp the significance of these facts. How many are led to ask the question which should so naturally arise in the light of these facts ‘What is man?’ Is there any further proof needed that the mere intellect is blind and is incapable of seeing even the obvious truths of life, much less the Truth of truths?

Leaving the world of space let us glance for a while at the world of time. Here again we are faced with tremendous immensities of a different nature. An infinite succession of changes seems to extend on both sides into the past and the future. Of this endless expanse of time a period of a few thousand years just behind us is all that is reliably known to us while we have only a vague and hazy conception of what lies in the lap of the uncertain future. For aught we know the sun may explode the very next moment and destroy all life in the Solar system before we know what has happened. We are almost certain that millions and millions of years lie behind us but what has happened in those years we cannot know except by inference from what we observe in the visible Universe of stars around us. The past is like a huge tidal wave advancing and devouring everything in its path. Magnificent civilizations on our earth of which only traces are left and even planets and solar systems have disappeared in this tidal wave never to appear again and a similar relentless fate awaits everything from a grain of dust to a Solar system. Time, the instrument of the Great Illusion devours everything. And yet, look at puny man, whose achievements and glories are also to disappear in this void, how he struts about on the world stage clothed with brief authority or glory in the few moments which have been allotted to him. Surely, this awful panorama of ceaseless change which is unfolding before his eyes should make him pause and at least wonder what is all this about. But does it?

The above picture of man in time and space is not at all over-drawn. A man has only to isolate himself for a while from his engrossing environment and ponder over these facts of life to realize the illusory nature of his life and to feel the so-called zest of life melt away. But few of us have the eyes to look at this awful vision, and if by any chance our eyes open accidently for a while, we find the prospect too terrifying and shut them again, and completely oblivious and unaware of the real nature of life continue to live with our joys and sorrows until the flame of life is snuffed out by the hand of Death.

Now, the above picture of man in space and time has been given not with a view to provide entertainment for the intellectually curious, or even food for thought for the thoughtful, but to prepare the ground for the consideration of the philosophy of Kleśas which forms the foundation of the Yogic philosophy. For the philosophy of Yoga is based on the hard realities of life, harder than the realities of Nature given to us by Science. Those who are not aware of these realities, or are aware only superficially in their intellectual aspects can hardly appreciate the goal or the technique of Yoga. They may find Yoga a very interesting subject for study, even fascinating in some of its aspects, but they cannot have the determination to go through the tremendous labour and ordeals which are required to rend asunder the veils of illusion created by Time and Space, and to contact the Reality which is hidden behind these veils.

With this brief introduction let us now turn to consider the philosophy of Kleśas as it is outlined in the Yoga-Sūtras. Let us first take the Saṃskṛta word Kleśa. It means pain, affliction or misery but gradually it came to acquire the meaning of what causes pain, affliction or misery. The philosophy of Kleśas is thus an analysis of the underlying and fundamental cause of human misery and suffering and the way in which this cause can be removed effectively. This analysis is not based upon a consideration of the superficial facts of life as observed through the senses. The Ṛṣis who expounded this philosophy were great Adepts who combined in themselves the qualifications of a religious teacher, scientist and philosopher. With this triple qualification and synthetic vision they attacked the great problem of life, determined to find a solution of the riddle which Time and Space have created for the illusion-bound man. They observed the phenomena of life not only with the help of their senses and the mind, but in the full conviction that the solution lay beyond even the intellect they dived deeper and deeper into their own consciousness, tearing aside veil after veil, until they discovered the ultimate cause of the Great Illusion and the misery and suffering which are its inevitable results. They discovered, incidentally, in their search other subtler worlds of entrancing beauty hidden beneath the visible physical world. They discovered new faculties and powers within themselves—faculties and powers which could be utilized for studying these subtler worlds and pursuing their enquiry into still deeper layers of their own consciousness. But they did not allow themselves to be entangled by these subtler worlds and did not rest content until they had penetrated deep enough within their consciousness to find an effective and permanent solution of the great problem of life. They discovered in this way not only the ultimate cause of human misery and suffering but also the only effective means of destroying these afflictions permanently.

It is very necessary for the student to realize the experimental nature of this philosophy of Kleśas and the greater philosophy of Yoga of which it is an integral part. These are not the results of speculation or reasoned thought as many systems of philosophy are. The philosophy of Yoga claims to be derived from the results of scientific experiments, guided by the spirit of philosophic enquiry, inspired by religious devotion. We cannot, obviously, verify this essentially scientific system by the ordinary methods of Science and say to the sceptic: ‘Come I will prove it before your eyes.’ We cannot judge it by the ordinary academic standards of philosophers who apply purely intellectual criteria for judging these things. The only way in which it can be verified is to follow the path which was taken by the original discoverers and which is outlined in this system of Yoga. The sceptic might feel that it is unfair to ask him to assume the validity of what he wants to get proved, but this, from the very nature of things, cannot be helped. Those who have seen the fundamental problem of life in its true aspects will consider the gamble worth taking, for that provides the only way out of the Great Illusion. For others it does not matter whether they do or do not believe in the teachings of Yoga. They are not yet ready for the Divine Adventure.

Before discussing in detail the philosophy of Kleśas as outlined in Section II of the Yoga-Sūtras it will be desirable to give an analysis of the whole subject in the form of a table. This will show at a glance the different aspects of the subject and their relation to one another. It will be seen from the summary given in this table—a fact which is difficult to grasp otherwise—that the whole subject has been dealt with in a systematic and masterly manner. The student who wants to get a clear insight into the philosophy of Kleśas will do well, therefore, to go through the following summary carefully and ponder over it before taking up the detailed study of the subject.

The author opens the subject with an enumeration of the five Kleśas in II-3. The English equivalents of the Saṃskṛta words do not correctly and fully convey the ideas implied and the English words which come nearest to the Saṃkṛta names of the Kleśas have been given. The underlying significance of the five Kleśas will be explained in dealing with the subsequent Sūtras.

Avidyā kṣetram uttareṣāṃ prasupta-tanu-vicchinnodārāṇām.

ignorance or lack of awareness of Reality field; source of the following ones (of) dormant; sleeping attenuated; thin scattered; dispersed; alternating (and) expanded; fully operative.

4. Avidyā is the source of those that are mentioned after it, whether they be in the dormant, attenuated, alternating or expanded condition.

This Sūtra gives two important facts concerning the nature of the Kleśas. The first is their mutual relationship. Avidyā is the root-cause of the other four Kleśas which in their turn produce all the miseries of human life. A closer study of the nature of the other four Kleśas will show not only that they can grow only on the soil of Avidyā but also that the five Kleśas form a connected series of causes and effects. The relation existing between the five Kleśas may be likened to the relation of root, trunk, branches, leaves and fruit in a tree. The conclusion that the five Kleśas are related to one another in this manner is further strengthened by 11-10 but we shall discuss this question in dealing with that Sūtra.

The other idea in this Sūtra is the classification of the states or conditions in which these Kleśas may exist. These four states are defined as (1) dormant, (2) attenuated, (3) alternating, (4) expanded. The dormant condition is that in which the Kleśa is present but in a latent form. It cannot find expression for lack of proper conditions for its expression and its kinetic energy has become potential. The attenuated condition is that in which the Kleśa is present in a very feeble or tenuous condition. It is not active but can become active in a mild degree on a stimulus being applied. In the fully expanded condition the Kleśa is fully operative and its activity is all too apparent like the waves on the surface of the sea in a storm. The alternating condition is that in which two opposite tendencies overpower each other alternately as in the case of two lovers who sometimes become angry and affectionate alternately. The feelings of attraction and repulsion alternate, though fundamentally they are based on attachment.

It is only in the case of the advanced Yogis that the Kleśas are present in the dormant form. In the case of ordinary people, the Kleśas are present in the other three conditions, depending upon external circumstances.

Anityāsuci-duḥkhānātmasu nitya-śuci-sukhātmakhyātir avidyā.

(of) non-eternal impure misery; pain; evil (and) non-Ātman;, not-Self eternal pure happiness; pleasure; good (and) Self knowledge; consciousness, (taking) ignorance.

5. Avidyā is taking the non-eternal, impure, evil and non-Ātman to be eternal, pure, good and Ātman respectively.

This Sūtra defines Avidyā the root of the Kleśas. It is quite obvious that the word Avidyā is not used in its ordinary sense of ignorance or lack of knowledge, but in its highest philosophical sense. In order to grasp this meaning of the word we have to recall the initial process whereby, according to the Yogic philosophy, consciousness, the Reality underlying manifestation, becomes involved in matter. Consciousness and matter are separate and utterly different in their essential nature but for reasons which will be discussed in the subsequent Sūtras they have to be brought together. How can Ātmā, which is eternally free and self-sufficient, be made to assume the limitations which are involved in the association with matter? It is by depriving it of the knowledge or rather the awareness of its eternal and self-sufficient nature. This deprivation of knowledge of its true nature which involves it in the evolutionary cycle is brought about by a transcendent power inherent in the Ultimate Reality which is called Māyā or the Great Illusion.

Of course, this simple statement of a transcendent truth can give rise to innumerable philosophical questions such as ‘Why should it be necessary for the Ātmā which is self-sufficient to be involved in matter?’ ‘How is it possible for the Ātmā which is eternal to become involved in the limitations of Time and Space?’ There is no real answer to such ultimate questions although many answers, obviously absurd, have been suggested by different philosophers from time to time. According to those who have come face to face with Reality and know this secret, the only method by which this mystery can be unravelled is to know the Truth which underlies manifestation and which by its very nature is incommunicable.

As a result of the illusion in which consciousness gets involved it begins to identify itself with the matter with which it becomes associated. This identification becomes increasingly fuller as consciousness descends further into matter until the turning point is reached and the upward climb in the opposite direction begins. The reverse process of evolution in which consciousness gradually extricates itself, as it were, from matter results in an increasing realization of its Real nature and ends in complete Self-realization in Kaivalya. It is this fundamental privation of knowledge of its Real, nature, which begins with the evolutionary cycle, is brought about by the power of Māyā, and ends with the attainment of Liberation in Kaivalya, which is called Avidyā. Avidyā has nothing to do with the knowledge which we acquire through the intellect and which refers to the things concerning the phenomenal worlds. A man may be a great scholar, a walking encyclopaedia as we say, and yet may be so completely immersed in the illusions created by the mind that he may stand much below a simple-minded Sādhaka who is partially aware of the great illusions of the intellect and the life in these phenomenal worlds. The Avidyā of the latter is much less than that of the former in spite of the tremendous difference in knowledge pertaining to the intellect. This absence of awareness of our true nature results in the inability to distinguish between the eternal, pure, blissful Self and the non-eternal, impure and painful not-Self.

The word ‘eternal’ here means as usual the state of consciousness which is above the limitation of time as we know it as a succession of phenomena. ‘Pure’ refers to the purity of consciousness as it exists unaffected and unmodified by matter which imposes upon it the limitation of the three Guṇas and consequent illusions. ‘Blissful’, of course, refers to the Ānanda or bliss of the Ātmā which is inherent in it and which is independent of any external source or circumstance. The privation of this Sukha or bliss which is inevitable when consciousness is identified with matter is Duḥkha or misery. All these three attributes, which have been mentioned in the distinction between the Self and the not-Self, are merely illustrative and not exhaustive because it is impossible to define the nature of the Self and to distinguish it from the not-Self in terms of the limited conceptions of the intellect. The central idea to be grasped is that the Ātmā in its purity is fully conscious of its Real nature. Progressive involution in matter deprives it of this Self-knowledge in increasing degree and it is the privation of this knowledge which is called Avidyā. As the matter is one pertaining to the realities beyond the scope of the intellect it is not possible to understand it through the medium of the intellect alone.

Dṛg-darśana-śaktyor ekātmatevāsmitā.

(of) power of consciousness; seer; Puruṣa (and) power of seeing; cognition; Buddhi identity; blending together; as if ‘I-am-ness’

6. Asmītā is the identity or blending together, as it were, of the power of consciousness (Puruṣa) with the power of cognition (Buddhi).

Asmitā is defined in this Sūtra as the identification of the power of consciousness with the power of cognition, but as the power of cognition always works through a vehicle, in its wider and more intelligible meaning it may be considered as the identification of consciousness with the vehicle through which it is being expressed. This is a very important and interesting idea which we should understand thoroughly if we want to master the technique of liberating consciousness from the limitations under which it works in the ordinary individual. The Saṃskṛta word Asmitā is derived from Asmi which means literally ‘I am’. ‘I am’ represents the pure awareness of Self-existence and is therefore the expression or Bhāva, as it is called, of pure consciousness or the Puruṣa. When the pure consciousness gets involved in matter and owing to the power of Māyā, knowledge of its Real nature is lost the pure ‘I am’ changes into ‘I am this’ where ‘this’ may be the subtlest vehicle through which it is working, or the grossest vehicle, namely the physical body. The two processes, namely the loss of awareness of its Real nature and the identification with the vehicles, are simultaneous. The moment consciousness identifies itself with its vehicles it has fallen from its pure state and it becomes bound by the limitations of Avidyā, or we may say that the moment the veil of Avidyā falls on consciousness its identification with its vehicles results immediately, though philosophically Avidyā must precede Asmitā.

The involution of consciousness in matter is a progressive process and for this reason though Avidyā and Asmitā begin where the thinnest veil of Māyā involves pure consciousness in the subtlest vehicle, the degree of Avidyā and Asmitā goes on increasing as the association of consciousness with matter becomes more and more strengthened. As consciousness descends into one vehicle after another the veil of Avidyā becomes, as it were, thicker and the tendency to identify oneself with the vehicle becomes stronger and grosser. On the other hand, when the reverse process takes place and consciousness is released from its limitations in its evolutionary upward climb, the veil of Avidyā becomes thinner and the resulting Asmitā weaker and subtler. This evolution on the upward arc takes place in seven definite and clearly marked stages as is indicated in II-27. These stages correspond to the transference of consciousness from one vehicle to a subtler vehicle.

Let us now come down from the abstract principles and consider the problem in relation to things with which we are familiar and which we can understand more easily. Let us consider the problem of the expression of consciousness through the physical body. We should remember, in considering this question that the consciousness which is normally expressed through the physical body is not pure unmodified consciousness being involved in a vehicle. It has already passed through several such involutions and it is already heavily loaded, as it were, when it seeks expression through the outermost or grossest vehicle. It is therefore consciousness conditioned by the limitations of all the intervening vehicles which form a kind of bridge between it and the physical body. But as the process of involution and consequent identification is in essence the same at each stage of involution, we can get some idea of the underlying principles even though the expression of consciousness through the physical body is complicated by the factors referred to above.

Coming back to our problem we then see that the association of consciousness, conditioned as mentioned above, with the physical body must lead to this identification with the vehicle and the language which is used by all of us in common intercourse reflects this fully. We always use such expressions as ‘I see’, ‘I hear’, ‘I go’, ‘I sit’. In the case of the savage and the child this identification with the body is so complete that there is not the slightest feeling of discrepancy in using such language. But the educated and intelligent man, whose identification with the body is not quite complete and who feels to a certain extent that he is different from the body, is aware at least in a vague manner that it is not he who sees, hears, walks and sits. These activities belong to the physical body and he is merely witnessing them through his mind. Still, from force of habit and disinclination to go deeper into the matter, or from fear of appearing odd in using the correct language he continues to use the common phraseology. So deep rooted is this identification that even physiologists, psychologists and philosophers, who are supposed to be familiar with the mechanism of sense-perception and intellectually recognize the mere instrumentality of the physical body, are hardly actively aware of this tendency and may identify themselves with the body completely. It is worth noting that mere intellectual knowledge with regard to such patent facts does not by itself enable a person to separate himself from his vehicles. Who has more detailed knowledge with regard to the physical body and its functions than a doctor who has dissected hundreds of bodies and knows that it is a mere mechanism? One would expect that a doctor at least, from whom nothing inside the body is hidden, will be above this tendency to regard himself as the body. But is a doctor in any way better off in this respect than a layman? Not at all. This is not a matter of ordinary seeing and understanding at all.

Asmitā or identification with a vehicle is not a simple but a very complex process and has many aspects. The first aspect we may consider is identification with the powers and faculties associated with the vehicles. For example, when a person says ‘I see’ what really happens is that the faculty of sight is exercised by the body through the eye and the in-dwelling entity becomes merely aware of the result, i.e. the panorama presented before the eye. Again, when he says, ‘I walk’ what really happens is that the will working through the mind moves the body on its legs like a portable instrument and the in-dwelling entity identifying himself with the movement of the body says, ‘I walk’.

The second aspect is the association of the subtler vehicle in this process of identification where a compound Asmitā—if such a phrase can be used—is produced. Thus when a person says he has a headache what is really happening is that there is a slight disorder in the brain. This disorder by its reaction on the next subtler vehicle through which sensations and feelings are felt produces the sensation of pain. The in-dwelling entity identifies himself with this joint product of these two vehicles and this results in ‘his’ having a headache, although a little thought will show him that it is not he but the vehicle which is having the pain of which he is aware. The same thing working at a somewhat higher level produces such reactions as ‘I think’, ‘I approve’. It is the mind which thinks and approves and the consciousness becomes merely aware of the thought process which is reflected in the physical body. Ambition, pride and similar unpleasant traits of human character are merely highly developed and perverted forms of this tendency to identify ourselves with the workings of the mind.

A third aspect which may be considered in this process of identification is the inclusion of other accessories and objects in the environment. The physical body becomes a centre round which get associated a number of objects which in smaller or greater degree become part of the ‘I’. These objects may be animate or inanimate. The other bodies which are born of one’s body become ‘my children’. The house in which one’s body is kept becomes ‘my house’. So round the umbra (total shadow) created by Asmitā with the body is a penumbra (partial shadow) containing all those objects and persons which ‘belong’ to the ‘I’ working through the body and they produce the attitude or Bhāva of ‘my’ and ‘mine’.

The above brief and general discussion of Asmitā associated with the physical body will give some idea to the student with regard to the nature of this Kleśa. Of course, Asmitā manifesting through the physical body is the grossest form of the Kleśa and as we try to study the working of this tendency in the subtler vehicles we find it more and more elusive and difficult to deal with. Any thoughtful man can separate himself in thought from his physical body and see that he is not the bag of flesh, bones and marrow with the help of which he comes in contact with the physical world. But few can separate themselves from their intellect and realize that their opinions and ideas are mere thought patterns produced by their mind just like the thought patterns produced by other minds. The reason why we take interest in and attach so much importance to our opinions lies, of course, in the fact that we identify ourselves with our intellect. Our thoughts, opinions, prejudices and predilections are part of our mental possessions, children of our mind, and that is why we feel and show such undue and tender regard for them.

Of course, there are levels of consciousness even beyond that of the intellect. In all these Asmitā is present though it becomes subtler and more refined as we leave one vehicle after another. It is no use dealing with these subtler manifestations of Asmitā here because unless one can transcend the intellect and function in these super-intellectual fields one cannot really understand them.

Although the question of destroying the Kleśas will be dealt with later in subsequent Sūtras there is one fact which may be usefully pointed out here. Many methods have been suggested whereby this tendency to identify ourselves with our vehicles may be gradually attenuated. Many of these methods are quite useful and do help us in a certain measure to disentangle our consciousness from our vehicles. But it has to be borne in mind that complete dissociation from a vehicle takes place only when consciousness is able to leave the vehicle deliberately and consciously and function in the next subtler vehicle (of course, with all the still subtler vehicles present in the background). When the Jivātmā is able to leave a vehicle at will and ‘see’ it separate from himself then only is the false sense of identification completely destroyed. We may meditate for years trying to separate ourselves in thought from the body but the result of this will not be as great as one experience of leaving it consciously and seeing it actually separate from ourselves. We shall, of course, re-enter that body and assume all its limitations but it can never again exercise on us the same illusory influence as it did before. We have realized that we are different from the body. For the advanced Yogi who can and does leave his body every now and then and can function independently of it in a routine manner, it is just like a dwelling house. The very idea of identifying himself with the body will appear absurd to him. It will be seen, therefore, that practice of Yoga is the most effective means of destroying Asmitā completely and permanently. As the Yogi leaves one vehicle of consciousness after another in Samādhi he destroys progressively the tendency to identify himself with those vehicles and with the destruction of Asmitā in this manner the veil of Avidyā automatically becomes thinner.

Sukhānuśayī rāgaḥ.

pleasure; happiness accompanying; resulting (from) attraction; liking.

7. That attraction, which accompanies pleasure, is Rāga.

Rāga is defined in this Sūtra as the attraction which one feels towards any person or object when any kind of pleasure or happiness is derived from that person or object. It is natural for us to get attracted in this manner because the soul in bondage, having lost the direct source of Ānanda within, gropes after Ānanda in the external world and anything which provides even a shadow of this in the form of ordinary happiness or pleasure becomes dear to it. If we are attracted to any person or object we shall always find on scrutiny that the attraction is due to some kind of pleasure, physical, emotional or mental. We may be addicted to a particular kind of food because we find it pleasant. We may be attached to a person because we derive from him some kind of pleasure, physical or emotional. We may be devoted to a particular pursuit because it gives us intellectual satisfaction.

Duḥkhānuśayī dveṣaḥ.

pain; accompanying; resulting (from), repulsion.

8. That repulsion which accompanies pain is Dveṣa.

Dveṣa is the natural repulsion felt towards any person or object which is a source of pain or unhappiness to us. The essential nature of the Self is blissful and therefore anything which brings pain or unhappiness in the outer world makes the outer vehicles recoil from that thing. What has been said about Rāga is applicable to Dveṣa in an opposite sense because Dveṣa is only Rāga in the negative, the two together forming a pair of opposites.

As these two Kleśas form the most prominent part of the fivefold tree which provides the innumerable fruits of human misery and suffering it is worthwhile taking note of a few facts concerning them.

(1) The attractions and repulsions which bind us to innumerable persons and things, in the manner indicated above, condition our life to an unbelievable extent. Unconsciously or consciously we think, feel and act according to hundreds of these biases produced by these invisible bonds and there is hardly any freedom left for the individual to act, feel and think freely. The conditioning of the mind which takes place when we are under the domination of any overpowering attraction or repulsion is recognized, but few people have any idea of the distortion produced in our life by the less prominent attractions and repulsions or the extent to which our life is conditioned by them.

(2) These attractions and repulsions bind us down to the lower levels of consciousness because it is only in these levels that they can have free play. It is a fundamental law of life that we find ourselves sooner or later where our conscious or unconscious desires can be satisfied. Since these attractions and repulsions are really the breeders of desires pertaining to the lower life they naturally keep us tied down to the lower worlds where consciousness is under the greatest limitations.

(3) The repulsions bind us as much as the attractions. Many people are vaguely aware of the binding nature of the attractions but few can understand why repulsions should bind an individual. But repulsions bind as much as the attractions because they also are the expression of a force connecting the two components which are repelled from each other. We are tied to the person we hate perhaps more firmly than to the person we love, because the personal love can be transformed into impersonal love easily and then loses its binding power. But it is not so easy to transmute the force of hatred and the poison generated by it is removed from one’s nature with great difficulty. As Rāga and Dveṣa form a pair of opposites we cannot transcend one without transcending the other. They are like two sides of a coin. In the light of what is said above it will be seen that Vairāgya is not only freedom from Rāga but also freedom from Dveṣa. A free and unconditioned mind does not oscillate from side to side. It remains stationary at the centre.

(4) Attractions and repulsions really belong to the vehicles but owing to the identification of consciousness with its vehicles we feel that we are being attracted or repelled. When we begin to control and eliminate these attractions and repulsions we gradually become aware of this fact and this knowledge then enables us to control and eliminate them more effectively.

(5) That Rāga and Dveṣa in their gross form are responsible for much of human misery and suffering will become apparent to anyone who can view life dispassionately and can trace causes and effects intelligently. But only those who systematically try to attenuate the Kleśas by means of Kriyā-Yoga can see the subtler workings of these Kleśas, how they permeate the whole fabric of our worldly life and prevent us from having any peace of mind.

Svarasavāhī viduṣo ’pi tathā rūḍho ’bhini-veśah.

sustained by its own forces; flowing on automatically the learned (or wise) even in that way riding; dominating great fear of death; strong desire for life; thorough infiltration (of the mind); will-to-live.

9. Abhiniveśa is the strong desire for life which dominates even the learned (or the wise).

The last derivative of Avidyā is called Abhiniveśa. It is generally translated as desire for life or will-to-live. That every human being, in fact every living creature, wants to continue to live is, of course, a fact with which everyone is familiar. We sometimes see people who have nothing to gain from life. Their life is one long drawn-out misery and yet their attachment to life is as great as ever. The reason for this apparent anomaly is, of course, that the other four Kleśas which result in desire for life or Abhiniveśa are in full operation even in the absence of unfavourable external circumstances.

There are two points in this Sūtra which require some explanation. First, that this strong attachment to life which is universal is well established even in the learned. One may expect ordinary people to feel this attachment but a wise man at least who knows all about the realities of life may be expected to sit lightly on life. But as a matter of fact, this is not so. The philosopher who is well versed in all the philosophies of the world and knows intellectually all the deeper problems of life is as much attached to life as the ordinary person who is ignorant about these things. The reason why Patañjali has pointed out this fact definitely lies perhaps in his intention to bring to the notice of the would-be Yogi that mere knowledge of the intellect (Viduṣaḥ here really means the learned and not the wise) is in itself inadequate for freeing a man from this attachment to life. Unless and until the tree of Kleśas is destroyed, root and branch, by a systematic course of Yogic discipline the attachment to life in smaller or greater degree will continue in spite of all the philosophies we may know or preach. The would-be Yogi, therefore, places no reliance on such theoretical knowledge. He treads the path of Yoga which alone can bring freedom from the Kleśas.

The second point to be noted in this Sūtra is contained in the phrase Svarasavāhī which means sustained by its own inherent force or potency. The universality of Abhiniveśa shows that there is some constant and universal force inherent in life which automatically finds expression in this ‘desire to live’. The desire to live is not the result of some accidental development in the course of evolution. It seems to be an essential feature of that process. What is this all-powerful force which seems to underlie the current of life and which makes every living creature stick to life like a leech all the time? According to the Yogic philosophy this force is rooted in the very origin of things and it comes into play the moment consciousness comes in contact with matter and the evolutionary cycle begins. As was pointed out in II-4 Avidyā is the root of all the Kleśas and Abhiniveśa is merely the fruit or the final expression of the chain of causes and effects set in motion with the birth of Avidyā and the involution of consciousness in matter.

It was pointed out earlier that the different Kleśas are not unconnected with one another. They form a sort of series beginning with Avidyā and ending with Abhiniveśa. This view is supported by II-10 according to which the method by which the subtle forms of Kleśas can be destroyed is by reversing the process by which they are produced. According to this view, then, Abhiniveśa is merely the final phase in the development of the Kleśas and that is why it is Svarasavāhī. Until the initial cause disappears the subsequent effects must continue to appear in an unending flow.

In the connected series of Kleśas, Rāga and Dveṣa appear as the immediate cause of attachment to life. It follows from this that the greater the play of attractions and repulsions in the life of an individual the greater must be his attachment to life. Observation of life shows that this is to a great extent true. It is people who are under the domination of most violent attractions and repulsions who are most attached to life. We also find that in old age these attractions and repulsions temporarily lose their force to some extent and pari passu the desire for life also becomes comparatively feebler.

Te pratiprasava-heyāḥ sūkṣmāḥ.

they re-absorption; re-mergence; resolution into respective cause or origin capable of being reduced or avoided or abolished subtle.

