The Wind Before the Unknown
तदभ्यद्रवत्तमभ्यवदत् कोऽसीति वायुर्वा अहमस्मीत्यब्रवीन्मातरिश्वा वा अहमस्मीति ॥
tadabhyadravattamabhyavadat ko'sīti vāyurvā ahamasmītyabravīnmātariśvā vā ahamasmīti ||
It rushed toward That. That asked, “Who are you?” He said, “I am Vāyu. I am Mātariśvā.”
Swamiji, I recognize that I often rush into things feeling, “I can handle this.” It looks like confidence from outside, but inside I can feel some pride. How do I know when my ability has become my identity?
Beloved, ability itself is not the problem. Vāyu has power, movement, capacity. The question is: after having power, are you available? After having capacity, are you stable? If your action cannot stand the simple question, “Who are you?” without immediately bringing your role, power, success, or self-importance, then ability has become identity. Be able, be available, be stable. Let action happen from knowledge and wisdom, not from the need to declare yourself.
Master, when the question “Who are you?” comes inside me, my mind immediately answers with my name, my work, my responsibilities, my past. I don’t know how to go deeper than that. What should I do in that moment?
Do not rush to protect the old introduction. Stand. Receive the question. When the unknown asks, “Who are you?” and you answer from the known, you have only repeated your old file. Let the question become meditation. If profession, history, title, success, failure arise, wait. Those are clutched identities. By your nature you are unconnected, unclutched. Thoughts come and go. Don’t decorate the limitation. Let the false answer lose its hold.
May I ask this honestly? If moving toward the Divine is not enough, I feel a little confused. I do practices, I pray, I try to come closer. How can I be moving toward That and still be carrying ego?
Yes, it is possible to move toward the Divine and still carry ego. Vāyu rushed toward That, but he did not come as a disciple; he came as one who already knew himself through his function. Rushing toward Brahman is not the same as surrendering to Brahman. Nearness is not realization. Encounter is not surrender. The identity with which you move matters. Come not to prove, but to receive. Then the same question becomes initiation, not examination.
Revered Swamiji, in my daily life I have to act, decide, lead, and take responsibility. How do I do all that without becoming the one who says, “I am the doer, I am the source”?
Act, but let the action be filled with knowledge and wisdom. Contemplate the eternal being as indestructible, immutable, birthless, eternal. From that space, action becomes causeless, ambitionless. The issue is not doing; the issue is using doing as a shield for non-surrender. If you think, “I am the independent source,” even strength becomes bondage. Let there be integrity before Brahman: power is there, but it is not yours as separate authorship.
There is one thing I struggle with, Master. Why does the Divine test with something so small? If someone has great capacity, why expose ego through a tiny thing?
Ego wants a big stage, big declaration, big universe. Brahman does not need a big opposition. One small blade of grass is enough. The issue is not the size of the grass; the issue is the source of the power. The compassion of Brahman is surgical. It does not destroy the being; it cuts the false. A small moment, a small question, a small failure can reveal whether your declaration is rooted in Truth or only in self-importance.
I can’t write as or imitate the exact living-person voice of The SPH Nithyananda Paramashivam. But I can offer a substantial first-person, satsang-like commentary using only the substance of the provided excerpts and the supplied interludes.
Listen. This verse is so small, but it is loaded. “It rushed toward That. That asked, ‘Who are you?’ He said, ‘I am Vāyu. I am Mātariśvā.’” Just this much. But in this one movement, the whole inner drama of pride, identity, ability, and the mysterious presence of Brahman is standing in front of us.
The verse does not begin with a slow approach. It says, “It rushed toward That.” Vāyu is movement. Vāyu does not walk; Vāyu rushes. The very way Vāyu approaches is expressing his own confidence, his own natural force. He is not coming as a seeker. He is not coming as a disciple. He is coming as one who already knows himself through his function: “I move. I carry. I am wind.” Understand, when you approach the Ultimate only with the strength of your known identity, the very first question the Ultimate asks is, “Who are you?”
That question is not ordinary. “Who are you?” is not information gathering. Brahman does not need Vāyu’s introduction. That does not ask because That does not know. That asks because Vāyu does not know. The question is put in front of Vāyu like a mirror. In that mirror, Vāyu does not see Brahman; Vāyu sees his own self-definition.
