But finally he had to agree because his stepmother who had brought him up…. His own mother died immediately he was born; just after his birth the mother died. Then his stepmother brought him up and he had tremendous respect for her. When she came to ask for initiation he could not refuse – you cannot refuse your own mother. Unwillingly he consented.

But he said that “My religion was going to last for twenty-five hundred years. Now it will last only five hundred years, because the woman has come in.” And after his mother’s initiation, of course, thousands of women came in. Yashodhara also came in, his wife of whom he has always been afraid. And they came like a flood. Their number became thrice than the men sannyasins and they drowned the whole commune.

I am not afraid of women because I never got married. Had I been married then the same would have been the case: I would have tried my best to prevent women outside the commune. But I am not afraid of them at all. Unless you have had a wife you can’t be afraid of women. Then they are beautiful creatures!

You must be in some trouble! Feel consoled that even buddhas have been in trouble.

Mr. and Mrs. Pontius Pilate were standing on their balcony watching Jesus and the procession following him towards Mount Calvary.

“I really don’t care who he is,” said Mrs. Pilate. “If he stumbles one more time he is out of the parade!”

Two women meet on the street. “What have you done with your hair?” says one. “It looks like a wig.”

“It is a wig,” replies the other.

“Hm, well, you would never know it!”

Said the newly-wed English wife to her husband, “I just don’t understand you, George. You liked baked beans on Monday, you liked baked beans on Tuesday, you liked baked beans on Wednesday, you liked baked beans on Thursday. And suddenly on Friday you don’t like baked beans!”

A black woman and her Jewish Italian friend are discussing religion. The black woman says, “You honkies strung Jesus on the cross, eh?”

In response the Jew says, “Yes, but if Jesus had been in Africa, you niggers would have eaten him!”

“Yes,” replies the black woman. “You see, we have good taste!”

After three months of constant work and hundreds of hours of talking on the part of the client, the woman psychoanalyst was completing her in-depth interpretation of the client’s mental and emotional state. Clearing her throat to make her final remarks, she looks up from her notes and says, “And my final analysis leads me to say that in my professional opinion you are just crazy!”