Caves are inseparable from human imagination. When the Vanara army searches for Sita in the Ramayana, they are clueless and lost in the dense forest. Tired, thirsty, and hopeless, Hanuman sees some birds flying into a cave, which he infers is where water must be. The group enters a deep cave. Brightly illuminated, the cave is full of running streams, fruiting trees, and blooming flowers; it is encrusted with priceless jewels, mountains of gold and silver and platters stacked high with delectable roots and fruits. A female ascetic, Swayamprabha, has been meditating there for thousands of years. She uses her Yogic powers to help them reach the seashore. Her soul is freed from her mortal body (trapped in physicality) and ascends to a higher plane. 

The ancients had a knack for embedding coded intelligence in the guise of folklore, rich in symbolism, which, though fanciful in appearance, carries more profound meaning. Here, the frustration of the monkeys led them to meditation (entering the cave) and intuition (the ascetic there is thoughtfully named Swayamprabha, which is the Sanskrit term for self-illumination). Jewels, gold, and silver symbolise past knowledge we carry in our DNA. Those who meditate know well about this treasure embedded in the perennial consciousness. It also keeps appearing in dreams, but we often ignore it as a fantasy.

I am blessed to have the friendship of Nagpur-based Santosh Pathakji, with whom I got acquainted through Dr Ashok Tiwariji, my long-standing friend. We started interacting when Santoshji shared information about a handwritten copy of the Ramcharitmanas, which a Brahmin Kripa Ramji wrote in Chitrakoot. He marked the date in the Samvat calendar, corresponding to May 21, 1838. It was a tradition in Brahmin families to write scriptures by hand for deeper study and veneration. It was preserved in the extended family for 187 years. Later, we often spoke on the phone and exchanged information on WhatsApp, which is the trend today. Pathak ji is an electrical engineer and senior to me. He worked for almost a lifetime with the Maharashtra State Electricity Board. I found an evolved soul in him and consider the material he shares a great blessing.

Recently, through Santosh ji, I learned about French geologist Michel Siffre (1939 –2024). He explored deep caves, a branch of geology called speleology. Unlike the recent trend of doing science by inference, confined to well-equipped laboratories and sustained within an echo chamber of conferences and journals, Siffre chose to be an explorer, spending time alone in deep underground cavities. He was fascinated by space explorers, who spent a long time alone. Of course, he must also have been curious to know why some hardened/heinous criminals were condemned to solitary confinement—the ultimate punishment that can be given to a human being. Indian scriptures emphasise meditation, which is, in essence, shutting out the external world by withdrawing the senses inward and exploring the inner world, which is imagined as vast and limitless as the Sky (chidakash).

After living in several caves, cut off from sunlight and carrying no watch for extended periods, Siffre decided to stay for six months in a 440-foot-deep cave in the southern Texas region of the United States. He made a simple scientific protocol and, without knowing it, shaped the field of human chronobiology. Siffre counted from 1 to 120, taking one pulse as one second. It took him five minutes to count to 120. In other words, Siffre was experiencing everything twice as slowly as on the surface of the Earth.

His mind failed to capture time without sunlight and a watch, and his memory was in disarray. It was like living one long day without sleeping. Sometimes, he would sleep for two hours and at other times, eighteen hours, but he couldn’t tell the difference. Siffre concluded that his body adjusted to a 48-hour rather than a 24-hour cycle without time cues. Instead of experiencing divine bliss or peace in consciousness, he developed a sense of overwhelming lethargy and bitterness in isolation.  What is a man but a little tent with a flickering light under a vast, starry sky?

The absence of time can lead to a disorientation in consciousness. In most societies, time serves as a framework within which people live.  Clocks govern everyday routines. However, when stripped of time, the mind loses the sense of the past, present, and future. This temporal dislocation can heighten awareness of the present moment, leading to a form of mindfulness. In solitude, individuals may be deeply immersed in the immediacy of experience—sounds, sights, and feelings become magnified as distractions fade. This heightened state of awareness can foster creativity, allowing for innovative thoughts and insights often overlooked in the busyness of life.