10. These, the subtle ones, can be reduced by resolving them backward into their origin.

In II-10 and II-11 Patañjali gives the general principles of first attenuating the Kleśas and finally destroying them. The Kleśas can exist in two states, active and potential. In their active state they can be recognized easily by their outer expressions and the definite awareness which they produce in the mind of the Sādhaka. In the case of a person who is in a fit of anger it is easy to see that Dveṣa is in full operation. The same person when he subjects himself to a rigid self-discipline acquires the capacity to keep himself absolutely calm and without repulsion towards any one and thus reduces this Kleśa to a potential condition. Dveṣa has ceased to function but its germs are still there and, given very favourable conditions, can be made active again. Their power has become potential but not completely destroyed. The transition from the fully active to the perfectly dormant condition takes place through a number of stages which have been pointed out in II-4. Through the practice of Kriyā-Yoga they can be attenuated progressively until they become quite dormant, incapable of being aroused by ordinary stimuli from the external world. But given extraordinary conditions they can be made active again. So we have to deal with two problems in the complete elimination of the Kleśas, first to reduce them to the inactive or Sūkṣma state and then to destroy even their potential power. The first is referred to generally as reducing the Kleśas to the form of ‘seeds’ which under favourable conditions have still the power to grow into a tree, and the second as ‘scorching the seeds’ so that while they may retain the outer form of the ‘seeds’ they have really become incapable of germinating and growing into a tree.

The problem of reducing the Kleśas to the condition of ‘seeds’ is itself divisible under two sub-heads, that of reducing the fully active forms to the attenuated forms (Tanu) and then reducing the latter to the extremely inactive condition (Prasupta) from which they cannot be aroused easily. Since the first of these two problems is the more important and fundamental in its nature Patañjali has dealt with it first in II-10. The second problem of reducing the active forms of the Kleśas to the partially latent condition, being comparatively easier, is dealt with in II-41, though in Sādhanā it really precedes the first problem.

In II-10 the method of reducing the Kleśas which have been attenuated to the dormant stage has been hinted at. The phraseology used by Patañjali is extremely apt and expressive but many people find it difficult to understand the meaning of this pregnant Sūtra. The phrase Pratiprasava means involution or re-absorption of effect into cause or reversing the process of Prasava or evolution. If a number of things are derived in a series from a primary thing by a process of evolution they can all be reduced to the original thing by a counter-process of involution and such a counter process is called Pratiprasava. Let us consider the underlying significance of this phrase in the present context.

We have seen already that the five Kleśas mentioned in II-3 are not independent of each other but form a series beginning with Avidyā and ending with Abhiniveśa. The process of the development of Avidyā into its final expression Abhiniveśa is a causal process, one stage naturally and inevitably leading to the next one. It is therefore inevitable that if we want to remove the final element of this fivefold series we must reverse the process whereby each effect is absorbed in its immediate cause and the whole series disappears. It is a question of removing all or none. This means that Abhiniveśa should be traced back to Rāga-Dveṣa, Rāga-Dveṣa to Asmitā, Asmitā to Avidyā, and Avidyā to Enlightenment. This tracing backward is not merely an intellectual recognition but a realization which nullifies the power of the Kleśas to affect the mind of the Yogi. This realization can come to a certain extent on the physical plane but is attained in its fullness on the higher planes when the Yogi can rise in Samādhi to those planes. It will, therefore, be seen from what has been said above that there is no short-cut to the attenuation and final destruction of the Kleśas. It involves the whole technique of Yogic discipline.

The fact that the subtle forms of Kleśas remain in their ‘seed’ form even after they have been attenuated to the extreme limit is of great significance. It means that the Sādhaka is not free from danger until he has crossed the threshold of Kaivalya and reached the final goal. As long as these ‘seeds’ lurk within him there is no knowing when he may become their victim. It is these unscorched ‘seeds’ of Kleśas which account for the sudden and unexpected fall of Yogis after they have reached great heights of illumination and power. This shows the necessity of exercising the utmost discrimination right up to the very end of the Path.

When the latent forms of Kleśas have been attenuated to the utmost limit and the resulting tendencies have been made extremely feeble—brought almost to the zero level—the question arises, ‘How to destroy the potentiality of these tendencies so that there may be no possibility of their revival under any circumstances?’ How to scorch the ‘seeds’ of Kleśas so that they cannot germinate again? This is a very important question for the advanced Yogi because his work has not been completed until this has been done. The answer to this question follows from the very nature of the Kleśas which has been discussed previously. If the Kleśas are rooted in Avidyā they cannot be destroyed until Avidyā is destroyed. This means that no freedom from the subtlest forms of the Kleśas is possible until full Enlightenment of Kaivalya is attained through the practice of Dharma-Megha-Samādhi. This conclusion is confirmed by IV-30 according to which freedom from Kleśas and Karmas is obtained only after Dharma-Megha-Samādhi which precedes the attainment of Kaivalya.

Dhyāna-heyās tad-vṛttayaḥ.

(by) meditation (Kleśas which are) to be avoided their modifications; ways of existing; activities.

11. Their active modifications are to be suppressed by meditation.

This Sūtra gives the method of dealing with the Kleśas in the preliminary stage when they have to be reduced from an active to a passive state. The means to be adopted are given in one word Dhyāna. It is therefore necessary to understand the meaning of this word in its full scope. The word Dhyāna, of course, literally means meditation or contemplation as explained elsewhere but here it obviously stands for a rather comprehensive self-discipline of which meditation is the pivot. It is easy to see that a Sādhaka who is under the domination of Kleśas in their active form will have to attack the problem from many sides at once. In fact, the whole technique of Kriyā-Yoga will have to be utilized for this purpose, for one of the two objects of Kriyā-Yoga is to attenuate the Kleśas and the reduction of the Kleśas from their active to the passive form is the first step in this attenuation. Svādhyāya, Tapas and Iśvara-praṇidhāna, all the three elements of Kriyā-Yoga, have therefore to be used in this work. But the essential part of all these three is really Dhyāna, the intensive concentration of the mind in order to understand the deeper problems of life and to solve them effectively for the realization of one’s main objective. Even Tapas, the element of Kriyā-Yoga which outwardly seems to involve merely going through certain self-disciplinary and purificatory exercises, depends for its effectiveness to a large extent on Dhyāna. For, it is not the mere external performance of the act which brings about the desired result but the inner concentration of purpose and the alert mind which underlie the act. If these latter are not present the outer action will be of no avail. No success in Yoga is possible unless all the energies of the soul are polarized and harnessed for achieving the central purpose. So the word Dhyāna in II-11 implies all mental processes and exercises which may help the Sādhaka to reduce the active Kleśas to the passive condition. It may include reflection, brooding over the deeper problems of life, changing habits of thought and attitudes by means of meditation (II-33), Tapas as well as meditation in the ordinary sense of the term.

It is necessary to note in this connection that reducing the Kleśas to a latent or passive condition does not mean merely bringing them to a temporary state of quiescence. Violent disturbances of the mind and emotions which result from the activity of the Kleśas (Kleśa-Vṛtti) are not always present and we all pass through phases in which Kleśas like Rāga-Dveṣa seem to have become latent. A Sādhaka may retire for sometime into solitude. As long as he is cut off from all kinds of social relationships, Rāga and Dveṣa will naturally become inoperative but that does not mean that he has reduced these to a latent state. It is only their outer expression which has been suspended and the moment he resumes his social life these Kleśas will re-assert themselves with their usual force. Reducing the Kleśas to the latent state means making the tendencies so feeble that they are not easily aroused, though they have not yet been rooted out.

Another point which may be noted is that attacking one particular form or expression of a Kleśa is not of much avail, though in the beginning this may be done to gain some knowledge of the working of the Kleśas and the technique of mastering them. A Kleśa can assume innumerable forms of expression and if we merely suppress one of its expressions it will assume other forms. It is the general tendency which has to be tackled and it is this isolation, as it were, of this tendency and tackling it as a whole which tests the intelligence of the Sādhaka and determines the success of the endeavour.

Kleśa-mūlaḥ karmāśayo dṛṣṭādṛṣṭa-janma-vedanīyaḥ.

rooted in Kleśas reservoir of Karmas; the vehicle of the seeds of Karma seen; present unseen; future lives to be known; to be experienced.

12. The reservoir of Karmas which are rooted in Kleśas brings all kinds of experiences in the present and future lives.

Sūtras 12, 13 and 14 give in a very concise and lucid manner the essential features of the twin laws of Karma and Reincarnation, the well-known doctrines formulating the Universal Moral Law and cycle of births and deaths underlying human life. As the students of Yoga are generally familiar with the broad aspects of these doctrines it is not necessary to discuss them here and we shall confine ourselves to the particular aspects referred to in these three Sūtras. It may be pointed out at the very outset that Patañjali has not attempted to give us a general idea concerning the Laws of Karma and Reincarnation. His object is merely to show the underlying cause of human misery so that we may be able to appreciate the means adopted in Yogic discipline for its effective removal. He, therefore, takes only those particular aspects of these laws which are needed for his argument. But, incidentally, he has given in three brief Sūtras the very essence of these all-embracing laws.

The first idea given in II-12 which we have to note is that Kleśas are the underlying cause of the Karmas we generate by our thoughts, desires and actions. Each human soul goes through a continuous series of incarnations reaping the fruits of thoughts, desires, and actions done in the past and generating, during the process of reaping, new causes which will bear their fruits in this or future lives. So every human life is like a flowing current in which two processes are at work simultaneously, the working out of Karmas made in the past and the generation of new Karmas which will bear fruit in the future. Each thought, desire, emotion and action produces its corresponding result with mathematical exactitude and this result is recorded naturally and automatically in our life’s ledger.

What is the nature of this recording mechanism upon which depends the working out of causes and effects with mathematical precision? The answer to this question is contained only in one word, Karmāśaya, given in this Sūtra. This word means literally the reservoir or sleeping place of Karmas. Karmāśaya, obviously, refers to the vehicle in our inner constitution which serves as the receptacle of all the Saṃskāras or impressions made by our thoughts, desires, feelings and actions. This vehicle serves as a permanent record of all that we have thought, felt or done during the long course of evolution extending over a series of lives and provides patterns and contents of the successive lives. People who are familiar even with elementary physiology should find no difficulty in understanding and appreciating this idea because the impressions produced in our brain by our experiences on the physical plane provide an exact parallel. Everything which we have experienced through our sense-organs is recorded in the brain and can be recovered in the form of memory of those experiences. We cannot see these impressions and yet we know that they exist.

Students who are familiar with Hindu philosophical thought will find no difficulty in identifying this Karmāśaya with the Kāraṇa Śarira or ‘causal body’ in the Vedāntic classification of our inner constitution. This is one of the subtle vehicles of consciousness which lies beyond the Manomaya Kośa and is so called because it is the source of all causes which will be set in motion and will mould our present and future lives. It is the receptacle into which the effects of all that we do are being constantly poured and being transformed into causes of experiences which we shall go through in this and future lives.

Now, the important point to note here is that though this ‘causal’ vehicle is the immediate or effective cause of the present and future lives and from it, to a great extent, flow the experiences which constitute those lives, still, the real or ultimate cause of these experiences are the Kleśas. Because, it is the Kleśas which are responsible for the continuous generation of Karmas and the causal vehicle merely serves as a mechanism for adjusting the effects of these Karmas.

Sati mūle tad-vipāko jāty-āyur-bhogāḥ.

there being the root (of) it (Karmāśaya) fruition; ripening class (span of) life (and) experiences.

13. As long as the root is there it must ripen and result in lives of different class, length and experiences.

As long as the Kleśas are operating in the life of an individual the vehicle of Karmas will be continually nourished by the addition of new causal impressions and there is no possibility of the series of lives coming to an end. If the root remains intact the Saṃskāras in the causal vehicle will naturally continue to ripen and produce one life after another with its inevitable misery and suffering. Though the nature and content of experiences gone through by human beings in their lives is of infinite variety, Patañjali has classified these under three heads (1) class, (2) length of life, and (3) pleasant or unpleasant nature of the experiences. These are the principal features which determine the nature of a life. First, Jāti or class. This determines the environment of the individual and thus his opportunities and the type of life which he will be able to lead. A man born in a slum has not the same opportunities as a man born among cultured people. So the kind of life a person has is determined in the first place by Jāti.

The second important factor is the length of life. This naturally determines the total number of experiences. A life cut short in childhood contains a comparatively smaller number of experiences than a long life running its normal course. Of course, since the successive lives of an individual form one continuous whole, from the larger point of view, a short life intervening in this manner does not really matter very much. It is as if a person could not have a full day for work but had to go to bed early. Another day dawns when he can continue his work as usual.

The third factor is the nature of the experiences gone through as regards their pleasant or unpleasant quality. Jāti also determines the nature of the experiences but there we consider the experiences in relation to the opportunities for the growth of the soul. Under Bhoga we consider experiences in relation to their potentiality to bring pain or pleasure to the individual. There are some people who are well placed in life but have a difficult time—nothing but suffering and unhappiness from birth to death. On the other hand, we may have a life lived in comparatively poor circumstances but the experiences may be pleasant all along. The pleasures and pains which we have to bear are not entirely dependent upon our Jāti. There is a personal factor involved as we can ourselves see by observing the lives of people around us.

Tc hlāda-paritāpa-phalāḥ puṇyāpuṇya-hetutvāt.

they joy (and) sorrow (having for their) fruit merit as opposed to sin or demerit demerit; sin ( and are the assets and liabilities superphysically registered in the soul) being caused by; on account of.

14. They have joy or sorrow for their fruit according as their cause is virtue or vice.

Upon what depends the nature of the experiences we have to go through in life? Since everything in the Universe works according to a hidden and immutable law it cannot be due to mere chance that some of these experiences are joyful and others are sorrowful. What determines this pleasurable or painful quality of the experiences? II-14 gives an answer to this question. The pleasurable or painful quality of experiences which come in our life is determined by the nature of the causes which have produced them. The effect is always naturally related to the cause and its nature is determined by the cause. Now, those thoughts, feelings and actions which are ‘virtuous’ give rise to experiences which are pleasant while those which are ‘vicious’ give rise to experiences which are unpleasant. But we must not take the words ‘virtuous’ and ‘vicious’ in their narrow, orthodox religious sense but in the wider and scientific sense of living in conformity with the great Moral Law which is universal in its action and mathematical in its expression. In Nature the effect is always related to the cause and corresponds exactly to the cause which has set it in motion. If we cause a little purely physical pain to somebody it is reasonable to suppose that the fruit of our action will be some experience causing a corresponding physical pain to us. It cannot be a dreadful calamity causing terrible mental agony. This will be unjust and the Law of Karma is the expression of the most perfect justice that we can conceive of. Since Karma is a natural law and natural laws work with mathematical precision we can to a certain extent predict the Kārmic results of our actions and thoughts by imagining their consequences. The Kārmic result, or ‘fruit’ as it is generally called, of an action is related to the action as a photographic copy is related to its negative, though the compounding of several effects in one experience may make it difficult to trace the effects to their respective causes. The orthodox religious conceptions of hell and heaven, in which are provided rewards and punishments without any regard for the natural relationship of causes and effects, are sometimes absurd in the extreme though they do, in a general way, relate virtue to pleasure and vice to pain.

Pariṇāma-tāpa-saṃskāra-duḥkhair guṇa-vṛtti-virodhāc ca duṇkham eva sarvaṃ vivekinaḥ.

(on account of) change acute anxiety; suffering impression; stamping with a tendency pains (three causes mentioned above) (between the three) Guṇas (and) modification (of the mind) on account of opposition or conflict and (is) pain; misery only to the enlightened; to the person who has developed discrimination.

15. To the people who have developed discrimination all is misery on account of the pains resulting from change, anxiety and tendencies, as also on account of the conflicts between the functioning of the Guṇas and the Vṛttis (of the mind).

If virtue and vice beget respectively pleasurable and painful experiences the question may arise ‘Why not adopt the virtuous life to ensure in time an uninterrupted series of pleasurable experiences and to eliminate completely all painful experiences?’. Of course, for some time the results of vicious actions we have done in the past would continue to appear but if we persist in our efforts and make our life continuously and strictly moral, eliminating vice of every description, a time must come when the Saṃskāras and Karmas created from vicious thoughts and actions in the past would get exhausted and life thenceforth must become a continuous series of pleasant and happiness-giving experiences. This is a line of thought which will appeal especially to the aspirant who is having a nice time and is attached to the nice things of the world. The philosophy of Kleśas will appear to him unnecessarily harsh and pessimistic and the ideal of a completely virtuous life will seem to provide a very happy solution of the great problem of life. It will satisfy his innate moral and religious sense and ensure for him the happy and pleasant life that he really wants. The orthodox religious ideal which requires people to be good and moral so that they may have a happy life here and hereafter is really a concession to human weakness and the desire to prefer the so-called happiness in life to Enlightenment.

This idea of ensuring a happy life by means of virtue, apart from the impracticability of living a perfectly virtuous life continuously while still bound by illusion, is based on a delusion about the very nature of what the ordinary man calls happiness and II-15 explains why this is so. This is perhaps one of the most important Sūtras, if not the most important, bearing on the philosophy of Kleśas and a real grasp of the significance of the fundamental idea expounded in it is necessary not only for understanding the philosophy of Kleśas but the Yogic philosophy as a whole. Not until the aspirant has realized to some extent the illusion underlying the so-called ‘happiness’ which he pursues in the world can he really give up this futile pursuit and devote himself whole-heartedly to the task of transcending the Great Illusion and finding that Reality in which alone can one find true Enlightenment and Peace. Let the serious student, therefore, ponder carefully over the profound significance of this Sūtra.

The Sūtra in general means that all experiences are either actively or potentially full of misery to the wise person whose spiritual perception has become awakened. This is so because certain conditions like change, anxiety, habituation and conflicts between the functioning of the Guṇas and Vṛttis are inherent in life. Let us take up each of these conditions and see what it means.

Pariṇāma: means change. It should be obvious to the most unintelligent man that life as we know it is governed by a relentless law of change which is all-pervasive and applies to all things at all times. Nothing in life abides right from a Solar system to a grain of dust, and all things are in a state of flux though the change may be very slow, so slow that we may not be conscious of it. One effect of Māyā is to make us unconscious of the continuous changes which are taking place within and without us. People are afraid of death but they do not see the fact that death is merely an incident in the continuous series of changes in and around us. When the realization of this continuous, relentless change affecting everything in life dawns upon an individual he begins to realize what illusion means. This realization is a very definite experience and is one aspect of Viveka, the faculty of discrimination. The ordinary man is so immersed and completely identified with the life in which he is involved that he cannot separate himself mentally from this fast moving current. Theoretically he may recognize the law of change but he has no realization.

The first result of this realization when Viveka dawns is fear. The very ground from under our feet seems to have been cut away. We seem to have no foothold, nothing to which we can hold on in this fast-moving current of time and material changes. The whole Universe appears to be a swirling flux of phenomena like water running under a bridge. People and objects around us which appeared so real become mere phantoms in the panorama which is passing before us. We seem to be standing in a void and the horror of loneliness unspeakable engulfs us.

What do we do when this realization comes to us accidentally or as a result of deep and continuous pondering over the real nature of phenomenal life? We generally get alarmed, terrified and try to shut it out again by plunging more violently into the activities and interests of the worldly life, even though we theoretically continue to believe in the unreality of the things around us. But, if we do not try to smother this horrible vision, and facing it squarely, take to the self-discipline prescribed in Yoga, then sooner or later, beneath this fast flowing stream of phenomena, we begin, first to sense, and later to discern something which is abiding, which transcends change and gives us an eternal foothold. We begin to realize that the phenomena change but not That in which the phenomena take place. First only dimly but later in its fullness this realization of the Eternal grows within us. But we have to pass through the valley of fear before this realization comes. We must see the whole solid world of men and things disintegrate and disappear into a flux of mere phenomena before we can see the Real hidden beneath the unreal.

It is only when we have passed through this kind of experience that we see with sadness the illusion and the pathos in the life of the world, in the pursuit of little pleasures and ambitions, in the ephemeral love and happiness to which people desperately cling, in the short-lived glory of the man in power, in the effort to hold tenaciously to things which must be given up sooner or later. Viewed in this light even the most exquisite pleasures and splendid achievements of life pale into insignificance, nay assume the form of misery. It is the usual practice to ask a man under sentence of death to name any simple pleasure which he would like to indulge in before he is executed, a drink, a dish which he likes. But those who see such a man satisfying his whim for the last time are conscious of a peculiar pathos in this desire to clutch at pleasure before death snuffs out the life of the individual. To the man in whom Viveka has been developed the pathetic pursuit of pleasures, ambitions and the like appears in a similar light. We are all under sentence of death in a way, only we are not conscious of this fact and do not know when that sentence will be carried out. If we did, all our so-called pleasures will cease to be pleasures.

Tāpa: The second affliction which is inherent in human life is Tāpa or anxiety. All pleasures, indulgences and the so-called happiness are associated with anxiety, conscious or sub-conscious. For indulgence in pleasure, or dependence for our happiness on the uncertain and passing things in the outer world owing to attachment, means fear of losing those objects which give us pleasure or happiness. If we have money then there is always the fear that the money may be lost and our security may be threatened. If we love people then there is the fear that those people may die or may be taken away from us. Most of us have such fears and anxieties gnawing at our heart constantly though we may not acknowledge or be even conscious of this fact. It is only when a crisis comes in our life that these fears emerge into our consciousness but they are always present in the sub-conscious mind and secretly poison our life. We may be too dull to notice them or too ‘strong’ mentally to allow them to worry us markedly but there is hardly any person not following the path of Yoga who is above them.

Saṃskāra: This word means impression but in the present context it can best be translated by the word ‘habituation’ as we shall see presently. There is a law of Nature according to which any experience through which we pass produces an impression on all our vehicles. The impression thus produced makes a channel for the flow of a corresponding force and the channel thus becomes deeper and deeper as the experience is repeated. This results in our acquiring habits of various kinds and getting used to particular kinds of environment, modes of living and pleasures. But there is at work simultaneously, the law of change, referred to already, which is constantly changing our outer environment and places us among new surroundings, circumstances and people. The result of this simultaneous action of two natural forces is that we are constantly acquiring new habits, getting used to new circumstances and also being forced out of them. No sooner do we settle down in a new habit or a new environment than we are forced out of it, sometimes easily and gradually, at other times roughly and suddenly. This continuous necessity for adjustment in life is a source of constant discomfort and pain to every individual. Nature hardly allows us breathing time and is continuously driving us into new kinds of experiences, much as we would like to settle down in our grooves and comfortable positions which we have gained. Of course, the intelligent man accepts this necessity for adjustment and does what he can to reconcile himself to it but the fact remains that this is a major affliction of life from which everyone would like to be free.

Guṇa-Vṛtti-Virodha: The word Vṛtti is sometimes taken to refer to the Guṇas and to mean the modifications or functions of the Guṇas. According to this interpretation Guṇa-Vṛtti-Virodha would be the opposition or conflict between the functioning of the three Guṇas amongst themselves. As this does not make much sense it is much better to interpret Vṛtti as referring to the states of the mind. Guṇa-Vṛtti-Virodha would then mean the conflict between the natural tendencies caused by the preponderance of one of the Guṇas and the states of the mind which are constantly changing. Such a conflict is very common in human life and is the cause of much dissatisfaction in the life of the average individual. The following example will illustrate this conflict and show how it is one of the major causes of human misery.

There is a man who is lazy by temperament owing to the predominance of Tamas in his nature. He hates activity but is placed in circumstances where he has to exert himself for his living. So he desires constantly a peaceful and inactive life and the result of this strong desire entertained persistently is that in his next life his desire finds fruition in an environment where he is forced to be quite inactive (he may be born as an Eskimo or be placed in charge of a lighthouse). But in this life there may be a preponderance of Rajas in his nature and he therefore wants activity in an environment where not much activity is possible. He, therefore, frets and is as dissatisfied with his new lot as he was with the old. Sometimes, this conflict between the Guṇas prevailing at the time and the state of the mind or desire is of a temporary nature but it always has the effect of producing discontentment for the time being.

Thus, Nature, by the natural operation of its laws is bringing about constantly these oppositions between our tendencies and the states of our mind and this is why we see everywhere general discontentment. Nobody seems to be satisfied with his lot or circumstances. Everybody wants what he has not got. That is how Guṇa-Vṛtti-Virodha becomes one of the causes of human misery in general. The wise man sees the inevitability of all this and therefore renounces desires altogether, taking what comes to him in life without elation or resentment. What we should remember in this connection is that every set of circumstances in which we find ourselves is the outcome of our own desires, although by the time a particular desire finds fruition it may have been replaced by another desire of an opposite kind. Our desires cannot by the very nature of things find immediate fulfilment and there must be a certain time lag in their realization. During this intervening period our nature, temperament and desires may undergo considerable change and when we face the fulfilment of our own desire we may hardly believe that we ourselves desired what has now come to us.

The existence of the four kinds of afflictions mentioned above which are inherent in human life produces such conditions that nobody who has developed Viveka or spiritual discrimination can possibly consider the so-called happiness of ordinary life as real happiness. It is true that to the man of the world immersed in its illusory pursuits of pleasure or power life may appear to consist of a mixture of pleasures and pains, joys and sorrows but to the wise man whose spiritual faculties have become awakened all life must appear full of misery and its illusory happiness merely a sugar-coated pill containing only pain and suffering hidden inside. This is a statement which may appear to give a distorted view of life but let the student ponder deeply over these facts—these hard facts of life—and it is probable that he will also come to the same conclusion. Anyway, unless the aspirant for the Yogic life realizes the truth enshrined in this Sūtra he is not really fully qualified to attempt the long and difficult climb which leads to the mountain top of Self-realization.

Heyaṃ duḥkham anāgatam.

to be avoided misery not yet come; in future.

16. The misery which is not yet come can and is to be avoided.

The next question which naturally arises is whether it is possible to avoid this misery which has been shown to be inherent in human life in the last Sūtra. A large number of thoughtful people who have pondered deeply over this problem will perhaps concede that life is essentially an unalloyed misery but they will say that one has to take life as it is and to make the best of it since there is no way of getting out of it except through the gateway of death. They may not believe like the ordinary orthodox religious man that all the sorrows and sufferings will somehow be compensated in the life after death but they do not see what can be done in the matter except to accept thankfully the little pleasures and to bear the pains with stoic indifference.

Now, it is in this respect that the philosophy of Yoga differs fundamentally from most of the orthodox religions of the world which offer nothing better than an uncertain and nebulous happiness in the life after death. They say in effect ‘Lead a good life to ensure happiness after death, put your faith in God and hope for the best’. According to Yogic philosophy death no more solves your spiritual problem than night solves your economic problem. If you are poor you do not expect on going to bed that your economic problem will be automatically solved next day. You will have to get up next day and begin where you left off the previous night. If you are poor economically you do not expect to get rich overnight and if you are poor spiritually, bound by illusions and limitations of all kinds, you cannot expect to become Enlightened in your next life, or if you do not believe in reincarnation, in the vague and unending life which is supposed to follow death.

According to the Yogic philosophy it is possible to rise completely above the illusions and miseries of life and to gain infinite knowledge, bliss and power through Enlightenment here and now while we are still living in the physical body. And if we do not attain this Enlightenment while we are still alive we will have to come back again and again into this world until we have accomplished this appointed task. So it is not a question of choosing the path of Yoga or rejecting it. It is a question of choosing it now or in some future life. It is a question of gaining Enlightenment as soon as possible and avoiding the suffering in the future or postponing the effort and going through further suffering which is unnecessary and avoidable. This is the meaning of II-16. No vague promise of an uncertain post-mortem happiness is this, but a definite scientific assertion of a fact verified by the experience of innumerable Yogis, saints and sages who have trodden the path of Yoga throughout the ages.

Draṣṭṛ-dṛśyayoḥ saṃyogo heya-hetuḥ.

(of) Seer; (Puruṣa) (and) Seen; Prakṛti union; association (of) that which is to be avoided cause.

