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Chapter 4: When Grapes Are Sour

“How is this, Mulla?” asked a bystander. “How can you drink whisky? Sure it was only yesterday ye told me ye was a teetotaler.”

“Well,” said Nasruddin, “you are right. I am a teetotaler, it is true, but I am not a bigoted one.”

People go on finding some way or other. But on the path of growth these deceptions are not good.

Another anecdote.

Flagherty sneaked into the room and started making love to his sleeping wife until she awakened and shouted, “Is that you?”

“It better be,” snorted Flagherty.

“When are you gonna stop this sinning?” she demanded. “Moody quit smoking, Paine stopped gambling, what are you gonna give up?”

“All right,” said Flagherty through bloodshot eyes, “from now on, you sleep in the bedroom and I will sleep in the spare room.”

Three weeks went by with Mrs. Flagherty sleeping alone. Finally, unable to contain herself for one night more, she tip-toed to the spare room and tapped lightly on the door.

“What is it?” shouted Flagherty.

“I just wanted to tell yer,” said his wife, “that Moody has started smoking again.”

You cannot repress anything. Howsoever subtle are your ways you cannot repress anything, you will have to face it. If you are confused, face it.

The last question:

Osho,
Are you the trick or the treat?

Po!

Enough for today.