The night was windless.
The young man sat on the porch, chin resting on his hand.
He had just read news about someone who once hurt him — now facing failure.
And he felt something that startled him:

He felt lighter.
He even felt… pleased.

Shame washed over him.

The teacher stepped outside with a small oil lamp.
He placed it on the table, the warm glow softening the young man’s face.

“What are you hiding from?” the teacher asked.

The young man lowered his head.

“I… felt happy when someone else suffered.
I don’t want to be like that.
But the feeling came so fast — like a reflex.”

The teacher nodded.

“That is the fracture of an unhealed wound.”

He sat beside him.

“You think schadenfreude is malice.
But in truth, it is the echo of an old hurt.”

The young man looked up.

“An old hurt?”

The teacher nodded.

“When someone has wounded you,
your heart records the fracture.
And when they suffer,
your heart feels as if the fracture is being ‘returned.’”

The young man stayed silent.

“Schadenfreude is not your nature,” the teacher said.
“It is the reaction of a wound you haven’t looked at.”

Then he spoke with the clarity of Krishnamurti:

“When you see the wound clearly,
the reaction dissolves.”

The young man closed his eyes.

He remembered:
– being belittled
– being betrayed
– being abandoned
– being mocked online
– being laughed at in front of others

He opened his eyes, voice trembling:

“Teacher…
I thought I had forgotten all that.
But maybe… it’s still inside me.”

The teacher smiled gently.

“It’s not that the past remains in you.
It’s that you’ve never truly looked at it.”

He picked up a small stone.

“Watch.”

He dropped it into the water jar.
Ripples spread, then faded.

“The ripple is not the water,” he said.
“It is only a reaction.”

He looked at the young man.

“Schadenfreude is the same.
It is not you.
It is the ripple of a wound.”

The young man asked:

“Then what do I do when that feeling appears?”

The teacher smiled.

“Nothing.
Just ask:
Which wound is speaking right now?”

The young man closed his eyes again.

This time, when he thought of the person who hurt him,
he didn’t follow the pleasure.
He looked at the wound —
like looking at a child crying in the dark.

When he opened his eyes, the feeling was still there —
but softer, like a small wave that had lost its sharpness.

The teacher said:

“Today, do just one thing:
When you feel schadenfreude,
don’t blame yourself.
Don’t try to fix it.
Don’t try to be kind.”

He placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Just ask:
Which wound in me is asking to be seen?”

The young man nodded.

Not because he had stopped feeling schadenfreude,
but because he finally understood:

Schadenfreude is not cruelty.
It is a message from a wound.
And when the wound is seen,
it begins to heal.