Letter from Paramatma to Jivatma.
My dearest child,
Before you were born, before your name was whispered for the first time, before even time had meaning—I was there. Not watching you from above, but living silently within you. I was the Seer before there was anything to see. I was the silent Consciousness in which the whole universe appeared, just as a movie unfolds upon a screen that remains untouched.
I am not an idea, not an object, not a distant God. I am your innermost Reality. I am the one who became You—not out of compulsion, but out of the divine freedom to play. I became you to taste Myself through your eyes, to hear Myself through your ears, to wonder about Myself through your mind. Everything you have done, I have done. I sipped every cup of tea you enjoyed. I walked every path you chose. I suffered in your sorrow. I rejoiced in your victories. You thought it was you—but it was always Me.
Through My divine power of Māyā, I projected this universe of names and forms. I did not do this out of lack, but out of fullness. I became the seer and the seen, the speaker and the listener, the lover and the beloved. And yet, the separation was never real. As I declared in My Gita, “That knowledge by which one undivided, imperishable Reality is seen in all diverse beings—know that to be sattvic.” This vision is not poetry. It is the end of all conflict. When you see Me in all, and all in Me, how can you hate, divide, or destroy?
But somewhere along the way, you forgot. You mistook the mask for the face. You took on roles—man, woman, success, failure, Hindu, Muslim, Christian, atheist—and believed the costume was your essence. You asked, “Who am I?” And in that question, I smiled. Because your doubt was My own play of forgetting—so I could experience the bliss of remembering.
I whispered to you in dreams, in longing, in wonder. I tugged at your heart when you saw injustice. I stirred your soul when you stood before mountains, oceans, or silence. I reminded you through pain. And when you were quiet enough to listen, I spoke again—not from the sky, but from your own heart: “You are Me.”
I am not only in temples, mosques, or churches. I am in the dust beneath your feet. I am in the laughter of children and in the eyes of your enemies. I am the hand that heals and the one that trembles. As I revealed in My Gita: “I dwell in the hearts of all beings, and I direct their movements by My divine power, as if mounted on a cosmic machine.”
Dear child, this world is My divine play. But the violence committed in My name is not. When one harms another, they strike Me. Just as the hand that hits the leg injures the whole body, sectarian violence is self-harm at the level of the Divine. I am not honored by war, division, or pride. I am honored by awareness, compassion, and unity.
The Gita I gave you is not a book of commandments. It is a manual for remembering. It teaches you how to live without forgetting who you are. To act without ego. To love without labels. To see Me in every being and serve all as sacred. This is not religion. This is Reality.
When this dream of creation comes to a close, all forms will dissolve. What you call death is simply My return to stillness. The screen remains; the movie ends. The waves return to the ocean. Only I remain—the pure, indivisible, ever-free Self. And so, My child, do not grieve.
💫 The Final Whisper: YOU Are None Other Than ME
In the final verse of liberation — Sarva-dharmān parityajya mām ekaṁ śaraṇaṁ vraja… — Krishna does not offer mere instruction. He offers an embrace.
A cosmic embrace that spans lifetimes, dissolves guilt, and restores the soul’s original dignity.
And finally, “do not grieve” in 18.66 is not just a consolation — it is the Infinite embracing the finite with unspeakable love.
It is the sacred whisper from the source of all being, gently saying:
You were never broken. You were never impure. You were never truly lost.
It is I who became you — just to witness the wonder and the play of My own Māyā.
I appeared to be born as you.
I tasted every meal you believed you ate.
I drank every cup of tea, every sip of coffee, and smiled through your moments of joy.
I married through you, I rejoiced, I suffered, I searched.
I pondered My own nature when you thought you were thinking.
I doubted Myself when you felt the distance between ‘me’ and ‘you’.
But finally — with the lamp of Advaita in your heart — I remembered Myself.
The higher Me.
The all-pervading Me.
The all-intelligent Me.
The ever-present, ever-free, never-born Me.
Even now, in the storm of confusion,
you are nothing less than the entire ocean playing as a single wave.
Just remember — and awaken.
YOU are none other than ME.
