Dashak 3 · Samāsa 6

Rāmdās signals he is about to define the three-fold affliction (tāpatraya — threefold burning), and asks listeners to attend with single-pointed focus, since the topic that follows requires sustained concentration.

Before starting a demanding teaching or a hard piece of self-examination, give it your full attention rather than half-listening while distracted.

One scorched by the threefold affliction finds relief in santa-saṅga — the company of the wise; the distressed one rejoices in that company the way a hungry person rejoices at food, an image continued in the next ovī.

When you are burdened by suffering, seek out grounded, wise company rather than isolating yourself — relief often comes through relationship, not analysis alone.

Rāmdās piles up matched images of relief: food satisfies hunger, water satisfies thirst, and for one who is bound, the cutting of the bondage itself is the joy — setting up why the suffering described later matters: relief is proportionate to affliction.

Match the remedy to the actual need — offer presence when someone needs presence, and a concrete release from a burden when that is what's actually required, rather than generic advice.

More images follow: one swept away in a flood is rescued by being carried to the far shore; one caught in a nightmare is freed simply by waking. The point built across 3.6.002–004 is that relief from tāpatraya comes by a shift of state, not by managing the affliction from within it.

When caught in a spiral of worry, look for something equivalent to "waking up" — a change of state such as a walk, a conversation, or silence — rather than trying to think your way out from inside the spiral.

The series continues: one whose death was near and who was saved feels the joy of a "gift of life"; averting any calamity brings the same joy of relief. This prepares the turn made in 3.6.007: that being afflicted by saṃsāra is itself what qualifies a person for spiritual life.

Notice how sharp the relief from a real crisis feels, and let that clarity about what matters carry into ordinary days instead of fading once the crisis passes.

A sick person given a true and effective medicine rejoices on recovering health — the last in this chain of relief-images, preparing the pivot that real suffering, met with the right remedy, is what produces real joy.

When you are unwell, seek remedies that are actually verified and sound rather than whatever is easiest — half-measures only postpone the joy of real recovery.

The pivot of the opening: just as hunger, bondage, or sickness make relief sweet, one who is genuinely afflicted by saṃsāra — worldly existence — scorched by the threefold affliction, becomes thereby adhikārī, qualified, for paramārtha, the highest spiritual pursuit. Suffering is not merely to be endured; it is the doorway.

Instead of resenting a period of real hardship, treat it as evidence you are now ready to take spiritual practice seriously — use it as the doorway rather than waiting for comfort first.

Rāmdās now poses the question directly — what are these three afflictions? — and announces he will ground the answer in scripture (vākyādhāra), the Sanskrit verses quoted in 3.6.009–011.

When explaining something important, root your claims in a source you can point to, rather than asserting from opinion alone.

The first quoted verse: pleasure and pain are obtained through the body, senses, and prāṇa (vital breath); this is the ādhyātmika affliction — sorrow that arises simply because one is embodied.

When pain arises from your own body or exhausted senses — fatigue, hunger, illness — recognize it as an unavoidable feature of having a body, not a personal failure.

The second verse: pleasure and pain arise from contact and relationship with all beings — this is ādhibhautika, affliction caused by other creatures and circumstances outside oneself.

When another person's words or actions hurt you, name it precisely as relational pain, distinct from bodily pain — it calls for boundaries or forgiveness rather than the response illness would need.

The third verse: by auspicious and inauspicious karma, one undergoes torment at death and after — heaven, hell, and the like; this is ādhidaivika, affliction tied to unseen, karmic or cosmic causes.

Accept that some suffering has causes and consequences you cannot trace directly — meet it with patience and steady conduct now rather than demanding an explanation for everything.

A summary line naming the three: ādhyātmika (bodily/sensory), ādhibhautika (from other beings), and ādhidaivika (karmic/unseen) — the taxonomy that structures the rest of this dashak.

When facing suffering, first sort it: is this from my own body or mind, from another person, or from causes beyond my control? The sorting alone clarifies how to respond.

Rāmdās voices the listener's question: what exactly is ādhyātmika, and how is it recognized? What are the signs of ādhibhautika? — setting up the detailed answer for the first category.

Before trying to fix a problem, first ask precisely what kind of problem it is — vague distress is far harder to address than one clearly named.

The question continues for the third category — what is the state of ādhidaivika? — asking that it too be spelled out clearly, though the teacher takes up ādhyātmika first, as the next ovī shows.

If you want a clear teaching or answer from someone, ask for it directly and specifically, as the listener does here.

