THE LINT WITHIN

The streets of the tech market were alive with flickering neon signs, buzzing electronic billboards, and the constant hum of shopkeepers showcasing the latest gadgets. The air smelled of fresh plastic, soldering fumes, and fried street food—a strange yet familiar blend.

A Guru, dressed in a simple white kurta, walked calmly through the chaos, his hands clasped behind him. Beside him, his disciple, a young man draped in a hoodie and jeans, was visibly troubled.

"Guruji," the disciple sighed, weaving past a man selling phone cases, "lately, my thoughts feel messy—like tangled wires in a drawer. I try to focus, but my mind is filled with noise, distractions, worries… It's like my brain has lost its ability to process clearly."

The Guru smiled, nodding toward a small repair shop they were passing. Inside, a technician was carefully cleaning out a customer’s smartphone. He had removed the back panel, taken a fine brush, and was meticulously clearing out lint—especially from the charging port, speaker grills, and microphone holes.

"Look at that phone," the Guru said, pausing in front of the shop. "What do you see?"

The disciple peered inside. "A repairman… cleaning lint?"

"Exactly," the Guru said. "And where is the lint coming from?"

The disciple watched as tiny gray fibers were pulled out from the phone’s charging port, speaker holes, and microphone. "It must have built up over time… from pockets, from dust, from everyday use," he muttered.

The Guru nodded. "Just like your thoughts."

The disciple frowned. "My thoughts?"

The Guru gestured toward the phone. "A phone needs clear pathways for power to flow, for sound to be heard, for voices to travel. But lint—small, unnoticed fragments—accumulates, blocking these essential functions. Your mind is the same. Your thoughts are struggling because mental lint has built up."

The disciple’s curiosity sparked. "Mental lint?"

The Guru chuckled. "Yes. Unnecessary thoughts, old worries, past regrets, and useless information… they clog the tiny spaces of your mind, just like lint in a phone’s tiny openings. Shall I tell you what kind of lint you might be carrying?"

The disciple nodded eagerly.

The Guru pointed to the charging port. "When lint gathers here, the phone can't receive power properly. In your mind, this is like carrying old fears and self-doubt—blocking your ability to recharge with new energy and ideas."

The disciple's eyes widened. "That makes sense… Some days, I wake up already exhausted, even before the day starts."

The Guru then pointed at the speaker and mic holes. "When lint clogs these, sound gets muffled. This is like your mental noise—constant distractions, unnecessary thoughts, and overthinking—drowning out clarity. You hear everything but understand nothing."

The disciple let out a slow breath. "I do feel overwhelmed sometimes, like my thoughts are overlapping."

The Guru continued, "And then, there’s the phone’s internal heat vents. When dust clogs them, the phone overheats. In your mind, this is unreleased stress and emotions. The more you let them pile up, the hotter and more restless your mind becomes."

The disciple’s expression softened as realization dawned. "So, my mind needs cleaning—like the phone."

The Guru smiled. "Exactly. Just like the technician removes lint from the phone, you must remove the mental lint from your thoughts. Regularly."

The disciple straightened up. "How do I do that?"

The Guru placed a hand on his shoulder. "Silence. Reflection. Letting go. A moment of stillness each day is like using a lint roller for your mind. Meditate, breathe, write your thoughts down if needed. Whatever helps you clear out the unnecessary."

The disciple watched as the technician reassembled the now-clean phone. It looked the same—but it would function so much better.

He smiled. "I understand now, Guruji. My thoughts don’t need fixing… they just need cleaning."

The Guru chuckled. "Indeed. The mind, like a phone, works best when it is free of lint."

And with that, they continued walking through the market, the disciple feeling lighter—as if a bit of his own lint had just been brushed away.