Whose intellect deserves to be called kushagra buddhi — a sharp, discerning intellect? One who walks the path of liberation (kalyan) understands this. This discourse continues faithfully from the previous Vachanamrut discourse on the same subject: one who practices antardrashti, inner reflection, and internalizes the scripture within himself. Maharaj explained the meaning of antardrashti this way: having darshan of God's murti and then holding it within one's own heart — that is when the scripture is truly understood. But when does one actually hold the scripture within the heart? One may have darshan of God's murti with open eyes, but when does one hold that same murti within the soul with eyes closed? If there is no time set aside to hold it within the soul, then all that effort accomplishes nothing. [music] Whoever holds it within his own soul — that is what Maharaj called kushagra buddhi.
There was an old sant who, after having darshan of God's murti, could tell you the discourse of any day you named — he could say, "On this day Swami gave this discourse," and describe exactly what the darshan of God was like that day. And yet, whether he received the fruit of it or not, only God knows. Even with all he could remember — remembering the darshan of God so precisely — how could it still not benefit him? This is exactly why Maharaj said so much on this point: that even if one has done nothing for one's own liberation, merely retaining the memory of darshan may not lead to one's own liberation, and merely retaining the memory of scripture may not lead to one's own liberation either. Such a thing can happen.
Cleverness (hoshiyari), when present, should be used for one's own liberation. Often people use their cleverness for the benefit of others, but usually they use it only for themselves. [This next line is unclear in the source recording, rendered by best sense:] such cleverness that merely draws people to come and pay their respects — that kind of cleverness should not be pursued too much.
As it is said, in a Sanskrit line: "It is seen only by a fine, subtle intellect, by those who perceive subtle things." So — is one who knows a great deal about worldly affairs to be called kushagra buddhi, or not? Or one who knows a great deal about the meaning of scripture and the Puranas — is he to be called that, or not?
Maharaj addressed this at length in the Vachanamrut, in Gadhada I-18. What did he say there? Even one who knows the meaning of scripture well — you can read that discourse for yourself. Apart from mere study, he said: even one who studies the four Vedas, the six Shastras, the eighteen Puranas, and histories like the Mahabharata; who teaches them to others; who knows their meaning; and who even listens (shravan) to them properly and grows through that listening — even so, real listening means truly understanding, "this is the essence of it." Even one who listens in that proper way may still not attain liberation. Even one who hears all this may still not go to Dham, however much of this he does.
And even writing it down, Maharaj said, does not by itself lead one to Dham — even what we ourselves have written down as "Chintan," the act of writing it does not by itself take anyone to Dham.
Take motivational videos, for instance. If you listen to any motivational speaker, does anything in it disturb you spiritually? There is nothing in a motivational video that disturbs — such videos are entirely about worldly affairs (vyavahar). Our discourses (katha), by contrast, are spiritual. A motivational talk does not do what a spiritual discourse does, but we can put it to spiritual use if there is something worthwhile in it. Whose motivation is behind it? The motivation to earn money — that is all it is, and there is nothing wrong with that. It is good; if we can learn something from it, that is a good thing. There is no fault in motivational content — the fault lies in certain kinds of discourse (katha). A motivational speaker is innocent (nirdosh); someone who does business out of giving religious discourse cannot be called innocent in the same way. A motivational speaker holds no opposition to God in his heart — that is why he is innocent. If we take something good from what he says, it will not harm or hinder us. But in the other case — someone opposed to God giving discourse — there is real bondage involved. This is why Maharaj said one should be wary of a vimukh jiv, a soul that stands opposed to God.
Someone merely disconnected from God is not necessarily called vimukh. There are many such people who, if they were to actually encounter God, would accept Him. They are ordinary worldly souls (prakrut), and all these motivational ventures are simply businesses for earning money. Everyone does some kind of business — there is no fault in that. If we take something useful from that business, find contentment in it, and apply it in our spiritual life, taking good teaching from it, there is no fault in that. But if the ones giving the discourse are themselves opposed to God, and we become attached to them, then there is a problem.
There is a teaching that one should not listen to a vimukh soul's discourse. In an ordinary case it isn't yet clear whether a given person is truly vimukh or not — but in the case just discussed (someone trading in katha while opposed to God), it is clear: he is vimukh. Vimukh does not simply mean "disconnected from God"; it means actively opposed to God. He uses God's own religious means for the sake of earning his bread; his whole focus is on his livelihood, with no possibility left, even in principle, for real connection to God. Whether the motivational speaker has that possibility is not established either way, so he cannot yet be called vimukh — he should be called prakrut (ordinary, worldly). This is why Maharaj did not write, "do not listen to discourse from the mouth of a prakrut soul" — he wrote, "do not listen to discourse from the mouth of a vimukh soul." The motivational speaker's intellect can be called prakrut, because the poor fellow does not yet know whether God matters or not — money alone is the main thing to him. But the one who trades in katha while opposed to God knows full well that God exists, yet still puts money above God, having deliberately set God aside. The motivational speaker, on the other hand, may simply have no concept of God at all in his world — so there is no real problem with him.
