You laugh so beautifully when you hear of Zen masters hitting their disciples, and if Veena goes on like this she will have unnecessarily forced me to carry a staff too. I have never carried anything in my hand in my whole life, but a friend has sent a beautiful staff, which is waiting. Either Veena gets okay by tomorrow morning, or I will have to use for the first time a very gross and primitive method.
I hit you as sophisticatedly as possible, as playfully as possible. But if you are here not to be transformed, but are just hanging around unconsciously, not even aware why you are here, not being aware of the pilgrimage, then your being here or not being here is almost the same. One thing you should remember: by your being upset you cannot change me. You can simply force me to use primitive methods that Zen masters used. Please don’t force me! And the only way is that whenever I say to you…even if it hurts, my purpose is not to hurt you. When I hurt you it is almost a necessity.
Vimal has shown immense understanding. He is not complaining that I have touched his wound. That should be the attitude of everyone who has come to be part of this caravan, who has accepted a totally new way which has never existed before, and a totally new style of life, of utter freedom and love.
But you have to be reminded continuously that even love is not just simply a bed of roses. And the more you love me, the more I am going to be hard with you. The more you understand me, the more I can operate on you. You should remember that all my sannyasins are just on the operating table twenty-four hours a day. If you have a stiff neck, good; it will be operated on!
Whatever your teacher said to you is almost a universal problem. Teachers hurt their students, not out of love, not to help them, but to feel a certain power.
There is a very beautiful historical incident in the life of one of the great emperors of India. He had captured his own father, imprisoned him, because the father was living too long. And he could not wait anymore; he himself was getting old. By the time his father dies he will not be able to live longer himself to dominate the whole kingdom. The father has to be removed.
Politics knows nothing about love.
The father was imprisoned by his own son in jail. And strangely enough, the next day the father simply sent a message, “There is no problem; I have ruled enough. You need not have taken so much trouble to arrest me. You could have simply said it to me. But now what has happened has happened. I would just like you to send thirty students, small boys, whom I can teach the holy Koran” – their religious book.
When the message reached the court of his son, who had now become the emperor of the whole of India…The son, despite being a ruthless, violent, ugly man, still seems to have had tremendous insight into the psychology of man – and that is almost fifteen hundred years before Sigmund Freud.
He said to the court, “Do you see this letter from my father? For what does he want these thirty children? He cannot live without dominating somebody, and the best way is to dominate small children because they are so helpless.”