The sage Kaushika lived in a forest ashram with many students. He was
known far and wide for his deep knowledge — kings came to ask him
questions. Yet every morning, before the sun touched the treetops,
Kaushika himself swept the courtyard with an old grass broom.
One day a proud young scholar arrived to study with him. He found the
great sage bent over, sweeping dust and dry leaves into a pile.
"Gurudev!" the young man cried, shocked. "Why do you do this lowly
work? You are the wisest man in the forest. Let a servant sweep. You
should only do grand and pleasant tasks — teaching, debating,
blessing."
Kaushika kept sweeping, his strokes slow and even. "Tell me," he said,
"when I teach a beautiful verse, do you see me smile with delight?"
"Yes, Gurudev."
"And now, sweeping this dusty yard — do you see me frown? Do you see me
sigh and wish it were over?"
The young scholar looked closely. The sage's face was exactly the same
as when he taught — calm, soft, unbothered. "No," he admitted. "You
look... the same."
"That is the whole secret," said Kaushika, straightening up. "When
work is pleasant, the foolish heart leaps and clings to it — 'more of
this, more of this!' When work is unpleasant, that same heart shrinks
and hates it — 'not this, never this!' So it spends its whole life
being tugged this way and that, happy and miserable by turns, never at
rest."
He handed the broom to the young man. "But the one who has truly let
go does not hate the hard task or cling to the easy one. Sweeping,
teaching, fetching water, sitting in stillness — to him they are all
simply work to be done well. So nothing can drag his mind about. He
stays steady, like the deep part of a river that does not ripple
however the wind blows on top."
The young scholar took the broom. It felt awkward in his soft hands.
Part of him wanted to throw it down. But he remembered the sage's even,
untroubled face, and he began to sweep — slowly at first, then more
smoothly, the dust rising gold in the early light.
By the time the courtyard was clean, something in him had grown quiet
too. He had not done a pleasant task or an unpleasant one. He had
simply done the task. And it was enough.
