Then the leaders decided, just divide it in the middle. And a wall was raised in the middle of the madhouse. I have heard that still the madmen sometimes climb up on the wall and they laugh. The whole thing seems to be so ridiculous. They are exactly in the same place, but some have become Pakistanis and some have become Indians – and just a wall in between. And they still talk about it: “What happened? – because we are the same, you are the same, we don’t see any difference! But now we are enemies – we really should not talk.”
Differences are not there. Or, if they are there, very small differences like…
Do you know how many Indians it takes to screw in a light bulb? Four. One to hold the bulb, and three to screw him round.
Or, do you know how many Californians it takes to change a light bulb? Four. One to change the bulb, and three to share in the experience.
The third question:
Today I saw clearly that I really am causing my own suffering and that I don't have to, and something heavy lifted from my chest when I saw that I was not just going around in circles!
Thank you, thank you, Osho.
But oh, I am so afraid of becoming light and permeable. It is all so embarrassing!
The first experience of freedom is always embarrassing. The first ray of light to the blind is bound to be embarrassing. One who has always lived in chains, a sudden message from the king that he is freed is embarrassing. He had become accustomed to live a certain kind of life, he had evolved a certain style of life. There was security in the prison; he had settled. Now everything unsettles. It is not only the question that the chains are being taken away; now he will have to face the great wide world again. He will have to learn all that he has forgotten, he will have to relearn. It is going to be difficult, and he will look a little amateur compared to others. Even walking on the street without his chains of which he has become accustomed will be a little odd; he will not feel at ease.
When the French revolutionaries freed the prisoners from the great French prison of the Bastille, they were surprised: the prisoners were not ready to go out. And that was the biggest prison in France, where only people who had been sentenced for their whole life were kept. There were people who had been in the prison for thirty years, forty years, even fifty years.