In plain words
If I say 'this is my cloth', I am separate from the cloth, am I not? If I say 'my body', I am separate from the body, am I not? So who are you? If one recognises this truth, one does not think of all these as 'mine, mine'. But humanness stays the same in everything. It is present in everyone. So every person uses the word 'I, I'. Ask who is Rāma, and one gets up saying, 'I.' Ask who is Kṛṣṇa, and people get up saying, 'I.' Ask who is Govinda, and one gets up saying, 'I am.' Ask who is Gopāla, and one gets up saying, 'I am.' Rāma, Kṛṣṇa, Govinda, Gopāla: though their forms and names differ, to My question all of them give the same answer, 'I, I'. What is in everyone is that same I, I. In this I there are two kinds of I. One is the eye. But that belongs to the body. The other is the I of a single letter. That is the one that belongs to the Ātma. One is the body-self. The other is the Paramātma. This body-self has caste, creed, age and qualities of every kind. People say, 'I am a brāhmin.' But you say you are a brāhmin on account of the body. You say, 'I am a young man.' That 'young man' you say on account of your body. I am an old man. You say that on account of the body. I am a man. You say that on account of the body. All these belong to the body alone. But 'I, I' itself belongs to the Ātma. So one must abide in the 'I'; but I am Rāma, I am Kṛṣṇa, I am a brāhmin, I am a śūdra: all these are delusions of the body. Brāhmin or anyone else, someone from another country: all eat when they are hungry, drink water when they are thirsty, breathe the air. Air, water and fire are the same for everyone, are they not? Can you tell the caste of water? Can you tell what caste fire is? Can you tell what caste air is? So everyone goes on enjoying fire, water and air, which have no caste. Here everyone is equal, are they not? Because of our body, we enjoy them with this body. That is why the delusion of the body belongs to this world alone. As this delusion of the body grows, our attachment to the Ātma keeps waning. So we are drifting very far from Ānanda.
The Ānanda we enjoy today is fleeting. True Ānanda neither grows nor shrinks. Now we feel hungry. You went to the hostel and ate two chapatis. You are satisfied. You feel happy. How long does this joy last? Two hours only. Hunger starts again. Then again you must eat something. All these are things that get digested. The joy that comes from what is digested gets digested too. What we long for: lasting Ānanda. What we beg for is Ānanda that does not last. Lasting Ānanda is found only in aiming at the Ātma. We must try to attain this Ānanda; what we lost is in one place, and where we search is another.