It was one of those days when nature was bliss personified. Birds chirped in symphony while the breeze blew gently across the fields. Rumi was passing through a village with his disciples when he noticed a farmer walking past, holding a bull by a rope tied around its neck. Like most spiritual masters who see examples in life to help their disciples understand complex philosophies, an idea struck Rumi.
‘Tell me who owns whom?’ Rumi asked his disciples, pointing at the farmer leading the bull.
‘Of course, the man owns the bull,’ one of his disciples replied. ‘He’s the master.’
Even those disciples who knew their master never engaged in trivial talk nodded, with no idea as to what Rumi had on his mind.
‘Let’s see,’ was all Rumi said before he approached the
farmer.
From a little distance away, the disciples were clueless as they saw the farmer nod to something Rumi was saying or asking. Even before the farmer could realise it, Rumi untied the noose around the bull’s neck. The moment he did that, the bull ran. The bewildered farmer had no idea how to react. Angry at what Rumi did, he wanted to fight, though with his bull running away, he had no option left but to chase it.
‘What did you do?’ The disciples were aghast at their master’s behaviour. They could see the hapless farmer running after the bull, which was darting ahead without a care in the world.
‘Don’t worry! The farmer will catch the bull. But you’re missing the point,’ Rumi replied calmly. ‘See what is happening. Now tell me, who really owns whom?’
The disciples still had no clue. Rumi explained: ‘Like the bull that wreaks havoc when not reined in, the mind does the same. Much akin to what the bull did unto the farmer, our minds filled with desires do unto us. We think we created them, so we own them. We don’t realise that these desires have long since run amok. We have thousands of such bulls, and we’re constantly scampering after them.’ Oh, how the sage is still looking at the goings on with amusement! He knows this story isn’t limited to certain fields of the medieval world. It’s unfolding each moment in every nook and cranny of the world. For, aren’t we that farmer? Holding on to our desires and letting it control us. We need to start detaching ourselves. Franky, clutching them so tight makes no sense.