The Four Puruṣārthas and the Discovery of Moksha as one's Svarupa.

 

Human life is not merely biological survival. An animal is fulfilled when it survives, matures physically, and reproduces. Its life is largely governed by instinct and nature. A human being also grows physically through nature, but inner maturity does not happen automatically. Emotional, ethical, and spiritual maturity must be consciously cultivated.

This is where the Vedic vision gives us a profound framework: the four puruṣārthas.

Puruṣārtha means a human end, something fundamentally sought by a human being. Though individuals may pursue different things according to their background, temperament, culture, and stage of life, the tradition says that all human pursuits can be understood under four broad categories: kāma, artha, dharma, and mokṣa.

Kāma: The Pursuit of Pleasure

Kāma is the pursuit of pleasure, enjoyment, emotional satisfaction, beauty, comfort, recognition, affection, and aesthetic delight.

It may be sensory pleasure, such as food, music, fragrance, travel, or physical comfort. It may be emotional pleasure, such as love, friendship, appreciation, and companionship. It may be intellectual pleasure, such as learning, solving problems, composing music, or engaging in meaningful conversation. It may also be aesthetic pleasure, such as seeing a sunrise, enjoying a rāga, admiring a temple, or watching a child play.

The tradition does not condemn kāma. Pleasure has its place in life. But Vedānta asks us to examine it carefully.

Why do I seek pleasure?

Because, as I presently take myself to be, I do not feel fully pleased with myself. I experience restlessness, incompleteness, or dissatisfaction. I feel that something has to be added to me for me to be happy.

Therefore, kāma reveals something deeper than the desire for an object. It reveals a sense of inner lack.

I am not merely seeking pleasure. I am seeking freedom from dissatisfaction.

Artha: The Pursuit of Security

Artha is the pursuit of security and the means of security. Money is artha. A home is artha. Education is artha. A profession is artha. Health insurance, relationships, reputation, influence, recognition, and social standing are all forms of artha.

Again, artha is not wrong. A mature life requires artha. Without some measure of security, stability, and order, even dharma becomes difficult. A person under constant pressure for survival cannot easily pursue refinement, contemplation, generosity, or self-knowledge.

But artha also reveals something important.

Why do I seek security?

Because I feel insecure.

The pursuit of artha shows that I do not see myself as secure in myself. I seek external supports because I feel internally unsupported.

So kāma reveals, “I am not pleased with myself.”

Artha reveals, “I am not secure in myself.”

This is the common human condition.

A useful metaphor may help. Kāma is like fire. Desire burns. It seeks fuel. It wants more pleasure, more experience, more recognition, more possession, more control.

Artha is like wind. It can assist the fire. Wealth, power, influence, and capacity can give desire greater force. If desire is noble, artha can help it serve. If desire is unexamined, artha can make it destructive.

Therefore, artha and kāma require regulation. Without regulation, they do not merely produce enjoyment and security. They can create agitation, competition, comparison, exploitation, exhaustion, and sorrow.

This brings us to dharma.

Dharma: The Regulating and Refining Principle

Dharma may be understood from two standpoints.

First, dharma is that which prevents artha and kāma from running riot.

Dharma gives boundaries. It says: pursue pleasure, but not by hurting another. Earn wealth, but not through dishonesty. Seek success, but not through adharma. Enjoy life, but not by violating the order that sustains life. Speak, act, earn, consume, and relate in a way that does not create avoidable suffering for oneself and others.

In this sense, dharma protects us from ourselves. It protects us from the excesses of unexamined desire. It prevents the fire of kāma from becoming uncontrollable when supported by the wind of artha.

But dharma is not merely a restraining force. It is also a refining force.

In the beginning, desire is usually centered around “me.” My pleasure. My security. My success. My family. My comfort. My recognition.

As one matures, the sense of “me” expands. One begins to discover joy in giving, sharing, protecting, teaching, serving, and contributing. One discovers that there is a distinct joy in relieving another person’s suffering. There is joy in doing what is to be done. There is joy in being trustworthy. There is joy in gratitude. There is joy in prayer. There is joy in living in harmony with the larger order.

This is where the spirit of the pañca-mahā-yajñas becomes relevant: reverence toward Īśvara, reverence toward ṛṣis and knowledge, reverence toward ancestors, reverence toward fellow human beings, and reverence toward all beings.

