A young student named Aruni once asked her teacher a question that had been
puzzling her for days.
"You taught us three sacred words," she said. "'Om' for the Boundless.
'Tat' for letting go of reward. And the last word, 'Sat.' But teacher — I
have heard you use 'Sat' to mean two very different things. Sometimes you
say it about a stone or a star, as if it means 'real.' And sometimes you say
it about a kind person, as if it means 'good.' Which is it?"
The teacher led her outside to where a banyan tree spread its great arms over
the courtyard. He knocked his knuckles gently against the trunk.
"Is this tree real?" he asked.
"Of course. I can touch it."
"Then this tree is 'sat' — it truly is, it exists. That is the first meaning:
what is real, what genuinely is, the way the Boundless genuinely is and
never stops being."
Then he pointed across the courtyard. An old woman was helping a blind
traveller find the well, holding his elbow, speaking softly, in no hurry at
all.
"Now look there. Is what she is doing real?"
"Yes — and it is good," said Aruni.
"So her kindness is also 'sat.' That is the second meaning: what is good,
what is true-hearted. And do you see, child — when an act is that good, when
it is honest and kind all the way through, people point at it and say, 'Yes,
that is sat, that is the real thing.' A praiseworthy deed earns the name of
the real, because goodness and reality come from the same root."
Aruni looked from the solid old tree to the gentle old woman.
"So a good act is as real as a tree," she said slowly.
"More real," said the teacher. "The tree will fall one day. But a true,
kind act is woven into 'Sat' itself — into the Boundless that never fades.
When you do something genuinely good, you are not just acting well. You are,
for that moment, touching what is most real of all."
