The West has gone deep in search of the mind, and has discovered layers upon layers – the conscious, the unconscious, the subconscious, and so on and so forth. The East has simply put the whole thing aside and jumped into the pond…and the soundless sound, the no-mind. Hence East and West stand opposed.
In a way the opposition is understandable, and Rudyard Kipling was right in saying, “West is West, and East is East, and never the twain shall meet.” He is right to a point. He really emphasizes a certain point that I am making.
The West has only looked into the mind, without looking into who is looking into the mind. It is very strange. The so-called great scientists are all trying to look into the mind, and nobody is bothered about who is looking into the mind.
H.G. Wells was not a bad man – a good man, just a goody-goody. In fact he is too sweet for my taste, a little too much white sugar. But still I should not consider my taste; you have your own tastes, and not everybody is a diabetic. I am not only a diabetic, I am also against white sugar. Even before I came to know about diabetes, I was against white sugar. I call it “the white poison,” so perhaps I am a little prejudiced against white sugar.
But H.G. Wells, although very full of white sugar, is not just that. Once in a while he came up with an insight which was rare. For example, his idea of a time machine. He had the idea that one day a machine is discovered that goes back into time. Do you understand the meaning of it? It means you can go back into your childhood, into your mother’s womb, or perhaps, if you are a Hindu, into your past lives – perhaps as an elephant, an ant, or whatnot. One could just go back, and one could go forward.
The idea itself is a great insight. I don’t know whether there will ever be machines like that or not, but there have been people who could move back into time just as easily as you move. Do you have any difficulty in moving back to your yesterday? In the same way, the daring ones have moved into their yesterlives.
Perhaps that word may not be allowed, but I don’t care. To me “yesterlife” looks perfectly right. When anything looks right to a wrong man like me, then you can be certain it must be right. It has to be right.
I suddenly said full stop to Masto, but the whole day it tortured me in a way. You know I cannot be tortured, you know I cannot be unhappy either, but the idea that I had finished so abruptly again reminds me of one incident which is directly concerned with Masto.
He had come to take me to the station at Allahabad. Deep down we both never wanted to separate, particularly on that day. The reason only became clear later on, but that had nothing to do with it. I will just mention it and give you the details later on. He had come to give me a sendoff, because he said that perhaps for two or three months he may not be able to see me. So, as long as he could be with me, he would like to be.
Masto said, “Let us hope the train is late.”
I said, “What nonsense are you talking, Masto? Have you really gone mad? Indian trains and you have to hope for them to be late!”