17. The cause of that which is to be avoided is the union of the Seer and the Seen.

Now we come to the question of means, not the actual technique of Yoga which has to be employed but the general principle on which the freedom from the Kleśas has to be worked out. It is to be noted that the objective is not a temporary and partial solution of the problem but a permanent and complete solution, not a palliative but a remedy which will root out the disease altogether. If the disease is to be rooted out we must go to the root-cause of the malady and not bother about the mere outward superficial symptoms. What is the root-cause of the misery which is caused by the Kleśas and which is to be avoided? The answer is given in II-17. The nature of the Seer and Seen and the reason why they are yoked together are explained in the subsequent Sūtras but before dealing with those questions let us try to understand the problem in a general way.

It has already been pointed out in dealing with the nature of Asmitā or the tendency of consciousness to identify itself with its vehicles that this process begins with the coming together of consciousness and matter as a result of the veil of Māyā involving it in illusion and consequent Avidyā. This problem which is linked with the origin of things and takes us back to the question of the initial involution of the individual consciousness in matter is really one of the ultimate problems of philosophy about which philosophers have been speculating since the beginning of time. It is like all such problems beyond the scope of the limited intellect and it is no use trying to solve it through the agency of the intellect. It can be solved—or it would perhaps be better to use the word dissolved—only in the light of the transcendent knowledge we can gain in Enlightenment. So let us not try to answer the question why the Puruṣa who is pure and perfect is yoked to Prakṛti. Let us hold our soul in patience and wait till we have transcended the intellect and its illusions and are face to face with that Reality which holds within itself the answer to this ultimate question.

But though we cannot know the answer to this fundamental question there is no difficulty in understanding that such yoking together has taken place and also that this yoking is the cause of the bondage. Yoking always means bondage even in ordinary life and that it should be the cause of bondage in the case of the Puruṣa is quite conceivable. But what is the nature of the bondage it is impossible to conceive beyond what is given in the philosophy of Kleśas. To know that in the real sense of the term would be to know the ultimate mystery of life and to have reached Enlightenment already. Surely, that is the end—what the aspirant sets out to achieve through Yoga.

After pointing out the cause of bondage in II-17, namely the yoking together of the Seer and the Seen or the entanglement of pure consciousness in matter, Patañjali proceeds to explain the essential nature of the Seer and the Seen. In the two following Sūtras, II-18 and 19, he has put in a nutshell all the essential facts which concern the phenomenal world and thus given us a masterly analysis of the Seen.

Prakāśa-kriyā-sthiti-śilaṃ bhūtendriyāt-makaṃ bhogāpavargārthaṃ dṛśyam.

(of) luminosity; light; cognition; consciousness of activity (and) steadiness; stability having the properties or qualities elements sense-organs being of the nature experience and liberation for the sake of; with the purpose of (is) the Seen (Prakṛti).

18. The Seen (objective side of manifestation) consists of the elements and sense-organs, is of the nature of cognition, activity and stability (Sattva, Rajas and Tamas) and has for its purpose (providing the Puruṣa with) experience and liberation.

In II-18 we see how the master minds who developed the science of Yoga had the capacity to go to the heart of every matter and after separating the essential from the non-essential could grasp and formulate the essential facts. In one brief Sūtra Patañjali has analysed and placed before us the fundamental facts concerning the essential nature of the phenomenal world and its perception and purpose. First, he gives the essential nature of all phenomena which are the objects of perception. These according to the well-known conception of Hindu philosophy are really made up of the three Guṇas the nature of which will be explained later on. He then points out that the perception of the phenomenal world is really the result of the interactions of the Bhūtas and Indriyas, the ‘elements’ and the ‘sense-organs’. And lastly, he points out the purpose and function of the phenomenal world which is twofold. Firstly, to provide experience for the Puruṣas who seem to be evolving in it, and secondly, through this experience to lead them gradually to emancipation and Enlightenment.

It is necessary to note that the word used for the phenomenal world is Dṛśyam, that which is ‘seen’ or is capable of being ‘seen’. The contact of Puruṣa and Prakṛti results in the emergence of a duality which in modern language may be called the subjective and objective sides of Nature. Of these the Puruṣa is the essence or substratum of the subjective and Prakṛti that of the objective side of this duality. As consciousness recedes inwards the dividing line between the subjective and objective shifts continually but the relation between the two remains the same. The Puruṣa with all the vehicles which have not been separated off from his consciousness constitutes the subjective part of this dual relationship and is called Draṣṭā or Seer. That portion of Prakṛti which has been separated off in this manner constitutes the objective part and is called Dṛśyam or Seen. Both Draṣṭā and Dṛśyam are thus necessary for the phenomenal world.

Let us first consider the essential nature of all phenomena which are the objects of perception. These, according to the present Sūtra, are the result of the play of the three Guṇas which find expression through cognition, activity and stability. The theory of Guṇas forms an integral part of Hindu philosophy and the whole structure of the manifested Universe, according to this philosophy, is considered to rest on these three fundamental qualities or attributes of Prakṛti. In fact, according to the Sāṃkhya doctrine even Prakṛti is nothing but a condition of perfect equilibrium of the three Guṇas—Triguṇa-Sāmyāvasthā.

Although the theory of Guṇas is one of the fundamental doctrines of Hindu philosophy it is surprising how little it is understood. The Guṇas are referred to over and over again in the Bhagavad-gitā; there is hardly any important book in Saṃskṛta dealing with religion or philosophy in which the word Triguṇa does not occur; and yet, nobody seems to know what the three Guṇas really stand for. There is a vague idea that they have something to do with properties because the word Guṇa in Saṃskṛta generally means a property or attribute. That is also the general impression which the various contexts in which the word is used seem to produce. But one looks in vain for any clear exposition of the real significance of the word or what it really stands for in terms of modern thought.

It is not difficult to understand why the nature of the Guṇas is so difficult to comprehend, They lie at the very basis of the manifested world and even the working of the mind through which we try to comprehend their nature depends upon their interplay. Trying to comprehend the nature of the Guṇas with the help of the mind is like trying to catch the hand with a pair of tongs held by the hand. Not until the Yogi crosses the boundary of manifestation and transcends the domain of the Guṇas as indicated in IV-34 can he realize their true nature. But this does not mean that the student of Yoga cannot understand their nature at all and should remain satisfied with the vague and nebulous notions which are generally prevalent with regard to this basic doctrine. The advances which have taken place in the field of physical sciences and the light which this has thrown on the structure of matter and the nature of physical phenomena has now placed us in a position to be able to gain a faint glimpse into the essential nature of the Guṇas. It is true that this knowledge is connected with the superficial aspects of the Guṇas but the student can, by the exercise of deep thought and intuition, gain some understanding of the subject, enough to convince him that the Guṇas are not a mere elusive phantom of philosophy but are part of that profound mystery which surrounds the founding of a manifested Universe. This is not the place to deal exhaustively with this interesting but abstruse subject but a few ideas may be discussed to enable the student to know in which direction he should seek for more knowledge if he wants to understand the subject more fully. This discussion will involve some knowledge of modern scientific ideas though an effort will be made to keep it as free from technicalities as possible. After all, if we want to understand any problem in terms of modern scientific facts we must have at least a general knowledge of those facts.

What is the essential nature of the phenomena which we perceive through the instrumentality of the sense-organs? The first point we should note in arriving at an answer to this question is that an object of perception will be found on analysis to consist of a number of properties or Dharmas cognized through the sense-organs. That every object is merely a bundle of properties and our knowledge with regard to that object is confined to the direct or indirect observation of these properties is a well-known philosophical conception which every student can understand.

The second question which arises is: What is the nature of these properties or rather on what does the cognition of these properties depend? If we analyse the flux of physical phenomena around us in the light of modern scientific knowledge we shall find three principles of a fundamental character underlying these phenomena. These three principles which ultimately determine the nature of every phenomenon are all connected with motion and may be called different aspects of motion. It is very difficult to express these principles by means of single words, for no words with a sufficiently comprehensive meaning are known, but for want of better words we may call them: (1) vibration which involves rhythmic motion of particles, (2) mobility which involves non-rhythmic motion of particles with transference of energy, (3) inertia which involves relative position of particles. These principles are really the three fundamental aspects of motion and may be crudely illustrated respectively by a number of soldiers drilling on a parade ground, a number of people walking in a crowd and a number of prisoners confined in separate cells. Whatever the nature of the phenomenon, we shall find at the basis of that phenomenon these principles working in various ways and determining the Dharmas or properties which are manifest.

Let us take for the sake of illustration, one by one, the sensuous phenomena which are observed through the five sense-organs. The cognition of visual phenomena depends upon the presence of light vibrations which by their action on the retina of the eye give the impression of form and colour. Auditory phenomena depend upon sound vibrations which acting upon the drum of the ear produce the sensation of sound. The sensation of heat, etc., depends upon the impact of moving atoms and molecules on the skin. The sensations of taste and smell depend upon the action of chemical substances on the membranes of the palate and nose, the nature of the chemical substance (which is determined by the relative position and the nature of the atoms in the molecules) determining the sensation which is experienced. In every case we find vibration or rhythmic motion, mobility or irregular motion, inertia or relative position at work and determining the nature of the senuous phenomenon.

Up to this time we have assumed the presence of particles which by their motion determine the phenomenon. But what are these particles? Science tells us that these particles are also nothing but combinations of protons, neutrons and electrons, the electrons whirling round the nucleus of protons and neutrons at tremendous speeds and determining the properties of the atoms. In view of the discovery of the equivalence and interconvertibility of mass and energy it will probably be found ultimately that the nucleus of the atom is also an expression of energy and that the ultimate basis of the manifested physical universe is nothing but motion or energy. The day this is proved conclusively materialism of the orthodox type will be buried for ever and the philosophy of Yoga will be fully vindicated.

We see, therefore, that all properties can be reduced to their simplest elements—wave motion (.Prakāśa), action (Kriyā) and position (Sthiti) at least as far as the physical universe is concerned and since these are also the ideas associated with the nature of the three Guṇas, Science has to a certain extent corroborated the theory of Guṇas. It is true that the Guṇas underlie the whole manifested Universe and not only the physical world, and so we cannot comprehend their true nature by simply taking into account their physical manifestations. But a study of their interplay in the physical world may help the student to gain a faint glimpse into their real nature and the truth underlying IV-13.

There is one other important point we have to understand in relation to the Guṇas if we would grasp the significance of ideas given in III-56 and IV-34. This point is connected with the relation of the three Guṇas to one another. Every student of elementary Science knows that wave motion or vibration is a harmonious combination of mobility and inertia. And if the three Guṇas are connected as we have seen with these three aspects of motion it follows that Sattva is merely a harmonious combination of Rajas and Tamas and is not anything apart from Rajas and Tamas. So the development of Sattva is not really the creation of something new but the harmonization of the existing Rajas and Tamas. This fact is very important because it serves to throw some light on the relation of the Puruṣa and Sattva. When the Puruṣa comes in contact with Prakṛti at the beginning of the evolutionary cycle his contact disturbs the equilibrium of the three Guṇas and gradually brings into play the forces of Prakṛti. Through this disturbed atmosphere the Puruṣa cannot see his Svarūpa because this Svarūpa can be expressed or reflected only through a sufficiently purified Sattva Guṇa. In the early stages of evolution this question does not arise. The vehicles of consciousness are slowly being organized and the powers latent in Prakṛti are being unfolded. But after evolution has reached a sufficiently advanced stage and the desire for Self-realization is born within the soul Rajas and Tamas have to be replaced gradually by Sattva. So the object in Yoga is to harmonize Rajas and Tamas into Sattva. And as it is the harmonization of two opposites a perfect harmonization means really the virtual disappearance of the opposites and the attainment of a condition which is free from the opposites.

The question now arises ‘Is the Triguṇa-Sāmyāvasthā before the Puruṣa came in contact with Prakṛti exactly the same as the condition of pure Sattva developed after going through the evolutionary cycle and attaining Kaivalya?’ The answer to this question must be in the negative. Because, if the two conditions were the same the whole purpose of evolution as outlined in II-23 would be defeated. It would really amount to supposing that the Puruṣa descends into matter, goes through the long and tedious evolutionary cycle and then again lapses into the condition from which he started.

If the two conditions are not identical, what is the difference between them? This is not the place to enter into this highly philosophical question but an analogy from the field of Science may serve to throw some light on the nature of the difference. A condition of equilibrium may be of two kinds which we may for the sake of convenience call static and dynamic. In static equilibrium two equal and opposite things combine in such a manner that the combination is a dead thing. You cannot get anything out of the combination because it does not contain potentially any power. If we mix together equivalent quantities of an acid and a base—two opposites—we get a neutral salt from which we cannot get anything else. On the other hand it is possible to produce a harmonious equilibrium of two equal and opposite things which is dynamic and contains potential power. Take a storage battery. In it lie two opposite kinds of electricity combined equally and harmoniously. Outwardly, the battery also appears a dead or inert thing. But only outwardly. We have only to connect the two poles to see the difference.

Now, the equilibrium of Sattva is something analogous to this equilibrium in a storage battery. It contains potentially the power to produce any combination of the Guṇas as required and yet reverting instantaneously to the original condition when the power is not needed. It is in this sense that the recession of the Guṇas to their origin in IV-34 should be understood. The Guṇas do not cease to function permanently for the Self-realized Puruṣa. They cease to function when he withdraws into himself and come into play as soon as he projects his consciousness outwards. In short, they lose their independent activity and become merely his instruments.

This conception of the Guṇātita state not only imparts a new significance to the evolutionary cycle but is also in accordance with facts as known to Occultism. The mighty Adepts of Yoga who emerge as Jivanmuktas from the evolutionary cycle do not merge into God and become indistinguishable from Him by losing their identity for ever. They become free from the domination of the Guṇas and the illusion of Prakṛti and yet retain all the knowledge and powers which they have acquired through evolution. Of all the misconceptions and partially understood truths of Hindu philosophy perhaps none is more absurd and a travesty of the real facts than this idea of Puruṣa merging completely with God and being lost in Him for ever. If a human being were to erect a house and then demolish it as soon as it was completed we should consider him mad. But we attribute to God a worse kind of irrationality in believing that on the attainment of Jivanmukti, Jivātmā merges with the Paramātmā and is lost for ever.

Having considered the nature of the material basis of the phenomenal world let us now pass on to the second generalization contained in the Sūtra which gives the modus operandi of the perception of this world. How is this world which is the result of the interplay of the Guṇas perceived? What are the basic elements involved in this perception? The answer to this question again is contained in a generalization which is a masterpiece of analytic technique. According to Yogic philosophy there are only two factors involved in perception—the Bhūtas and the Indriyas. What these Bhūtas and Indriyas are and how, by their interaction, they produce an awareness of the external world in the consciousness of the Puruṣa has been explained to some extent in discussing III-45 and III-48. We need not therefore enter into this question here but there is one important fact which may be pointed out before we pass on to the third generalization of the Sūtra. The words Bhūtas and Indriyas are used in the widest sense of these terms and have reference to the physical as well as the superphysical planes. The mechanism through which consciousness becomes aware of objects differs from plane to plane, but the modus operandi of this mechanism on every plane is essentially the same, namely the interaction of the Bhūtas and the Indriyas. Not only is the modus operandi the same on all the planes but the five states of the Bhūtas and Indriyas referred to in III-45 and III-48 are also the same on all the planes. Saṃyama on these states will therefore lead to the mastery of the Bhūtas and the Indriyas on all the planes.

The third generalization in this Sūtra gives the purpose of the phenomenal world. This is to provide experience and ultimately liberation for the Puruṣa. It is in some way, which is not quite comprehensible to the intellect, necessary for the Puruṣa to descend into matter and pass through the evolutionary process before he can become perfect and free from the domination of matter. The phenomenal world provides for him the necessary experiences through which alone evolution of his vehicles and unfolding of his consciousness can take place. As the seed after being sown absorbs the necessary nourishment from its environment and gradually develops into a full-grown tree after the likeness of its progenitor, in the same way, the germ of Divine Life when it is put in the phenomenal world is acted upon by all kinds of stimuli and influences and gradually unfolds the Divine Life and powers which are hidden within it. As this idea has been discussed fully later, in connection with II-23, we shall not consider it here.

The Yogic idea that the phenomenal world definitely exists for the growth and perfection of the individual centres of consciousness is in refreshing contrast to the bleak and vain speculations of modern Science on the origin and purpose of this manifested Universe. The idea that this wonderfully and beautifully designed Universe in which we live has no purpose, is really an insult to human intelligence and yet it is tacitly accepted by the large majority of modern scientists or the so-called intellectuals. If you ask the average scientist what he has to say about the purpose behind the Universe he will most probably show his impatience and reply that he does not know and does not care to know. He has very conveniently put aside the question of ‘why’ of the Universe so that he may be able to devote himself to the ‘how’ without being pestered by any uncomfortable doubts with regard to the utility of what he is doing. The most convenient way of avoiding your pursuers is to shut your eyes and forget about them.

Viśeṣāviśeṣa-lingamātrālingāni guṇa-parvāṇi.

particular; specific non-specific; archetypal; universal a mere mark (and) without mark or differentiating characteristic (of) the Guṇas stages of development; states.

19. The stages of the Guṇas are the particular, the universal, the differentiated and the undifferentiated.

The nature of the three Guṇas which was indicated in the last Sūtra is further elaborated in this Sūtra. The Guṇas, according to this Sūtra, have four states or stages of development corresponding to the four stages of Saṃprajñāta Samādhi mentioned in I-17. As consciousness and matter work together in the phenomenal world it is to be expected that the expression of the deeper layers of consciousness should require a subtler form of the three Guṇas. The essential nature of the Guṇas remains the same but they undergo a kind of subtilization, matching, as it were, each of these deeper or finer states of consciousness and enabling these to be expressed through matter. An illustration from the field of Science will perhaps enable the student to understand this relation between the states of consciousness and the stages of the Guṇas. Sound can be transmitted through a comparatively heavy medium like air but light, which is a much finer vibration, requires for its transmission a subtler medium like the ether.

As the states of consciousness which the Yogi has to pass through in Samādhi before he is released from the domination of the Guṇas are four, there should naturally be four stages of the Guṇas. While it is easy to understand why there should be four stages, still, when we come to the nature of these stages as defined in the present Sūtra, we find some difficulty in grasping the subtle significance of the words used for these stages. Since these stages correspond to the four stages of the unfoldment of consciousness in Samādhi, let us see whether we can find some help in studying these correspondences.

The characteristics of the four states of consciousness, the stages of the Guṇas and the vehicles through which these states of consciousness find expression are shown in the following table:

The four stages of Saṃprajñāta Samādhi have already been discussed in dealing with I-17 and it has been shown that these stages correspond to the functioning of consciousness through the four vehicles as shown above. When the stages of the Guṇas are studied in the light of these correspondences the meanings of the words which are used to denote these stages become clear to some extent though it is impossible to grasp their full significance on account of the limitations of the intellect and the physical brain. Let us do the best we can under our present limitations.

The word Viśeṣa means particular and the Viśeṣa stage of the Guṇas obviously refers to the stage of the lower mind which sees all objects only as particular things with names and forms. To the lower mind every object seems to have a separate and independent existence and a separate identity. It is isolated, seen apart from its archetype and from the Divine consciousness of which it is a part and in which it is embedded, as it were. This stage of the Guṇas corresponds to the Vitarka stage of Samādhi because while consciousness is functioning through the lower mind Vitarka is its most important and essential function. Vitarka is that activity of the lower mind through which it differentiates a particular object from all others. How do we differentiate a particular dog, for example, from all other objects in the phenomenal world? The mental process may be illustrated by the following line of reasoning. A particular dog, say Bonzo, is a living animal. This differentiates It from all inanimate objects. Bonzo is an animal of the canine species. This differentiates it from all other species. Bonzo is a fox-terrier. This differentiates it from dogs of other breeds. We can in this way narrow down the range of objects from which Bonzo has still to be differentiated until we come down to the last stage when the object has been completely isolated in the mind and stands apart as a particular object in the Universe different and distinguishable from all other objects. This isolation or differentiation of a particular object which is illustrated by the crude example given above is called Vitarka and it is through such a process that the first stage of Samādhi is reached. The student will also see from the above the significance of the word Viśeṣa, particular, in indicating the first or crudest stage of the Guṇas.

Then we come to the next stage Aviśeṣa which means universal or non-specific. This corresponds to the activity of the higher mind whose function is to deal with universals, archetypes and principles which underlie the world of names and forms. The lower mind deals with particular objects with names and forms, the higher mind with abstract ideas and archetypes. Reverting to the previous illustration we saw that Bonzo was a particular dog of a particular breed. But what is this thing ‘dog’ of which Bonzo is a particular representative? The word ‘dog’ stands for an abstract idea. From observation of a large number of dogs we isolate all the characteristics which constitute their ‘doghood’ and combine them in a single concept which we denote by the word ‘dog’. Every common noun is such an abstraction although we are hardly aware of this fact when we use such words. The mental process whereby these qualities are isolated from particular objects and combined in a single abstract concept is called Vicāra. The function of the higher mind is to form such universal concepts and to grasp their inner significance. It should be noted here that while Vitarka isolates a particular object from all the rest Vicāra isolates a particular concept, archetype, law, or universal principle from all such Sūkṣma Viṣayas referred to in I-44. This stage in which consciousness is functioning through the higher mind corresponds to the Vicāra stage of Saṃprajñāta Samādhi and the Aviśeṣa stage of the Guṇas. The justification for using the word Aviśeṣa, universal, for this second stage of the Guṇas will be seen, to a certain extent, from what has been said above.

It may be pointed out here that the simple mental process of Vitarka or Vicāra which we may engage in during the course of our studies and thinking should not be considered equivalent to the corresponding mental processes as they take place in the state of Samādhi. In the state of Samādhi the mind is completely isolated from the outer world, is fused, as it were, with the object in a state of abstraction. It is in a peculiar and to the ordinary man incomprehensible state. And so, concrete and abstract thinking are merely faint reflections, qūalitative representations of the extremely subtle mental processes which take place in Samādhi. The reason why words like Vitarka and Vicāra are used to indicate these subtle mental processes lies in the fact that the ordinary reasoning processes are familiar to the student and it is only in this way that he can get some idea of the subtler processes. From the known to the unknown is always the right method of advancing in the realm of the mind.

Then we come to the next stage of the Guṇas—Linga. This word means a mark which serves to identify, and in the present context Linga-mātra means a state of consciousness in which particular objects and even principles are mere marks or signs which serve to distinguish them from other objects. This stage of the Guṇas corresponds to the supra-mental consciousness which transcends the intellect and is expressed through Buddhi or intuition. The corresponding stage in Samādhi is accompanied by Ānanda which confirms the conclusion that this stage of the Guṇas corresponds to the functioning of consciousness through the Buddhic vehicle or Ānandamaya Kośa as it is called in Vedāntic terminology.

But why is this stage of the Guṇas called Linga? Because in the corresponding state of consciousness all objects and universal principles become part of a universal consciousness. They are seen, embedded as it were, in one consciousness, as parts of an indivisible whole. But they still have their identity, are still distinguishable or recognizable. Each object is itself and yet part of a whole. It is a condition of unity in diversity.

The next and the last stage of the Guṇas is called Aliṅga or without mark or differentiating characteristic. In this stage the objects and principles lose their separate identity. Consciousness becomes so predominant that they go out of focus, as it were. According to the highest conceptions of the Hindu philosophy all objects, archetypes, everything in the manifested Universe is a modification of consciousness—Brahma-Vṛtti. In the Liṅga stage awareness of objects exists side by side with the awareness of consciousness. In the Aliṅga stage the former go out of focus and only awareness of the Divine consciousness of which they are modifications remains, A concrete example may perhaps help the student to understand the significance of the different stages of the Guṇas. Suppose we have a number of objects made of gold—a ring, a bracelet and a necklace, placed on a table. We may see them merely as separate objects, as a child would see them. This corresponds to the Viśeṣa stage. We may see them as ornaments with a common function of serving to adorn the human body, as a woman would see them. This is the Aviśeṣa stage. We may see them as objects with a common decorative function but we may also be interested in the fact that they are made of gold, i.e., we see their common substratum and their separate identity simultaneously, as a goldsmith would see them. This corresponds to the Liṅga stage. And lastly, we may see only the gold and may hardly be conscious of their separate identities or common function, as a thief would see them. This is analogous to the Aliṅga stage. In this stage the Yogi is conscious, chiefly of the substratum of all phenomenal objects, particular or universal. He is aware predominantly of the Divine consciousness in which they are merely Vṛttis or modifications. The objects as separate entities do exist but they have ceased to have any meaning for him. This stage of the Guṇas corresponds to the last stage of Saṃprajñāta Samādhi of which Asmitā is the predominant characteristic. The consciousness of pure existence which is denoted by Asmitā swallows up the consciousness of objects.

The progressive expansion of consciousness which takes place when it passes through the different stages of Samādhi does not mean that these states of consciousness are separated from each other by water-tight compartments and the lower aspects of object disappear when the higher come into view. Many students feel confused because they suffer from a common misconception about the functioning of consciousness in the higher worlds. They think, for example, that when the Yogi passes into the world of the higher mind he lives solely in a world of abstract ideas, archetypes and principles with no objects having names and forms with which he has been familiar. Such a world of pure abstractions would be an impossible world to live in and does not exist anywhere as the experiences of all mystics and occultists testify. The higher always includes and enriches the lower though it also enables the lower to be seen in its correct perspective. What was considered important may now appear unimportant or what was considered insignificant may now assume tremendous significance, and vice versa, but everything is there within the expanded consciousness, and the Yogi does not therefore feel he has entered into a strange and incomprehensible world. On the other hand, every expansion of consciousness makes him see greater richness, beauty and significance in everything which is within the range of his perception. Expansion of consciousness means inclusion of more and more and exclusion of nothing. This fact is quite clear from what is stated in III-50 III-55 and IV-31.

It will be seen that the four stages of the Guṇas are denoted by the predominant nature of the mental perception and activity which characterize those stages. We are told how the changes in the Guṇas affect the expression of consciousness through them but we are not given any indication as to the nature of the changes in the Guṇas themselves. This kind of classification which is based upon the secondary effects of the changes in the Guṇas does not, therefore, throw much further light on the nature of the Guṇas themselves. Since the Guṇas lie at the very basis of the manifested Universe and their roots are embedded in the deepest layers of consciousness their subtle nature can be realized only in Samādhi (III-45). The intellect can, at best, enable us to gain only a general idea with regard to their nature and their gross expressions on the lowest plane.

Draṣṭā dṛśimātraḥ śuddho ’pi pratyayā-nupaśyaḥ.

the Seer; Puruṣa pure consciousness only; pure awareness only pure though concept; content of the mind appears to see along with.

20. The Seer is pure consciousness but though pure, appears to see through the mind.

After dealing with Dṛśyam or the objective side of the phenomenal world in II-18 and 19, Patañjali now tries to give us some idea with regard to the Draṣṭā or the Seer who is the basis of the subjective side of the phenomenal world. This is a comparatively more difficult task because the Puruṣa according to the Yogic philosophy is the ultimate Reality hidden behind the phenomenal world in its subjective aspect. Although it is through him that the Prakṛti is galvanized into life and cognition takes place, he always eludes us, because he is always behind the veil, the hidden witness of the objective through the subjective. If we take a powerful electric light and cover it up with a number of concentric semi-transparent and coloured globes, one within the other, the outermost globe will be illuminated in some measure by the light of the electric lamp. But though this illumination will be derived from the light of the electric lamp we will not be able to see the light of the electric lamp as it is, but only as it comes out after being filtered and dimmed by all the intervening globes. If we remove the outermost globe the next globe comes into view and the light becomes stronger and purer. But do we now see the light of the electric lamp? No! It is still hidden behind the remaining globes. As we remove globe after globe, the light becomes stronger and purer but we never see it in its purity and fullness as long as any globe remains covering the electric lamp. It is only when the last globe is removed that the pure light of the electric lamp in its total brilliance comes into view. Can the man who has never seen an electric lamp know by observing the outermost globe what: the light of the electric lamp is like? Not until he has removed all the globes, one by one.

