Acharya Prashant responds to a question about the mind's attachment to sorrow. He begins by questioning the very certainty with which one declares, "There is sorrow." To make such a statement, one must have already decided with great self-confidence that something bad has happened. He challenges this assumption, asking, "How do you know that what happened was bad?" To experience sorrow, one must first believe that an event that should not have happened has occurred. This belief itself is an act of great arrogance, as it implies a fixed and absolute understanding of good and bad. The speaker illustrates this point with a story about an old man whose response to every seemingly good or bad event is, "Who knows?" Whether his horse runs away, returns with more horses, his son breaks his leg, or is consequently saved from war, the old man refrains from judgment. This reflects the wisdom of not assigning a fixed meaning to events, a concept akin to Buddha's teaching on 'shunya' (emptiness). To be sorrowful is to be certain about the nature of an event, whereas a humble and simple mind would just acknowledge that something has happened, without knowing if it is ultimately good or bad. Acharya Prashant explains that sorrow is a product of a deep and stubborn ego. The ego's investment in its beliefs is so strong that it would rather endure suffering than let go of its judgments. There are many people whose sorrow could end instantly if they chose, but they don't because they have attached their sorrow to their ego. This attachment exists because sorrow offers certain conveniences and a false sense of identity. It can be used to gain sympathy, make excuses, and feel a sense of depth or seriousness, which is often socially rewarded more than simple happiness. He further clarifies the distinction between pain (dard/chot) and sorrow (dukh). Pain is an unavoidable, physical reality of life, but sorrow is a mental construct and a choice. One should not convert inevitable pain into chosen sorrow. The speaker criticizes the romanticization of tragedy, often seen in films where sorrow is portrayed as a noble state. He concludes by advising to smile and embrace a state of unknowing, rather than carrying the burden of understanding everything. As Kabir Saheb says, "One day you will have to sleep with your legs stretched out," so while you are alive, why keep sighing in sorrow?