Eleventh. My eleventh choice is Bijak. Bijak is Kabir’s selection of songs. Bijak means “the seed” – and of course the seed is subtle, very subtle, invisible. You cannot see it unless it sprouts and becomes a tree.
Don’t interrupt. Do you want to continue? – that’s the question. Never ask me, ask yourself. If you don’t want to continue, simply inform me, that’s enough. It is really so difficult to ride on two horses, and that is what I am doing. Moreover one is a mare and one is a stallion. Now what to do – two different directions….
Twelfth. Because of this situation I choose the book by Herbert Marcuse, One Dimensional Man. I am against it, but he has written a beautiful book. I am against it because I know a man is fulfilled only when he is multidimensional, when he is spread in all dimensions possible, not one-dimensional. One Dimensional Man is the story of modern man; it is my twelfth choice.
The thirteenth book is the mysterious book of the Chinese, I Ching.
Fourteen, and last. This book is a Hindi novel which has not yet been translated into English. Strange to be mentioned by a man like me, but it is worth mentioning. The Hindi title is Nadi Ke Dweep, which may be translated as Islands of a River, and it was written by Satchidanand Vatsyayana. This novel is for those who want to meditate; it is a meditator’s novel. No other novel, neither by Tolstoy nor Chekhov, can be compared to it. It is unfortunate that it is written in Hindi.
Just wait. It is so beautiful that I want to enjoy rather than say anything. To talk at this height is so difficult. No interruptions please….