There is a problem with listening to Ravana's discourse, because Ravana is known to have been opposed to Lord Ram. But if someone else is equally clever yet has no opposition to Ram, there is no problem listening to him. So, one who knows a great deal about worldly matters is called kushagra buddhi — take Kautilya, for example. If Kautilya gives a discourse, there is no problem listening to it; there is a problem listening to Ravana's discourse. Kautilya is clever, but he has no opposition to God — he is simply clever, and he can give a motivational discourse. Ravana too could give a motivational discourse — Ravana was clever in statecraft, and so was Kautilya — but Ravana's discourse should not be heard. Shakuni's discourse should also not be heard: Shakuni was clever, but he was opposed to Krishna. Kautilya has no opposition to Krishna — he is simply clever.
So one who knows a great deal about worldly matters — what today would be called "motivational" — should be considered a descendant of Kautilya, not of Ravana. If a descendant of Ravana were operating in the religious field, gathering followers or wealth there, then he would be called a descendant of Ravana. Returning to the original question: is one who knows a great deal about worldly matters called kushagra buddhi, or not? Or one who knows a great deal about the meaning of scripture and the Puranas — is he called that, or not? When the sadhus could not answer, Maharaj himself spoke: "Some are very clever in worldly matters but make no effort at all toward their own liberation. Some, though they know the antardrashti described in the Vachanamrut, do not themselves practice it — they do not hold God's murti within their own soul, and they do not hold the essence of the scriptures within their own soul."
Not only that — they never let it touch them at all. They carry on their business, their worldly dealings, all day long, and never let any of it touch their own soul. If one knows the true meaning of scripture, what does that actually amount to? He studies, he knows the meaning, he teaches others, and he is himself skillful in worldly dealings and puts that skill to use — yet even so, he does not let it touch his own soul. How can that be, that it never touches the soul? What does "touch" even mean here? Maharaj explained it this way: those pandits who study scripture and the Puranas — why does none of it work toward their own liberation? Because they come to look down on the sadhus, thinking, "these sadhus are no different from us" — such an intellect, Maharaj said, is not kushagra buddhi but asuric buddhi, a demonic intellect. The reason is that from the very moment they began their studies, their intention was fixed on earning a livelihood from it — that groove was set from the start. They never once resolved, "let this be for my own liberation." So however much they may know, none of it ever touches their own soul, because when one knows the meaning and the essence of scripture but never intended it for one's own liberation, that essence never touches the soul.
Maharaj explained antardrashti this way: having darshan of God and then holding it within one's own soul is antardrashti. In the same way, seeking out the essence of scripture and holding it within one's own soul is also antardrashti. But a person motivated only by earning a livelihood never lets any of it touch his soul, no matter how much of this "business" he conducts. Even if Ravana knew the essence of the Vedas, he never let it touch his soul. It is different with Kautilya — Kautilya's entire field is worldly (prakrut) to begin with, so there is no problem listening to Kautilya's statecraft. There is a problem listening to Ravana's statecraft; there is a problem listening to Shakuni's statecraft; but there is no problem listening to Kautilya's statecraft.
So today's motivational programs would all be considered descendants of Kautilya rather than of Ravana. And yet, even so, Maharaj did not cite Kautilya's statecraft as an authority — instead, he cited Vidura's. Maharaj did recognize it as real statecraft; he cited Vidura's policy. Uddhavji's policy also existed, but Maharaj apparently did not draw on Uddhavji's policy very much. Vidura, in particular, was uniquely suited for this role — he was the king's minister, serving specifically as an advisor — which is why his policy was cited. And why was Kautilya's policy not cited? Because Vidura's policy is inspired by bhakti (devotion), while Kautilya's policy is inspired by artha (material gain) — it is not born of opposition to God. But Ravana's policy carries an unwitting opposition to God within it, even if it contains the very best of wisdom — that opposition creeps in unnoticed.
This is why Maharaj said: it is like poison mixed into milk — you cannot see it, but the poison is there, and it kills. In the same way, even if a vimukh soul's discourse appears good, that hidden poison is not visible. This is exactly why Maharaj forbade it: even if the writing is good, the discourse is good, the presentation is good, everything else about it is good, even the motivational quality of it is good — one should still seek out an ordinary, worldly (prakrut) source of motivation instead of this one. [The closing illustration here — likening this to a case where Swami himself does the cooking as an offering of service rather than bringing in an outside cook, so that both the service to Swami and the practical work get done together — was not fully clear from the recording; the precise point of this local illustration could not be confidently reconstructed. See flags.]
