It is profoundly challenging, particularly for those traversing the spiritual path, to maintain equanimity and not be swept away by tumultuous currents. With the emphasis on being antarmukhi , turning the gaze inward, as the paramount endeavour, i have tried to forge a philosophical bridge between contemporary cataclysms and the relationship between jiva and the Divine.
One possible response is the complete negation of the Divine, exemplified by Western atheism and agnosticism or, in the Indian context, by Bhagat Singh’s incisive essay Why I Am an Atheist . This stance derives its force from the classical philosophical problem of evil and the existential and rational incompatibility between the existence of an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, and infinitely benevolent God and the unrelenting reality of prima facie innocent suffering.
When schoolchildren in Gaza or elsewhere perish in missile strikes or beneath collapsing buildings, one is compelled to ask: Why does an omniscient and omnipotent God not prevent such suffering and save these children?
A second response emerges from non-theistic or atheistic traditions such as Buddhism, Jainism, and Taoism. These traditions reject a creator God but affirm the law of Karm, which operates like gravity, independent of any external agency. Here, the state of enlightenment is attained through nirjara, burning away of karmic samskaras, impressions. In this framework, an individual’s stream of consciousness is inseparable from its karm; yet, upon complete purification, the individual attains enlightenment.
There is no difference between the Divine and jiva , according to Adi Shankaracharya’s Aham Brahmasmi , “I am Brahmn,” and the Sufi mystic Mansur al-Hallaj’s ecstatic declaration, “ An-al-Haqq, I am the Truth.” For Shankara, it is like a water drop merging into the ocean; for the Sufi, it is fana, absolute spiritual annihilation and the total, distinctionless union of the self with the Divine.
A third major response arises from theistic streams within Vedanta and other traditions, such as Ramanujacharya’s vishishtadvaita (qualified nondualism), Vallabhacharya’s shuddhadvaita ( pure nondualism), Madhvacharya’s dvaita (dualism), and Nimbarkacharya’s dvaitadvaita (dualistic nondualism). Each articulates a distinct ontology of the relationship between jiva and the Divine.
In Shankaracharya’s Advaita, Shivalok is not a distant celestial realm to be attained and enjoyed in duality, but an ever-present, inner staterealised within through nididhyasan , an immanent reality that transcends the sensory domains of ‘seeing’ and ‘interacting’, lying beyond the mundane ambit of mind and senses. Anything less than a complete, nondual merger would remain metaphysically incoherent for Shankara. This merger understandably encounters resistance in the human psyche for at least two reasons. First, our cultural and historical conditioning. Second, a subtle but tenacious ego ( ahamkar ) embedded in the antahkaran clings to distinct individuality and a separate entity.
For Shankara, in this apparently real yet ontologically mithya world, any contemporary event appearing as chaos is only seen through the prism of ignorance arising from our inadequate conception of reality under maya, illusion.
Ultimately, whether one leans towards nondual merger, eternal communion, or dualistic devotion, the true test lies not in intellectual resolution alone but in the quiet, persistent labour of self-transformation.
The above article is in response to ‘Why i Dare To Differ From Adi Shankara’ published on June 2
Disclaimer
Views expressed above are the author’s own.