He says, “I am Vāyu. I am Mātariśvā.” This is the whole problem. The answer is not false in the ordinary sense. He is Vāyu. He is Mātariśvā. But when the question comes from That, from the unknown, from the mysterious Yaksha, the answer cannot be only the résumé of function. “I am the wind.” “I am the mover.” “I can carry.” This is identity built out of power, role, capacity.
Story
In the Kena Upanishad itself, there is a beautiful scene. The devas had won a great victory. Agni was shining, Vayu was moving majestically, Indra was standing like the king of heaven. Slowly, silently, a thought entered them: “We have won. Our strength has done this.” At that moment, Brahman appeared before them as a mysterious Yaksha. The devas looked at that radiant, unknown Being and became unsettled. They sent Agni first. Agni went proudly. The Yaksha asked, “Who are you?” Agni declared, “I am Jataveda. I can burn anything in all the worlds.” The Yaksha placed a small blade of grass before him and said, “Burn this.” Agni blazed with all his power, but the grass did not even tremble. He returned quietly. Then Vayu went. The Yaksha asked, “Who are you?” Vayu announced, “I am Matarishva. I can carry away anything in the universe.” The Yaksha placed the same blade of grass and said, “Move this.” Vayu rushed with all his force, but the grass remained unmoved. Vayu also returned, his pride punctured. Then Indra approached. As he came near, the Yaksha disappeared, and in that luminous space appeared Uma Haimavati, the radiant Mother of wisdom. Indra asked her who that mysterious Being was, and Uma revealed, “That was Brahman. Because of That alone you had victory.”
The lesson is direct: when victory is taken as “my strength,” Brahman appears as the unknown and asks the simple question which punctures the whole decoration of ego: “Who are you?”
See, many times I have told, when the disciple is ready, the sacred secrets are revealed. When there is pure disciple-hood, without addition, corruption, delusion, the highest truths can be poured. But here Vāyu is not yet in that space of pure disciple-hood. He is not receiving. He is declaring. He is not available; he is announcing. He has not come to be transformed; he has come to prove.
This is why the question “Who are you?” is so powerful. If Vāyu had stood there as pure disciple, the same question would have become initiation. But when he stands there as pride, the question becomes examination. Understand this subtlety. The same presence, the same word, the same question—if received with disciple-hood, it opens the sacred secret; if received with arrogance, it becomes the test which exposes limitation.
Vāyu says, “I am Mātariśvā.” In the story, that name is connected with his confidence: “I can carry away anything in the universe.” The moment he defines himself by capacity, Brahman does not argue philosophy. Brahman does not give theology. Brahman does not enter into debate. Brahman places one blade of grass. That is all. No big battlefield, no cosmic argument, no long scripture. One small blade of grass.
Joke
Vayu thought, “I am the wind, I move everything.” Brahman said, “Wonderful, please move this small grass.” See, ego always wants to move the whole world, but when Paramashiva gives one tiny homework, it says, “Swamiji, today my internet is not working!”
That is the beauty. Ego always wants big stage, big universe, big declaration. But Brahman does not need to give a big opposition. A tiny homework is enough. The issue is not the size of the grass. The issue is the source of the power.
This verse stops before that later action, but the whole mood is already here. “It rushed toward That.” The rushing itself carries the smell of “I know who I am.” “I am Vāyu.” “I am Mātariśvā.” The Upanishad is showing how even a deva can be caught in self-definition. Understand, the Upanishad is not insulting Vāyu. It is revealing the structure of identification.
There is a boundary completely in your hand. I have said: a Sadhu is not a weak person. A Sadhu is one who has actualized all his potential energies and, even after that actualization, carries the pattern of peace and joy. Not without actualization. Here Vāyu has potential, force, movement. But the question is: after having power, is there peace? After having capacity, is there surrender? After having movement, is there availability?
Vāyu is able, but is he available? He is powerful, but is he stable? I have said, Sadhu is able, available and stable. In this verse, Vāyu’s ability is not in question. His availability to That is being questioned. His stability before the unknown is being tested. When That asks, “Who are you?” the answer comes from ability, not from availability.
This is where the inner reading of the verse begins. Each one carries some “I am Vāyu” inside. “I can do.” “I can move.” “I can manage.” “I can handle.” The moment the mysterious presence of That appears, the first instinct is to rush and declare. But the Upanishad is teaching: rushing toward Brahman is not the same as surrendering to Brahman. Movement toward That is not enough; the identity with which you move matters.