So Maharaj said: "Some are very clever in worldly matters, but make no effort at all toward their own liberation. Some know the meaning of scripture and the Puranas very well, but still make no effort toward their own liberation. Some are highly skilled in statecraft, some in earning wealth, but if they make no effort on the path of their own liberation, they should not be called kushagra buddhi — they should be called jaadi buddhi, a dull or thick intellect."
What, then, is kushagra buddhi? Here a Sanskrit verse on the nature of intellect is cited and worked through aloud, with the speaker himself noting that part of it seems to be missing: "Buddhi is to be understood as immediate, present-moment knowledge; mati is that which perceives what lies ahead; prajna is characterized by ever-fresh insight; and pratibha is understood as..." These are all, in one sense, different words for "intellect," but taken together each has its own distinct meaning. Mati is the faculty by which one foresees what is coming — one who can see ahead, see ahead, see ahead, is said to have mati. One who is quick-witted, ready with an immediate answer, like Birbal, is called buddhimaan. Prajna — "navonmesha-shalini" — means ever-fresh, ever-new; in today's language we would call it innovation: seeking out something new, being creative — that is prajna. As for the verse's continuation, "prajnam navonmesha-shalini, pratibham viduh," a word seems to be missing there; something in the verse feels incomplete. Pratibha means the capacity to influence others — someone who makes an impression, who has an effect on others, is said to have pratibha. Perhaps the intended sense is that this kind of ever-fresh prajna, when present, is itself what is called pratibha — that seems to be the meaning, though this reading is offered tentatively, not with certainty.
The verse continues: "shushrusha [the eagerness to hear], shravanam [listening], grahanam [grasping], dharanam [retaining], and likewise uha-poha and artha-vijnanam [reasoned inquiry and understanding of meaning] — these are the qualities of the intellect." These, too, are all aspects of intellect. Maharaj described four characteristics of buddhi — doubt (sanshaya), determination (nishchaya), sleep (nidra), and memory (smriti) — smriti being one of its functions. These other terms are also functions of buddhi: shravanam and shushrusha (listening and the eagerness to listen), grahanam and dharanam (grasping and retaining), uha-poha and artha-vijnanam (reasoning through affirmation and negation, and understanding of meaning) — this ascertaining of truth is a function of the intellect.
The desire to listen, shushrusha — first, one must have the desire to know the essence of things. In connection with Shastriji Maharaj's own teaching, Krishnapriya Swami once told me something remarkable: there exists a recorded cassette of Swami [Shastriji Maharaj] in which he says, "When I was young, newly become a sadhu, from that time a very strong resolve arose in my mind: that I must, once and for all, properly come to know what the true principles of the Mul Purush actually are." Wanting to properly know the principles of the Mul Purush — that is what is meant by shrotum iccha, the desire to hear: the desire to know the fundamental truth (tattva), the root truth, deeply — "let me come to know it for myself, once." That is what stayed strongly on Swami's mind. He then studied, so that he could come to properly know the Mul Purush's principles and the Mul Purush himself — that was the resolve in Swami's heart. Swami said, in his own words: "I used to feel this often before — that people keep repeatedly changing what they present to us as the Mul Purush's words, saying 'Swaminarayan said this,' 'Swaminarayan said that' — but how much of that is really his, and how much has been mixed in by the person repeating it? So I had to make the effort myself to find out what the Mul Purush's own true principles actually are." That is called tattva-jignasa, the inquiry into fundamental truth, or shrota-iccha — the desire to listen, the desire to know, must arise. That is a quality of the intellect; that is a function of the intellect. If the intellect is pure, the inquiry (jignasa) turns toward God — or, as it is also called, brahma-jignasa, the inquiry into Brahman. When does brahma-jignasa arise? After karma-mimamsa — after one has properly worked through the inquiry into ritual action and duty, one then feels, "No, no — I must know Brahman, I must know what Brahman is." That is what true intellect means. If that inquiry never even arises, then one's mumukshuta, one's yearning for liberation, has already died. Mumukshuta is a quality of the intellect. If, after becoming a sadhu, one's mumukshuta dies, it means one avenue of the intellect has shut down; other avenues of intellect may remain, but one must keep mumukshuta alive. Only then does the intellect remain truly active — otherwise, it is like someone who has taken off their ornaments and set them aside after arriving home: that is what happens to an intellect without mumukshuta. [music]