Read Book

OSHO Online Library   »   The Books   »   Socrates Poisoned Again After 25 Centuries

Chapter 7: Zorba Is My Past: Buddha Is My Present

If anybody else had asked it, I would have called him a peeping tom. But I will not call you that; I will just end by telling you a small story.

Three old men used to meet in the park every evening. Perhaps all the three were retired journalists. One was seventy-five, the other was eighty-five, the third was ninety-five; they were great friends.

One evening, the youngest of the three was looking very sad, very dull, very down. The other two asked him, “What is the matter with you? Why are you so silent and dull and sad?”

He said, “Don’t remind me. I’m trying to forget it, but it goes on and on and on.”

But they said, “We don’t know what it is. First tell us what you are trying to forget.”

He said, “It is such an undignified thing.But you are friends, old friends, I will tell you.

“It happened that I was looking into the keyhole of the bathroom, because a beautiful lady who was a guest in the house was taking a bath.and my mother came and caught me red-handed!”

The other two laughed. They said, “This happens to everybody. In childhood this is nothing.and there is no need to be bothered by it now that you are seventy-five.”

The man said, “What are you saying? - this happened this morning!”

This was a shock. The second man said, “But what is happening to me is even worse.For three days I have not been able to make love to my wife. Whenever I prepare and get ready, she simply turns to the other side and says, ‘Not tonight. I am suffering from a headache.’ It has been going on for three days.”

The oldest man said, “But first tell us - because I know your love - what kind of love you make. Tell it in detail, because the other fool does not know.”

So he had to tell. He said, “Not much. I just hold her hand and press it three times, every night. But for three nights no love - it hurts.”

The third man said, “You are both idiots. You don’t know my trouble. This morning when I was just going to make love to my wife, she said, ‘You idiot, what are you doing?’ I said, ‘What am I doing? I am making love.’ She said, ‘This is the third time in the night. Neither you sleep, nor you allow me to sleep.’ I said, ‘My God, it seems I am losing my memory!’”