The relation of the Puruṣa to the vehicles through which he manifests is similar. The light of his consciousness comes streaming through the complete set of vehicles, each vehicle removing, as it were, some of the constituents and decreasing its intensity, until in the physical body it is at its dullest and encumbered with the largest number of limitations. The only way to see the light of his pure consciousness is to separate off all the vehicles and see that light in its purity without the obscuration even of the subtlest vehicle as pointed out in IV-22. This is the isolation of pure consciousness (Kaivalya) involved in the attainment of Kaivalya, the ultimate goal of Yogic life.

The first point we should note in this Sūtra is that the Seer who is the subjective element in the phenomenal world is pure consciousness and nothing else. The word Mātraḥ of course means ‘only’ and is used to emphasize the necessity of not mistaking the Seer for any partial manifestation of his consciousness through a subtler vehicle. When consciousness withdraws, step by step, from the lower worlds in Samādhi and begins to function in the higher realms of the Spirit the change is so tremendous and the sudden influx of power, knowledge and bliss, on the progressive removal of limitations, is so overwhelming that one is apt to mistake this partial manifestation for the ultimate Reality. But the fact is that the consciousness is still encumbered by veils of matter, thin veils it is true, but veils all the same which impose certain limitations and illusions. Not until the last vehicle has been transcended can consciousness be known in its purity. That is the Puruṣa, the real Draṣṭa.

The second point to be noted is that though the Seer is pure consciousness, and not consciousness as modified by the vehicles, still, when he manifests through a vehicle he seems to be lost in the Pratyaya which is present at the moment in the mind. Just as a mirror reflects or assumes the form of anything placed before it and seems to be that thing, in the same way the pure consciousness assumes, as it were, the form of the Pratyaya and appears indistinguishable from the Pratyaya. Or, to take another example, when the pure light from the electric bulb in a cinematograph falls on the screen it assumes the form of the picture being projected, though in itself it is pure and quite distinct from the picture. Pratyaya, of course, as has been explained elsewhere, is the content of the mind when consciousness comes in contact with any vehicle and differs from vehicle to vehicle.

Not only is the Pratyaya indistinguishable from consciousness but as a result of this mixing up of the two, the functions of the vehicles appear to be performed by the Puruṣa. Thus when abstract thinking is done through the higher mind is it the Puruṣa who does the thinking? No! The thinking is the function of the vehicle. The contact of consciousness with the vehicle sets it in motion and enables it to perform its respective function. When a magnet is thrust into a coil of wire a current of electricity is produced in the wire. To a person who is ignorant of the facts the magnet appears to produce the current. As a matter of fact the magnet does not directly produce the current though it is in a mysterious manner connected with the production of the current. If the whole mechanism for the production of the current is there and all the necessary conditions are provided then only the insertion of the magnet will make the mechanism work to produce the current. How the mere contact of Puruṣa with Prakṛti galvanizes it into life and makes it perform its highly intelligent function is a problem which has been much debated by philosophers. To the practical student of Yoga this question is not of much importance. He knows that all sūch theoretical questions can be solved only by direct knowledge.

Tad-artha eva dṛśyasyātmā.

(intended) for the sake of that (the Seer) alone of the Seen (Prakṛti) (being); nature.

21. The very being of the Seen is for his sake (i.e. Prakṛti exists only for his sake).

In the previous Sūtras the essential natures of the Seer and Seen have been pointed out, and it has been shown that even when they seem to be blended completely in their intimate relationship they are really quite distinct and separate from each other like oil and water in an emulsion. This Sūtra points out that in this close association of Puruṣa and Prakṛti, the latter plays a subordinate role, that of merely serving the Puruṣa. The purpose of the Seen has already been given in 11-18, namely providing experience and means of emancipation for the Puruṣa. The Sūtra under discussion further clarifies this point and emphasizes that Prakṛti exists only for subserving the purposes of the Puruṣa. It has no purpose of its own. The whole drama of creation is being played in order to provide experience for the growth and Self-realization of the Puruṣas who are involved in the show.

Kṛtārthaṃ prati naṣṭam apy anaṣṭaṃ tad-anya-sādhāraṇatvāt.

(one) whose purpose has been fulfilled for; to destroyed; non-existent although not destroyed; existent (than) that to others on account of being common.

22. Although it becomes non-existent for him whose purpose has been fulfilled it continues to exist for others on account of being common to others (besides him).

This Sūtra again deals with a purely theoretical problem of philosophy connected with the relationship existing between Puruṣa and Prakṛti. If the purpose of Prakṛti is to enable the Puruṣa to obtain Self-realization what happens to it when that purpose has been fulfilled? The answer given is that Prakṛti ceases to exist as far as that Puruṣa is concerned. But what does this mean? Does Prakṛti cease to exist altogether? Obviously not, because the other Puruṣas who have not attained Kaivalya still remain under its influence and continue to work for their emancipation.

If Prakṛti ceases to exist only for the Self-realized Puruṣa, then is it purely subjective in its nature or has it an independent existence of its own? The answer to this fundamental question differs according to different schools of thought which have tried to speculate about it. According to Vedānta even Prakṛti, the substratum of the phenomenal world, is a purely subjective thing, the product of Māyā. According to Sāṃikhya which provides to a great extent the theoretical basis of the Yogic philosophy Prakṛti has an independent existence of its own. Puruṣa and Prakṛti are the two ultimate, eternal and independent principles in existence. Puruṣas are many, Prakṛti is one. The Puruṣas get involved in matter, go through the cycle of evolution under the fostering care of Prakṛti, attain Self-realization and then pass out of the illusion and influence of Prakṛti altogether. But Prakṛti always remains the same. It will be seen that there is no real contradiction involved in these two views. Vedānta merely carries the process of idealization to a further stage which alone can be the ultimate stage. In it the multiplicity of the Puruṣas on the one hand, and the duality of the Puruṣas and the Prakṛti on the other, are integrated into a higher conception of the One Reality.

It may be pointed out here that a system of philosophy however lofty and true it may be should not be expected to give us an absolutely correct picture of the transcendent truths as they really exist. Because philosophy works through the medium of the intellect and the intellect has its inherent limitations, it cannot understand or formulate truths which are beyond its scope. So, in dealing in its own way with these realities of the spiritual life it can give us only partial and distorted interpretations of those realities. Contradictions, paradoxes and inconsistencies are inevitable when we try to see and interpret these realities through the instrumentality of the intellect. We have to accept these limitations when we use the intellect as an instrument for understanding and discovering these truths in the initial stages. It is no use throwing away this instrument, poor and imperfect though it is, because it gives us at least some help in organizing our effort to know the truth in the only way in which it can be known—by Self-realization. If we want to know any country the only way to do it is to go and see it with our own eyes. But that does not mean that we should throw away the maps and plans which are meant to give us a rough idea with regard to the country. These do not give us true knowledge with regard to the country but they do help us in finding the country and seeing it directly with our own eyes. Philosophy, at its best, serves only this kind of purpose. Those who are content to take it as a substitute for the real truth blunder. Those who ignore it completely also make a mistake because they throw away a thing which might be usefully utilized in the attainment of their objective. The wise student of Yoga takes the various doctrines of philosophy and religion lightly, as tentative explanations and interpretations of truths beyond the realm of the intellect, but uses them as best as he can in his direct discovery of those truths. Yoga is an essentially practical science and the truths and experiences which it deals with are not dependent upon the particular philosophy or philosophies which are put forward to provide a rational picture of the objective and the various processes which lead to it. We do not know really the nature of electricity. There are many theories. But that does not prevent us from utilizing this force for gaining our physical ends in a thousand and one ways. In the same way the philosophy which provides the theoretical background of Yoga and its inadequacies does not affect materially the results which can be obtained by the practice of Yoga. Let us give philosophy its proper place in the study of Yoga and not mix it up with the practical and scientific part of the subject.

Sva-svāmi-śaktyoḥ svarūpopalabdhi-hetuḥ saṃyogaḥ.

(of) it (Prakṛti) (and) of the master (Puruṣa) of the (two) powers own form; real or essential nature experiencing; knowledge cause; reason; purpose union; coming together.

23. The purpose of the coming together of the Puruṣa and Prakṛti is gaining by the Puruṣa of the awareness of his true nature and the unfoldment of powers inherent in him and Prakṛti.

It is generally thought that the idea of evolution is an entirely new contribution made by Science to modern civilization, and Darwin is considered to be the father of this idea. But as we often say there is nothing new under the Sun and the idea of evolution has come down to us in one form or another from the earliest times. It would be really surprising if the master minds who lived in the past and who had such a wonderful grasp of the essential realities of life had missed this important and all-pervading Law underlying the manifestation of life. It is perhaps true that this Law was not studied and presented in the detailed form as we have it now but then nothing pertaining to the phenomenal world which was not essential for real human happiness was studied by them in great detail. It was thought sufficient to have a general idea of the fundamental principles. They never lost sight of the limitations of the intellect and probably did not consider it worth while wasting their time and energy on the accumulation of unnecessary details with regard to the general principles which at best could be understood very imperfectly through the medium of the illusion-bound intellect. It was thought that the energy which would be needed for gaining knowledge of the non-essential details had better be employed in unravelling the Great Mystery of Life itself, for when that mystery was unravelled all the problems of life were understood automatically and simultaneously and in a way they could never be understood by a process of intellectual analysis and reasoning.

But while these adepts in the Science of Life did not think it worth their while descending to non-essential details with regard to the facts of the phenomenal worlds they tried and managed to get a wonderfully complete and true picture of the fundamental principles. It is this clear and firm grasp of the fundamental principles and laws which enabled them to put these principles and generalizations in the form of Sūtras. What a modern writer would take a chapter or book to convey was condensed in a masterly manner in a single Sūtra. There are many examples of such condensed knowledge in the Yoga-Sūtras, and II-23 which we shall now consider is a striking instance of this nature. In one Sūtra Patañjali has put the essential and fundamental idea underlying the theory of Evolution and also managed to bring into his generalization the most important aspect of evolution which unfortunately is missing in the modern scientific theory. So absorbed are most of our modern scientists with details, so full of their own achievements, so obsessed by their materialistic outlook that they often miss the most important aspects of their researches, aspects which are under their very noses and which they could not fail to recognize if they were at all open-minded. The theory of Evolution which we are now considering is a case in point.

According to the modern theory, considered in a very general way, there is an evolutionary trend discernible in the bodies of plants and animals, and the bodies in their effort to adapt themselves to their environment develop new powers and capacities. Putting the idea in a different way we may say that the study of the form side of living creatures shows that these forms are steadily, though slowly, becoming more and more complex and capable of expressing the powers which are inherent in life. Life and form are always found together. The forms are found to evolve. What about the life? Modern Science does not know and what is more surprising does not care to know. For the idea that life evolves side by side with form is well known and is really complementary to the idea of the evolution of forms, which has been developed by Science. It is by combining this idea of the evolution of life with that of the evolution of forms that the theory of evolution becomes intelligible and its beauty and significance are revealed. The forms evolve to provide better vehicles for the evolving life. The mere evolution of forms would be a meaningless process in a Universe in which all natural phenomena appear to be guided by intelligence and design. And yet modern Science is pursuing this idea of the evolution of forms and refusing to combine it with its complementary idea. No wonder it got bogged in a plethora of details in this field and missed the discovery of some basic facts of general and vital interest to humanity.

II-23 answers the question ‘Why is Puruṣa brought into contact with Prakṛti?’ The answer is: To unfold the powers latent in Prakṛti and himself and to enable him to gain Self-realization. That is the complete idea of evolution in a nutshell. But it is necessary to elaborate this idea to understand its full implications. Let us first see what are the powers of Puruṣa and Prakṛti referred to in this Sūtra. In order to understand this we have only to recall how total evolution leads to the gradual unfoldment of consciousness on the one hand and pari passu to the increase in the efficiency of the vehicles on the other. Leaving out of account the mineral kingdom in which the unfoldment of consciousness is so rudimentary as to be hardly perceptible we find on studying the vegetable, animal and human kingdoms that consciousness in these kingdoms shows a remarkable increase in the degree of unfoldment as we pass from one kingdom to another. And side by side with the unfoldment of consciousness we find that the vehicle also becomes more and more complex and efficient for the expression of the unfolding consciousness. Not only do we find a remarkable increase in this dual evolution of life and form as we pass from one kingdom to another but taking any one kingdom by itself we can trace the steady evolution from one step to another, so that we can see the whole ladder of life as far as it can be seen with our limitations, stretching from the mineral kingdom to the civilized stage of the human kingdom with hardly any rungs missing.

What do we mean by the powers of Prakṛti referred to in this Sūtra? Obviously, these are not the general powers which are inherent in Nature and which are independent, as it were, of the dual evolution of life and form which is taking place around us. The powers of Prakṛti to which reference is made here are undoubtedly the capacities which develop in the vehicles as they evolve in association with consciousness. Compare the brain of a snail with that of a monkey and this again with that of a highly civilized man and you see the tremendous change which has taken place as regards the capacity of the vehicle to express the powers which are latent in consciousness. And the mental and spiritual powers which are exhibited by the highly civilized and intellectual men and women of today are as nothing compared to the powers which are developed by the advanced Yogi and which are in store for every child of man when he undertakes his higher evolution. A study of the various Siddhis or occult powers which are dealt with in Section III of the Yoga-sūtras will give the student some idea of the latent capacities which are lying hidden within each one of us, capacities which can be developed by the technique outlined in this book.

It is necessary to distinguish between the powers of Prakṛti and Puruṣa although the two are generally exercised in conjunction. The power of Prakṛti is obviously the capacity of the vehicle to respond to the demands of consciousness. A particular vehicle of consciousness is a certain combination of matter on a particular plane integrated and held together by various forces and its efficiency depends upon how far it can respond to the powers of consciousness. The brain of an idiot is made of the same substance as the brain of a highly intellectual man but there is a world of difference between the capacities of the two to respond to thought vibrations. It is in the increasing peculiarity and complexity of the vehicle that the secret of its greater responsiveness and efficiency lies and this is what evolution of the vehicle really means.

If the response to consciousness determines the evolution of the vehicle what is meant by the unfoldment of the powers of consciousness or Puruṣa? According to Yogic philosophy consciousness itself does not evolve. It is in some way which is incomprehensible to the intellect perfect, complete, eternal. When we refer to the powers of the Puruṣa in this joint development of the powers of the two what is meant is the power of consciousness to function through and in collaboration with the vehicle. As Puruṣa is pure consciousness and consciousness is eternal, there cannot be an evolution of his powers in the sense in which we take the word evolution. But we may suppose that he has to acquire the capacity to use those in association with the matter of the different planes. So that, as evolution proceeds his consciousness is able to express itself more and more fully on these planes and to manipulate and control his vehicles with increasing freedom and efficiency. What a tremendous task this is can be grasped only when we study in detail the long process of evolution through the different kingdoms of Nature and the total constitution of man which is involved in the process. As long as we confine ourselves to the phenomena of the physical plane we can never have an adequate idea of the magnitude and nature of the task, even though on the physical plane also the different phases of this long process present a stupendous spectacle. It is in the invisible realms of the mind and the Spirit that evolution produces its most magnificent results and the powers of the Puruṣa find their chief expression.

Perhaps some idea of the necessity and manner of this development may be obtained from a simile. The music which a great musician can produce depends upon the quality and the efficiency of his instrument. Place an instrument in his hand which he has never used and he will feel helpless till he has mastered that instrument. The poor quality of the instrument will handicap him enormously. The quality of the music which can be produced depends upon three factors, the capacity of the musician, the efficiency of the instrument and the co-ordination of the two. Even though the Puruṣa has all the powers potentially unless he is provided with an efficient set of vehicles and learns to control and use these vehicles he may remain a helpless spectator of the world drama which is being played around him. It is in some such way that we can visualize through the intellect the gradual unfoldment of the powers of the Puruṣa along with the powers of Prakṛti, though fundamentally, this question is an ultimate question connected with the ‘why’ of manifestation and thus beyond the scope of the intellect.

The simultaneous development of the vehicles on all the planes of manifestation and the capacity to use them is not the only purpose of bringing together Puruṣa and Prakṛti. The Puruṣa has not only to master these vehicles but has also to transcend them. For, until and unless he can do this he will remain under the limitations of the planes to which he is confined and be subject to their illusions. He is destined to be above the limitations and illusions of those planes as well as to be a master of those planes. This is what Self-realization or Svarūpopalabdhi means to accomplish. These are not to be considered as two independent objectives. The complete mastery of the lower planes and their transcendence are really two aspects of the same problem because complete mastery on these planes is not possible until the Puruṣa passes out of the control of Prakṛti. The last step in the mastery of anything generally consists in transcending it or going beyond its influence and control. Then only we can know it fully and control it completely.

Tasya hetur avidyā.

its (of the union) (effective) cause ignorance; lack of awareness of his Real nature.

24. Its cause is the lack of awareness of his Real nature.

After giving the purpose of the union of Puruṣa and Prakṛti in the last Sūtra Patañjali gives in this Sūtra the effective cause of the union or the means whereby the union is brought about. It should be noted that the word Hetuḥ is used both in the sense of object as well as effective cause and it is used in the latter sense in this Sūtra. The Puruṣa by his very nature is eternal, omniscient and free and his involution in matter which involves tremendous limitations is brought about by his being made to lose the awareness of his Real nature. The power which deprives him of this knowledge or rather awareness of his Real nature is called Māyā or Illusion in Hindu philosophy and the result of this privation of knowledge is called Avidyā or ignorance. It is obvious that the words illusion and ignorance are used in their highest philosophical sense and we can barely get a glimpse into the real significance of these words. To understand Māyā and Avidyā in the real sense is to solve the Great Mystery of Life and to be free from their domination. This is the end and not the starting point of the search.

How Avidyā brings about in its train the other Kleśas and lies at the root of all miseries to which embodied life is subject has been dealt with already in explaining the nature of Kleśas, but there is one aspect of this union of Puruṣa and Prakṛti which must be pointed out if we are to understand the meaning of this travail and suffering which evolution undoubtedly involves. We have seen already that there appears to be a mighty purpose hidden behind the working of the Universe though the nature of this purpose may be beyond our comprehension. One part of this purpose which we can see and understand is the gradual evolution of life culminating in the perfection and emancipation of the individual units of consciousness who are called Puruṣas. We have been sent down into the lower worlds in order that we may attain perfection through the experiences of these worlds. It is a tremendously long and tedious discipline but it is worthwhile as anybody will see who understands what this perfection means and knows those in whom this perfection is embodied. Anyway, whether we like this process or not we are in it and have to go through it and it is no use behaving like children who try to avoid going to school and have to be sent there against their will. The best way of freeing ourselves from this necessity is to acquire perfection as quickly as we can. Then there will be no necessity of our being forced to remain in this school and our freedom will come automatically.

It is very necessary to point out this aspect of our bondage because there are a large number of aspirants, especially in India, who have a rather strange notion with regard to the cause and nature of the bondage in which they find themselves. They do not take life on the lower planes as a kind of school in which they have to learn certain things but rather as a prison from which they have to escape as soon as possible. They hardly realize the implications of this attitude which really means that they consider God as a heartless Being who sends His children into the lower worlds just for the fun of seeing them go through all this pain and suffering. If life in the lower worlds is taken as a school then we shall not only feel no resentment against the severe discipline to which we are subjected but will also adopt the right means for getting out of the miseries and sufferings which are incidental to this life. The right means obviously is that we should learn the necessary lessons as thoroughly and as quickly as possible instead of merely devising means of escape which are bound to prove ineffective in the long run. Seen in this light Yogic discipline is merely the last phase of our training whereby our education is completed and rounded off before we are allowed to lead a free and independent life.

Tad-abhāvāt saṃyogābhāvo hānaṃ tad dṛśeḥ kaivalyam.

(of) that (Avidyā) from absence or elimination (of) union; association disappearance (is) avoidance; remedy that of the Seer (is) isolation; separation from everything (Liberation).

25. The dissociation of Puruṣa and Prakṛti brought about by the dispersion of Avidyā is the real remedy and that is the Liberation of the Seer.

If the union of Puruṣa and Prakṛti has been brought about by Māyā or Avidyā and leads through the development of the Kleśas to the misery and sufferings of embodied existence it follows logically that the removal of these latter is possible only when the union is dissolved by the destruction of Avidyā. The union is the sole cause of bondage. Its dissolution must therefore be the only means available for Emancipation or Kaivalya of the Seer. The bondage is maintained by the Puruṣa identifying himself with his vehicles right from the Ātmic to the physical plane. The release is brought about by his disentangling himself in consciousness from his vehicles one after another until he stands free from them, even though using them merely as instruments.

It should be clearly understood that the dissociation of consciousness from a particular vehicle is not merely a matter of understanding brought about by a process of reasoning and intellectual analysis; though such efforts can help us to a certain extent in relation to our lower vehicles. The illusion is destroyed completely and in the real sense only when the Yogi is able to leave the vehicle at will in Samādhi and to look down upon it, as it were, from a higher plane. Then he realizes definitely that he is different from that particular vehicle and can never, after such an experience, identify himself with that vehicle as has been explained in dealing with II-6. The process of separating off the vehicle and disentangling consciousness from it is repeated over and over again on the superphysical planes until the last vehicle—the Ātmic—is transcended in Nirbīja Samādhi and the Puruṣa stands free (Svarūpe’vasthdnam) ‘in his own-form’. It will be seen, therefore, that the discarding of the successive vehicles of consciousness on the subtler planes, which can be done through the practice of Samādhi is the only way of destroying Asmitā and Avidyā and people who think that by merely repeating mentally formulas like Ahaṃ Brahmāsmi (I am Brahman) or by trying to imagine themselves separate from their vehicles they can gain Self-realization do not really know the nature of the task which they are trying to accomplish. It is really amazing to what extent people can over-simplify problems and hypnotize themselves into believing that their generally trivial experiences mean realization of the Ultimate Truth.

Viveka-khyātir aviplavā hānopāyaḥ.

discriminative cognition; awareness of the distinction between the Self and the not-Self; awareness of Reality unbroken; unfluctuating; unfailing; incessant the means of avoidance; the means of abolition; remedy; the means of dispersion.

26. The uninterrupted practice of the awareness of the Real is the means of dispersion (of Avidyā).

Having given in the previous Sūtra the general principle underlying the destruction of Avidyā the author gives in this Sūtra the practical method which has to be adopted to bring this about. The method prescribed is the practice of uninterrupted Viveka-Khyāti. What is this Viveka-Khyāti? Viveka means, of course, discrimination between the Real and the unreal and the general idea underlying this word is familiar to students of Yogic philosophy. Khyāti is usually translated as knowledge or consciousness. So Viveka-Khyāti means knowledge of the discrimination between the Real and the unreal. As this does not make much sense let us examine the two words Viveka and Khyāti more fully.

Viveka is generally used for that state of the mind in which it is aware of the great problems of life and the illusions which are inherent in ordinary human life. In the state of Aviveka we take everything as a matter of course. The great problems of life do not exist for us, or if they do, they are of mere academic interest. There is no desire to question life, to see beyond its ordinary illusions, to discriminate between the things of real and permanent value and those of passing interest. When the light of Viveka dawns on the mind all this changes. We become very much alive to the fundamental problems of life, begin to question life’s values and detach ourselves from the current of ordinary thoughts and desires, and above all, we want to find that Reality which is hidden behind the flux of phenomena. This is not a mere process of thinking but an illuminated state of the mind. It may come temporarily as a result of some shock in life or may grow naturally and become a permanent feature of our outlook on life.

When it is a normal feature of our life it is really the harbinger of the spiritual development which is to follow. The soul is awakening from its long spiritual sleep and now wants to find itself. It has reached maturity and wants to come into its Divine heritage. Ordinary Viveka is merely a symptom of these changes which are taking place in the recesses of the soul.

Now, the point to be noted here is that this kind of Viveka is only a reflection of the spiritual consciousness into the lower mind, a sensing, as it were, of the Reality hidden within us. It is not an actual awareness of Reality. Viveka-Khyāti is an actual awareness of Reality, a direct, immediate contact with the innermost spiritual consciousness, Pratyakṣa knowledge of Reality. What the sense of touch is to the sense of sight that is Viveka to Viveka-Khyāti. In the case of the former we merely sense the Reality within us more or less dimly. In the case of the latter we are in direct contact with it though in different degrees.

The awareness of Reality or Viveka-Khyāti is the opposite of Avidyā—lack of awareness of Reality, the two being related to each other as light and darkness. When the Puruṣa is fully aware of Reality he is out of the dominion of Avidyā. When he loses this awareness he relapses into Avidyā and the other Kleśas. It will be seen that real discrimination between the Real and the unreal is possible only when we have experienced Reality and know both the Real and the unreal. When a beginner is asked to discriminate between the Real and the unreal what is really meant is that he should learn to discriminate between the things of permanent value in life and those which are transitory.

In the light of what has been said above the meaning of the Sūtra we are dealing with should become clear. Since Avidyā can be overcome only by the awareness of Reality the cultivation of the latter obviously is the only means whereby release from bondage can be achieved. The significance of the word Aviplavā is, of course, apparent. The awareness must be continuous, undisturbed. It is only then that Kaivalya may be considered to be attained. A mere glimpse of Reality does not constitute Kaivalya although it certainly shows that the goal is near. The Puruṣa must have reached the stage where this awareness can no longer be obscured even temporarily by Avidyā. This point is developed more fully in the last Section.

Taṣya saptadhā prānta-bhūmiḥ prajñā.

His (Puruṣa’s) sevenfold a definite stage; step; layer; bordering’ province the cognitive consciousness.

27. In his case the highest stage of Enlightenment is reached by seven stages.

This Sūtra merely points out that the state of uninterrupted awareness of Reality is attained through seven stages. After the Yogi has obtained his first glimpse of Reality he has to pass through seven stages of increasing awareness before he reaches the final goal of Kaivalya. The word Prānta-bhūmiḥ is used to indicate that progress through these stages does not take place by sudden jumps, as it were, but by gradual transition from one stage to another like traversing a country divided into seven adjacent provinces.

A good deal of rigmarole has been written in explaining this Sūtra by some commentators. It is quite natural that the process of attaining full Enlightenment should be gradual and should be attained by stages. But to identify these transcendent changes in consciousness with ordinary processes of thinking as has been done by some commentators is really absurd. It is better to leave the problem as it is, as a matter of transcendent experiences which cannot be interpreted in terms of the thinking processes.

Yogāṅgānuṣṭhānād aśuddhi-kṣaye jñāna-dīptir ā viveka-khyāteḥ.

(of) component parts of Yoga; (exercises) or steps of Yoga by practice or following of impurity on the destruction (the idea is of gradual diminishing) knowledge (spiritual knowledge) shining forth; radiance till awareness of Reality or discriminative knowledge (arises).

28. From the practice of the component exercises of Yoga, on the destruction of impurity, arises spiritual illumination which develops into awareness of Reality.

II-28 deals with the problem of guidance needed on the path of Yoga. It has been said already that ordinary Viveka is an expression of the spiritual consciousness hidden behind the mind. If it is real it gives a sufficiently strong urge to the aspirant to take to the path of Yoga and adopt its discipline. But it is not sufficiently definite to lead him on the path of Yoga and to provide him with the necessary guidance in the mysterious realm of the Unknown. Where is this guidance to come from? According to this Sūtra guidance on the path of Yoga comes from within in the form of spiritual illumination. This light of spiritual consciousness which is akin to intuition but more definite in its working appears only when the impurities of the mind have been destroyed to a great extent as result of practising Yogic discipline. This inner light of wisdom has been given many beautiful and suggestive names such as ‘The Voice of the Silence’, ‘Light on the Path’ and perhaps the most graphic and illuminative description of its nature and mode of expression is found in the little book Light on the Path by Mabel Collins.

