I am standing…strange, because I am supposed to be relaxing – I mean in my memory I am standing with Masto. Of course there is nobody with whom I would rather stand. After Masto, with anybody else it would be poor, bound to be.
That man was really rich in every cell of his being, and in every fiber of his vast net of relationships that he slowly made me aware of. He never introduced me to the whole, that was not possible. I was in a hurry to do what I call “not doing.” He was in a hurry to do what he called his responsibility toward me, as he had promised Pagal Baba. We were both in a hurry, so as much as he wanted to he could not make all his relationships available to me. There were other reasons also.
He was a traditional sannyasin, at least on the surface, but I knew him underneath. He was not traditional, only pretending to be because the crowds wanted that pretense. And only today can I understand how much he must have suffered. I have never suffered like that because I simply refused to pretend.
You cannot believe, but thousands of people were expecting from me something of their own imaginations. I had nothing to do with it. The Hindus, among my millions of followers – I am talking about the days before I started my work – they believed that I was Kalki. Kalki is the Hindu avatar, the last.
I have to explain it a little, because it will help you to understand many things. In India, the ancient Hindus believed in only ten incarnations of God. Naturally – those were the days when people used to count on their fingers – ten was the ultimate. You could not go beyond ten; you had to begin again from one. That’s why the Hindus believed that each cycle of existence has ten avatars. The word avatar means literally “descending of the divine.” Ten, because after the tenth, one cycle, or circle, ends. Another immediately begins but then there is again a first avatar, and the story continues up to the tenth.
You will be able to understand me easily if you have seen poor Indian farmers counting. They count on their fingers up to the tenth, then they start again from one, two…. Ten must have been the primitive ultimate. It is strange that as far as languages are concerned, it still is. Beyond ten there isn’t anything; eleven is a repetition. Eleven is just putting one behind one, making them married, putting them in trouble, that’s all. After ten, all your numbers are just repetitions.
Why are the numbers up to ten so original? – because everywhere man has counted on his fingers.
I should mention, by the way, before I go on – just a little distraction before I settle – your words in English for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten are all borrowed from Sanskrit.