Conversely, the lack of temporal markers can initiate a psychological unravelling, as the mind may struggle to impose meaning without the structure that time provides. The human brain is wired to seek patterns and predict outcomes, and chaos may ensue without time as a guiding principle. Days may blur into one another, anxiety may heighten as uncertainty grows, and existential questions about meaning and purpose may surface. This confrontation with the self can lead to a profound sense of clarity or a descent into despair. The reactions are often influenced by individual temperament and prior experiences with solitude.

Moreover, solitude can amplify internal dialogues. In the utter darkness, one can see the vast imaginary world through one’s inner light. With fewer external distractions, the mind may begin to engage in extensive self-referential thinking—a process known as metacognition. The mind’s need for social interaction can provoke loneliness and isolation in solitude. This craving can manifest in heightened anxiety or a longing for reconnection, fundamentally altering one’s perception of identity and belonging. Experiencing an absence of this connection can lead to feelings of insignificance or a rediscovery of autonomy, where individuals, away from societal expectations, dive into the unconscious and embrace their thoughts and feelings. Sri Aurobindo writes in Savitri (Canto Five, lines 747-748):

The vague Inconscient’s dark and measureless cave

His only sunlight was his spirit’s flame.

Living in solitude without a sense of time can be both a transformative and tumultuous experience for the mind. The interplay between heightened awareness, emotional disorientation, and internal dialogue shapes a unique psychological landscape. Through this lens, one can see that solitude is not merely the absence of others but the presence of an opportunity to reflect, create, and ultimately redefine one’s relationship with the self. Embracing this process can lead to deeper self-understanding, an enhanced appreciation for life’s fleeting moments, and, potentially, a newfound clarity in navigating the complexities of modern existence. This truth is conveyed when Shri Krishna defines a Stithpragya (anchored in universal consciousness) as a person satisfied within himself – आत्मनि एव आत्मना तुष्टः स्थितप्रज्ञः तदा उच्यते (Shrimad Bhagavad Gita 2. 55). The immortal Self inside is our guide, and the Infinite Self outside is our goal. The handwritten Ramcharitmanas was a brilliant way to fill the solitude.

I learned about Don Quixote, a novel written in the early seventeenth century, through various articles. It is the most translated and best-selling Spanish novel by Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra. Still, I have only recently read its English translation by John Ormsby. I couldn’t believe this philosophical humour was written almost 400 years ago; it seemed so modern. Besides, the character of Don Quixote does not look strange, as people like him appear everywhere in the contemporary world.

The novel is set in medieval Spain. Alonso Quijano is a bachelor landlord of around 50 who lives with his niece and a maidservant. He is enamoured with chivalry literature and starts believing himself to be a knight on a mission to protect good people. He assumes the name Don Quixote de la Mancha. He finds an old armour from his ancestors and makes up the missing parts using assorted metallic junk. He names his old and malnourished horse Rocinante, befitting a sturdy horse a knight must ride.

In his first outing, Don Quixote arrives at an inn, which he believes to be a castle. He demands that the innkeeper bestow upon him the noble title of ‘knight’. When he sees a young shepherd being beaten by his master, he tries to stop him, only to be humiliated. Next, some merchants whom he mistakes as invaders give Don Quixote a brutal beating and leave him on the side of the road, where he is found by a peasant and delivered home. His two well-wishers, concerned about his sanity, burn down his library and tell him it was done by a rival magician in his absence. He happily believes the story; it is a confirmation of his fantasy.

After staying home for a while, Don Quixote recruits Sancho Panza, a farm labourer, as his squire, a male attendant to a great personage. Don Quixote has no money to give as a salary and promises him riches, fame, and the governorship of an island. The duo moves out to fight with the evil forces, help the poor, and dispense justice—a tall Don Quixote riding his horse, wearing armour and carrying a nine-foot pole as his weapon, and short and bulky Sancho Panza following him on a donkey.

The long novel shows how Don Quixote imagines extraordinary situations in his stale and mundane life. He sees a herd of sheep as an invading army and a lady who salts meat in butchery as a damsel in distress; he must be rescued only to be beaten by the people around him. His worldly, wise, and practical servant saves him every time. His vision of windmills as demonic giants and his fighting with them are iconic images, making quixotic an idiom.

