Dipak Kurmi
Life, in its grandest and most intricate form, is nothing more than a cosmic drama playing out on the stage of the universe. Each individual, each soul, is both actor and observer in this timeless theatre. The concept is not new; it finds poetic resonance in Shakespeare’s immortal words: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” But while Shakespeare captured the metaphor, the spiritual truth embedded in this idea runs even deeper.
In the theatre of existence, each soul dons countless costumes across numerous lifetimes, taking on roles as diverse as the circumstances life presents. The soul, like a seasoned actor, switches identities with each new birth—sometimes as a king, sometimes as a beggar; sometimes a warrior, sometimes a healer; and sometimes a teacher, sometimes a student. Yet, beneath every changing role, the essence of the actor remains untouched and unchanging. The soul is eternal, beyond the reach of time, decay, and death.
In its original, pristine state, the soul exists in a luminous realm that transcends both sound and time. This is the dimension of absolute stillness and infinite light. Here, there is no need, no longing, no sorrow—only the serene awareness of being. The soul, in this state, is saturated with peace, wisdom, and bliss. It does not chase after experiences; it simply radiates silent contentment. It is complete, needing nothing to define or validate its existence.
However, the journey of the soul is not confined to this state of light. In a timeless rhythm, each soul, one after another, descends into the physical world. Taking residence behind the eyes, the soul becomes the driver of the body, its vehicle for navigating the sensory world. The soul, a point of radiant, conscious light, observes the vastness and complexity of the material realm through the lens of the human form. Initially, this observation is pure and untainted. Like a child seeing the world for the first time, the soul witnesses the dance of colors, the caress of wind, the sensation of touch, and the play of light with silent appreciation and wonder.
But as time unfolds, something profound occurs. The soul begins to identify with the body, the senses, and the roles it plays. This identification deepens with each passing day, each relationship, and each experience. Slowly, the soul forgets its true, luminous identity. The observer gets lost in the performance. The actor becomes consumed by the role. What was once perceived as a temporary costume becomes mistaken for the self. This spiritual amnesia marks the beginning of suffering.
The sorrow lies not in the drama itself, but in the forgetting of its nature as a drama. Like an actor who forgets he is on stage and begins to believe he actually is the tragic character he plays, the soul falls into attachment, fear, and ego. Relationships that were meant to bring joy become sources of pain. Roles that were meant to teach become cages of identity. Possessions and achievements that were once tools for experience become heavy burdens of ownership and pride.
This deep entanglement with the temporary world blinds the soul to its own eternal nature. National identities, social roles, economic status, and even physical attributes become layers upon layers of illusion—each one pulling the soul further away from its true self. Empires rise and fall. Generations come and go. Bodies age, wither, and perish. Yet the soul, the eternal spark of life and consciousness, remains unaffected by these shifts.
A powerful analogy can be drawn here from the stage of theatre. An actor may play the role of a villain, a hero, a pauper, or a monarch, but at the end of the play, he steps off the stage, removes his costume, and reclaims his original self. The emotional turmoil he displayed on stage was part of the script, not part of his reality. Similarly, life’s highs and lows, joys and sorrows, triumphs and defeats, are all scenes within a larger cosmic play.
Remarkably, even the most challenging roles—such as being born with physical limitations or enduring difficult circumstances—hold intrinsic value in this grand drama. From the soul’s perspective, every experience serves as an opportunity for growth, learning, and spiritual evolution. Just as an accomplished actor may choose a difficult role to test and refine his skills, so too does the soul choose its circumstances to expand its understanding and deepen its strength.
Yet the awakening begins when the soul recognizes this truth. When we remember that we are not the role, not the costume, not the story, but the actor playing the part, a profound liberation occurs. Detachment, often misunderstood as emotional indifference, blossoms naturally from this realization. Detachment is not a lack of love; rather, it is love without fear of loss. It is engagement without entrapment. It is action without ego.
Understanding life as a drama allows us to appreciate its beauty without clinging to it. We can cherish relationships, value possessions, and fulfill responsibilities without becoming enslaved by them. Success and failure lose their power to disturb us. Praise and criticism no longer define us. Even death, the final act in this bodily performance, becomes less frightening. It is merely a change of costume, a brief pause before the soul takes on its next role.
The journey back to this realization involves conscious effort. Through practices like meditation, the soul can reconnect with its source, the Supreme Being—the eternal director of this grand play. The Supreme, untouched by the drama, watches over every soul with love and wisdom, guiding them back toward awareness. Meditation becomes the bridge between the actor and the observer, the role and the reality.
With daily remembrance and inner reflection, the soul begins to detach from the illusions of the stage. The chains of ego loosen, attachments weaken, and the inner light starts to shine again. The soul rediscovers its inherent qualities: peace, love, purity, and bliss.
The ultimate liberation lies not in escaping the world but in playing one’s role with full awareness of one’s true identity. To live as a soul first, and an actor second, is to live with freedom, dignity, and grace. Circumstances may remain the same, but our perceptions shift. Challenges become scenes, adversities become dialogues, and every experience becomes a chance to express our best.
The cosmic drama will continue to unfold as it always has. Scripts will change, roles will evolve, and the set will be redesigned. Yet the soul, once awakened, will navigate it all with a smile, knowing well that the story is temporary, but the self is eternal.
(The writer can be reached at dipakkurmiglpltd@gmail.com)