There are two points which the Sādhaka must note with regard to this Jñāna-dīpti. The first is that this light comes from within and makes him, to a great extent, independent of external guidance. The more we penetrate into the deeper recesses of our consciousness the more we have to rely upon our own inner resources since nothing outside can help us. In a way, a Sādhaka becomes really qualified to tread the path of Yoga only after this inner light appears within his mind. All preliminary training in Yoga is meant to provide him with this inner source of illumination. All teachers who help him in the early stages have this as their main objective so that he may be able to stand on his own legs.

The second point to note in this connection is that this inner light of wisdom continues to grow and provide guidance until the stage of Viveka-Khyāti is reached. That is the significance of the word Ā preceding the word Viveka-Khyāti in the Sūtra. The light grows stronger and stronger as the Sādhaka makes progress on the Path and draws near to his goal, until he gains his first experience of Reality. Then, of course, the light of spiritual wisdom becomes unnecessary as far as he is concerned because he is now in the primary source of inner Illumination, the Enlightenment of Reality itself. It will be seen that ordinary Viveka, Jñāna-dipti, Viveka-Khyāti are manifestations in different degrees of the same Light which shines in its fullest and uninterrupted splendour in Kaivalya. Viveka enables the Sādhaka to enter the path of Yoga, Jñāna-dipti enables him to tread it safely and steadily, Viveka-Khyāti gives him the experience of Reality and Kaivalya sees him established in that Reality permanently.

The philosophy of Kleśas which has been expounded by Patañjali in such a masterly manner in the first portion of Section II deals with the great problem of human life completely and effectively. It goes to the root-cause of human bondage and suffering and prescribes a remedy which is not only effective but brings about a permanent cure. This philosophy should therefore be considered not as a mere accessory but an integral part of Yogic philosophy, upon which alone a stable structure of Yogic life can be built. Those who come to Yoga out of curiosity drop out sooner or later unable to bear its ceaseless strain and the ruthless stripping of the personality which is involved. Some come driven by vulgar ambition and a spirit of self-aggrandizement. Their career, if it is not cut short in some way, generally ends in disaster or leads them to the Left-hand path, which is worse. A few come to Yoga because they find that it is the only means of securing release from the limitations and illusions of human life and its miseries. They have understood thoroughly the philosophy of Kleśas and even Siddhis or other attractions of the Yogic life have no power to hold them back or make them tarry in the illusions of the higher realms. They are the only people who are really qualified to tread this path.

Yama-niyamāsana-prāṇāyāma-pratyāhāra-dhāraṇā-dhyāna-samādhayo’ṣṭāv aṅgāni.

Self-restraints; vows of abstention fixed observances; binding rules which must be observed posture regulation of breath abstraction concentration; holding on to one idea or object in the mind or by the mind meditation; contemplation (‘con-templa-tion’ which means working out an area, a templum for observation fits in with the difinition of in the text and concentration which means confining to a centre fits in with the definition of as given in the text. Yet, on the whole, considering the conventional uses of the two words it seems best to render by concentration and by contemplation) (and) trance (are) the eight limbs; constituent parts.

29. Self-restraints, fixed observances, posture, regulation of breath, abstraction, concentration, contemplation, trance are the eight parts (of the self discipline of Yoga).

The system of Yoga put forward by Patañjali has eight parts and is therefore called Aṣṭāṅga Yoga. Other systems which are based on a different technique naturally adopt other classifications and have therefore a different number of Aṅgas. This Sūtra merely enumerates the eight constituent parts of this system of Yoga.

The only point which is worth considering in this Sūtra is whether the eight Aṅgas in this system are to be taken as independent parts or as stages which follow each other in natural sequence. The use of the word Aṅgas which means limbs implies that they are to be taken as related but non-sequential parts, but the manner in which Patañjali has dealt with them in the text shows that they have a certain sequential relationship. Anyone who examines carefully the nature of these parts cannot fail to see that they are related to one another in a definite manner and follow one another in a natural manner in the order in which they are given above. In systematic practice of higher Yoga, therefore, they have to be taken in the sense of stages and the order in which they are given has to be adhered to, as far as possible. But, as a Sādhaka can take up for practice any of the Aṅgas without adhering to this sequence these parts may be considered independent also to some extent.

Ahiṃsā-satyāsteya-brahmacaryāparigrahā yamāḥ.

non-violence; harmlessness truthfulness honesty; non-misappropriativeness sexual continence (and) non-possessiveness; non-acquisitiveness (are) self-restraints; vows of abstention.

30. Vows of self-restraint comprise abstention from violence, falsehood, theft, incontinence and acquisitiveness.

Yama and Niyama the first two Aṅgas of Yoga are meant to provide an adequate moral foundation for the Yogic training. The very fact that they are placed before the other Aṅgas shows their basic character. Before dealing with the moral qualities and general mode of life which are implied in Yama-Niyama it is necessary to explain a few things about the place of morality in the Yogic life.

Incredible as it may sound, morality of a high order is not always necessary for the practice of Yoga. There are two kinds of Yoga—lower and higher. The lower has for its object the development of certain psychic faculties and supernormal powers and for this the transcendent morality implied in Yama-Niyama is not at all necessary; in fact, it acts as a hindrance because it causes inner conflict and prevents the Yogi from going ahead with his pursuit of personal power and ambitions. There are a large number of Yogis scattered throughout India, Tibet and other countries who undoubtedly possess supernormal powers and faculties but who are not distinguishable from the ordinary man of the world by any special moral or spiritual traits of character. Some of these men are good people, self-centred or vain but harmless. Others, of another class, cannot be considered innocent and harmless. They are prone to take part in questionable activities and under provocation can cause injury to those who cross their path. There is a third class of Yogis who definitely tread the Left-hand path and are called Brothers of the Shadow. They have powers of various kinds developed to a high degree, and unscrupulous and dangerous, though outwardly they may adopt a mode of life which makes them appear religious. But anyone in whom intuition is developed can spot these people and distinguish them from the followers of the Right-hand path by their tendency to cruelty, unscrupulousness and conceit.

The higher Yoga which is expounded in the Yoga-sūtras should be distinguished very carefully from the lower Yoga referred to above. It has for its objective not the development of powers which can be used for self-aggrandizement or satisfaction of conceit but Enlightenment and consequent freedom from the illusions and limitations of the lower life. Since in gaining this Enlightenment the Sādhaka has to undergo certain physical and mental disciplines which are the same as those adopted by the followers of the Left-hand path, the two paths seem to run parallel for some distance. But the time comes at an early stage when the paths begin to diverge rapidly. One leads to an ever-increasing concentration of power in the individual and his isolation from the One Life, the other to the progressive merging of the individual consciousness in the One Consciousness and freedom from bondage and illusion. The hope of the former is naturally very limited and confined to the realm of the intellect while there is no limit to the achievement of the Yogi on the other.

On the path of higher Yoga morality of a high order is essential and it is a morality not of the conventional type, not even of ordinary religious type. It is a transcendent morality based on the higher laws of Nature and organized with a view to bring about the liberation of the individual from the bonds of illusion and ignorance. Its object is not to achieve limited happiness within the illusions of the lower life but to gain true and lasting happiness or Peace by transcending those illusions. This is a point which must be clearly understood because to many students of Yogic philosophy Yogic morality appears to be unnecessarily harsh and forbidding. They cannot understand why it should not be possible to practise a morality which will allow us to have reasonable enjoyments of the worldly life as well as the peace and knowledge of the higher, the best of both the worlds as we say. According to some, Brahmacarya should be compatible with moderate sexual indulgence. Ahiṃsā should allow one to defend oneself against attacks from others. Such compromises with the demands of Yogic morality seem quite reasonable from the worldly standpoint, but anyone who studies the philosophy of Yoga carefully will see the utter futility of trying to keep a hold on this world while trying to conquer the Great Illusion. Not that it is not possible to practise Yoga at all without giving up these things entirely but the progress of the Sādhaka is bound to stop at one stage or another if he tries to make these compromises.

Another important point to understand with regard to Yogic morality is that the virtues which are prescribed have a much wider scope and deeper significance than what appears on the surface. Each virtue included in Yama, for example, is a typical representative of a class of virtues which have to be practised to a high degree of perfection. The injunction against killing, stealing, lying, etc., under Yama does not seem to represent a very high standard of morality even from ordinary standards. Any decent and good individual is expected to abstain from such anti-social conduct. Where is then the high standard of morality which is demanded by higher Yoga? In order to remove this doubt it is necessary to remember, as has been pointed out above, that each virtue is more comprehensive in its meaning than what it is generally considered to be. Thus Ahiṃsā does not mean merely abstaining from murder but not wilfully inflicting any injury, suffering or pain on any living creature, by word, thought or action. Ahiṃsā thus stands for the highest degree of harmlessness which is found only among saints and sages and any ordinary person trying to practise it seriously in his life will soon begin to feel that perfect harmlessness is an unrealizable ideal. The same holds true in the case of the other virtues comprised in Yama. To what degree of perfection these virtues can be developed is shown in the eleven Sūtras, II (35-45).

It should thus be clear that the morality enjoined in Yama-Niyama, though apparently simple, represents a very drastic ethical code and is designed to serve as a sufficiently strong foundation for the life of higher Yoga. It does not deal with the superficial aberrations and failings of human nature nor is its purpose to make a good, social, law-abiding individual. It goes to the very bedrock of human nature and lays the foundation of the Yogic life there, so that it may be able to bear the enormous weight of the sky-scraper which Yogic life really is.

The main object of this relentless ethical code is to eliminate completely all mental and emotional disturbances which characterize the life of an ordinary human being. Anyone who is familiar with the working of the human mind should not find it difficult to understand that no freedom from emotional and mental disturbances is possible until the tendencies dealt with under Yama-Niyama have been rooted out or, at least, mastered to a sufficient degree. Hatred, dishonesty, deception, sensuality, possessiveness are some of the common and ingrained vices of the human race and as long as a human being is subject to these vices in their crude or subtle forms so long will his mind remain a prey to violent or hardly perceptible emotional disturbances which have their ultimate source in these vices. And, as long as these disturbances continue to affect the mind it is useless to undertake the more systematic and advanced practice of Yoga.

After this general consideration of Yama-Niyama let us discuss briefly the significance of the five moral qualities given in II-30 under Yama. Since this is a matter which is of the greatest importance to the beginner it may be discussed in some detail

Ahiṃsā: Ahiṃsā really denotes an attitude and mode of behaviour towards all living creatures based on the recognition of the underlying unity of life. As Yogic philosophy is based on the doctrine of the One Life it is easy to see why our outer behaviour should be made to conform to this all-embracing Law of Life. If we understand this principle thoroughly the application of the ideal in our life will become much easier.

There are many people who, without making any earnest effort to practise Ahiṃsā, start raising imaginary problems and enter into academic discussions as to what Ahiṃsā really is and how far it is practicable in life. This is essentially a wrong approach to the problem because no hard and fast rules can be laid down in this as in other matters related to our conduct. Each situation in life is unique and requires a fresh and vital approach. What is right under a particular set of circumstances cannot be determined in a mechanical fashion by weighing all the facts and striking a balance. The correct insight into right action under every set of circumstances is the result of a developed and purified Buddhi or discriminative faculty and this function of Buddhi, unhindered by the complexes in our mind, is possible only after prolonged training in doing the right thing at all costs. It is only by doing the right that we get added strength to do right in the future and also acquire the capacity to see what is right. There is no other way. So the Sādhaka who wishes to perfect himself in the practice of Ahiṃsā leaves all academic considerations aside, keeps a strict watch over his mind, emotions, words and actions and starts regulating them in accordance with his ideal. Slowly, as he succeeds in putting his ideal into practice, the cruelties and injustices involved in his thoughts, actions and words will gradually reveal themselves, his vision will clear up and the right course of conduct under every set of circumstances will become known intuitively. And gradually, this seemingly negative ideal of harmlessness will transform itself into the positive and dynamic life of love both in its aspect of tender compassion towards all living creatures and its practical form, service.

Satya: The second moral quality denoted by the word Satya has also to be taken in a far more comprehensive sense than mere truthfulness. It means strict avoidance of all exaggerations, equivocation, pretence and similar faults which are involved in saying or doing things which are not in strict accordance with what we know as true. Downright lying is considered bad in civilized society but there are many variants of untruthfulness in speech and action which are not regarded as reprehensible in our conventional life. But all these must be completely eliminated from the life of the Sādhaka.

Why is truthfulness essential for the Yogic life? Firstly, because untruthfulness in all its various forms creates all kinds of unnecessary complications in our life and so is a constant source of disturbance to the mind. To the foolish man whose intuition has become clouded lying is one of the simplest and easiest means of getting out of an undesirable situation or difficulty. He is unable to see that in avoiding one difficulty in this manner he creates many others of a more serious nature. Anyone who decides to keep a watchful eye on his thoughts and actions will notice that usually one lie requires a number of other lies for its support and in spite of all his efforts, in most cases, circumstances take such an unexpected turn that the lie is exposed sooner or later. This effort to keep up falsehoods and false appearances causes a peculiar strain in our sub-conscious mind and provides a congenial soil for all kinds of emotional disturbances. Of course, these things are not noticed by the ordinary man living a life of conventional falsehoods. It is only when he begins to practise truthfulness that the subtler forms of untruthfulness begin to reveal themselves to his eye. It is a law of Nature that we become aware of the subtler forms of any vice when we have eliminated its grosser forms.

Apart from the considerations given above, truthfulness has to be practised by the Sādhaka because it is absolutely necessary for the unfoldment of Buddhi or intuition. The Yogi has to face many problems, the solution of which cannot be found either in reference books or conclusions based on correct thinking. The only means at his disposal to solve such problems is an unclouded or pure Buddhi or intuition. Now, there is nothing which clouds the intuition and practically stops its functioning in this manner as untruthfulness in all its forms. A person who starts practising Yoga without first acquiring the virtue of utter truthfulness is like a man going for exploration into a jungle at night without any light. He has nothing to guide him in his difficulties and the illusions created by the Brothers of the Shadow are sure to lead him astray. That is why the Yogi must first put on the armour of perfect truthfulness in thought, word and deed, for no illusions can pierce such an armour.

Leaving these utilitarian considerations aside the absolute necessity of leading a perfectly straightforward life for the Yogi follows from the very nature of the Reality upon which the Universe and our life are based. This Reality in its essential nature is Love and Truth and expresses itself through the great fundamental laws of Love and Truth which ultimately conquer everything. The outer and inner life of the Yogi who is seeking this, Reality must, therefore, conform strictly to these basic laws of Nature if his efforts are to be crowned with success. Anything which is against the law of Love puts us out of harmony with this law and we are pulled back sooner or later at the cost of much suffering to ourselves—that is why Ahiṃsā is enjoined. Similarly untruthfulness in any form puts us out of harmony with the fundamental law of Truth and creates a kind of mental and emotional strain which prevents us from harmonizing and tranquillizing our mind.

Asteya: Asteya literally means abstaining from stealing. Here also we have to take the word in a very comprehensive sense and not merely interpret it in terms of the penal code. Few people who have developed some moral sense will go to the length of actual stealing but there are very few who can be considered quite guiltless from the strictly moral point of view. This is so because many indirect and subtle forms of misappropriation are connived at in our conventional life and our rather insensitive conscience does not feel appreciably disturbed when we take part in these shady transactions. The so-called civilized man will not allow himself to put a silver spoon in his pocket when he goes out to a public dinner but his conscience may not prick him adequately when he gives or receives gratification for doing his duty.

Asteya should really not be interpreted as abstaining from stealing but abstaining from misappropriation of all kinds. The would-be Yogi cannot allow himself to take anything which does not properly belong to him, not only in the way of money or goods but even such intangible and yet highly prized things as credit for things he has not done or privileges which do not properly belong to him. It is only when a person succeeds in eliminating to a certain extent this tendency towards misappropriation in its cruder forms that he begins to discover the subtler forms of dishonesty which are woven in our life and of which we are hardly conscious. The aspirant who intends to tread the path of higher Yoga has to proceed systematically in the gradual elimination of these undesirable tendencies until their last traces have been removed and the mind rendered pure and in consequence tranquil. He should practise these prescribed virtues as a fine art aiming at greater and greater refinement in the application of the moral principles to the problems of his daily life.

Brahmacarya: Of all the virtues enjoined in Yama-Niyama this appears to be the most forbidding and many earnest students who are deeply interested in Yogic philosophy fight shy of its practical application in their life because they are afraid they will have to give up the pleasures of sex-indulgence. Many Western writers have tried to solve the problem by suggesting a liberal interpretation of Brahmacarya and taking it to mean not complete abstinence but regulated moderate indulgence within lawful wedlock. The Eastern student who is more familiar with the traditions and actual conditions of Yogic practice does not make this mistake. He knows that the real Yogic life cannot be combined with the self-indulgence and waste of vital force which is involved in the pleasures of sex life and he has to choose between the two. He may not be required to give up sex life all at once but he has to give it up completely before he can start the serious practice of higher Yoga as distinguished from mere theoretical study or even Yogic practices of a preparatory nature.

To the serious and advanced student this desire to combine the enjoyments of the worldly life with the peace and transcendent knowledge of the higher life seems rather pathetic and shows the absence of a true sense of values with regard to the realities of the Yogic life and therefore unfitness for leading this life. Those who can equate or even consider comparable sensual enjoyments with the peace and bliss of the higher life for which the Yogi strives and can consequently hesitate in giving up the former, have yet to develop the strong intuition which tells them unequivocally that they have to sacrifice a mere shadow for the real thing, a passing sensation for life’s greatest gift. Let the student who feels hesitation in giving up such enjoyments of the senses or seeks a compromise, honestly ask himself whether he believes that a person who is a slave of his passions is really fit to embark on this divine adventure and the answer that he will get from within will be clear and unequivocal.

So this is the first thing which must be clearly understood jvith regard to Brahmacarya. The practice of higher Yoga requires complete abstinence from sex life and no compromise on this point is possible. Of course, there are many Aṅgas of Yoga which the would-be Yogi can practise, to some extent, by way of preparation, but he must definitely and systematically prepare to give up completely not only physical indulgence but even thoughts and emotions connected with the pleasures of sex.

The second point to note in this connection is that Brahmacarya in its wider sense stands not only for abstinence from sexual indulgence but freedom from craving for all kinds of sensual enjoyments. The pursuit of sensual pleasures is so much a part of our life and we depend to such an extent on these for our happiness that it is considered quite natural and blameless for anybody to indulge in these enjoyments within the limits of moderation and social obligations. The use of scents, indulgence in the pleasures of the palate, wearing furs and similar pleasures of the senses are so common that no blame attaches to the pursuit of such enjoyments even where they involve terrible suffering to countless living creatures. It is all taken as a matter of course and very few people ever give even a passing thought to these things. And for the man who is leading the ordinary life in the world moderate enjoyments of a kind which do not involve any suffering to other creatures do not really matter. They are a part of the normal life at his stage of evolution. But for the would-be Yogi these seemingly innocent enjoyments are harmful, not because there is anything ‘sinful’ about them, but because they carry with them the potentiality for constant mental and emotional disturbances. No one who allows himself to be attracted by the ‘objects of the senses’ can hope to be free from the worries and anxieties which characterize the life of the worldly man. Besides being a source of constant mental disturbance the pursuit of sensual enjoyments tends to undermine the will and to keep up an attitude of mind which militates against a whole-hearted pursuit of the Yogic ideal.

It is, however, necessary to understand what is really to be aimed at in giving up sensual enjoyments. As long as we are living in the world and moving among all kinds of objects which affect the sense-organs we cannot avoid feeling sensuous pleasures of various kinds. When we eat tasty food we cannot help feeling a certain amount of sensuous pleasure:—it is the natural result of the food coming in contact with the taste-buds and arousing particular sensations. Has the Yogi then to attempt the impossible task of shutting out all pleasurable sensations? No! not at all. The trouble lies not in feeling the sensation which is quite natural and in itself harmless but in the craving for the repetition of the experiences which involve pleasurable sensations. It is that which has to be guarded against and rooted out because it is the desire (Kāma) which disturbs the mind and creates Saṃskāras and not the actual sensation. The Yogi moves among all kinds of objects as anybody else but his mind is not attached to objects which give pleasure or repelled from objects which give pain. He is, therefore, unaffected by the presence or absence of different kinds of objects. The contact with an object produces a particular sensation but the matter ends there.

But this condition of non-attachment can be attained only after a very prolonged and severe self-discipline and renunciation of all kinds of objects which give pleasure, though in the case of some exceptional Sādhakas who bring powerful Saṃskāras from past lives it comes naturally and easily. There are some people who allow themselves to remain under the self-deception that they are unattached to enjoyments of the senses even though they continue outwardly to indulge in them. It will help these people to destroy this self-deception if they ask themselves seriously why they continue to indulge in those pleasures if they have really outgrown them. The fact is that for the ordinary Sādhaka it is only by renouncing pleasures of the senses that indifference towards them can be developed and tested. Austerity is thus a necessary part of the Yogic discipline. Those who allow themselves to lead the soft life of sensual pleasures under the illusion that ‘these things do not touch them’ are merely postponing the effort for the earnest pursuit of the Yogic ideal. To the worldly-minded this austerity appears forbidding if not meaningless and they frequently wonder what the Yogi really lives for. But to the Yogi this freedom from attachment brings an undefinable peace of mind and inner strength beside which the enjoyments of the senses appear intolerable.

Aparigraha: Aparigrdha is sometimes translated as absence of greediness but non-possessiveness perhaps gives the underlying idea better. In order to understand why it is essential for the would-be Yogi to eliminate this tendency in his life we have only to consider the tremendous bias which it gives to our life. The tendency to accumulate worldly goods is so strong that it may be considered almost a basic instinct in human life. Of course, as long as we live in the physical world we have to have a few things which are essential for the maintenance of the body, although essential and non-essential are relative terms and there seems to be no limit to the cutting down of even what are considered the necessities of life. But we are not satisfied with the necessities of life. We must have things which may be classed as luxuries. These are not necessary for keeping body and soul together but are meant to increase our comforts and enjoyments. We do not, however, stop even at luxuries. When we have at our disposal all the means that can ensure all possible comforts and enjoyments for the rest of our life we are still not satisfied and continue to amass wealth and things. One would think that a palace should suffice for the real needs of a human being but one who has a palace is not satisfied and wants to build a few more. Of course, these extra things do not serve any purpose except that of satisfying our childish vanity and desire to appear superior to our fellow men. There is no limit to our desire for wealth and the material things which we like to have around us and obviously, therefore, we are dealing here with an instinct which has no relation with reason or commonsense.

Apart from the complications which this human instinct causes in the world in the social and economic fields which we need not discuss here, its effect on the life of the individual is of a nature which makes its elimination for the would-be Yogi an absolute necessity. Let us consider a few of the factors which are involved. First, you have to spend time and energy in the accumulation of things which you do not really need. Then you have to spend time and energy in maintaining and guarding the things which you have accumulated, the worries and anxieties of life increasing proportionately with the increase in the accumulations. Then consider the constant fear of losing the things, the pain and anguish of actually losing some of them every now and then and the regret of leaving them behind when you ultimately bid goodbye to this world. Now add up all these things and see what a colossal waste of time, energy and mental force all this involves. No one who is at all serious about the solution of the deeper problems of life can afford to squander his limited resources in this manner. So the would-be Yogi cuts down his possessions and requirements to the minimum and eliminates from his life all these unnecessary accumulations and activities which fritter away his energies and are a source of constant disturbance to the mind. He remains satisfied with what comes to him in the natural course of the working of the law of Karma.

It may be pointed out, however, that it is really not the quantity of things by which we are surrounded but our attitude towards them which matters. For there may be only a few things in our possession and yet the instinct of possessiveness may be very strong. On the other hand, we may be rolling in wealth and yet be free from any sense of possession. Many interesting stories are told in the Hindu scriptures to illustrate this point, the story of Janaka who lived in a palace and the hermit who lived in a hut being well known. It is possible to live in the most luxurious circumstances with no feeling of possession and readiness to part with everything without the slightest hesitation. But though this is possible it is not easy and the would-be Yogi would do well to cut out all unnecessary things, for it is only in this way he can learn to live the simple and austere life. Even if he is not attached to his possessions he will have to spend time and energy in maintaining the paraphernalia and this he cannot afford to do.

But it must be clearly understood that the necessity for cultivating this virtue lies chiefly in ensuring a state of mind which is free from attachments. The additional advantages which have been referred to above, though important, are of a subsidiary nature.

Jāti-deśa-kāla-samayānavacchinnāḥ sār-vabhaumā mahā-vratam.

(by) class; birth-type place time (and) occasion; circumstance; condition not-limited, qualified or conditioned extending or applying to all stages; the Great Vow.

31. These (the five vows), not conditioned by class, place, time or occasion and extending to all stages constitute the Great Vow.

After giving the five basic virtues which have to be practised by the would-be Yogi in II-30, Patañjali lays down another principle in the next Sūtra the importance of which is not generally realized. In the practising of any virtue there are occasions when doubts arise whether it is feasible or advisable to practise that particular virtue in the particular situation which has arisen. Considerations of class, place, time or occasion may be involved in these situations and the Sādhaka may find it difficult to decide what should be done under those circumstances. Take for illustration the following hypothetical situations. A friend of yours whom you know to be innocent is going to be hanged but can be saved if you tell a lie. Should you tell that lie? (occasion). Accumulation of wealth and its proper distribution is the Dharma of a Vaiśya according to Hindu Varṇāśrama Dharma. Should a Vaiśya who aspires to be a Yogi, therefore, relax his vow with regard to Aparigraha, and continue to amass wealth? (class). Your country is at war with another. Should you join the army and agree to kill the nationals of the enemy as you are required to do? (time). You have to go to the Arctic region where it is necessary to kill animals for food. Are you free to modify your vow with regard to Ahimsā in the peculiar circumstances in which you are placed? (place). Hundreds of such questions are bound to arise in the life of the would-be Yogi and he may sometimes be in doubt whether the five vows are to be practised strictly or exceptions can be made under special circumstances. This Sūtra sets at rest all such doubts by making it absolutely clear that no exceptions can be allowed in the practice of the Great Vow as the five vows are called collectively. He may be put to great inconvenience, he may have to pay great penalties in the observance of these vows—even the extreme penalty of death—but none of these vows may be broken under any conditions. Even if life has to be sacrificed in the observance of his vow he should go through the ordeal cheerfully in the firm conviction that the tremendous influx of spiritual power which is bound to take place under these conditions will far outweigh the loss of a single life. He who is out to unravel the Ultimate Mystery of life has to risk his life in doing the right on many occasions, and considering the tremendous nature of the achievement which is at stake the loss of one or two lives does not matter. Besides, he should know that in a Universe governed by Law and based on Justice no real harm can come to a person who tries to do the right. When he has to suffer under these circumstances it is usually due to past Karma and it is therefore better to go through the unpleasant experience and have done with the Kārmic obligation for good. Usually, the problems which arise are meant only to test us to the utmost and when we show our determination to do the right thing at any cost they are resolved in the most unexpected manner.

While, in one way, this uncompromising adherence to one’s principles makes the observance of the Great Vow not an easy matter and may involve great hardships on occasions, in another way, it simplifies the problem of our life and conduct to a very great extent. It eliminates completely the difficulty of deciding what has to be done under all kinds of situations in which the Sādhaka may find himself. The universality of the Vow leaves no loop-holes through which his mind may tempt him to escape and his course of action on most occasions will be quite clear. He can follow the right path unhesitatingly, knowing that there is no other path open to him.

