Chapter 14: Don’t Be a Missionary, Be a Message
The superintendent started laughing. He said, “It is nobody, it is just an ordinary woman. He was in love, but because they belonged to different castes, the father of the woman refused; he became mad and the woman became a goddess. Unattainable, one ordinary woman became a goddess. Now he worships and prays, ‘What has not happened in this life, perhaps through prayer and worship may happen in the next.’”
The psychologist said, “I have never come across such a case.”
The superintendent said, “Just wait a little more.”
In the next cell there was another man who was hitting his head against the wall, and two guards were holding him. The psychologist said, “What has happened to him? Why does he want to hit his head on the wall?”
The superintendent said, “He has gone mad. He wants to commit suicide, and it is such a problem to watch him continuously - he hurts himself.”
“But what is the cause of his madness?”
The superintendent said, “That’s why I was telling you to just wait a little. He got married, and the marriage has been such a disaster that he is in the madhouse. He wants to commit suicide. Because sooner or later he will be sent out of the madhouse, and again be in the hands of that woman. But it is the same woman! And to avoid her, he wants to commit suicide.”
The psychologist said, “My God, it is the same woman the other man is praying to get in his next life, because he missed the train this time! And this poor fellow did not miss this time - now he wants to jump out of the train. He can’t even wait for the station to come.”
Logic is a complicated phenomenon Life is not logic. Life is closer to music than to mathematics, because mathematics is of the mind, and life throbs in your heartbeats. Life is love.
Love is simple, innocent communion.
Ashok Bharti, you love me and that opens the door for all the mysteries possible. People say love is blind because they do not know what love is. I say unto you, only love has eyes; other than love, everything is blind. Once your eyes of love are opened, things which you have never dreamed of start becoming realities; new songs that you had never thought yourself capable of, new poetries, with such insights that you cannot believe that you have written them.
This is the reason why all the ancient scriptures don’t have the names of their authors - because the authors could not believe that they were the writers of the Upanishads, of the Vedas. They could not believe it. At the most, they have been vehicles; they were possessed. Some universal energy has taken possession of them, and what they have written has nothing to do with them. They have not signed the scriptures that they have written.