disregard these connotations for the moment and consider whether the above inference is not the closest a
biologist can get to proving also their God and immortality at one stroke. In itself, the insight is not new.
The earliest records to my knowledge date back some 2,500 years or more. From the early great
Upanishads the recognition ATHMAN = BRAHMAN upheld in (the personal self equals the omnipresent,
all-comprehending eternal self) was in Indian thought considered, far from being blasphemous, to represent
the quintessence of deepest insight into the happenings of the world. The striving of all the scholars of
Vedanta was, after having learnt to pronounce with their lips, really to assimilate in their minds this
grandest of all thoughts. Again, the mystics of many centuries, independently, yet in perfect harmony with
each other (somewhat like the particles in an ideal gas) have described, each of them, the unique experience
of his or her life in terms that can be condensed in the phrase: DEUS FACTUS SUM (I have become God).
To Western ideology the thought has remained a stranger, in spite of Schopenhauer and others who stood
for it and in spite of those true lovers who, as they look into each other's eyes, become aware that their
thought and their joy are numerically one -not merely similar or identical; but they, as a rule, are
emotionally too busy to indulge in clear thinking, which respect they very much resemble the
mystic. Allow me a few further comments. Consciousness is never experienced in the plural, only in the
singular. Even in the pathological cases of split consciousness or double personality the two persons
alternate, they are never manifest simultaneously. In a dream we do perform several characters at the same
time, but not indiscriminately: we are one of them; in him we act and speak directly, while we often eagerly
await answer or response of another person, unaware of the fact that it is we who control his movements
and his speech just as much as our own. How does the idea of plurality (so emphatically opposed by the
Upanishad writers) arise at all? Consciousness finds itself intimately connected with, and dependent on, the
physical state of a limited region of matter, the body. (Consider the changes of mind during the
development of the body, at puberty, ageing, dotage, etc., or consider the effects of fever intoxication,
narcosis, lesion of the brain and so on.) Now there is a great plurality of similar bodies. Hence the
pluralization of consciousnesses or minds seems a very suggestive hypothesis. Probably all simple,
ingenuous people, as well as the great majority of Western philosophers, have accepted it. It leads almost
immediately to the invention of souls, as many as there are bodies, and to the question whether they are
mortal as the body is or whether they are immortal and capable of existing by themselves. The former
alternative is distasteful while the latter frankly forgets, ignores or disowns the fact upon which the
plurality hypothesis rests. Much sillier questions have been asked: Do animals also have souls? It has even
been questioned whether women, or only men, have souls. Such consequences, even if only tentative, must
make us suspicious of the plurality hypothesis, which is common to all official Western creeds. Are we not
inclining to much greater nonsense, if in discarding their gross superstitions we retain their naive idea of
plurality of souls, but 'remedy' it by declaring the souls to be perishable, to be annihilated with the
respective bodies? The only possible alternative is simply to keep to the immediate experience that
consciousness is a singular of less is never which the plural is unknown; that there is only one thing and
Even in the that what seems to be a plurality is merely a series of different personality aspects of this one
thing, produced by a deception (the Indian MAJA); the same illusion is produced in a gallery of mirrors,
and in the same way Gaurisankar and Mt Everest turned out to be the same peak seen from different
valleys. There are, of course, elaborate ghost-stories fixed in our minds to hamper our acceptance of such
simple recognition. E.g. it has been said that there is a tree there outside my window but I do not really see
the tree. By some cunning device of which only the initial, relatively simple steps are itself explored, the
real tree throws an image of itself into my the physical consciousness, and that is what I perceive. If you
stand by my side and look at the same tree, the latter manages to throw an image into your soul as well. I
see my tree and you see yours (remarkably like mine), and what the tree in itself is we do not know. For
this extravagance Kant is responsible. In the order of ideas which regards consciousness as a singulare
tanturn it is conveniently replaced by the statement that there is obviously only one tree and all the image
business is a ghost-story. Yet each of us has the indisputable impression that the sum total of his own
experience and memory forms a unit, quite distinct from that of any other person. He refers to it as 'I' and
What is this 'I'? If you analyse it closely you will, I think, find that it is just the facts little more than a
collection of single data (experiences and memories), namely the canvas upon which they are collected.
And you will, on close introspection, find that what you really mean by 'I' is that ground-stuff upon which
they are collected. You may come to a distant country, lose sight of all your friends, may all but forget
them; you acquire new friends, you share life with them as intensely as you ever did with your old ones.
Less and less important will become the fact that, while living your new life, you still recollect the old one.
“The youth that was I', you may come to speak of him in the third person, indeed the protagonist of the