He thought he had it all figured  out—answers in his head,  certainty in his voice. The world  feels small when you believe  you understand it. KNOW IT  ALL. But the deeper he went,  the more it slipped—meanings  beyond logic, patterns he  couldn’t hold. What he called  knowledge was fragments.  What he called truth was  noise. And somewhere, long  before him, it already existed —not discovered, not created,  just remembered. The Vedas  didn’t prove anything… they  simply remained.