Blows of the world smash this ephemeral dream that life is. We cling to the world seeking joy and repose in it. But this world is a contradiction in terms and will give us no rest. When happiness visits us for a while we are trapped by the wiles of Maya. We believe that this joyous state will continue for ever. But grief is the reverse of the same coin whose obverse joy is. And soon it comes in the wake of the joy we are immersed in to awake us to the unreality of this world. Grief is intense and its concentrated force jolts us hard in our midsummer night's dream and we awake to our real Self which is imperishable. The phenomenal universe is a dream, nay, a nightmare. It is a discontinuous, fractured structure, full of fault-lines that collapses under its weight when Revelation Time comes ( Kalenatmani vindati ).The Self is effulgent and must in the fullness of time reveal itself. When this time will be is unknown to any except Mahamaya. She alone nurses the soul and nourishes it with myriad experiences of Maya till She deems the soul's time to be up and then She releases Her hold on it. And lo, the dream breaks under the sledgehammer blows of Maya, the clouds disperse, rent apart, blown off by the wind of discrimination that follows in the wake of the thunderbolt of misfortune and Dame Fortune smiles on the aspirant soul releasing it unto its true identity, THE SELF.
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