The Teacher

You were born into your parents.

You may not and may never know why.

Your parents were your environment. 

Parents were a part of you. That is how you experienced the world. You with them was the universe.

They also considered you a part of them. Maybe three of you. In a perfect Tango.

The Real Teacher

They did it all.

Yet as time passed by, you became bigger.

You became different than what they expected you to be.

They also became different as much was happening within them too.

For life changes every moment,

They could not accommodate you. Nor could you be within them.

The sense of completeness they experienced with you and you experienced with them vanished.

It is no longer a tango.

Incompleteness creeps in. You rebel. They coerce.

Finally, each seeks completion differently, without the other.

 Parents move away and give you to the teacher.

The teacher, not the one you see in your school as they may teach about alphabets and math and so on. All of the world except who you are. The secret of your existence.

In olden times few children were given away to real teachers, called Gurus.

Guru has no goal of his own. Not purpose of his own to fulfill.

He is empty. An empty space where you will hear the echo of your own sound, unadulterated.

Being conditioned by parents you may think it is the guru who is doing so. Yet it may not be true.

For he does nothing. He just mirrors you. Continuously with least interventions.

Soon you realize that it is all your drama.

You settle.

Life settles.

Then the Guru leaves or disappears or vanishes.

You then are whole and complete by yourself.

That is your eternal seeking. Eternal Longing. 

To be in perfect tango with the universe.