In plain words
When you would rejoice, thinking, ‘He has drawn us near,’ at that very moment He brings the sorrow of separation. Would you call it Sai's sport, this making you weep? Now and then He makes you laugh till your sides ache. Should you swell with joy that He is praising you, right then, without fail, He mocks you. When you think, ‘He has given us His assurance, so we shall be at ease,’ He puts you through so many troubles and does not say a word. He will not let you go back, He will not let you go forward; He stirs a longing in the heart and churns it. The cleverness of such a One, who dwells in Śrī Parthi: how can you on this earth come to know it?
In the vast sky of man's heart the Paramātma dwells joined with the jīva, as sunlight is joined with shade. Sunlight and shade are twin birds. Shade comes about only because of the sunlight. There is light even in the shade. This light is there only because sunlight lies beside it. Sunlight and shade are bound together inseparably. In the same way, the jīva and Brahman too are bound together inseparably. Within the jīva, the supreme principle keeps following it like a shadow. It is vital that every person recognise this divinity. But the shades are many; the sunlight is one. In the many hosts of living beings, the divinity that is oneness stands as the witness and takes on the form of the Ātma.
Divinity shines in your own inner Ātma
The Ātma is eternal. It is Satya itself. Because a covering of skin and bone wraps the principle of the Ātma, which is made of the eternal and of Satya, man is deluded into thinking that Ānanda lies in this very covering. The chief duty of the jīva is to rise above this covering and make Ānanda his own, within. For this oneness every person must practise sādhana with deliberate effort. Sādhana means the acts done again and again in order to attain what one longs for. True sādhana is just this: bringing the Ātma close. Sādhana without deeds of Satya is meaningless. This principle of the Ātma, made of the eternal and of Satya, we go searching for in the world outside. But that divinity shines in your own heart, in your own inner Ātma.
The body is like a chariot. The charioteer is the Buddhi. The senses are the horses. The rein that holds these horses is the Manas. If the Manas has no steadiness, the horses called the senses run wild and bring danger even to the Buddhi, the charioteer.
Only when we join speech to the Manas, and the Manas to the Buddhi, does Praśānti come
Of the senses, the chief is speech. So, to keep speech under control, we must bring it into the Manas.