It should be noted, however, that though there is insistence on doing the right, the interpretation of what is right is always left to his discretion. He has to do what he thinks to be right, not what others tell him. If he does wrong, thinking it to be right, nature will teach him through suffering but the will do to the right at any cost will progressively clear his vision and lead him to the stage where he can see the right unerringly. Seeing the right depends upon doing the right. Hence the tremendous importance of righteousness in the life of the Yogi.

Śauca-saṃtoṣa-tapaḥ-svādhyāyeśvara-praṇidhānāni niyamāḥ.

purity; cleanliness contentment austerity self-study; study which leads to knowledge of the Self (and) self-surrender; resignation to God (fixed) observances.

32. Purity, contentment, austerity, self-study and self-surrender constitute observances.

We now come to Niyama the second Aṅga of Yogic discipline which serves to lay the foundation of the Yogic life. Before we deal with the five elements of Niyama enumerated in this Sūtra it is necessary to consider the distinction between Yama and Niyama. Superficially examined, Yama and Niyama both seem to have a common purpose—the transmutation of the lower nature so that it may serve properly as a vehicle of the Yogic life. But a closer study of the elements included under the two heads will reveal at once the difference in the general nature of the practices enjoined for bringing about the necessary changes in the character of the Sādhaka. The practices included in Yama are, in a general way, moral and prohibitive while those in Niyama are disciplinal and constructive. The former aim at laying the ethical foundation of the Yogic life and the latter at organizing the life of the Sādhaka for the highly strenuous Yogic discipline which is to follow.

This difference in the general purpose of Yama and Niyama involves a corresponding difference in the nature of the practices themselves. In the observance of the Great Vow connected with Yama the Sādhaka is not required to do anything. Day after day, he is required to react to the incidents and events in his life in a well-defined manner, but the number and character of the occasions which will arise in his life requiring the exercise of the five virtues will naturally depend upon his circumstances. If, for example, he goes and lives alone in a jungle as an ascetic there will hardly arise any occasion for putting the virtues into practice. The Great Vow will be binding on him always, but if we may say so, will remain inoperative for want of opportunities for its practice.

Not so in the case of Niyama which involves practices which have to be gone through regularly, day after day, whatever the circumstances in which the Sādhaka is placed. Even if he is living alone completely isolated from all social relationships the necessity for going through these practices will remain as great as when he was living in the busy haunts of men.

Śauca: The first element of Niyama is Śauca or purity. Before we can understand how the problem of purifying our nature is to be tackled we should clarify our ideas with regard to purity. What is purity? According to the Yogic philosophy the whole of the Universe, seen or unseen, is a manifestation of the Divine Life and pervaded by the Divine Consciousness. To the Enlightened sage or saint who has had the Divine vision everything from an atom to the Iśvara of a Brahmāṇḍa is a vehicle of the Divine Life and therefore pure and sacred. From this higher point of view nothing can therefore be considered impure in the absolute sense. So, when we use the words pure and impure in relation to our life we obviously use them in a relative sense. The word purity is used in relation to our vehicles, not only the body which we can cognize with our physical senses but also the superphysical vehicles which serve as the instruments of emotion, thought and other spiritual faculties. A thing is pure in relation to a vehicle if it enables or helps the vehicle to serve efficiently as an instrument of the Divine Life expressing through it at the particular stage of evolution. It is impure if it hinders the full expression of that life or offers impediments in the exercise of the vehicle’s functions. Purity is, therefore, nothing absolute, only functional and related to the next stage of evolution which life is seeking to attain. Purification, therefore, means elimination from the vehicles belonging to an individual of all those elements and conditions which prevent them from exercising their proper functions and attaining the goal in view. For the Yogi this goal is Self-realization through the merging of his individual consciousness with the Consciousness of the Supreme or the attainment of Kaivalya in terms of the Yoga-sūtra. Purification for the Yogi, therefore, means specifically the maintenance and transformation of the vehicles in such a manner that they can serve increasingly to bring about this unification.

Purity, though it is functional, depends to a great extent upon the quality of the material of which a particular vehicle of consciousness is composed. The functional efficiency of the vehicle depends not only upon its structural organization but also upon the nature of the material incorporated in it. The expression of consciousness through a vehicle may be compared to the production of different kinds of sounds by a piece of stretched metallic wire. We know that the sound which is produced depends upon three factors, the nature of the metal, the structure (diameter and length) of the wire and the tension to which it is subjected. In the same way the capacity of a vehicle to respond to different states of consciousness depends upon its material, its structural complexity which increases as a result of evolution, and its sensitiveness.

The reason why the material of the vehicle determines to a certain extent its vibrational capacity lies in the fact that quality of material and vibrational capacity are indissolubly linked in nature, each kind of material responding to a limited range of vibrations. So, if we want to bring down into the lower vehicles the high and subtle vibrations corresponding to the deeper layers of human consciousness we must provide in them the right and corresponding type of material.

All the lower vehicles of a Jivātmā are constantly changing and purification consists in gradually and systematically replacing the comparatively coarse material of the bodies by a more refined type of material. In the case of the physical body purification is a comparatively simple matter and may be brought about by supplying to the body the right kind of material in the form of food and drink. According to the Hindu system of Yogic culture foods and drinks are divided into three classes—Tāmasic, Rājasic and Sāttvic and only those which are considered Sāttvic are allowed to the Yogi who is building a pure and refined physical vehicle. Meat, alcohol and so many other accessories of a modern diet make the physical body utterly useless for the Yogic life and if the aspirant has been coarsening the body through the use of these he will have to go through a prolonged period of careful dieting to get rid of the undesirable material and make the body sufficiently refined.

The purification of the subtler vehicles which serve as instruments for the expression of thoughts and emotions is brought about by a different and more difficult process. In their case the vibrational tendencies are gradually changed by excluding all undesirable thoughts and emotions from the mind and replacing these constantly and persistently by thoughts and emotions of a higher and subtler nature. As the vibrational tendencies of these bodies change the matter of the bodies also changes pari passu and after some time, if the effort is continued long enough, the vehicles are adequately purified. The test of real purification is provided by the normal vibrational tendencies which one finds in the vehicle. A pure mind easily and naturally thinks pure thoughts and feels pure emotions and it becomes difficult for it to entertain undesirable thoughts and emotions in the same way as it is difficult for an impure mind to entertain high and noble thoughts and emotions.

Another device recommended in the Hindu system of spiritual culture for the purification of the subtler vehicles is the constant use of Mantras and prayers. These make the vehicles vibrate frequently at very high rates of frequency, bring about an influx of spiritual forces from the planes above and the agitation thus set in motion, day after day, gradually washes out, as it were, all the undesirable elements from the different vehicles. It will be seen, therefore, that purification or Śauca is a positive practice. It does not take place of itself. One has to go through purificatory exercises, day after day, for long periods of time. That is why it has been included in Niyama.

Saṃtoṣa: The second element of Niyama is Saṃtoṣa which is generally translated as contentment. It is necessary for the aspirant for the Yogic life to cultivate contentment of the highest order because without it there is no possibility of keeping the mind in a condition of equilibrium. The ordinary man living in the world is subjected all day long to all kinds of impacts, and he reacts to these impacts according to his habits, prejudices, training or mood of the moment, according to his nature as we say. These reactions involve in most cases greater or lesser disturbances of the mind, there being hardly any reaction which is not accompanied by a ruffling of the feeling or the mind. The disturbance from one impact has hardly had time to subside before another impact throws it out of equilibrium again. The mind seems to be apparently calm sometimes but this calmness is only superficial. Beneath the surface there is an undercurrent of disturbance like the swell in a superficially calm sea.

This condition of mind which need not necessarily be unpleasant and which is taken as natural by most people is not at all conducive to one-pointedness and as long as it lasts must result in Vikṣepa, the strong tendency of the mind to be outward-turned. So the Sādhaka has to change this state of constant disturbance into a state of constant equilibrium and stillness by a deliberate exercise of the will, meditation and other means that may be available. He aims at attaining a condition in which he remains perfectly calm and serene whatever may happen in the outer world or even in the inner world of his mind. His aim is not merely to acquire the power to quell a mental disturbance if and when it arises but the more rare power to prevent any disturbance taking place at all. He knows that once a disturbance has been allowed to occur it takes far more energy to overcome it completely and, even though outwardly it may disappear quickly, the inner sub-conscious disturbance persists for a long time.

This kind of equanimity can be built only on the foundations of perfect contentment, the capacity to remain satisfied whatever may happen to the Sādhaka. It is an extremely positive and dynamic condition of the mind which has nothing in common with that negative mentality which is based on laziness and lack of initiative and which is rightly held in profound contempt by people in the world. It is based on perfect indifference to all those personal enjoyments, comforts and other considerations which sway mankind. Its object is the attainment of that Peace which takes one completely beyond the realm of illusion and misery.

The cultivation of this supreme contentment and consequent tranquillity of the mind is the result of prolonged self-discipline and going through many experiences which involve pain and suffering. It cannot be acquired by a mere assertion of the will once for all. Habits stronger than nature and habits developed through innumerable lives cannot be changed all at once. That is why constant alertness and training of the mind in maintaining the right attitude is necessary and that is also why this virtue is placed under Niyama.

Tapas and the next two elements of Niyama have already been referred to in II-1 and the reason why they together are called Kriyā-Yoga has been given in dealing with that Sūtra. Tapas is a very comprehensive term and has really no exact English equivalent. It combines in itself the significations of a number of English words: purification, self-discipline, austerity. The word stands for a class of various practices the object of which is to purify and discipline the lower nature and to bring the vehicles of the Jivātmā under the control of an iron will. The meaning of the word is probably derived from the process of subjecting alloyed gold to strong ‘heating’ whereby all the dross is burnt off and pure gold is left behind. In a way the whole science of character building whereby we purify and bring under control our lower vehicles may be considered as a practice of Tapas but in the orthodox sense the word Tapas is used particularly for some specific exercises adopted for the purification and control of the physical body and the development of will-power. These include such practices as fasting, observing vows of various kinds, Prāṇāyāma etc. Some misguided people take the most extraordinary vows in practising Tapas such as holding up the hand and keeping it in that position for a number of years even though it withers. But such foolish practices are considered highly reprehensible in the enlightened schools of Yoga and are called Āsuric, demoniacal.

The systematic practice of Tapas generally begins with simple and easy exercises which require the exertion of will-power and is continued by progressive stages with more difficult exercises, the object of which is to bring about the dissociation of the vehicle from consciousness. In the case of the ordinary man the consciousness is to a great extent identified with the vehicle through which it works. The practice of Tapas gradually loosens up this association, enables the consciousness to be partially separated from the vehicle and this progressive awareness of the vehicle as part of the ‘not-Self’ means attenuation of ‘Asmitā’ or ‘I am this’ consciousness. It is only when this power to dissociate consciousness from the vehicles has been acquired to some extent that the Sādhaka can effectively purify and control the vehicles and use them for the purposes of Yoga.

Svādhyāya: The word Svādhyāya is sometimes used in a limited sense for the study of the sacred scriptures. But this is only a part of the work which has to be done—the first step. The student has naturally first to make himself thoroughly familiar with all the essential literature bearing on the different aspects of Yoga just as he does in the study of any science. In this way he acquires the necessary knowledge of the theoretical principles and practices which are involved in the pursuit of the Yogic ideal. He also gets an idea of the relative values of the different methods and a correct perspective with regard to all matters connected with Yogic practices.

While this study is only theoretical and does not take him very far on the road to Self-realization it is none the less of great value to the student. Many people who set out on this quest have a very vague and confused intellectual background and lack that clear and broad grasp of the subject which is so necessary for steady progress. Being insufficiently equipped with the necessary knowledge concerning the various problems which are involved they are apt to over-simplify these problems and to expect impossible results. Sooner or later they become disheartened and frustrated or fall a prey to those unscrupulous people who pose as great Yogis and promise all kinds of fantastic things to entice people into their fold. A broad and general intellectual background is necessary for achieving success in any sphere of scientific endeavour and since Yoga is a science par excellence it is true of this science also.

But though a thorough and detailed study of Yogic literature is a necessary part of Svādhyāya it is only the first step. The next is constant brooding and reflection over the deeper problems which have been studied in their intellectual aspect through books, etc. This constant reflection prepares the mind for the reception of real knowledge from within. It produces a sort of suctorial action and draws the breath of intuition into the mind. The student thus begins to get a deeper insight into the problems of Yogic life. The clearer the insight into these problems the keener becomes the desire for the real solution, or gaining that transcendent knowledge in the light of which all doubts are completely resolved and the Peace of the Eternal is attained. This brooding and reflection on the great and fundamental truths of life gradually and imperceptibly begins to take the form of meditation in the ordinary sense of the term, that is, the mind becomes increasingly engrossed in the object of the search. This object need not necessarily be an abstract truth of a philosophical nature. It may be an object of devotion with whom the Sādhaka wants to commune and become united. The nature of the object will differ according to the temperament of the individual but the condition of the mind—a state of deep absorption and intense desire to know—will be the same, more or less.

In bringing about this one-pointed state of absorption the use of Mantras is very helpful. The Sādhaka may use the Mantra of his Iṣṭa-Devatā or any of the well-known Mantras like Gāyatri or Prṇava. These Mantras, as has been shown already, harmonize the lower vehicles of consciousness, make them sensitive to the subtler vibrations and ultimately bring about a partial fusion of the lower and higher consciousness. So, it will be seen that though Svādhyāya begins with intellectual study it must be carried through the progressive stages of reflection, meditation, Tapas etc. to the point where the Sādhaka is able to gain all knowledge or devotion from within, by his own efforts. That is the significance of the prefix Sva in Svādhyāya. He leaves all external aids such as books, discourses, etc. and dives into his own mind for everything he needs in his quest.

Iśvara-praṇidhāna: This is usually translated as resignation to Iśvara or God but in view of the fact that the advanced practice of Iśvara-praṇidhāna is able to bring about Samādhi, it is obvious that the word is used in a far deeper sense than the superficial mental effort of the ordinary religious man to resign himself to the will of God. When such a man makes a mental assertion of this kind what he really means is that the will of God is supreme in the world over which He rules and he submits to that will gladly, although the experience which has evoked that assertion may not be a pleasant one. This attitude is not unlike the attitude of a loyal subject to the fiat of his king.

It is clear, however, that though this attitude of the pious individual is superior to the common attitude of resentment towards the inevitable calamities and sufferings of life and conduces to a peaceful state of mind, it cannot by itself take him very far along the path of spiritual unfoldment and realization which culminates in Samādhi. The fact that the progressive practice of Iśvara-praṇidhāna can ultimately lead to Samādhi shows definitely that it signifies a much deeper process of transformation in the Sādhaka than a mere acceptance of whatever experiences and ordeals come to him in the course of his life.

To understand the significance and technique of Iśvara-praṇidhāna it is necessary to recall how the Puruṣa gets involved in Prakṛti through Avidyā which results in his becoming subject to illusion and consequent sufferings and miseries of life. As this question has been discussed thoroughly in dealing with the theory of Kleśas it is not necessary to go into its details here, but there is one central idea bearing on the problem under consideration which may be briefly referred to in this connection. According to the philosophy upon which the Science of Yoga is based, the Reality within us is free from the fundamental illusion which is responsible for the limitations and miseries of our life. The individual consciousness or Puruṣa is a manifestation of that Reality. How does he then become subject to the Great Illusion and the consequent sufferings of the lower life? By the imposition of the ‘I’ consciousness which makes him identify himself with his vehicles and with the environment in which his consciousness is immersed. As long as this veil of Asmitā or ‘I’ ness covers his true nature—Svarūpa—he remains bound by the limitations and illusions of life and the only way in which he can regain his freedom from them is by removing this covering of ‘I’ consciousness. This is the basic idea underlying the whole philosophy of Yoga and all systems of Yoga aim at the destruction of this ‘I’ consciousness directly or indirectly, by one means or another. The practice of Iśvara-praṇidhāna is one of such means. It has for its object the dissolution of Asmitā by the systematic and progressive merging of the individual will with the Will of Iśvara and thus destroying the very root of the Kleśas.

The practice of Iśvara-praṇidhāna therefore begins with the mental assertion “Not my will but Thy Will be done”, but it does not end there. There is a steady effort to bring about a continuous recession of consciousness from the level of the personality which is the seat of ‘I’ consciousness into the consciousness of the Supreme whose will is working out in the manifested world. This effort may take many forms according to the temperament and previous Saṃskāras of the Sādhaka. There may be an earnest desire to become a conscious instrument of the Supreme Will which is finding expression in the unfolding of the manifested Universe. This Will finds obstruction in its expression at the human level owing to the limitations of the personality, the greater the egoism the greater the obscuration and the consequent obstruction. Such a Sādhaka who is trying to practise Iśvara-praṇidhāna tries to remove this obstruction of the personality by doing Niṣkāma-Karma, so that his personality may become a willing and conscious instrument of the Divine Will. It is needless to say that this is a gradual process and for a long time the Sādhaka has to work, as it were, in the dark, trying to do scrupulously what he thinks to be right without having any conscious knowledge of the Divine Will. It is, however, not necessary to know the Divine Will until the personality has been brought under control, for even if that Will were known the wayward and uncontrolled personality will not allow it to be expressed freely and fully. But as in all processes of this nature the effort to realize an ideal gradually removes the obstructions in the way of realization and if the Sādhaka pursues his ideal with perseverance he succeeds in becoming a conscious agent of the Divine. His false lower ‘I’ disappears and the Divine Will can work freely through the ‘I’-less centre of his consciousness. This is real Karma-Yoga.

The practice of Iśvara-praṇidhāna takes a different form if the Sādhaka is a person with a highly emotional temperament and is treading the path of Bhakti. Here the emphasis is not on the merging of the individual will in the Divine Will but on the union with the Beloved through love. But as love naturally expresses itself in self-abnegation and subordination of personal desires to the Will of the Beloved the path of Bhakti also leads indirectly to the dissolution of the ‘I’ or Asmitā. Here it is love which is the driving force and which brings about the destruction of egoism and fusion of consciousness, and Samādhi is the result.

The careful student will be able to see in Iśvara-praṇidhāna the essence of Bhakti-Yoga. It is thought by many students of the system of Yoga outlined in the Yoga-Sūtras that there is not much of a place for a Bhakta in this system, and Bhakti has not been given the weight it deserves considering its importance in spiritual culture. It is true that the manner in which the subject has been dealt with by Patañjali does give that impression, but does not Iśvara-praṇidhāna contain in a nutshell the whole essential technique of Bhakti-Yoga? Navadhā-Bhakti which comprises the practical side of Bhakti-Yoga is merely of a preparatory nature and it is meant to lead the Sādhaka to the stage where he is able to renounce all external aids and to surrender himself completely to the Will of the Lord and depend upon Him completely for everything. Surely, this advanced technique of spiritual culture and ultimate union with the Beloved in Samādhi is nothing but Iśvara-praṇidhāna.

Vitarka-bādhane-pratipakṣa-bhāvanaṃ.

evil thoughts; evil passions on oppression by; on disturbance by the opposites dwelling (in mind) on; (constant) pondering over.

33. When the mind is disturbed by improper thoughts constant pondering over the opposites (is the remedy).

In dealing with the subject of Yama-Niyama, Patañjali has given two Sūtras which are of great help to the practical student of Yoga. The first of these which is being considered gives an effective method of dealing with the habits and tendencies which interfere with the practice of Yama-Niyama. The student who tries to practise Yama-Niyama brings with him the momentum of all kinds of tendencies from previous lives, and in spite of his resolve, the undesirable habits and tendencies in which he has indulged assert themselves strongly and force him to act, feel and think in ways which go against his ideals. What is he to do under these circumstances? He should ponder constantly over the opposites of the undesirable tendencies when these latter trouble him. In this Sūtra the author has given one of the most important laws of character-building, a law which modern psychology recognizes and recommends in dealing with problems of self-culture.

The rationale of this technique for overcoming bad habits and undesirable tendencies, whether they relate to action, feeling or thinking lies in the fact that all evil tendencies are rooted in wrong habits of thought and attitudes and, therefore, the only effective means of removing them completely and permanently is to attack the trouble at its source and alter the thoughts and attitudes which underlie the undesirable manifestations.

As is well known, an undesirable mental habit can be changed only by replacing it by a mental habit of an exactly opposite kind—hatred by love, dishonesty by uprightness. New and desirable mental channels are created by the new thoughts in which mental energy begins to flow in ever increasing measure, starving and gradually replacing the undesirable habits of thoughts and the wrong attitudes which are derived from them. The amount of mental energy required and the time taken will depend naturally upon the strength of the undesirable habit and the willpower of the Sādhaka, but if he puts his heart into the work and perseveres the thing can be done.

Vitarkā hiṃsādayaḥ kṛta-kāritānumoditā lobha-krodha-moha-pūrvakā mṛdu-madhyādhimātrā duḥkhājñānānanta-phalā iti pratipakṣa-bhāvanam.

34. As improper thoughts, emotions (and actions) such as those of violence, etc. whether they are done (indulged in), caused to be done or abetted, whether caused by greed, anger or delusion, whether present in mild, medium or intense degree, result in endless pain and ignorance; so there is the necessity of pondering over the opposites.

In this Sūtra Patañjali has given a brilliant analysis of the factors which are involved in this gradual transformation of undesirable into desirable tendencies and modern psychology should incorporate the many valuable ideas given in this Sūtra in its system of ethics. This Sūtra is a typical example of the vast and varied information which can be condensed in the few words of a Sūtra and made readily available to the practical student. The first factor we have to deal with in relation to the evil tendencies which are sought to be overcome by Yama-Niyama, is the question of instrumentality.

Instrumentality: Evil action may be (a) done directly, (b) caused to be done through the agency of another, (c) be connived at or approved. Common law takes cognizance of and recognizes responsibility in case of (a) and (b) but not in (c). But according to the ethics of Yoga, blame attaches to all three types of evil actions, there being only a question of degree. The man who sees a thief breaking into a house but does not do anything to prevent the crime is partly responsible for the crime and will to that extent have to bear the Kārmic result and degradation of character.

It is desirable to have clear ideas with regard to this question because a very large number of people—good, honest people—manage to deceive themselves and ease their conscience by supposing that if they have not taken a direct part in an evil action they are quite free from blame. Thus, for example, in India many people would shrink with horror if they were asked to slaughter a goat and yet they allow themselves to believe that they incur no Kārmic responsibility in taking meat because it is the butcher who kills the goat. This illustrates incidentally the enormous capacity for self-deception in the case of human beings where their prejudices come in or where their self-indulgences are at stake.

But more noteworthy than this doing of evil action indirectly is perhaps the third way of participating in it. We sometimes witness a crime but owing to callousness or desire to avoid getting into trouble do nothing about it or may even silently approve of it. We assume that because we have not taken any part—direct or indirect—in the crime we are quite free from blame. But it is not so according to the Yogic ethics embodied in Yama-Niyama. According to the more stringent rules of Yogic morality a man who connives at or is indifferent to a crime being done in his presence in which, from common humaneness he should have interfered is partly guilty of the crime. ‘Inaction in a deed of mercy is action in a deadly sin’ as the Buddha warned. If, for example, we see a person being lynched or a child or animal being treated very cruelly it is our duty to interfere whatever the consequences to ourselves. And if we save our skin by remaining indifferent or inactive we incur responsibility and invite Kārmic retribution. Of course, this does not mean that we have to become a nuisance and like a busy-body interfere constantly in the lives of other people with the object of getting wrongs redressed. Yogic life does not mean bidding good-bye to reason and commonsense.

Cause: The next factor we have to consider is the cause of the evil tendencies which hinder us in the practice of Yama-Niyama. Patañjali has given three causes—greed, anger and delusion. It should be noted that these three are conditions of mind which precede wrong thoughts, feelings and actions. This is indicated by the word Pūrvaka. Lobha is the condition of the mind which produces the desire to grasp things for ourselves. Krodha is the agitation of the mind produced when any person or thing stands in the way of fulfilment of our desire. Moha is the conditioning of the mind which results when we are attached to any person or thing. All these conditions of the mind bring about a clouding of Buddhi which renders a person incapable of judging right and wrong. It is this confused and unenlightened state of the mind which provides the necessary soil for wrong thoughts, feelings and actions. That is why pondering over the opposites and thus clearing up the confusion has been prescribed as the remedy in the previous Sūtra. What has to be remembered is that we have to go to the root of the evil and tackle it there.

Degree: The next question to be considered in regard to Vitarka is that of degree. In the Hindu philosophical systems the usual method of classifying a number of things which differ in degree or intensity is to consider them under three broad subheads—mild, medium and intense. This method of sub-division is simple and elastic though naturally it suffers from lack of definiteness. But as the Sādhaka has to free himself completely from these evil tendencies this lack of definiteness in the division is not of any practical importance.

The importance of sub-dividing the degree or intensity of Vitarka does not lie in providing a scientific method of classification. Its real object is to bring home to the Sādhaka the importance of attending to the minor faults in his thinking and conduct which he is likely to overlook or ignore. The Sādhaka has to develop a high degree of scrupulousness with regard to his thoughts, feelings and actions which is generally lacking in people who strive to lead a moral life. It is, in fact, this meticulous attention to our inner and outer life which produces moral perfection and brings about those results which are mentioned in the eleven Sūtras beginning with II-35.

It should be borne in mind that the subtler forms of an evil tendency do not reveal themselves to us unless and until the grosser ones have been eliminated. So, this complete elimination of any particular kind of Vitarka will seem to be continually receding and it may appear to the aspirant that he can never acquire the perfection for which he is striving. But far better this never-get-done feeling than the easy complacence which is fatal for the man who is treading the path of Yoga. The results in which the practice of different elements of Yama-Niyama culminate (II-35-45), can always enable the Sādhaka to check his progress and to know definitely whether he has completed the task of developing any particular trait.

Result: The last point dealt with in this Sūtra is the result of the tendencies which are sought to be eradicated by practising Yama-Niyama. The two inevitable consequences of an undisciplined and unrighteous life are Duḥkha and Ajñāna, pain and ignorance—both words being used not only in their ordinary sense but also in their more comprehensive philosophical sense. The word Duḥkha is used in Yogic philosophy not only for the ordinary pains and sufferings which are the Kārmic results of evil thoughts and deeds but also for that general unhappiness which pervades all human life and which really poisons even the best and happiest periods of our existence. This point has been discussed thoroughly in II-15 and we need not go into it again here. In the same way Ajñāna means not only the confusion of mind and lack of wisdom which result from our evil tendencies but also the lack of that fundamental knowledge of our true Divine nature which is responsible for our bondage and suffering in human life.

Duḥkha and Ajñāna are thus the two general and inevitable results of a life which is not fashioned according to the ideals embodied in Yama-Niyama. All the undesirable tendencies in our character produce an endless (Ananta) series of causes and effects which keep the soul in bondage and consequently in misery. The only method of escape from this vicious circle of causes and effects which is available to a human being is, first to discipline his lower nature according to the ideals of Yama-Niyama and then, treading the further stages of the path of Yoga, to gain Enlightenment. That is the real reason why Yama-Niyama should be practised to perfection and all Vitarka should be removed by ‘pondering over the opposites’.

It may be worth while mentioning here that although the ten elements included in Yama-Niyama have been mentioned specifically and have to be practised separately we should not forget the unity underlying human nature. Our nature, though it seems to have different facets, is essentially one. We cannot, therefore, divide life in water-tight compartments and practise the different elements of Yama-Niyama one by one as if each had an independent existence and could be isolated from the others. The fact is that all these elements are closely inter-related and the qualities which they are meant to develop are the different aspects of our inner life. How far we are able to develop one of the qualities will depend to a great extent upon the general tone of our life. No one can practise Ahiṃsā, for example, even if he tries his best, if he neglects the other elements of Yama-Niyama, so closely is one part of our nature bound up with the other parts. All parts of our nature hang together and we rise and fall as a whole, to a very great extent. So, it is the general quality of our life and moral nature which has to be improved, step by step, though we may concentrate on different qualities for some time. The value of a diamond depends upon the quality of the stone as a whole and not upon the polish of one facet. But in order to produce a finished gem we have to take up the different facets one by one.