At this point, they came in sight of thirty or forty windmills that there are on that plain, and as soon as Don Quixote saw them, he said to his squire, “Fortune is arranging matters for us better than we could have shaped our desires ourselves, for look there, friend Sancho Panza, where thirty or more monstrous giants present themselves, all of whom I mean to engage in battle and slay, and with whose spoils we shall begin to make our fortunes; for this is righteous warfare, and it is God’s good service to sweep so evil a breed from off the face of the earth.”

“What giants?” said Sancho Panza.

“Those you see there,” answered his master, “with the long arms, and some have them nearly two leagues long.”

“Look, your worship,” said Sancho. “We see that there are not giants but windmills, and what seem to be their arms are the sails turned by the wind to make the millstone go.”

“It is easy to see,” replied Don Quixote, “that thou art not used to this business

of adventures, those are giants; and if thou art afraid, away with thee out of this and betake thyself to prayer while I engage them in fierce and unequal combat.” (Part I, Chapter VIII, Para 1)

The contrast between the real and the fantastic highlights how perception is subjective and how one’s beliefs shape one’s view of the world.

It is no business or concern of knights-errant to inquire whether any persons in affliction, in chains, or oppressed that they may meet on the high roads go that way and suffer as they do because of their faults or misfortunes. It only concerns them to aid them as persons needing help, having regard for their sufferings and not their rascality. (Part I, Chapter XXX, para 2)

In the novel’s second part, published 10 years later, Don Quixote embarks on another adventure with Sancho. A Duke and Duchess invite them to their palace for amusement and practical jokes. Sancho is given a false governorship, a deceptive prank that leads to humiliation. When Don Quixote is conquered in a battle with the Knight of the White Moon, he is forced to lay down his arms and abandon his acts of chivalry for one year. Before the battle, the conditions are agreed upon with the ‘knight’, who is dressed in a costume, that Don Quixote would go home if defeated. Eventually, Don Quixote retires in the countryside and falls sick.

After a few months, he recovers his sanity completely and, despite Sancho’s encouragement to restore his faith in fantasy, takes back the name of Alonso Quijano. He apologises for all the craziness and any harm that he may have caused before passing away.

As nothing that is man’s can last forever, but all tends ever downwards from its beginning to its end, and above all, man’s life, and as Don Quixote’s enjoyed no special dispensation from heaven to stay its course, its end and close came when he least looked for it. (Part II. Chapter LXXIV, Para 1)

But now, it is Sancho’s turn to imagine. As Don Quixote becomes ‘realistic’, Sancho’s spirit ascends from reality to illusion.  What this novel stirred in me is the acuteness of the universal problem of the human mind. Quixote’s insanity is gentle and easy to sympathise with—he can’t understand the harshness and ridicule of the people around him. He assumes himself as a hero and a champion of the weak and oppressed. Sancho is a practical man with survival as his main agenda. He is rooted in common sense. Yet, he also adopts some of his idealism towards the novel’s end.

The mind is a compelling entity. Humanity has dominated planet Earth by using the mind but also created strife. Like a double-edged sword, the mind cuts both ways. In the final analysis, the mind is placed at the root of all human misery by various thinkers and philosophers over the centuries.

माया मुई न मन मुवा, मरि–मरि गया सरीर।

आसा त्रिष्णाँ नाँ मुई, यौं कहै दास कबीर॥

Kabir says that neither the illusion of a creature nor his mind dies. Only his body dies again and again. Despite wandering in many births, hope and desire never die; they always remain.

The minds of people can cast such a spell upon them that instead of living in the present moment, they dwell mainly in the past (ruminating their memories as animals chew all their food eaten earlier) or wander in fantasy (building castles in the air). Very few people live in the present moment. Then, some people escape from their unbearable reality by using alcohol and drugs. How are they different from Don Quixote? Listen to any popular leader giving a speech, and you can enjoy Don Quixote charging a windmill for a demon.