The teacher agrees — "Yes, sir" — and begins expanding the account, calling listeners to attend carefully to the explanation of ādhyātmika tāpa that follows.

When you commit to explaining something, signal your attention clearly and then follow through fully rather than giving a partial answer.

The core definition, marked in the source: through the union of body, senses, and prāṇa, one becomes wearied by alternating pleasure and pain — that weariness itself is ādhyātmika. Everything from the next ovī onward is an exhaustive unpacking of what this weariness looks like in practice.

Notice the sheer weariness of simply maintaining a body day after day — eating, resting, healing, aging — and let that recognition soften self-judgment about why you feel tired.

Restating the definition within the larger taxonomy: whatever sorrow originates from the body, the senses, or the prāṇa is specifically named ādhyātmika among the three afflictions, distinguishing it from harm caused by others or by unseen karma.

When something is bothering you, check first whether the source is really your own body or nervous system before blaming another person or bad luck.

A transitional verse: Rāmdās says he will now make explicit what arises from the body and what sorrow arises from the prāṇa — the cue for the long catalog of ailments that begins at 3.6.019.

When teaching or explaining a category, follow through with concrete examples rather than leaving it abstract — specifics are what make an idea usable.

The catalog begins with skin conditions — itching (kharuja), scabs, boils, sores, and eruptive diseases like smallpox and chickenpox — all classed as ādhyātmika because they arise from within the body itself, not from another's action.

Treat a stubborn skin condition or minor sore promptly rather than ignoring it — attending to small bodily signals early is itself a form of care for the body you were given.

The list continues with growths, hair loss, discoloration, and internal ailments like piles — Rāmdās is deliberately exhaustive, refusing to let listeners imagine bodily affliction is rare or minor.

If you tend to assume illness only happens to others, let this list correct you — plan realistically for the body's ordinary vulnerability rather than being blindsided by it.

More minor but persistent afflictions — swellings, unexplained itching, inflamed gums — each still counted among the ādhyātmika sorrows born purely of having a body.

Don't dismiss small recurring discomforts as trivial; tending to them, whether a dentist visit or a doctor's opinion, is legitimate care, not vanity.

Boils, inflamed skin, and the sharp pains attributed to vāta (the wind-humor) round out this stretch of the catalog — bodily pain that comes and goes without external cause.

When pain flares without a clear trigger, resist the urge to find someone or something to blame for it — sometimes the body simply hurts, and the honest response is patience.

Serious chronic conditions enter the list — elephantiasis, painful ears, a distended stomach — Rāmdās moving from the merely irritating to the genuinely disabling, still all ādhyātmika.

If a chronic condition has settled into your life, don't let its familiarity stop you from seeking real care for it — persistence of a symptom is not proof it can't be helped.

The gravest diseases of Rāmdās's era appear here — leprosy, jaundice (paṇḍu-roga), and the wasting of tuberculosis — named without euphemism as part of what a body can suffer.

When facing or hearing of serious illness, resist flinching away from it — clear-eyed acknowledgment of severe bodily suffering is itself a form of honesty this verse is modeling.

Digestive discomfort, pain in the limbs, and recurring dizziness — everyday ailments that nonetheless belong to the same category as the graver diseases just listed, since all arise from the body's own workings.

Track a recurring minor symptom like dizziness rather than shrugging it off — a body's small complaints are often trying to tell you something worth hearing.

Sprains, abdominal colic, and headache (ardhaśiśī, "half-head" pain) continue the inventory of ordinary bodily torment.

When a headache or cramp derails your day, treat the interruption as instructive — a reminder of how little control the mind actually has over the body it inhabits.

Rāmdās now moves through the body's structural pains — waist, neck, back, joints — cataloguing how many places the frame itself can hurt.

Pay attention to posture and joint strain in ordinary daily tasks — small corrections now prevent the compounding aches this verse describes.

The list widens to tremors, blistering skin conditions, and even disease contracted from unfamiliar water in a foreign land — illness that can strike wherever the body goes.

When traveling or in unfamiliar conditions, take basic precautions with food and water seriously — this verse treats such illness as ordinary and expected, not an unlucky exception.

Serious systemic conditions — dropsy (fluid retention), vertigo, fainting, fever — continue to accumulate, reinforcing how many forms ādhyātmika suffering can take.

If fainting spells or persistent fever recur, don't normalize them as just part of life — treat them as a signal your body is asking for real attention.

