The bonding of life and the bondage of illusion

February 13, 2026

Dr Tanu Jain
Chief executive officer Bareilly cantonment board Ministry of defence

One quiet evening, as the mind softened into meditation, my Master began to speak—not as a teacher delivering instruction, but as a fellow traveller opening a deeper chamber of life. We were speaking of mannosthiti—the inner climate of the mind—and how subtly it governs our experience of existence. What began as a gentle reflection slowly unfolded into a long, unhurried conversation on life itself: its bonds, its burdens, and the fine, often invisible line between bonding and bondage.

To illuminate this truth, he shared a story. A saint and his disciple were once walking through a dense forest. The trees stood like silent witnesses, their shadows stretching long, as if listening. The conversation between the two was subtle, inward, almost whispered. At one point, the saint paused and asked the disciple a question that cut through the layers of thought like a blade through silk: “Jis deh se tum pyaar karte ho—maas ka layer utaar do. Do you still love the body? Only bones remain.”

The question was not meant to shock, but to awaken. What is it that we truly love the body, or the bhav behind it? Strip away flesh, beauty, youth, form—what remains for our attachment to cling to? In that moment, the disciple fell silent. And in that silence lived the teaching.

What we call love is often an arrangement with appearances. What we call attachment is frequently an agreement with illusion. When the outer coverings fall away, the mind is forced to confront a difficult truth: it is not the form that binds us, but the emotion we project upon it. Bhav gives life its warmth, its colour, its meaning—but when bhav becomes entangled with possession, fear, and expectation, it quietly transforms into bondage.

This is precisely where Vairagya satakam speaks—not with rejection of life, but with profound clarity: “Youth fades from the mother, age overtakes the father. Wealth diminishes and disappears. In this ever-changing world, who truly belongs to whom?” Bhartr hari is not lamenting change; he is revealing its certainty. Everything we lean upon—beauty, strength, relationships, status—moves quietly but relentlessly towards transformation. The tragedy is not that things change; the tragedy is that we expect permanence where impermanence is the law.

Life, when seen clearly, is a continuous act of leaving. Youth leaves the body. Roles leave relationships. People leave each other. Even identities we once fiercely defended loosen their grip with time. Yet the mind resists. It clings, argues, hopes. And in that resistance, suffering is born. My Master smiled gently as he spoke, not with detachment from life, but with intimacy born of understanding. “Bonding is natural,” he said, “but when bonding demands forever, it becomes bondage.”

Vairagya, then, is not cold withdrawal. It is warm wisdom. It is the ability to love deeply without demanding permanence, to participate fully without insisting on ownership. It is the quiet maturity that knows how to hold life lightly. The spirit of Vairagya satakam captures this inner refuge beautifully: “Let detachment become your constant companion, so craving does not arise again and again. What you see is not eternal—drop delusion, and return inward.”

This “return inward” is not escape. It is homecoming. When illusions fall, something remarkably gentle remains: awareness without anxiety, love without fear, connection without chains. One begins to see relationships as sacred encounters rather than lifelong contracts, experiences as teachers rather than possessions. That evening ended without conclusions, without advice. It ended with a stillness—like the forest after the saint’s question. And in that stillness, one truth settled quietly in the heart: Vairagya is not the denial of emotion. It is the purification of emotion.

When bhav is freed from illusion, love becomes expansive, not binding. Life continues, but the weight lifts. One walks, participates, serves, loves—yet remains unburdened. Perhaps this is the real teaching the Master wished to offer: life does not ask us to renounce it. It only asks us to see it as it is. And in that seeing, bondage dissolves—leaving behind a tender, luminous freedom.