"Then what do I do?" Kabir asked, his voice cracking. The manic energy was leaking out, leaving him small and frightened. "If I stop doing things, I'll just... sink. I'll drown in the regret." "Then drown," Shukla Master said softly. "The bottom is where the truth is." He placed his hand on Kabir's knee. "Stop trying to be a Saint. Just be a Son. A son who misses his father. That is enough. You don't need to build a hospital in his name. You just need to sit in his chair and cry without a timer. You need to let the string be loose enough to vibrate." Kabir looked at the orange peel on the bench. It was a perfect spiral. He realized he had been treating his grief like an enemy to be conquered, rather than a love to be felt. He was trying to "fix" the unfixable, because the alternative—sitting with the brokenness—was terrifying. This was The Middle Path. It wasn't about laziness; it was about Sustainability. If he kept snapping his strings, he would never play the song his father deserved. "Go home," Shukla Master said, standing up painfully. "Throw away the books. Stop the chanting. Make a cup of tea. Sit in his chair. And do absolutely nothing. That will be the hardest work you have ever done." Kabir watched the old man walk away. He looked down at his book. He closed it. For the first time in weeks, he didn't check his watch. He just sat there, listening to the traffic, letting the string of his heart loosen just enough to make a sound. It was a sad sound. But it was music. ________________________________________ Key Concepts Covered in Narrative: 1. Spiritual Bypassing. 2. The Middle Path (Sitar Parable). 3. Toxic Productivity in Grief. 4. The "Doing" vs. "Being" Conflict.