Every evening, a king goes through an underground private passage to his minister’s house, next door. There, he gets drunk with the minister. Late at night, the minister comes out and wishes farewell to the king. The minister locks the iron gate and returns to his room. This is an everyday occurrence.

One day, the king had three extra shots. So, the minister offered, “Maharaj you are not quite alright. Should I help you?”

“No! No!” A drunkard will never accept that he is helpless. “No, no. You go.”

So, the minister locks the door and returns to his home. The king goes up the steps, reaches the porch and there is the door. Just behind it is his precious bedroom. All his soldiers and servants are waiting for him to return. The door is locked, and the king has the key in his pocket. The king comes forward and uses all his strength. The door is not opening. He forgot that the key is in his pocket!

He stands on the terrace and looks at the door in utter despair. He thinks, ‘I am locked out, how will I enter?’ By that time, the darkness intensifies and the clouds become dense. They start grinning at him – with lightning and thunder. A storm is rising and the poor man stands outside in utter darkness, and cries out, “Oh! Is there nobody to help me? It’s about to rain! I am feeling so cold. How can I go inside?”

Soon, the rain starts pouring. The thunder and lightning intensify. Unable to stand on the open terrace, he moves closer to the door in utter despair. His wife, the queen, is standing on the other side of the door. She whispers, “O Rajan! O King! I think the key is there in the right-side pocket of your coat. Put the key in the hole and turn it. This much you have to do! You don’t even have to open the door; we will open it, but you must turn the key. Key, key!”

Do you think that the king will understand? He is too intoxicated. This whispering that comes to our ears is the sound of the scriptures of the world – all the prophets and masters, all the scriptures are exhorting us, urging us. Mother Shruti is whispering, “The key is in your pocket. Use it and turn it the way I tell you. Turn your attention towards me, and I will do the rest. Please do it!”

The key is with you!

The key is with me, but I am so drunk with my own mental preoccupations that I don’t hear what they are saying. Religion whispers the secrets with a sense of urgency when we are in despair. But we seem to be drunk; the world seems to be cloudy, dark and menacing. The storm is brewing, the rain is pelting, but he, the king of kings, feels that he is homeless, roofless and has nobody to look after him. All that he has to do is to take out the key, put it into the hole and turn it. The rest will be done by the others who are waiting for it. The lady will open it; the soldiers will come; the king need not even walk! He will be lifted and carried. He will be undressed; the warm food will come to the bed.

Everything is ready there, waiting for him; infinite happiness is his, but man will not make that little effort of turning the key. Why? It is because of the moha, the utter delusion, the delusion of thoughts. Unfortunately, the individual is conditioned by his own thoughts. Alas! He is not able to understand the whispering of the spiritual Truth. This great spiritual idea, the call of the higher – he has no ears to hear.

The key is with you. You are none other than the king himself – the ruler, the controller, the regulator. But at this moment, what a sad plight! In your own palace, you are in exile – self-exiled from your own glory.

The queen, out of respect and reverence, as a good Hindu wife, can only say, “O, Rajan! O, children of light! Why are you suffering thus? You are the master of your life. You are not the victim. Come, wake up!” This is the surging, roaring, thundering message of liberation, of Vedanta.

Swami Chinmayananda is the Founder of Chinmaya Mission.