It may also be interesting to enquire why the word Vitarka is used for those improper thoughts which are sought to be excluded from the mind in the practice of Yama-Niyama. The word Vitarka is used to indicate a state of mind in which it passes from one alternative to another as shown in dealing with I-42. This state is also present in the earlier stages when a person tries to live according to an ideal. There is always vacillation and struggle and the mind hovers between two alternative courses. It is only when the Sādhaka is well established in righteousness by doing the right under all circumstances that this Vitarka ceases and he invariably does the right thing unhesitatingly. The student will thus see the appropriateness of the use of the word Vitarka in the present context.

Ahiṃsā-pratiṣṭhāyāṃ tat-saṃnidhau vaira-tyāgaḥ.

(in) non-violence on being firmly established in his (Yogi’s) vicinity of hostility abandonment.

35. On being firmly established in non-violence there is abandonment of hostility in (his) presence.

In this and the subsequent ten Sūtras Patañjali gives the specific results of practising the ten elements of Yama-Niyama. The purpose of pointing out these accomplishments which mark the culmination of the practise of Yama-Niyama, is two-fold. In the first place, it serves to emphasize that the virtue has to be developed or the practice has to be carried on to a high degree of perfection. Too many people begin to imagine they have acquired perfection in the development of a particular virtue while they are still at the initial stage. In the second place, by indicating the nature of the developments which take place when the virtue has been acquired in perfection, the author provides a measuring rod for the Sādhaka by which he can judge his progress and know definitely when he has succeeded in accomplishing that particular task. It need hardly be pointed out that these extraordinary developments are not based on pious hopes but strict, scientific laws verified by innumerable Yogis and saints. The results follow as surely though not so easily as the production of fruit from a sapling planted in the ground and nurtured carefully. But, of course, as in all scientific experiments, the correct conditions must be provided if the desired results are to be obtained. Whether it is necessary for the Sādhaka to develop each quality to the degree indicated in the Sūtras is another question, but there should be no doubt that the thing can be done.

The student of Yogic philosophy will see in these unusual developments which take place on practising Yama-Niyama the tremendous possibilities which lie hidden in the apparently simple things of life. It appears that one has only to penetrate deeply into any manifestation of life to encounter the most fascinating mysteries and sources of power. Physical science which deals with the crudest manifestation of life touches the mere fringe of these mysteries and the results which it has achieved are little short of miraculous. There is, therefore, nothing to be surprised at in the fact that the Yogi who dives into the far subtler phenomena of mind and consciousness finds still deeper mysteries and extraordinary powers. This point will be made clearer when we deal with the question of Siddhis.

II-35 gives the specific result of developing Ahiṃsā. This is what should be expected if Ahiṃsā is a positive and dynamic quality of universal love and not a mere negative attitude to harmlessness. An individual who has developed Ahirjtsd carries about him an invisible aura surcharged with love and compassion even though these may not be expressed at the emotional level. Also, because love is the power which binds together in a spiritual union all the separated fragments of the One Life, any individual who is imbued with such love is inwardly attuned to all living creatures and automatically inspires confidence and love in them. That is how the violent and hateful vibrations of those who come near the Yogi are for the time being over-powered by the much stronger vibrations of love and kindness emanating from him and even beasts of prey become harmless and docile for the time being. Of course, when a creature goes out of the immediate influence of such a Yogi its normal nature is bound to assert itself but even this brief contact is likely to leave a permanent mark on it and uplift it a little.

Satya-pratiṣṭhāyāṃ kṛiyā-phalāśrayatvam.

(in) truthfulness on being firmly established (of) action fruit; result state of being a substratum.

36. On being firmly established in truthfulness fruit (of action) rests on action (of the Yogi) only.

This Sūtra, giving the result of acquiring perfect truthfulness, requires some explanation. The apparent meaning of the Sūtra is that in the case of a Yogi who has acquired this virtue in perfection the fruit of any action that he may do follows unfailingly. For example, if he says something concerning the future then the event predicted must take place according to his prediction. This has been interpreted by many commentators in a rather absurd manner and all the laws of Nature are supposed to be capable of being violated to uphold the fiats of such a person. For example, if he says that the Sun will not set in the evening then the movement of the earth will stop to make his words effective. Stories in the Purāṇas which in most cases are mere allegories are taken in a literal sense in support of such a view.

It is, however, not necessary to push the meaning of this Sūtra to the logical and absurd conclusion in this manner provided we understand its underlying significance. Let us see.

When an ordinary man says or does anything with the object of achieving any definite result, the thing aimed at may or may not materialize. Of course, any intelligent person with full knowledge of all the relevant conditions can predict the result to a great extent, but no one can be quite sure because there are many unforeseen circumstances in the future which may affect the course of events. Only he can predict the result With certainty whose Buddhi is developed and purified sufficiently to reflect the Universal Mind in which the past, present and future can be seen to a great extent. Now, as has been said already, the practice of truthfulness develops and purifies Buddhi in a remarkable manner and the mind of a person who has acquired perfection in this virtue becomes like a mirror reflecting the Divine Mind to some extent. He has become, as it were, a mirror of Truth and whatever he says or does reflects at least partially that Truth. Naturally, whatever such a person says will come true; whatever he attempts to accomplish will be accomplished. But why ‘the fruit rests on action’ in the case of such a person is not due to the fact that God changes the course of events and allows violation of natural laws in order to fulfil his words and resolutions, but because the words and actions of such a man merely reflect God’s will and anticipate what is to happen in the future. Taken in this light the meaning of the Sūtra becomes quite intelligible and it is possible to avoid the absurd assumption that the Divine Order in the Cosmos can be upset by the whims and decisions of a perfectly truthful person. It is contended that if such a person says something even by mistake that thing must materialize at any cost. This idea is based upon the assumption that such a person can be careless and irresponsible like ordinary people of the world. One who has developed truthfulness to such a high degee must have acquired previously the capacity to weigh every word that comes out of his mouth and to say whatever he has to say deliberately and of set purpose.

Asteya-pratiṣṭhāyāṃ sarva-ratnopasthānam.

(in) honesty; non-misappropriativeness on being firmly established (of) all gems; precious things self-presentation; coming up.

37. On being firmly established in honesty all kinds of gems present themselves (before the Yogi).

‘All kinds of gems present themselves’ does not mean that precious stones begin to fly through the air and fall at his feet. It is a way of saying that he becomes aware of all kinds of treasures in his vicinity. For example, if he is passing through a jungle he becomes cognizant of any treasure buried in the neighbourhood or any mine of precious gems which may be present underground. This cognizance may be of the nature of clairvoyance or mere intuitional awareness like the one possessed by water-diviners.

As long as we have in us the tendency to misappropriate or grasp things which do not belong to us we are governed by the ordinary laws of Nature. When we have risen above this tendency completely and would not even think of taking anything even if a treasure were to fall within our grasp, then we rise, as it were, above the law which confines us strictly to the limited means allotted to us by our Karma. Then people around us offer their wealth at our feet, we become mysteriously aware of all kinds of hidden treasures and mines of precious stones hidden within the bowels of the earth. But all this is useless now, for us. We can take nothing for ourselves. When we are bound by the ordinary desires for wealth etc. we have to earn everything by adopting the ordinary means. When we have conquered those desires the ordinary laws are no longer binding on us.

Brahmacarya-pratiṣṭhāyāṃ vīrya-lābhaḥ.

(in) sexual continence on being firmly established (of) vigour; energy gain.

38. On being firmly established in sexual continence vigour (is) gained.

Virya which is translated as vigour does not mean merely physical vigour which no doubt results from the conservation of sexual energy. Virya is connected with our whole constitution and refers to that vitality which makes all its parts vibrant, so that all weakness, laxity and inadequacy disappear and are replaced by extraordinary resilience, strength and energy. It appears as if there is an influx of tremendous vitality from the higher planes imparting vigour and strength to every vehicle which it touches.

It is worth while referring here to one interesting fact in connection with the conservation of sexual energy which is involved in Brahmacarya. It is a well-known doctrine of Yogic philosophy that there is a very intimate relation between sexual energy and the energy which is required for bringing about the mental, moral and spiritual regeneration aimed at in Yogic discipline. In fact the sexual energy may be considered to be only a gross form of this subtler energy which is called Ojas. As long as the sex life continues much of this special kind of available energy in the body is used up in this manner. But after Brahmacarya has been well established the possibility opens for the utilization of the conserved energy for the various changes which the Sādhaka is trying to bring about in his body and mind. The current of energy which had previously been kept directed to the sexual regions and was being exhausted in sexual indulgence can now be utilized for the purposes mentioned above. But this sublimation and diversion of this energy is possible only for those who have obtained a complete mastery of their sexual instincts and not merely abstained from indulgence for some time. Such people who are able to conserve, transmute and direct this energy continuously towards the cerebrum are called Ūrdhva-retās, Ūrdhva meaning upwards and Retas meaning sexual energy.

This complete control of sexual energy is acquired not merely by abstention from the sex act but also by a very strict and rigid control of thoughts and desires so that not the slightest thought or desire connected with sex or suggesting sex ever enters the mind of the Sādhaka. For this current of energy referred to above is extremely susceptible to thought and the slightest thoughts connected with sexual desires immediately stir up and direct the current to the sex organs. Brahmacarya, therefore, is not so much a matter of abstention from the sex act as a control of thoughts so complete that not the slightest stirring of our sex instincts is possible at any time. It is only under such conditions that the grosser energies of the body can be sublimated to serve the higher purposes of the soul. And the earlier in life we begin this self-discipline the easier it is to acquire this control.

Aparigraha-sthairye janma-kathaṃtā-saṃbodhaḥ.

(in) non-possessiveness on becoming steady or confirmed (of) birth (of) the ‘how’ and ‘wherefore’ knowledge.

39. Non-possessiveness being confirmed there arises knowledge of the ‘how’ and ‘wherefore’ of existence.

When perfection in Aparigraha is attained the Yogi acquires the capacity to know the ‘how and wherefore’ of birth and death. Though there is no ambiguity with regard to the literal meaning of the Sūtra and Janma-Kathaṃtā is taken to mean knowledge of our previous births it is difficult to understand the underlying significance of this Sūtra. Why should knowledge of his previous births arise in the case of a Yogi who has conquered the instinct of possessiveness? To understand this enigma we have to recall the relation between the transitory personality which is formed anew with every incarnation and the permanent individuality which is the root of every personality and which persists through the succession of incarnations. Now, the personality works in the lowest three worlds with a new set of bodies which are formed with each successive incarnation. Since these bodies perish one after another at the end of each incarnation and have not passed through the experiences of previous lives, there are no impressions (Saṃskāras) in them relating to these experiences. And since memory depends upon the existence of impressions relating to an experience, naturally, there is no memory of those experiences and the whole of the long past stretching through hundreds of lives is a perfect blank to the personality. But, as has been pointed out already, the individuality wears ‘immortal’ bodies which have passed through all those experiences and carry with them their corresponding impressions. So the Jivātmā or individuality having a permanent record of experiences in the subtler vehicles has a detailed memory of all the experiences.

It should be easy to understand that if somehow these impressions can be contacted and the corresponding memories brought down in the lower vehicles of the present, personality, knowledge of experiences gone through in previous lives should become available to the personality. This is what happens when Aparigraha is developed to a high degree of perfection. The essence of the personality is the ‘I’ consciousness which in its turn is the result of the identification by consciousness with the things in our environment and with our lower vehicles including the physical body. The development of non-possessiveness frees us to a very great extent from this habit of identifying ourselves with our bodies and the things with which they are surrounded and thus loosens the bonds of the personality. The natural result of this loosening is that the centre of consciousness gradually shifts into the higher vehicles of the Jivātmā and the knowledge present in those vehicles is reflected more and more into the lower vehicles. So, although the lower vehicles have not gone through the experiences of the previous lives, this gradual fusion of the personality and the individuality results in the filtering down of some of this knowledge into the lower vehicles and thus enables the personality to share all this knowledge. That is how the practice of Aparigraha enables the Yogi to have knowledge of previous births.

The development of such an extraordinary power from the intensive practice of Aparigraha shows the importance of doing things with intensity. The secret of discovering the hidden and mysterious facts of life seems to lie in intensity of effort. We meet the phenomena of life superficially and so naturally do not get from them anything more than ordinary experiences. But the moment we do anything with great intensity and try to penetrate into the deeper recesses of life we come across the most extraordinary results and experiences. The extraordinary results achieved by Science in the field of atomic research should have brought home to us this great truth but we believe only in matter and consider the phenomena connected with the mind and consciousness as something intangible and therefore unreal. The truth of the matter, however, is that the mysteries, which are hidden in the realm of matter, are as nothing compared to the mysteries which are related to mind and consciousness. This is what the Science of Yoga has proved. To the Yogi who has obtained even a faint glimpse of these mysteries the remarkable achievements of Science in the realm of matter and force pale into insignificance and seem hardly worth bothering about.

Śaucāt svāṅga-jugupsā parair asaṃsargaḥ.

from purity (with) one’s limbs, i.e. body disgust with others non-contact; non-intercourse.

40. From physical purity (arises) disgust for one’s own body and disinclination to come in physical contact with others.

The results of developing purity are given in two Sūtras, one relating to the purity of the physical body, the other to the purity of the mind. The two results which follow when the physical body is made quite pure are such as can hardly be expected.

The physical body is essentially a dirty object as a little knowledge of physiology will convince anyone. Physical beauty is proverbially skin deep and beneath this skin there is nothing but a mass of flesh, bones and all kinds of secretions and waste products which arouse disgust in our mind when they come out of the body. It requires only a little effort of the imagination to see the body as it really is inside but so complete is our identification with it that in spite of our detailed knowledge of its contents we not only feel no disgust for it but regard it as our most loved possession. And most of us go even to the length of thinking that we are the physical body!

With the ordinary purification of the physical body we become more sensitive and begin to see things in their true light. Cleanliness is mostly a matter of sensitiveness. What is intolerably disgusting to a person of refined nature and habits is hardly noticed by another person whose nature is coarse and insensitive. So this feeling of disgust towards one’s own body which develops on its purification means nothing more than that we have become sensitive enough to see things as they really are. Of course, the purity meant here is of the more superficial character which is brought about by ordinary external processes such as bathing and Yogic Kriyās such as Neti, Dhauti etc. Purity of a different and more fundamental character is developed by Tapas as pointed out in II-43.

The second result which follows on attaining purity of the physical body is naturally related to the first. A person who feels disgust for his own body is not likely to feel any attraction towards the bodies of others which are likely to be comparatively less clean. The disinclination to come in physical contact with others is thus natural and to be expected and this is perhaps one of the reasons why highly advanced Yogis seek seclusion and avoid external contact with the world. But it should be noted that this does not mean any feeling of repulsion towards others, for that would be positively reprehensible and against the fundamental law of Love. A positive love towards the owner of the vehicle is quite compatible with a lack of desire to come in contact with the vehicle itself when a person has the capacity to distinguish between the two.

Sattvaśuddhi-saumanasyaikāgryendriya-jayātma-darśana-yogyatvāni ca.

purity of Sattva; purity of Antaḥ-karaṇa cheerful-mindedness one-pointedness; fixity of attention control of the senses vision of the Self or Ātmā (and) fitness for and; also (follow).

41. From mental purity (arises) purity of Sattva, cheerful-mindedness, one-pointedness, control of the senses and fitness for the vision of the Self.

The above Sūtra gives the results of inner or mental purity. While the other three results which follow from mental purity are easily understandable, some explanation is necessary with regard to Sattva-Śuddhi. It has already been shown that the Hindu conception of the manifested world with all its multifarious phenomena is based on the three underlying Guṇas—Sattva, Rajas and Tamas. It has also been pointed out that Sattva, the Guṇa corresponding to equilibrium, alone can enable the mind to reflect consciousness. In fact, it is dear from the many Sūtras bearing on the subject that the aim of the Yogi, as far as his vehicles are concerned, is to eliminate Rajas and Tamas and make Sattva as predominant as possible in order that his Citta may mirror the Puruśa to the maximum degree. So that, from the highest point of view purification is the fundamental problem involved in Self-realization and this purification consists essentially in the gradual elimination of the Rājasic and Tāmasic elements from Citta working at different levels. Of course, this elimination is only comparative. To reduce Rajas and Tamas to zero would be to reduce the Guṇas to a state of perfect equilibrium and to take consciousness completely out of manifestation as indicated in IV-34. Sattva-Śuddhi is, therefore, the interpretation of purification in terms of the Guṇas as both change pari passu.

It will also be seen that Sattva-Śuddhi is the fundamental change involved in inner purification and the other three results which are brought about are the natural consequences of this change. For, all those conditions mentioned in I-31 which are the accompaniments of Vikśepa are the result of the predominance of Rājasic and Tāmasic elements in our nature. A disturbed and disharmonized mind is certainly not fit for the vision of the Self.

Saṃtoṣād anuttamaḥ sukha-lābhaḥ.

from contentment unexcelled; unsurpassed (of) happiness gain.

42. Superlative happiness from contentment.

The result of developing perfect contentment is superlative happiness. This is quite natural. The chief cause of our constant unhappiness is the perpetual disturbance of the mind caused by all kinds of desires. When a particular desire is satisfied there is a temporary cessation of this unhappiness which by comparison we feel as happiness but the other latent desires soon assert themselves and we lapse again into the normal condition of unhappiness. We sometimes feel that we are quite desireless. This feeling is illusory. The absence of desire in the conscious mind at any time does not necessarily mean that we have become desire-less. There may be innumerable desires, and some of them very strong, hidden within our sub-conscious mind. These in their totality produce a general feeling of discontentment even when there is no strong desire present in the conscious mind. Real and perfect contentment follows the elimination of our personal desires which are the source of unhappiness.

It may be objected that the absence of unhappiness does not necessarily mean the presence of happiness which is a positive state of the mind. There is a definite reason why superlative happiness abides in a perfectly calm and contented mind. A calm mind is able to reflect within itself the bliss which is inherent in our real Divine nature. The constant surging of desires prevents this bliss from manifesting itself in the mind. It is only when these desires are eliminated and the mind becomes perfectly calm that we know what true happiness is. This subtle and constant joy which is called Sukha and which comes from within is independent of external circumstances and is really a reflection of Ānanda, one of the three fundamental aspects of the Self.

Kāyendriya-siddhir aśuddhi-kṣayāt tapasaḥ.

the body sense-organs occult powers; perfection impurity on (gradual) destruction from austerities.

43. Perfection of the sense-organs and body after destruction of impurity by austerities.

The word Siddhi is used in two senses. It means both occult power and perfection. Here, obviously, the word has been used chiefly in the latter sense. The development of Siddhis connected with the body takes place on Bhūta-Jaya or mastery of Bhūtas as shown in III-46. Since Bhūta-Jaya also leads to the perfection of the body—Kāya-Saṃpat—as defined in III-47, the perfection of the body implied in II-43 is of a different and lower kind than that in III-47. The perfection meant here is obviously functional, i.e. it enables the Yogi to use the body for the purposes of Yoga without any kind of resistance or hindrance from it.

Since the essential purpose of Tapas is to purify the body and bring it under the control of the will as explained in II-32 it will be easily seen why it should culminate in the functional perfection of the body. It is the presence of impurity in the body and lack of control which stands in the way of its being used as a perfect instrument of consciousness. The function of die sense-organs also becomes perfect because this function is really dependent upon the currents of Prāṇa which are brought under the control of the Yogi by practices like those of Prāṇāyāma. Prāṇāyāma is considered to be Tapas par excellence. As the practice of austerities does sometimes lead to the development of some of the lower Siddhis in the case of people who are especially sensitive the word Siddhi may be considered to be used in both the senses given above.

The significance of the phrase Aśuddhi-kṣayāt should be kept in mind. It shows conclusively that the removal of impurity is the main purpose of performing Tapas and also that it is only when the body has been completely purified that it can function perfectly as an instrument of consciousness.

Svādhyāyād iṣṭa-devatā-saṃprayogaḥ.

from self-study (the study which leads to knowledge of the Self) (with) the desired deity union or communion; coming into touch.

44. By (or from) self-study union with the desired deity.

Svādhyāya attains its acme in communion with the Iṣṭa-Devatā because that is its ultimate purpose. As has been shown in II-32 although Svādhyāya begins with the study of problems relating to spiritual life its main purpose is to open up a channel between the Sādhaka and the object of his search. The nature of this communion will differ according to the temperament and capacity of the Sādhaka and the nature of the Iṣṭa-Devatā. The essential element in such a communion is the free flow of knowledge, power and guidance from the higher to the lower consciousness.

Samādhi-siddhir Iśvara-praṇidhānāt.

trance success; accomplishment; perfection (to) God from self-surrender; from resignation.

45. Accomplishment of Samādhi from resignation to God.

The fact that Iśvara-Praṇidhāna can lead ultimately to Samādhi is a startling revelation. This fact has already been referred to in I-23 where Patañjali not only points out the possibility of attaining Samādhi through Iśvara-Praṇidhāna but also in subsequent Sūtras shows that the path of Iśvara-Praṇidhāna is practically an alternate and independent path of achieving the goal which is attained by following the Aṣṭāṅga-Yoga with its eight stages or parts. We have seen previously in other cases that extraordinary results can be achieved by pushing the development of a virtue or quality to the extreme limit, but perhaps the attainment of Samādhi through Iśvara-Praṇidhāna alone is the most remarkable instance of such an achievement. That, by refining and intensifying progressively and systematically an attitude of self-surrender to God, we can by stages attain the supreme Enlightenment is something which should make us pause and marvel at the wonderful mysteries hidden beneath the common things of life. The rationale of this unique accomplishment has been explained to a certain extent in II-32 but it may be worth while summarizing here the main points in the chain of reasoning.

The bondage of the Puruṣa in matter is maintained through the obscuring power of the Citta-Vṛttis which prevent his seeing the fundamental truth of his existence and knowing himself as he truly is in his Divine nature. These Citta-Vṛttis are caused and maintained by the ‘I’ consciousness which gives rise to innumerable desires and keeps the mind in a state of constant agitation in order to satisfy those desires. If, somehow, this driving force which keeps the mind in a state of perpetual motion and change can be annihilated the mind will come automatically to a state of rest (Citta-Vṛtti-Nirodha) just as a car comes to a stop gradually when the gas is shut off. It is not even necessary to apply the brakes though this will no doubt hasten the process of coming to a halt. How can this driving force which keeps the mind in a state of constant agitation and is ultimately responsible for the Citta-Vṛttis be annihilated? Obviously, by destroying the desires of the personality which provide the driving force for the mind, or to put it in other words, by dissolving the ‘I’. This, as we have seen already, is exactly what is sought to be accomplished through the practice of Iśvara-Praṇidhāna. Iśvara-Praṇidhāna develops Para-Vairāgya, breaks the bonds of the heart, eliminates the desires of the personality and thus naturally and inevitably reduces the mind to a state of Citta-Vṛtti-Nirodha which is nothing but Samādhi.

It was mentioned in dealing with II-43 that the word Siddhi is used in two senses, that of perfection and occult power. It is also used in the sense of accomplishment. In the Sūtra under discussion it is used in two senses, that of accomplishment and perfection. Not only can Samādhi be attained through the practice of Iśvara-praṇidhāna but also perfected by the same technique. This will also be clear from IV-29 in which the technique of Dharma-Megha Samādhi is given. This condition will be seen by the student as the highest stage of Iśvara-praṇidhāna.

Sthira-sukham āsanam.

steady (and) comfortable posture

46. Posture (should be) steady and comfortable.

The students of Yoga are generally familiar with the practices which are denoted by the word Āsana. In fact, many people who do not know anything about Yoga confuse it with these physical exercises. It is, however, necessary even for the student of Yogic philosophy to understand clearly the place and purpose of Āsanas in Rāja-Yoga, for in Haṭha-Yoga and certain systems of physical culture their purpose is very different. In Haṭha-Yoga the subject of Āsanas is treated at great length and there are at least 84 Āsanas which are described in detail, very specific and sometimes exaggerated results being attributed to many of them. There is no doubt that many of these Āsanas, by affecting the endocrine glands and Prāṇic currents, tend to bring about very marked changes in the body and if practised correctly and for a sufficiently long time, promote health in a remarkable manner. Haṭha-Yoga is based on the principle that changes in consciousness can be brought about by setting in motion currents of certain kinds of subtler forces (Prāṇa, Kuṇdalini) in the physical body. The first step in contacting the deeper levels of consciousness is, therefore, to make the physical body perfectly healthy and fit for the influx and manipulation of these forces. That is why such a strong emphasis is laid on the preparation of the physical body and the Sādhaka is required to go through different kinds of physical exercises which are dealt with in treatises on Haṭha-Yoga.

In Rāja-Yoga, however, the method adopted for bringing about changes in consciousness is based essentially on the control of the mind by the Will and the gradual suppression of the Citta-Vṛttis. The technique of Rāja-Yoga is, therefore, directed towards the elimination of all sources of disturbance to the mind, whether these sources are external or internal. Now, one of the important sources of disturbance to the mind is the physical body. Even modern psychology recognizes the close connection between the mind and the body and how they act and react on each other all the time. So the Yogi must eliminate completely the disturbances which arise from the physical body before he tries to tackle the problem of the mind itself. This is achieved through the practice of Āsana. The physical body is fixed in one particular posture and it is found that when it can be kept like this for a long time it ceases to be a source of disturbance to the mind.

Patañjali gives only three Sūtras regarding the technique of Āsanas but in these he has condensed all the essential knowledge concerning the subject. The first of these given above points out the two essential requirements in the practice of Āsana. It should be steady and comfortable. The Yogi has to choose any one of the well-known Āsanas suitable for the practice of meditation such as Padmāsana or Siddhāsana and then practise remaining in that posture until he can maintain it for long periods of time without the slightest inclination to make any movement. Sitting in any Āsana becomes uncomfortable after a few minutes and the beginner will find that he cannot maintain it for any considerable time without feeling minor discomforts in various parts of the body. If, however, the Āsana is correctly chosen and practised in the right way, steady and persistent practice will gradually eliminate all these minor discomforts which cause constant distractions to the mind. The Yogi is then able to maintain his body in the correct posture indefinitely and to forget it altogether. If, in spite of prolonged practice and good health, one always feels discomfort in maintaining the posture for long periods there is something wrong either with one’s choice of the Āsana or method of practising it and it is advisable to seek expert advice.

It is also necessary to understand thoroughly the implication of the word ‘steady’. Steadiness does not mean merely the capacity to remain more or less in the same position with freedom to make minor movements and adjustments from time to time. It means a certain degree of immovability which practically amounts to fixing the body in one position and eliminating all movements of any kind. In trying to maintain this immovable position the beginner is apt to introduce a certain amount of rigidity which makes the body tense. This is definitely wrong and will react adversely on the health of the body. What should be aimed at is the ideal combination of immovability with relaxation. It is only then that it is possible to forget the body altogether.

A particular Āsana is considered to be mastered when the Sādhaka can maintain it steadily and easily for four hours and twenty minutes. This period of time as given in some books on Haṭha-Yoga has really no important significance and gives merely an approximate idea of the length of time for which practice may be undertaken for gaining mastery. Once the habit has been acquired the posture can be maintained for any length of time while the Yogi’s attention is focussed on his mind.

Prayatna-śaithilyānanta-samāpattibhyām.

(of) effort (by) relaxation (on) the ‘Endless’ (and) by meditation.

