And one of the other clocks is more dangerous, better not to mention it. I want to give it to somebody as a present, but I have not found the right man to whom I would like to give this clock, because it is going to be a real punishment, not a present. It is electronic, so whenever the electricity goes off, even for a single moment, the clock goes back to twelve P.M. and flashes it…twelve…twelve…twelve…simply to show that the electricity has gone off.
Sometimes I want to throw it out, but somebody has presented it to me, and I don’t throw things away easily, it is disrespectful. So I am waiting for the right person.
I have got not only one, but two such clocks, one in each room. Sometimes they have deceived me when I go for my afternoon sleep. I usually go at eleven thirty exactly, or at the most twelve, but very rarely. Once or twice I have looked out from a peep hole in my blanket, and the clock is showing twelve, and I say to myself, “That means I have just come to bed.” And I go to sleep again.
After one or two hours I again look. “Twelve,” I say to myself. “Strange…today time seems to have finally stopped. Better to go to sleep rather than to find everybody else asleep.” So I go to sleep again.
I have now instructed Gudia that if I am not awake by two fifteen, she should wake me up.
She asked, “Why?”
I said, “Because if nobody wakes me I may go on sleeping forever.”
Every morning I have to decide whether it is morning or evening, because I don’t know. I don’t have that sense; it was lost on that date I told you.
This morning when I asked you, “What is the time?” you said, “Ten thirty.” I thought, “Jesus! This is too much. My poor secretary must have been waiting one and a half hours already, and I have not even begun my story.” So I said, just to finish it, “Give me ten minutes.” The real reason was that I was thinking it was night.
And Devaraj also knows, now he can understand it exactly. One morning when he accompanied me to my bathroom, I asked him, “Is my secretary waiting?” He looked puzzled. I had to close the door just so that he could be himself again. If I went on standing there in the doorway, waiting – and you know Devaraj…nobody can be so loving to me. He could not say to me that it was not nighttime. If I was asking for my secretary, then there must be some reason; and of course she was not there and it was not the time for her to come, so what should he say?
He didn’t say anything. He simply kept silent. I laughed. The question must have embarrassed him, but I am telling you the truth, just because time is always a problem for me.
Somehow I go on managing, by using strange devices. Just look at this device: has any buddha spoken like this?