I enjoyed the white horse. Gudia would have loved that horse. She used to show me the horses as we passed them on the road. “Look,” she would say, “what beautiful horses.”
I have seen many horses but nothing like the horse that old astrologer had. I have seen the most beautiful horses but I still remember his horse as being the most beautiful. Perhaps my childhood was the cause of it. Perhaps I had no way to compare them, but believe me, whether I was a child or not, that horse was beautiful. It was immensely powerful, must have been eight horsepower.
Those days were golden. Everything that happened in those years I can again see like a film passing before me. It is unbelievable that I would ever be interested….
No…. Ashu is looking at her watch. It is too early to look at your watch. Don’t be just like Canada Dry – relax. Don’t be so dry. You looked at your watch at such a moment, and you don’t know what you have disturbed. It is not just a plop!
What was I saying…? Those days were golden. Everything that happened in those nine years, I can again see like a film passing before me.
Good, the film is back, despite Ashu and her watch.
Yes, it was a golden time. In fact more than golden, because my grandfather not only loved me but loved everything that I did. And I did everything that you could call a nuisance.
I was a continuous nuisance. The whole day he had to listen to complaints about me, and he always rejoiced in them. That is what is wonderful and beautiful about the man. He never punished me. He never even said a single word like “Do this,” or “Don’t do that.” He simply allowed, absolutely allowed me to be myself. That is how, without knowing it at all, I came to have the taste of Tao.
Lao Tzu says, “Tao is the watercourse way. The water simply flows downward wherever the earth allows it.” That is how those early years were. I was allowed. I think every child needs those years. If we could give those years to every child in the world we could create a golden world.
Those days were full, overfull! So many events; so many incidents that I have never told to anybody….
I used to swim in the lake. Naturally my grandfather was afraid. He put a strange man to guard over me, in a boat. In that primitive village you cannot conceive what a “boat” meant. It is called a dongi. It is nothing but the hollowed out trunk of a tree. It is not an ordinary boat. It is round, and that is the danger: unless you are an expert you cannot row it. It can roll at any moment. Just a little imbalance and you are gone forever. It is very dangerous.
I learned balance through rowing a dongi. Nothing could be more helpful. I learned the “middle way” because you have to be exactly in the middle: this way, and you are gone; that way, and you are gone. You cannot even breathe, and you have to remain absolutely silent; only then can you row the dongi.