The catalog shifts from disease to the body's baseline needs — cold, heat, thirst, hunger, sleep, elimination — and to the "dire state" of viṣaya-tṛṣṇā, sense-craving itself, all named ādhyātmika because they are unavoidable features of embodiment.

Notice how much of your day is spent simply managing hunger, temperature, and tiredness — build honest margin for these needs instead of treating them as distractions from "real" work.

The catalog turns inward to mental and characterological afflictions — laziness, dullness, fear arising in the mind, forgetfulness, day-and-night distraction — showing that ādhyātmika suffering includes the mind's weaknesses, not only the body's.

Name your own recurring mental habits — procrastination, low-grade anxiety, a wandering mind — as honestly as you would a physical symptom, and address them with the same seriousness.

The list returns to internal, often painful conditions — urinary stones, bloody afflictions, gravel-related ailments — continuing to demonstrate the range of what a body must sometimes endure.

Don't delay medical attention for internal or urinary discomfort out of embarrassment — this verse names such conditions plainly, without shame attached.

Digestive extremes — dysentery, heat-stroke, constipation — appear alongside the unsettling case of an ailment "present but unknown," acknowledging that some suffering resists diagnosis altogether.

When something feels wrong in your body but you can't name it, trust that feeling enough to seek help rather than needing a label before you act.

Parasitic and digestive distress — worms, blood and mucus in stool, food passing undigested — rounds out the catalog of internal suffering.

Take seriously any change in digestion your body reports to you; this verse treats such signs as worth naming precisely, not glossing over.

Bloating, a congested chest, a lump felt in the throat, and choking distress — physical sensations of constriction Rāmdās counts among the body's ordinary torments.

If you feel a persistent lump or tightness in the throat or chest, get it checked rather than assuming it will pass — the verse doesn't minimize such sensations.

Everyday digestive and respiratory disruptions — hiccups, bile, vomiting, cold and cough — continue the exhaustive listing, none too minor to name.

Give your body rest when it signals ordinary illness like a cold or cough rather than pushing through as if the discomfort doesn't count.

Respiratory suffering — asthma, wheezing, tonsillitis, lingering low fever — extends the catalog into chronic breathing difficulty.

If breathing itself has become effortful, treat that as a serious signal deserving prompt care, not something to tough out.

A more folk-medical entry: someone marks the body with vermilion, a traditional evil-eye remedy, leaving the person stupefied, followed by a throat-boil — Rāmdās including even folk-attributed ailments within ādhyātmika, since the suffering is still felt in the body.

Whatever explanation you or others give for an ailment, attend to the actual physical distress in front of you rather than the story built around it.

Oral and dental affliction — a wasting tongue, chronic bad breath, tooth loss, worms — reminders that the mouth, too, is a frequent site of ādhyātmika suffering.

Keep up basic oral care as a form of bodily respect, not vanity — several of the conditions listed here are the ordinary, preventable consequence of neglect.

Severe and even accidental afflictions appear — tumors, scrofula, a sudden ruptured eye, even a self-inflicted cut — Rāmdās extending ādhyātmika to injuries that seem to "just happen" to the body.

Practice basic care and attentiveness with your hands and tools in daily tasks; the mention of an accidental self-cut is a reminder that carelessness with the body has real cost.

Sharp, shooting pains, teeth loosening, and involuntary grinding of lips and tongue continue the picture of a body that can turn against itself without warning.

If you notice yourself grinding your teeth or jaw, especially under stress, treat it as a bodily signal of tension worth addressing directly.

Rāmdās now includes lifelong conditions — sorrow of ear and eye, blindness from birth, infertility — widening ādhyātmika to include conditions present from birth, not only ones acquired later.

When you encounter someone with a lifelong condition, let this verse's plain, non-judgmental naming remind you to speak of such things, and of your own limitations, without shame or mockery.

Vision loss — cataracts, night-blindness — and mental derangement (bhramiṣṭa) appear together, showing Rāmdās treats disorders of sight and disorders of mind as belonging to the same class of embodied affliction.

If your own thinking feels clouded or erratic for a stretch, treat that as seriously as you would failing eyesight — both signal the body-mind needs attention.

A list of physical disabilities present from birth or acquired — mute, deaf, limbless, lame — named plainly by Rāmdās as instances of ādhyātmika affliction, without attached blame or shame.

Practice describing physical difference in others accurately and respectfully, as this verse does, rather than with euphemism or with mockery.

