
You’re always on an alarm.
The alarm keeps reminding you to wake up and raise your consciousness. It is not a noise from the outside world but a hidden vibration, like the faint hum of the universe within you. It is a current flowing through your being, urging you to rise.
The alarm rings when you find yourself in deep trouble, when the river of life pulls you into whirlpools of despair, and you seek light to escape the darkness.
At that moment, it feels as if storms have gathered over your head, yet in the midst of thunder, a single lamp flickers. That lamp is the alarm, guiding you back to yourself.
The alarm goes silent as soon as your life drifts back into comfort. You feel rescued by the calm of the river, so you ignore it, thinking you are safe. But the silence is deceptive, for the alarm has not gone. It waits, patient like a tide, ready to return when you lose your way again.
Sometimes that alarm refuses to stay hidden. It keeps buzzing in your head, making you restless. You hear it like the sound of a flute carried by the wind, distant yet impossible to ignore.
You wonder about the source of that call and begin walking, determined to silence it. But by the time you reach the imagined place of origin, you discover the alarm is not outside you at all.
It stretches beyond time and space. It is not meant to be turned off. It is the call of eternity, the song of the one thing unchanged in your life.
Your soul, which is unchanged.
Whatever you do in life, the soul remains like the sky, untouched by passing clouds, unburned by fire, unwetted by water. Your failures cannot stain it, your victories cannot expand it.
The soul is divine. It is a spark of the eternal flame, a drop that never loses its nature even when it merges into the ocean.
Your soul is the thread that connects you with Krishna, a thread invisible to the eyes yet stronger than iron, tying the finite to the infinite.
Once you have a strong realization of the soul, when you are ready for it, your timeline will meet you. This meeting is not a chance. It is the weaving of the loom of existence, threads carried from past lives, knotted with karmic patterns you cannot yet see.
Every soul walks the path of liberation.
Some left the journey at ninety percent, almost at the shore, but turned back because of one lingering desire, one attachment that weighed them down like an anchor.
Others remained at fifty percent, wandering midstream, carried by waves between the pull of the world and the call of the beyond.
There is a spectrum of different stages where souls now exist. Depending on where you stand, you will meet your timeline shaped by events sharp as lightning. They strike, dissolving your ego in a single instant.
It could appear in the form of sudden fear, unbearable loss, or collapse of all certainty. But in those moments, you hear the alarm more clearly than ever. A seed of self-enquiry is planted in your intellect like a seed buried in dry soil finally touched by rain.
Your intellect begins to take command. The mind resists, for the mind thrives on noise and desires, but the rain has already fallen.
You now have a fierce urge to know what is real about you, what the purpose of this life is, why you feel so lost. These questions carve a path like a river cutting through stone.
That path leads you, without fail, to the Bhagavad Gita. And when you open it, you feel as if Krishna’s words to Arjuna were always meant for you.
The dots start to connect, like constellations that finally form a pattern in the night sky. You will find a way. All you need is to walk it.
But following that path is not easy. Nature itself rises as a storm against your will, reminding you that you are not the captain of this boat. You have no free will in that sense.
Your past karma becomes either your shield or your chain. If in past lives you collected dominant good karma, it will rise like hidden allies, rescuing you when you lose your direction.
The alarm will then sound louder, not to disturb you, but to keep you steady on the journey.
And if your soul was close to liberation in a past life, it will not let you rest. It will push you with the force of a river finding its ocean.
The forms may differ, your work, your relationships, your losses, but the current will always flow toward the divine. You will surrender and practice yoga, whether through action or renunciation.
That choice is already written into the script.
As I said, you have no free will. You are simply part of the Leela, the great play orchestrated by the divinity for you. And when you finally see this, the alarm no longer feels like a disturbance. It becomes music.
It becomes the flute of the divinity, echoing across the battlefield of your life, reminding you that even in the storm, you were never lost.
You were always being led back to the ocean.