It is difficult to know how many Buddhist monks were burned by Hindus in India because Indian history does not exist at all, nobody has bothered to write history. But thousands of Buddhist monks were burned alive, just the way Abdul Ghaffar Khan wanted to burn Z.A. Bhutto. Thousands of Buddhists were burned alive – otherwise how they all disappeared from this country? Buddha’s impact was so great, millions of people had turned into Buddhists. Then what happened to all of them? Then why they ran out of the country? And whosoever remained behind was killed.
And Hindus talk about nonviolence, love, friendship, universal love, divine love. As far as words are concerned, people are very clever and they can go on elaborating on these words, philosophizing. They can go in deep subtleties; they can make very subtle distinctions, but their consciousness remains unaffected.
A young nun arrived at the nunnery, panting and crying, “Mother, Mother, something terrible has happened!”
“What is it, my daughter?” the Mother Superior asked, concerned.
“A maniac, Mother – a sex maniac raped me!”
“Ah no, daughter, ah no! When did it happen?”
“Yesterday, the day before, and again today!”
You can impose character on people, but you cannot imagine consciousness. Consciousness has to be discovered. These people can even reach to heaven, but they will create a heaven of their own, they will live in a world of their own. They will repeat the same kind of world there. If these people – these Hindus, Mohammedans, Christians, these monks and nuns and these mahatmas and saints, Catholics and Protestants – if these are the people who are going to heaven, heaven cannot be any different from this earth. The same crusades, the same wars, all kinds of stupidities will go on, will continue. It will be only a repetition, maybe on a wider scale, bigger scale, more sophisticated, but it cannot be qualitatively different.
Young Barrington-Smythe had just reached the Pearly Gates. St. Peter was welcoming him and telling him about the social life of heaven. “We play a lot of sport here, young fellow me lad” said St. Peter. “On Mondays and Thursdays it is polo, and Tuesdays and Fridays cricket.”
“Well, actually, sir,” answered the young man, “I don’t enjoy sport very much.”
“Well, then perhaps you will enjoy Wednesday nights,” suggested St. Peter. “There is a big dinner. After the meal when the port has been passed around a few times, we really let our hair down, I can tell you!”
“Actually, sir, I don’t enjoy drinking,” replied the young man.
“Ah,” said St. Peter. Then after a short silence he suggested, “Then you will enjoy Saturday nights. We have a dance with a lot of the young ladies from hereabouts. Plenty of goings-on, if you know what I mean!”
“Actually, sir,” said the young man again, “I don’t really enjoy the company of young ladies.”
After a long pause St. Peter asked, “Barrington-Smythe, you are not a homosexual by any chance?”