Now desire itself becomes refined. It is no longer merely, “What can I get?” It becomes, “What can I uphold? What can I contribute? What can I protect? What can I offer?”

Even wealth becomes sanctified. Artha is no longer merely for consumption. It becomes a means for dharma. Wealth supports giving. Capacity supports service. Influence supports protection. Knowledge supports teaching. Life gains meaning.

Therefore, dharma is not outside human desire. It is a subtler and more refined form of desire, where one’s fulfillment includes the well-being of others.

Dharma expands the person. It softens the ego. It purifies the mind. It makes one more sensitive, more alert, more grateful, and more capable of love.

Still, even dharma does not fully solve the human problem.

A dharmic person may still feel incomplete. A good person may still feel insecure. A generous person may still suffer from fear, comparison, dependence, grief, and mortality.

Therefore, we must come to mokṣa.

Mokṣa: Freedom from the Sense of Lack

Mokṣa means freedom.

But freedom from what?

Not freedom from life. Not freedom from responsibility. Not freedom from family. Not freedom from dharma. Not freedom from artha and kāma as functional pursuits.

Mokṣa is freedom from the conclusion, “I am incomplete.”

It is freedom from the sense of lack that drives kāma.

It is freedom from the insecurity that drives artha.

It is freedom from dependence on even dharma to make me feel meaningful, worthy, or complete.

This distinction is important.

A wise person may still live dharmically, earn responsibly, enjoy appropriately, relate lovingly, and contribute meaningfully. But such a person no longer depends on these pursuits for self-completion.

Mokṣa is freedom from being a seeker of completion.

To Recap

1.      When I pursue kāma, I am not really seeking the pleasure object. I am seeking freedom from dissatisfaction.

2.      When I pursue artha, I am not really seeking money, status, or influence as such. I am seeking freedom from insecurity.

3.      When I pursue dharma, even in a refined way, I may still be seeking freedom from smallness, selfishness, meaninglessness, and inner contraction.

Behind all pursuits, there is one deeper pursuit: freedom from lack.

This is why mokṣa is called the ultimate puruṣārtha – parama puruṣārtha.

Directionally pursuit of kāma, Artha, dharma arise from a sense of lack – while moksha addresses that lack permanently!

Can Freedom Be Produced?

Now we must ask a serious question.

Can this freedom be produced?

If freedom begins at a certain time, then it is an event. If it is an event, it belongs to time. Whatever begins can end.

If freedom is produced by action, then it is a result. But every result of action is finite. A finite action cannot produce infinite freedom.

If freedom is only a psychological state, then it will come and go. Some days the mind is peaceful. Some days it is disturbed. Some days the body is strong. Some days the body is weak. Some days relationships are harmonious. Some days they are painful.

If mokṣa depends on the body, then death will end it.

If mokṣa depends on the mind, then sorrow, fear, memory, aging, and loss can disturb it.

If mokṣa depends on circumstances, then it is not mokṣa. It is temporary relief.

Therefore, mokṣa cannot be something produced in the body. It cannot be merely a modification in the mind. It cannot be an emotional high, a spiritual mood, or a meditative experience that comes and goes. It cannot be a special condition of svabhāva.

Svabhāva and Svarūpa

Svabhāva refers to one’s body-mind personality: tendencies, habits, memories, likes, dislikes, fears, desires, emotional patterns, strengths, weaknesses, and conditioning.

Svabhāva can be improved. It can be disciplined. It can be purified. It can be made more sāttvic. This is necessary and valuable.

But no finite improvement in svabhāva can produce infinite freedom.

So freedom must have something to do with svarūpa.

 

Svarūpa means one’s essential nature. Not what I have acquired. Not what I feel. Not what I think. Not what others call me. Not the body. Not the personality. Not my history. Not my success. Not my failure. Not my social identity. Not even my religious identity.

Svarūpa is that because of which all these are known.

 

It is śuddha-caitanyam, pure consciousness.

But if mokṣa has something to do with svarūpa, does that mean svarūpa becomes free?

No. That cannot be.

If svarūpa was bound and then became free, it could become bound again. Whatever undergoes bondage and liberation is subject to change. Whatever is subject to change cannot be the absolute truth of myself.