47. By relaxation of effort and meditation on the ‘Endless’ (posture is mastered).

For acquiring mastery of an Āsana Patañjali gives two helpful suggestions. One is the gradual slackening of effort. The keeping of the physical body in an immovable position for long periods of time requires great effort of the will and the mind has to be directed constantly to the body in order to maintain it in the fixed position. But it is quite obvious that this state of the mind is the opposite of what is aimed at. The mind has to be freed from the consciousness of the body, not tied down to it in the effort to keep it in a particular posture. So the Sādhaka is advised to slacken the effort gradually and transfer the control of the body from the conscious to the sub-conscious mind. The conscious mind can thus be withdrawn from the body without affecting the fixed condition of the body in any manner. This is a gradual process but a definite effort has to be made to break this connection between the mind and the body, so that the latter can remain in the prescribed position without requiring any attention from the former.

The other means recommended for acquiring this steadiness is meditation on Ananta, the great Serpent which, according to Hindu mythology, upholds the earth. To the modern educated man this direction will appear quite meaningless but if he understands the underlying significance he will see that it is quite reasonable. What is this Serpent which is called Ananta? It is the symbolic representation of the force which maintains the equilibrium of the earth and keeps it in its orbit round the Sun. This force, we can see at once, must be similar to the one which works in a gyroscope, a well-known instrument which is utilized in many ways for maintaining an object in a position of equilibrium. Whenever we have to deal with a body which is liable to move from side to side or in some other manner and has to be brought back and kept in a position of equilibrium automatically the principle of the gyroscope is utilized invariably in devising the necessary machinery. Now, the problem of the person who is sitting in a particular Āsana for the purpose of meditation is very similar. The body tends to deviate from a fixed position and it has to acquire the tendency to come back to its position of stability automatically. So meditation on Ananta the Serpent which symbolizes this particular kind of force is prescribed. The reason why this force is symbolized by a serpent will be apparent to anyone who has seen a gyroscope which reminds one of a coiled snake with its head raised as shown below:

FIG. 7

In Hindu symbolism a thing is generally symbolized by an object or animal which it resembles most closely in outer appearance.

How does meditation on this force help the Sādhaka to acquire the stability of the physical posture which he wants to maintain? It is not necessary here to do more than refer to the well-known law of Nature according to which meditation or deep pondering over any idea or principle tends to bring down the corresponding force gradually in our life. In fact, the whole science of acquiring Siddhis or occult powers as expounded in Section III of the Yoga-Sūtras is based on this axiomatic truth of Yogic philosophy. It should be noted that the word used is Samāpattibhyām which means ‘fusing the mind with’. This is really what happens when we ponder deeply or meditate on an idea and open up a channel for the influx of its corresponding power.

Tato dvandvānabhighātaḥ.

from that (mastery of posture) (from) pairs of opposites no assaults.

48. From that no assaults from the pairs of opposites.

The third Sūtra hints at the most important result of attaining perfection in the practice of Āsana—resistance to the pairs of opposites. These pairs of opposites or Dvandvas as they are called in Saṃskṛta are the well-known opposite conditions in our outer or inner environment between which our life continually oscillates. These Dvandvas are of many kinds, some related to our physical nature, others to our mind. Thus heat and cold are a pair of opposites which affect primarily the physical body. Joy and sorrow are a pair which affect the mind. Now, all these conditions, related to the mind or body which are constantly changing, keep the consciousness drawn to the external environment and hinder the mind in going within. They produce Vikṣepa or distraction and the Sādhaka has to acquire the capacity of rising above them if his mind is to be freed to pursue the more difficult task of suppressing its own internal disturbances and modifications. One important result of gaining perfection in the practice of Āsana is freedom from these disturbing reactions to changes in the external world. It is obvious that the Dvandvas referred to in this Sūtra are those which affect the physical body, such as heat and cold, humidity and dryness and not others which are related to the mind.

Patañjali has given in this Sūtra only one result of practising Āsana, a result with which the Sādhaka is directly concerned in the practice of Yoga. But there are also other important benefits which accrue from this practice. Some of these subsidiary results of practising Āsana are:

(1) Making the body perfectly healthy and resistant to fatigue and strain.

(2) Acquiring fitness for the practice of Prāṇāyāma as a result of proper regulation of Prāṇic currents in the body. In fact, those who become proficient in the practice of Āsana find that the movements of the breath begin naturally to conform to the requirements of Prāṇāyāma and it becomes possible to take to the practice of Prāṇāyāma with the greatest ease.

(3) Development of will-power. The physical body is directly and in some mysterious manner related to the Ātmā, the source of spiritual power. Gaining control over the physical body which mastery of Āsana implies brings about an extraordinary influx of that spiritual force which expresses itself in outer life as will-power.

Tasmin sati śvāsa-praśvāsayor gati-vicchedaḥ prāṇāyāmaḥ.

on this (perfection of Āsana) having been (accomplished) of in-breathing and out-breathing; of inspiration and expiration (of) movement cessation or break (is) regulation of breath (fourth constituent part of Yoga).

49. This having been (accomplished) Prāṇāyāma which is cessation of inspiration and expiration (follows).

The reason why Prāṇāyāma plays such an important part in the technique of Yoga lies in the close relation existing between Prāṇa and mind. Prāṇa which exists on all the planes of manifestation is the connecting link between matter and energy on the one hand and consciousness and mind on the other. Consciousness expressing itself through the mind cannot come into touch with matter and function through it without the intermediate presence of Prāṇa. Matter in association with energy cannot affect consciousness except through the agency of Prāṇa. That is why Prāṇa is found on all the planes. It is necessary for the vitalization and functioning of all vehicles of consciousness, physical or superphysical. This capacity to act as intermediary depends upon its peculiar constitution. It combines in itself in some mysterious manner the essential qualities of both matter and consciousness and is thus able to serve as an instrument for their actions and reactions on each other.

This intimate relation existing between Prāṇa and mind is utilized in different schools of Yoga in different ways. In Haṭha-Yoga manipulation of Prāṇic currents is utilized for bringing about control of Citta-Vṛttis and changes in consciousness. In Rāja-Yoga, Citta-Vṛttis are controlled by consciousness through the will and Prāṇa thus comes under the control of the mind. Patañjali has included both the techniques in his system in order to make it as comprehensive and effective as possible. Thus Prāṇāyāma is utilized for preparing the mind for Dhāraṇā, Dhyāna and Samādhi on the one hand and Saṃyama on various objects or principles used for acquiring Siddhis on the other.

Although students of Yogic philosophy are generally familiar with the theory of Prāṇāyāma and a fairly extensive literature exists on the subject it would be worthwhile discussing here very briefly some fundamental facts in this connection. This will clear the ground for understanding the inner significance of the five Sūtras in which Patañjali has dealt with the subject.

Many people who have not studied the subject or studied it very superficially have the notion that Prāṇayāma is merely a regulation of breathing. How it is possible by merely regulating breathing which is a normal physiological process in the body, to bring about the extraordinary results attributed to Prāṇāyāma does not occur to them. The nature of Prāṇāyāma is indicated by the two words which constitute the compound word, namely Prāṇa and Āyāma (restraint). It is the regulation of Prāṇa. But what is Prônā? It is not the breath but the vital force which keeps up the activities of the physical body. This vital force is not something vague and mysterious which medical science believes exists within the body maintaining its equilibrium and guarding it against disease and death. It is a real, highly specialized kind of composite energy with a material basis which is entirely different from the other kinds of energies working in the body. The vehicle of this Prāṇa is not the dense physical body with which physiologists are familiar but the Prāṇamaya Kośa, a somewhat subtler vehicle interpenetrating the dense physical body and working in conjunction with it. In this subtler vehicle which is practically a counterpart of the dense physical body run currents of Prāṇa, flowing along well-marked channels into every organ and part of the body and vitalizing them in different ways. For Prāṇa, though it is a general vitalizing force, has also specific functions to perform in different organs and parts of the body and is then called by different names which are well known. It is the control of this Prāṇa which is aimed at in Prāṇāyāma and not breathing which is only one of the many manifestations of its action in the physical body.

But though Prāṇa is different from breath as the electric current is different from the movement of the blades in an electric fan, still, there is a close connection between the two, a connection which enables us to manipulate the currents of Prāṇa by manipulating breathing. This close connection between breathing and Prāṇa is, no doubt, responsible for the confusion between the two but it is necessary for the student to keep this distinction clearly in his mind.

The methods adopted in controlling and manipulating Prāṇa by regulation of the breath are a closely guarded secret which can be obtained only from a competent teacher. Those who take up these practices after merely reading books are sure to ruin their health and even risk insanity or death. So, no one should dabble in Prāṇāyāma for the sake of fun or for gaining supernormal powers of various kinds or even for hastening his spiritual progress. These forces are very real though not known as yet to modern Science, and many people have ruined their lives by rashly starting practices given in spurious Yogic literature or under the advice of immature and over-confident ‘Yogis’. The practice of Prāṇāyāma can be taken up safely and profitably only as a part of the full Yogic discipline and when adequately prepared for by the practice of the other accessories of Yoga such as Yama-Niyama, Āsana etc. and under the supervision of a competent Guru.

But while abstaining strictly from the ill-advised practice of Prāṇāyāma proper there is no harm in trying to understand its rationale and the limit to which one can go with safety in the manipulation of breathing for the sake of promoting physical and mental health. The essential knowledge with regard to this aspect of the subject may be summarized as follows:

(1) Deep breathing has nothing to do with Prāṇāyāma and may be practised as an exercise for promoting health to any reasonable extent. Its beneficial effects depend chiefly upon the increased intake of oxygen and a somewhat greater influx of Prāṇa into the body. As it does not affect the Prāṇic currents in the body its practice is not attended by any risks.

(2) Breathing alternately through the two nostrils begins at once to affect the Prāṇic currents to a certain extent and tends to remove the congestion from the channels in which Prāṇa flows normally. It has been pointed out already that there is a close relation between breathing and the flow of Prāṇic currents in the Prāṇamaya Kośa. When we breathe normally the Prāṇic currents follow their natural course. When we breathe alternately through the two nostrils their normal flow is disturbed in some way. The effect may be likened to the flow of water in a pipe. When the water is flowing in one direction placidly, silt and other things may be deposited at the bottom and are not disturbed to any marked extent by the water. But try to force the water in opposite directions alternately and you at once disturb the deposit and if the process is continued long enough the pipe gets cleaned ultimately. This is how breathing alternately through the two nostrils may be supposed to clean the Prāṇic channels or to ‘purify the Nādis’ as we say. Now, this purification of the Nādis is a preparatory exercise and all those who intend to practise Prāṇāyāma have to go through a long course extending over several months or years. It is similar to the preliminary exercise suggested by Patañjali in I-34 and produces the same condition in the nervous system, namely absence of irritation and tranquillity. This exercise is not attended with any risk and can be adopted with caution by those who live a well-regulated and clean life and are not given to excesses of any kind. But since the Prānic currents are affected in the process, caution and moderation are necessary and it is advisable to work under the supervision of an expert.

(3) Real Prāṇāyāma begins when the breath is stopped for some time between inhalation and exhalation. While breathing alternately through the two nostrils the breath may be stopped for some time, the period being increased gradually and cautiously. The retention of breath, called technically Kumbhaka, affects the flow of Prāṇic currents in a very marked and fundamental manner and enables the Yogi to gain increasing control over these currents so that they can be directed in any manner desired.

(4) Prāṇāyāma has to be practised with Pūraka and Recaka (inspiration and expiration) for a long time, the period of Kumbhaka being slowly increased over long periods of time. Such a Kumbhaka which is accompanied by Pūraka and Recaka is called Sahita Kumbhaka. But after prolonged practice it is possible to dispense with Pūraka and Recaka and practise Kumbhaka alone. Such Prāṇāyāma, called Kevala Kumbhaka, gives complete control over Prāṇa and enables the Yogi to perform not only all kinds of physical feats but also to arouse and direct Kuṇāalinī towards different centres in the body. This science is a strictly guarded secret and can be learnt only by a properly qualified Celā from a properly qualified Guru.

The important point to keep in mind is this. Not only is Kumbhaka the essential element of real Prāṇāyāma but it is also the source of danger in the practice of Prāṇāyāma. The moment one starts retaining the breath, especially inside, in any abnormal manner the danger begins and one can never know what it will lead to, unless there is a practical and competent teacher at hand to guide and correct the flow of these forces if necessary. If all the requisite conditions are present and Kumbhaka is practised under the guidance of a competent teacher it unlocks the doors of unexpected experiences and powers. If it is taken up without the necessary preparation and guidance it is sure to lead to disaster and may be death, as many rash and foolish people have found to their cost.

The significance of the words Tasmin Sati in the beginning of the Sūtra should be kept in mind. As this Sūtra comes after the three Sūtras dealing with Āsanas these words obviously mean that the practice of Prāṇāyāma involving Kumbhaka cannot be undertaken until and unless one of the Āsanas has been mastered. The practice of Āsana definitely but slowly prepares the body for Prāṇāyāma. It is the common experience of practical students of Yoga that the body begins naturally to assume more and more the condition necessary for the practice of Prāṇāyāma as perfection in the practice of Āsana is gained. The breath begins to move slowly and rhythmically and even Kumbhaka occurs for short periods in a natural way.

In fact, it is not only necessary to master Āsana but also to acquire some proficiency in the practice of Yama-Niyama before beginning the practice of Prāṇāyāma. The advanced practice of Prāṇāyāma arouses the Kuṇḍalinī sooner or later. This can be done safely only after the desire for sex gratification has been completely mastered and eliminated. Unless, therefore, the Sādhaka has practised Brahmacarya and other elements of Yama-Niyama for a long time and has acquired conscious and real mastery over his desires and propensities it would be disastrous for him to engage in the practice of Prāṇāyāma. It must be clearly understood that these things are not meant for people who are leading the ordinary life of the world with all its desires and indulgences and who naively want the peace and bliss of the inner life as an addition to their multitudinous enjoyments in the outer world. The door on the enjoyments and comforts of the lower life has to be shut completely and once for all before one can hope to make any real progress on the path of Yoga.

The different elements of Āṣṭāṅga Yoga are not merely eight essential but quite independent parts of Yoga which can be practised irrespective of one another. They should be taken in the light of progressive stages, each stage preparing for the succeeding ones and requiring an adequate degree of perfection in the preceding ones. The whole treatment of Āṣṭāṅga Yoga by Patañjali and the experience of Sādhakas lends support to this view.

It is also necessary to note the difference in the words used in I-34 and II-49 in relation to breathing. In the former Sūtra the words used are ‘expiration and retention’ while in the latter the words are ‘cessation of inspiration and expiration’. It is not due to any looseness of expression that different words are used to describe the regulation of breathing at different places. Not a word in the Yoga-Sūtras is without its significance and necessity although we may not be able to see these clearly. The obvious intention of the author is to indicate that the practice of Prāṇāyāma which comes after Yama-Niyama and Āsana and which prepares the mind for the further stages of Dhāraṇa, Dhyāna and Samādhi is essentially the practice of Kumbhaka even though this practice must be preceded by a long course of Prāṇāyāma in which Pūraka and Recaka also play a part.

Bāhyābhyantara-stambha-vṛttir deśakāla-saṃkhyābhiḥ paridṛṣṭo dīrghasūkṣmaḥ.

outer; external internal suppressed, paralysed, (stopped suddenly) modification (by) place time (and) number measured; regulated prolonged (and) subtle; attenuated.

50. (It is in) external, internal or suppressed modification; is regulated by place, time and number, (and becomes progressively) prolonged and subtle.

In the Sūtra given above the various factors involved in the practice of Prāṇāyāma have been dealt with in a very terse manner. The first factor is the position in which the breath is held. There can be three modes of performing Kumbhaka and the three kinds of Prāṇāyāma referred to in this Sūtra depend upon these. Either the breath is held outside after expiration, or held inside after inspiration or just stopped wherever it is at the moment. It is the position or manner in which the breath is held or stopped which determines the kind of Prāṇāyāma. The second factor is the place where Prāṇāyāma is performed. This will obviously have to be taken into account in determining the period for which Prāṇāyāma is performed, the food which is taken and other things. A Sādhaka who is practising Prāṇāyāma in the tropics will have to adopt a different regimen from the one which is suited for another practising high up in the Himālayas. The third factor is the time. Time here means not only the relative duration of Pūraka, Recaka and Kumbhaka but also the time of the year in which Prāṇāyāma is being practised. Diet etc. has to be changed according to the season. Number, obviously, refers to the number of rounds at each sitting and the number of sittings in one day. The Sādhaka generally starts with a small number of rounds at each sitting and gradually and cautiously increases the number according to the instructions of his teacher.

After pointing out the factors which are involved in regulating the practice of Prāṇāyāma the author gives two words which indicate the nature of the objective towards which the efforts of the Sādhaka should be directed. In the first place, the period of Kumbhaka has to be very gradually and cautiously prolonged. The fourth kind of Prāṇāyāma referred to in the next Sūtra cannot be practised until the Sādhaka has acquired the capacity to practise Kumbhaka for fairly long periods of time. Not only has he to prolong the period of Kumbhaka but he has also to work in the direction of gradually transferring the process from the outer to the inner invisible plane. This means that the Prāṇāyāma from being merely a control and manipulation of the visible process of breathing becomes a process of controlling and manipulating the Prāṇic currents flowing in the Prāṇamaya Kośa. This transference of activity from the outer to the inner plane can come only after Kumbhaka can be practised easily without any strain for fairly long periods, but it must come if Prāṇāyāma is to be used for its real purpose in Yogic discipline.

Bāhyābhyantara-viṣayākṣepī caturthaḥ.

external (and) internal range; sphere; domain going beyond (is) the fourth (variety of Prāṇāyāma.)

51. That Prāṇāyāma which goes beyond the sphere of internal and external is the fourth (variety).

The fourth and the highest kind of Prāṇāyāma referred to in this Sūtra transcends the movements of the breath altogether. The external breath is kept suspended in any position, external or internal, and there is nothing to show that any kind of activity is going on. And yet the Prāṇic currents in the Prāṇamaya Kośa which are now under the complete control of the Sādhaka are being manipulated and directed with a view to bring about the desired changes in the vehicle.

For conducting operations of such delicacy and importance it is necessary that the Sādhaka should be able to see clearly the mechanism of the Prāṇamaya Kośa and direct the currents of Prāṇa deliberately and unerringly. Such direct vision which means clairvoyance of the lowest kind, develops naturally and automatically during the course of Prāṇāyāma practice.

The fourth kind of Prāṇāyāma referred to in the Sūtra under discussion is the real Prāṇāyāma for which all the previous practices are merely a preparation. What takes place during the course of these practices, how the Prāṇic currents are used to arouse Kuṇḍalinī, how the Kuṇḍalinī activates the Cakras in the Suṣumnā is not mentioned by Patañjali because all these things of a practical nature which are fraught with dangerous possibilities are taught by the Guru personally to the Celā. Patañjali has throughout dealt with general principles and left out instructions with regard to practical details.

Tataḥ kṣīyate prakāśāvaraṇam.

then; from that dissolves; disappears (of) light covering.

52. From that is dissolved the covering of light.

In this Sūtra and the next are given two results of Prāṇāyāma practice which are of great importance to the Yogi. The first is the disappearance of the covering of light. Many commentators have gone completely off the track in the interpretation of the Sūtra under discussion, mistaking this light to be the light of the soul. They thus attribute to Prāṇāyāma practice accomplishment of results which appear after considerable success has been gained in the subsequent practices of Dhāraṇā, Dhyāna and Samādhu This misinterpretation is all the more surprising in view of the Sūtra which follows. If Prāṇāyāma prepares the mind for the practice of Dhāraṇā which is the first step in mental control how can it bring about the removal of the covering of light of the soul which is the culmination of mental control?

The covering of light referred to in this Sūtra is obviously not used in reference to the light of the soul but to the light or luminosity associated with the subtler vehicles associated with and interpenetrating the physical vehicle. The distribution of Prāṇa in the Prāṇamaya Kośa and the development of the psychic centres in the ordinary individual is such that he is quite insensitive to these subtler planes. When, through the practice of Prāṇāyāma, the necessary changes in the distribution of Prāṇa have been made and the psychic centres have been activated, the mechanism of the subtler bodies comes into close and more intimate touch with the physical brain and it is possible to become aware of the subtler vehicles and the luminosity which is associated with them.

An additional advantage to the Sādhaka of this ‘contact’ with the subtler vehicles is that the mental images which he has to work with in Dhāraṇā and Dhyāna become very precise and almost tangible. The cloudy and blurred mental images which an ordinary person is able to form in his brain are replaced by clear-cut and sharp images in the subtler vehicles. These are manipulated and controlled with far greater ease.

Dhāraṇāsu ca yogyatā manasaḥ.

for (stages of) concentration and fitness of the mind.

53. And the fitness of the mind for concentration.

The second result of Prāṇāyāma practice is that it prepares the mind for the practice of Dhāraṇā, Dhyāna and Samādhi—Antaraṅga Yoga. The capacity to form vivid and sharp mental images and to be able to see them clearly is necessary for practising Dhāraṇā effectively. As long as our mental images are blurred and confused it is not easy to concentrate on them or manipulate them, as all people who try to meditate know from practical experience. The mind does not seem to get a good hold on them and they tend to slip away easily. Prāṇāyāma by removing this difficulty facilitates concentration to a great extent. To say that Prāṇāyāma is absolutely necessary for Dhāraṇā will perhaps not be justifiable in view of the success attained by followers of other schools of Yoga also. But that it helps enormously in the practice of Dhāraṇā there can be no doubt. That is why Patañjali has made it an integral part of his Yogic technique.

Sva-viṣayāsaṃprayoge citta-svarūpānukāra ivendriyāṇāṃ pratyāhāraḥ.

(with) their own; their respective objects not coming into contact (of) the individual mind’s own form; nature the imitating or functioning according to as if; like by the senses abstraction (fifth constituent of Yoga).

54. Pratyāhāra or abstraction is, as it were, the imitation by the senses of the mind by withdrawing themselves from their objects.

Pratyāhāra is the next Aṅga or component part of Yoga after Prāṇāyāma. There seems to exist a good deal of uncertainty in the mind of the average student with regard to the nature of this Yogic practice. Patañjali has disposed of the subject in two Sūtras and the commentaries are not very illuminative. In order to understand what Pratyāhāra really means let us recall how mental perception of objects in the outer world takes place. We perceive an object when different kinds of vibrations which emanate from it strike our sense-organs and the mind is then joined to the sense-organs thus activated. As a matter of fact, from the physiological and psychological points of view there are many stages intervening between the reception of the vibration by the sense-organs and the perception by the mind but let us, for the sake of simplicity, confine ourselves to the simple representation of the mechanism of sense-perception as generally understood. This may be represented diagrammatically as follows:

Now, it is a matter of common experience that the corresponding vibrations may be striking against any particular sense-organ but if the mind is not joined, as it were, to that sense-organ the vibrations remain unperceived. The clock in our room keeps ticking constantly but we rarely hear the ticking. Although the vibrations of sound are striking the ear constantly the conscious mind is not joined to the organ of hearing as far as those vibrations are concerned. When we pass down a road vibrations from hundreds of objects strike our eye but we notice only a few, the rest not entering our consciousness at all because of this lack of contact between the mind and those vibrations. Innumerable vibrations from all kinds of objects are thus constantly impinging upon our sense-organs but most of these remain unnoticed. Still, a few do manage to catch our attention and these in their totality constitute the content of our awareness of the external world.

A very interesting fact about this process of sense-perception is that although the mind is automatically ignoring the vast majority of vibrations bombarding its sense-organs it cannot shut out all of them voluntarily if it wants to. A few vibrations always manage to catch the attention and the mind is generally helpless against the inroads of these unwanted intruders. In fact, the more it tries to shut them out the more numerous and insistent they become as anyone can find out for himself by making a few efforts in this direction.

But, for the practice of Rāja Yoga the outer world has to be shut out completely, whenever necessary, in order that the Yogi may have his mind alone to grapple with. Let us go into this question a little more in detail. If we examine the contents of our mind at any time when we are not making any particular mental effort we shall find that the mental images which are present and changing constantly may be divided into the following three categories: (1) Ever-changing impressions produced by the outer world through the vibrations impinging upon the sense-organs. (2) Memories of past experiences floating in the mind. (3) Mental images connected with anticipations of the future. (2) and (3) are wholly mental, not depending upon any objective reality outside the mind while (1) are the direct result of contact with the outer world. The object of Pratyāhāra is to eliminate (1) completely from the mind, thus leaving only (2) and (3) which are then mastered through Dhāraṇā and Dhyāṇa. Pratyāhāra interposes, as it were, a shutter between the sense-organs and the mind and isolates the latter completely from the external world.

In the light of what has been said above it should be easy to understand the meaning of the rather enigmatic Sūtra we are discussing. It will help us to appreciate the manner in which the idea has been expressed if we remember that according to Yogic psychology the senses are really a part of the lower mind. They are, as it were, the outposts of the mind in the external world and should follow the lead of the mind. When the mind wants to put itself in touch with the external world they should begin to function. When it decides to withdraw they should be able to ^withdraw with it, thus breaking all connection with the world outside. This relation between the mind and the senses has been likened very aptly to the relation existing between the bees in a hive and the queen bee. The bees follow the queen in a body as it flies from one place to another, and do not function independently of the queen.

Is this complete severance of connection with the world outside in the manner indicated possible? It is not only possible but absolutely necessary if the higher stages of the Yogic path are to be trodden. But in order that success may be attained the Yogic life has to be adopted as a whole. All the different steps or component parts of Yogic discipline are linked with one another, and success in tackling any particular problem depends to a great extent upon how far the other related problems, especially those going before, have been mastered. If Yama and Niyama have not been practised sufficiently and all emotional disturbances eliminated, if Āsana and Prāṇāyāma have not been mastered and the physical body brought under complete control, then surely, the practice of Pratyāhāra is bound to end in failure. But if the whole of the Sādhaka’s life conforms to the Yogic ideal and all his energies are bent on achieving his ultimate goal then success must come sooner or later.

It should also be mentioned here that though Pratyāhāra appears to be a control of the senses by the mind, the essential technique is really the withdrawal of the mind into itself. It is a kind of abstraction so complete that the sense-organs cease to function. Any school boy who is intensely interested in a novel cuts himself off from the outer world. Any inventor like Edison who is absorbed in a problem can forget the external world completely. But in all such cases, although a high degree of abstraction is attained the abstraction is involuntary and there is something in the external world on which the mind is concentrated. In Pratyāhāra the abstraction is voluntary and the mind has no object of attraction in the external world. Its field of activity is entirely within itself and the external world is kept out by the sheer force of will, as in Rāja Yoga, or by the supreme attractive power of an object of love within, as in Bhakti Yoga.

Tataḥ paramā vaśyatendriyāṇām.

then; from that the highest; the greatest mastery over the senses.

55. Then follows the greatest mastery over the senses.

The successful practice of Pratyāhāra as we have seen in the previous Sūtra gives complete control over the Indriyas in the sense that we no longer remain their slaves but become their master, switching them off and on as we switch off and on the electric light in our room. What such a power will mean to an ordinary man can be easily imagined, but for a Rāja Yogi it is a sine qua non.

It is interesting to note how the first five Aṅgas of Yoga eliminate one after another different sources of disturbance to the mind and prepare it for the final struggle with its own Vṛttis. First to be eliminated by Yama-Niyama are the emotional disturbances due to moral defects in one’s nature. Next to be eliminated by the practice of Āsana are the disturbances which arise in the physical body. Then come the disturbances caused by the irregular or insufficient flow of vital forces in the Prānic sheath. All these are removed completely by the practice of Prāṇāyāma. And lastly, through Pratyāhāra is removed the major source of disturbances coming through the sense-organs. Thus is accomplished Bahiraṅga or external Yoga and the Sādhaka becomes capable of treading the further stages of Antaraṅga or internal Yoga.