Rodevra Republic

It looks like a person is reading in the water. When you zoom in, you will find that there is no person, no book, no reading, everything is an illusion. Just like life, it seems to be the case, but it is not the case at all..

A few days ago, a friend shared this image.

Beyond the message it carried, what stood out immediately was the artistry behind it. At first glance, it is simply an arrangement of stones. But from a distance, it reveals the form of a man seated in water, absorbed in reading.

The art lies not just in the idea, but in its execution—finding stones of the right size and shape, perhaps shaping them further, and placing them with care so that a meaningful image emerges.

Most art not only gives joy but also invites reflection. Yet, more often than not, we remain absorbed in its aesthetic appeal, and pause less to consider the meaning it may be pointing towards.

Let us, for a moment, dwell on that meaning.

The accompanying thought suggests that everything is an illusion. Taken further, it leads us into the realm of perception itself.

What we see depends entirely on how we see.

At one level, these are stones arranged in water. At another, they form a human figure. At yet another, one may choose to see them as matter—structures composed of energy, perceived in a particular form by our senses.

And here lies the limitation.

Our senses offer us only a narrow window into reality. We perceive colour through a limited range, hear within a defined spectrum, and interpret the world through faculties that are far from complete. Beyond these limits lies a vast expanse that remains unseen, unheard, and unknown.

What we call reality, then, is not the whole—it is a representation, shaped as much by the mind as by the senses.

And the mind, by its very nature, builds its own images, its own continuity, its own meanings.

There is a quiet irony here.

While we take our perceived world to be real and persistent, much of what we are asked to do—particularly in a spiritual sense—is not to strengthen this constructed reality, but to see through it.

To move beyond appearances. To look past the form, and seek the source.

In that sense, the play of life unfolds not merely in the world around us, but within the mind that interprets it.

Even modern science, in its own way, points towards a reality that often defies our intuitive understanding. What appears stable and solid reveals itself, at deeper levels, to be far less so.

And so, whether we see a man reading in water, or stones placed with intent, or something more fundamental beneath both—depends on the level at which we choose to perceive.

The simple arrangement of stones thus becomes more than an image. It becomes an invitation—to question, to look deeper, and perhaps to recognise the transient, constructed nature of what we take to be real.

In Indian philosophy, this is often referred to as Maya.

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