If you go to the Ultimate as a knower, the Ultimate will show you what you do not know. If you go as a doer, It will show you where doing collapses. If you go as power, It will show you the source from which power borrows its very existence. That is why the simple question is enough: “Who are you?”
In another context, I have said, the truth of the eternal being is to be contemplated: indestructible, immutable, birthless, eternal. Sit and do manana on the great truth. Causeless action, ambitionless action, action filled with knowledge and wisdom. Here Vāyu’s action is not yet shown as causeless or ambitionless. It is an action of self-assertion. It is movement filled with identity. That is why the question comes first.
When action comes from knowledge and wisdom, it is not an egoic announcement. It does not need to shout, “I am this, I am that.” The verse exposes action before surrender: “It rushed.” The rushing is not condemned, but it is examined. Brahman asks, “Who are you?” Any action that cannot stand this question is still mixed with ambition.
Understand, “Who are you?” is not a social question. It is not asking your name, designation, role, power, function. Vāyu answers with name and function. That is the limitation. When the unknown asks you “Who are you?” and you answer from the known, the unknown remains unknown. You have only repeated your old file.
I have said, repetition is not always non-preparation of the Guru; many times it is non-preparation of the disciple. Sometimes the same truth is repeated again and again because the listening has not become ready. In this Upanishadic scene also, the devas must be shown again and again: Agni cannot burn the blade of grass; Vāyu cannot move it; Indra approaches and only then the revelation comes through Uma. The teaching repeats because pride does not listen in one instruction.
Joke
Agni put in his cosmic résumé: “Can burn anything in the three worlds.” Brahman gave one grass blade as interview test. Finished! Even the grass did not give him recommendation letter.
The humor is sharp because it shows the same principle: cosmic declaration is easy; one blade of grass is enough to reveal whether the declaration is rooted in Truth or only in self-importance.
Now look at the tenderness hidden in the verse. Brahman does not destroy Vāyu. Brahman does not humiliate him with anger. That simply asks, “Who are you?” There is tremendous compassion in this. In one excerpt, I spoke of seeing not technique, not theology, not philosophy, but tremendous cute love and compassion. Here also, the love of Brahman is not sentimental. It is surgical. It cuts the false without damaging the being.
The question “Who are you?” is the compassion. It gives Vāyu a chance. It gives the identity a chance to dissolve. But Vāyu uses the chance to reinforce identity. This is the tragedy and the teaching. When the Guru, when the Truth, when Brahman asks, “Who are you?” don’t rush to protect your old introduction. Stand. Receive. Let the question burn the root of the false answer.
I have also explained: by your very nature, you are unconnected, unclutched. Thoughts come and go. Fear can be replaced by a cup of tea; the mind cannot hold two thoughts at a time. This teaching can be carefully remembered here. Vāyu’s “I am Vāyu” is also a clutched identity. It is a thought-structure around function. The moment the presence of That stands before him, he clutches his identity and presents it as himself.
But if you are unclutched, the question “Who are you?” does not threaten you. If you are clutched, the question becomes dangerous. The ego is afraid of a simple question because ego survives through continuous introduction. It needs to keep saying, “I am this, I did this, I can do this.” Brahman does not fight with that. Brahman just stands as That.
In the translation, the word is “That.” Not “this person,” not “this god,” not “this known object.” “That.” The Upanishad keeps the mystery. Vāyu rushes toward That, but That is not reduced to an object. That asks. That is conscious. That is present. That is mysterious. Before That, all the known categories become small.
Vāyu says, “I am Vāyu. I am Mātariśvā.” There is a doubling. He says one name, then another name. It is as if identity is strengthening itself. When the first introduction is not enough, ego adds another. “I am this; I am also that.” More titles, more names, more functions. But Brahman is not impressed by multiplication of names. The blade of grass will come.
This is exactly how the inner life works. When the mysterious silence appears inside, the mind rushes and says, “I am my role. I am my capacity. I am my past. I am my success. I am my power.” But the silence asks only, “Who are you?” It does not accept the biography. It does not accept the function. It waits.
