I said, “I am not only weeping but I want to participate in the funeral. Don’t waste my time because I have to catch the train and this is the last one that will get there on time.”
He was even more astonished; he said, “I can’t believe it, have you gone mad?”
I said, “We will discuss that later on. Don’t be worried, I will be coming back.”
And do you know that when I reached Delhi, Masto was on the platform waiting for me. He said, “I thought that however much you are against Gandhi, you still have a certain regard for the man. That is only my feeling.” He then said, “It may or may not be so, but I depended on it. And this is the only train that passes through your village. If you were to come, I knew you would have to be on this train, otherwise you would not be coming. So I came to receive you, and my feeling was right.”
I said to him, “If you had spoken before about my feeling for Gandhi, I would not have argued with you, but you were always trying to convince me, and then it is not a question of feeling, it is pure argument. Either you win, or the other fellow wins. If you had mentioned only once that it is a question of feeling, I would not have even touched that subject at all, because then there would have been no argument.”
Particularly – just so that it is on the record – I want to say to you that there were many things about Mahatma Gandhi that I loved and liked, but his whole philosophy of life was absolutely disagreeable to me. So many things about him that I would have appreciated remained neglected. Let us put the record right.
I loved his truthfulness. He never lied; even though in the very midst of all kinds of lies, he remained rooted in his truth. I may not agree with his truth, but I cannot say that he was not truthful. Whatsoever was truth to him, he was full of it.
It is a totally different matter that I don’t think his truth to be of any worth, but that is my problem, not his. He never lied. I respect his truthfulness, although he knows nothing of the truth – which I am continuously forcing you to take a jump into.
He was not a man who could agree with me: “Jump before you think.” No, he was a businessman. He would think a hundred times before taking a single step out of his door, what to say of a jump. He couldn’t understand meditation, but that was not his fault. He never came across a single master who could have told him something about no-mind, and there were such people alive at the time.