Further bodily variations — eye conditions, a curved spine, speech affected by the nose — continue to be catalogued as ādhyātmika, part of the range the body can take.

Resist the reflex to stare or comment on someone's visible physical difference; let the plainness of this verse's list model calm acknowledgment instead of reaction.

Speech difficulties, loss of smell or hearing, and extremes of body size close out this stretch — Rāmdās pairing sensory loss with extremes of physique as equally ādhyātmika.

If you notice judgment arising toward someone's body size or a speech difficulty, name the judgment and set it down; the verse lists such things as facts of embodiment, nothing more.

Rāmdās pivots from physical traits to character flaws in the same breath — envy, gluttony, a hot temper — signaling that moral and emotional weaknesses are just as much ādhyātmika affliction as any bodily disease.

Audit your own temper and appetite the way you would a physical symptom — a habit of overeating or flaring anger belongs, in this teaching's terms, to the same category of affliction as illness.

The character-flaw list intensifies — lust, jealousy, contempt, sinfulness — making clear that this section's affliction includes the corruptions of one's own mind and conduct, not only physical disease.

Take one item from this list — contempt, jealousy, a besetting fault — and examine honestly where it shows up in your week; naming it precisely is the first step toward loosening its grip.

The catalog returns to the physical with everyday injuries — swelling, stiffness, sprains, bruises — minor but real instances of the body's fragility.

Give minor injuries the recovery time they need rather than pushing through them; even small sprains and bruises are part of the affliction this verse takes seriously.

Some of the gravest entries in the catalog appear here — miscarriage, breast-lumps, convulsions, sudden death — Rāmdās not shying from the harshest realities the body and its processes can produce.

Hold space for grief when loss or sudden tragedy touches a body — this verse's directness is a reminder that such suffering is real and ordinary enough to be named plainly, not hidden away.

Smaller but still disruptive afflictions — infected nails, bruising, eye discharge, sudden lock-jaw — continue to round out the breadth of bodily trouble.

Keep basic first-aid habits in place — cleaning small wounds, tending minor infections promptly — as an ordinary discipline, not an afterthought.

Eye-area afflictions — falling lashes, swollen brows, styes — appear alongside "deceptions" attaching to a person, suggesting ādhyātmika trouble also includes being prone to error or being deceived, not only physical symptoms.

When you notice you've been fooled or misled, treat it as you would a minor ailment — worth noticing and correcting, not a source of shame.

Skin marks — moles, birthmarks, warts — are listed alongside plain "mental distress," Rāmdās again placing bodily marks and psychological suffering in the same category of affliction.

Let go of self-consciousness about ordinary skin marks or birthmarks — this verse treats them as neutral facts of the body, not flaws to hide.

Bodily swellings, persistent odor, and drooling continue the catalog of the body's less dignified but entirely ordinary troubles.

Practice basic hygiene as an act of care for yourself and others, without turning it into anxious self-monitoring — the verse names these conditions matter-of-factly, not with disgust.

A more introspective verse: the "soot-residue" of many anxieties, sorrows that burn the heart, and torment that persists even without any visible disease — Rāmdās naming pure mental suffering as fully ādhyātmika, on par with everything physical just listed.

When you're in distress but nothing can be found physically wrong, trust that the suffering is still real; anxiety and grief are, in this teaching's own terms, genuine affliction requiring real attention.

Rāmdās turns to old age specifically — its many distresses, constant disease, a body perpetually wasting — naming the affliction that eventually comes for everyone who lives long enough.

Prepare practically and emotionally for the realities of aging now, in your own habits and in how you care for elders, rather than treating old age's suffering as something to avoid thinking about.

A summary verse gathering the whole catalog: many diseases, many sorrows, many sufferings, many wounds — the living being writhes in grief, closing the long enumeration with its overall weight.

Step back periodically and take stock of everything currently weighing on you at once — the accumulated weight, seen together, often explains exhaustion better than any single item does.

Rāmdās closes the section: such is ādhyātmika affliction — the scorching consequence of past sin (pūrva-pāpa); to recount it fully would never end, an "ocean of sorrow" (duḥkha-sāgara).

When cataloguing everything that's wrong feels endless, stop trying to enumerate it all — address what is in front of you now and trust the rest can wait its turn.

A closing transition: enough has been said — listeners will grasp the rest by inference — and next, in due course, the ādhibhautika affliction, arising from other beings, will be explained.

When you've made your point clearly, resist over-explaining — trust your listener to fill in what you've left unsaid, and move on to what's next.