In plain words
Try asking that same man another question: ‘Sir, Guru Pūrṇimā is taking place at Prasanthi Nilayam. We are going; will you come too?’ ‘Sir, my leave is all used up. It is not possible for me to come,’ he says. If by some mishap his wife falls ill, the man who gave such an answer admits her to hospital and stays there fifteen days at a loss of pay. Not only this: a man has made the vaḍas he loves and set them on his plate to eat, when someone comes and tells him, ‘Sir, your son has fallen under a bus!’, and he leaves the vaḍas, gives up his hunger and runs to the bazaar. Is he not hungry? Has he no liking for that food? He does like the food. The hunger is still with him. To save his son, dearer to him than everything, and to look after his wife, he struggles hard. This is the very man who said at the start, ‘I am living for myself.’ In the world there are many who recognise only these two. Even great men of learning and politicians recognise these two duties alone as the chief ones.
It is because of this that the world suffers endless sorrows. Our life, our duty, is not contained in these two alone. Some disaster may strike our village. Diseases break out that cannot be cured; at such a time all the villagers come together and take a decision. This man too is one of those who make it. It is not for himself, not for his family. For the village, for the service of the village, for the progress of the village, all of them, of one mind, come to a decision. So every single person must recognise that besides himself and his family there is society too. Our whole life is lived in society itself. Our birth, our dwelling and our end are bound up with society. Without society we could not live even for a moment. Only one who recognises the principle of society, the Satya of society and the special worth of society can recognise Satya. The crane tries only to fill its own belly. It takes no notice at all of the hunger or the hardships of other creatures.
In the same way the students of today must not recognise only their own self-interest; they must reflect on the Satya that there is society too. Each must feel that through him ten more people are happy. That is true individuality. All young people must take part in the service of society, and each one must come to the resolve, ‘Society itself is my life.’ Only when they take up sacrifice of this kind does life take a holy shape.
Today people talk of friendship, friendship. The young are building up friendship in bad ways, but this friendship is of no use at all for following the holy, divine and lofty path. Friendship means being like the eyelid to the eye, like sandals to the feet. We must look on a friend as another I. Only one who recognises the Satya that whatever harm befalls others is befalling himself can become a true friend. When water joins milk, the milk gives the water its own value too. It passes on its finest qualities to its friend. When we buy milk and set it on the stove to boil, this water is distressed, pulls away from the friendship, rises and tries to fall into the fire. ‘My friend has left me and gone!’: the milk too cannot bear being alone, boils up and tries to spill over. At once we take water and sprinkle it on the milk. ‘My friend has come back,’ and the milk settles down. This is true friendship. When his friend parts from him, he cannot bear the parting. But friendship today is like this: once he sees money in the pocket and sees the father's position, he goes about saying ‘Hello, hello!’ Once the father's authority has waned, once he sees nothing in the pocket, he says ‘Goodbye’ and goes away. Today, a hundred in every hundred, just such friends are being made.