A king once went hunting in the forest with his minister—a man deeply influenced by philosophy. His guiding belief, taught by his master, was simple: whatever happens, happens for good. As they ventured deeper into the forest, a tiger suddenly attacked them. The king managed to kill the animal, but in the struggle, he lost his right thumb—rendering him unable to use his bow.
Distressed and in pain, he was met with the minister’s calm reassurance: 'Maharaj, do not worry. Whatever has happened is for our good.' Already upset, the king found this remark infuriating. In a fit of anger, he dragged the minister to a nearby well, pushed him in, and said bitterly, 'This too must be for your good. Stay here and continue your philosophy!' Leaving the minister behind, the king went on alone—only to be captured by a group of Kali worshippers. They bound him and took him to their temple, intending to offer him as a human sacrifice.
The next morning, the chief priest summoned the king. When the king revealed his royal identity while pleading for his life, the priest replied, 'All the more auspicious. Royal blood will be a sacred offering.' But just as the ritual was about to begin, the priest noticed the king’s missing thumb. He immediately declared the offering unfit—such a defect was considered a dosha—an imperfection that could anger the goddess.
The king was released. Relieved and overwhelmed, the king realized that losing his thumb had, in fact, saved his life. What had seemed like cruel misfortune had quietly worked in his favor. He rushed back to the well, pulled the minister out, and apologized sincerely. 'You were right,' he said. 'Everything happens for good. Forgive me for what I did.' The minister smiled and replied, 'Maharaj, even your act of throwing me into the well was for my good. Had I been with you, I would have been the perfect offering.'
It is our attitude that makes all the difference in life. An awakened person remains inwardly inspired, constantly observing the workings of the mind rather than reacting blindly to circumstances. As Krishna says, 'Prashantasya paramatma samahitaha'—in a state of calm and stillness, one becomes aligned with the higher self. When you are serene and tranquil, you become open to life as it is, not as you wish it to be.
Paramatma signifies completeness—the ultimate wholeness of the self, where nothing is lacking and nothing is resisted. Samahita refers to one who does not fight “what is,” but experiences it fully, with awareness and acceptance.
Pain is not something to discard or escape from. Pleasure has a beauty pain does not—but pain, too, has a depth that pleasure cannot offer. True wisdom lies in embracing both.
Pain is not something to discard or escape from. Pleasure has a beauty that pain does not—but pain, too, has a depth that pleasure cannot offer. Happiness spreads wide, but sorrow sinks deep, shaping us in ways joy often cannot. When we learn how to relate to pain with awareness, it transforms into a profound learning experience, refining our understanding and softening our ego.
Each experience has its own flavour, its own essence, its own quiet teaching. Yet we often miss this richness because we chase only comfort, only happiness, only what feels good in the moment. In doing so, we deny ourselves the full spectrum of life—the very contrast that gives meaning to existence. True wisdom lies not in choosing between pleasure and pain, but in embracing both with equal openness, allowing each to reveal its lesson, its beauty, and its truth.