Having said that we must ask a more incisive question - how can pure consciousness be bound? The body can be limited. The mind can be disturbed. The intellect can be confused. The ego can feel small. The personality can be conditioned. But consciousness itself is the witness of all limitation.

The seen can be limited. The seer, in its essential nature, is not limited by the seen.

Therefore, we arrive at two important insights.

Mokṣa has something to do with svarūpa.

Svarūpa itself is never bound.

Then what is bondage?

Bondage is not an actual bondage of the Self. Bondage is confusion in the mind. It is adhyāsa, superimposition. I take myself to be the body. I take myself to be the mind. I take myself to be my success, failure, memory, wound, role, relationship, and story.

Svabhāva is bound by past impressions, desires, fears, and habits. That much is understandable.

But svarūpa is never bound.

ð  ==>        Moksha is identical with Svarupa.

The process however involves removal of ignorance in the mind, by which I recognize that I was never the bound svabhāva. I am the consciousness in whose presence svabhāva appears.

Knowledge, Not Self-Hypnosis

This recognition is not positive thinking. It is not self-hypnosis. It is not a mystical imagination.

It is born of śravaṇam, listening to the teaching of the Upaniṣads through the guru-sampradāya.

It is strengthened by mananam, careful reasoning that removes doubts.

It is assimilated through nididhyāsanam, steady contemplation by which the emotional personality becomes aligned with the truth that has been understood.

Śraddhā is not blind belief. It is reverent clarity. It is trust in śāstra as pramāṇa, supported by reasoning, guided by the teacher, and assimilated into the heart.

Then the vision becomes clear.

1.      I am not the restless mind seeking pleasure.

2.      I am not the insecure ego seeking security.

3.      I am not merely the moral person seeking meaning.

4.      I am the consciousness in whose light pleasure, insecurity, virtue, desire, fear, thought, memory, body, and world are all known.

5.      The svabhāva appears in me. I do not appear in the svabhāva.

6.      The body changes. I am aware of the changes.

7.      The mind changes. I am aware of the changes.

8.      Emotions rise and fall. I am aware of their rising and falling.

9.      The sense of “I am this person” also appears and disappears in waking, dream, and deep sleep. Yet I, the witnessing consciousness, am never absent.

 

Therefore, the invitation of Vedānta is not to become something new.

The invitation is to recognize what is already true.

Turning Attention to Svarūpa

Usually, attention flows outward. It goes toward objects, people, events, memories, achievements, duties, fears, plans, and relationships. This outward movement is natural. But when attention is never turned back toward its own source, life becomes endless seeking.

Vedānta gently asks:

Who is the one seeking?

Who is the one who says, “I lack”?

Who is the one who says, “I am insecure”?

Who is the one who says, “I am pleased,” “I am hurt,” “I am successful,” “I am afraid”?

Are these not all known to me?

If they are known to me, can they be my essential nature?

The body is known.

Sensations are known.

Breath is known.

Thoughts are known.

Emotions are known.

Even the effort to meditate is known.

That because of which all this is known is not an object. It is not elsewhere. It is not far away. It is not produced. It is not improved by a thought. It is not damaged by a thought.

It is the immediate light of awareness.

This awareness is not restless. Restlessness appears in it.

This awareness is not insecure. Insecurity appears in it.

This awareness is not incomplete. The thought “I am incomplete” appears in it.

This awareness is not seeking. Seeking appears in it.

To recognize this awareness as myself is the beginning of freedom from the tyranny of svabhāva.

The svabhāva may continue. Duties continue. Relationships continue. Dharma continues. Artha and kāma continue within dharma. Life continues.

But the center of gravity shifts.

I no longer live to become complete.

I live from the recognition that my essential nature is complete.

That is mokṣa.

That is the ultimate puruṣārtha.

That is why the wise turn attention again and again from the changing svabhāva to the changeless svarūpa, from the known to the knower, from the restless mind to śuddha-caitanyam, pure consciousness.

The journey begins with desire. It matures through dharma. It culminates in knowledge.

And that knowledge is simple, direct, and liberating:

I am not the lack that I seek to fill.

I am the awareness in whose presence even the sense of lack is known.

To own that truth, with abiding doubtless satisfaction is freedom.