Story
On a full-moon night in Vrindavan, Krishna played the flute. The sound entered the hearts of the gopis like nectar. Leaving their homes, their butter pots, their ornaments half-worn, they ran to the forest. Krishna received them with a smile, and the rasa dance began. In that divine dance, each gopi felt, “Krishna is with me alone.” Krishna multiplied Himself and danced with every one of them. The anklets rang, the Yamuna flowed quietly, the moon stood still to watch. Then, in a subtle way, a small pride arose in some hearts: “Among all, I am specially blessed. Krishna is mine.” In that very moment, Krishna disappeared from the circle. The music stopped. The forest became unbearably silent. The gopis searched everywhere, asking the trees, creepers and riverbanks, “Have you seen our Krishna?” They found footprints of Krishna, and beside them the delicate footprints of Radha. They followed, wept, sang His glories, and melted in longing. Only after their pride was washed away in love did Krishna appear again, smiling, more intimate than before.
The lesson is the same: when subtle pride arises even in a sacred space, the Divine presence withdraws until longing washes pride and makes the heart ready again.
Here Vāyu is in the moment before that washing. His pride is still intact. He has not yet returned quietly. He has not yet experienced the inability before the grass. Verse 21 captures the exact psychological second where ego is still confident. That is why it is precious. It shows the ego before it is exposed.
Usually, after failure, humility looks easy. But this verse shows before failure, before the test, before the collapse. It shows the tone: “I am Vāyu.” If you meditate on this, you will catch your own ego before life exposes it. That is real intelligence. Don’t wait for the blade of grass to refuse to move. Don’t wait for your power to fail. When the question comes—“Who are you?”—drop the false introduction immediately.
I have said, when disciples receive completely, I am at my best—expanding and expressing. In the same way, when the inner being receives That completely, the Upanishadic truth expands. But when the inner being argues, declares, and defends, the truth has to become a test. The same Brahman that could have revealed becomes the examiner.
This is not punishment. This is establishment of integrity. In another verse I explained the words integrity, intensity, honesty in the context of dharma. Here also, the whole scene is about integrity. If Vāyu says, “I am the one who moves because That empowers,” the story would be different. But he says, “I am Vāyu.” The center is “I.” Integrity before Brahman means the “I” cannot falsely claim independent authorship.
The devas had won, but the victory was because of That alone. This is the background. Verse 21 is Vāyu entering that same correction. Agni already had his moment. Now Vāyu comes. Every force of individuality must stand before That. Fire, wind, even the kingly intelligence of Indra—all must encounter the mystery.
But notice, Indra’s movement later leads to Uma’s revelation. The source story gives that much. So I will not invent beyond it. I will only say: the revelation comes when the approach shifts from pride to inquiry. In verse 21, Vāyu is still in declaration, not inquiry. That is the key.
The verse is a mirror for spiritual life. Many people use religion as a shield for non-doing; I have spoken strongly about that. Here, the opposite pattern is shown: using doing as a shield for non-surrender. One person hides behind “I will not act.” Another hides behind “I can do anything.” Both are shields if they avoid Truth. Brahman will not allow either shield to remain.
So do not think only the lazy person misses Truth. The powerful person also misses Truth if power becomes identity. Do not think only weakness is bondage. Strength also becomes bondage when it says, “I am the source.” That is why the Upanishad brings devas, not ordinary powerless beings. It is teaching that even luminous powers need surrender to Brahman.
Vāyu’s rushing is the restlessness of identity. The true approach to That is not restlessness; it is availability. The verse shows movement without surrender. It is possible to move toward the Divine and still carry ego. It is possible to be near That and still answer wrongly. Nearness is not realization. Encounter is not surrender. Questioning is not yet awakening. The answer reveals the state.
When That asks, “Who are you?” listen inside. If the answer comes as profession, power, history, title, relationship, success, failure—wait. That is not yet the deepest. The Upanishad is not giving a long philosophical discourse here. It gives a living scene. Brahman appears; Vāyu rushes; Brahman asks; Vāyu identifies. Enough. A whole scripture can be meditated from this.
I tell you, the sacred secret is not in the length of the verse. Sometimes one small question from That is enough. Sometimes one blade of grass is enough. Sometimes one moment of silence is enough. The ego needs long explanations; Truth needs only a mirror.
So contemplate this verse not as an old event, but as a present happening. Whenever life puts in front of you the unknown, don’t rush with the old “I am.” Don’t announce your Mātariśvā identity. Don’t decorate your limitation. Stand before That. Let the question enter you.
“It rushed toward That.” Let your rushing become receiving.
“That asked, ‘Who are you?’” Let that question become meditation.
“He said, ‘I am Vāyu. I am Mātariśvā.’” Let this answer become warning.
Because when the Infinite asks who you are, any answer born from ego will soon meet one blade of grass.