He said, “I am very grateful to you. If you had not told me… I had even forgotten about home or about returning. Each moment was so tremendously beautiful – so many blessings. In the silence, flowers went on showering. I had forgotten everything. I had no idea why I had come here, who I am. Everything had become an end in itself: playing the flute was enough, resting under the trees was enough, seeing the beautiful cows sitting silently all around was so beautiful. But if you insist, we should return.”
The disciples of the great master saw him coming with one thousand cows. They reported to the master, “We had never believed that he would come back. He is coming, and we have counted exactly one thousand cows. He is coming!”
And when he came, he stood there – just in the crowd of cows.
The master said to the other disciples, “You counted wrong. There are one thousand and one cows; you forgot to count Satyakam! He has moved beyond your world, he has entered into the innocent, the silent, the mysterious. He is not saying anything, he is just standing there as the cows are standing there.”
The master said, “Satyakam, come out. Now you have to go to your other master who sent you here. He is an old man and he must be waiting. Your mother must be waiting.”
And when Satyakam came to Uddalak, his first teacher – who had not allowed him to touch his feet because he had lost his innocence, he was no longer a brahmin, he had fallen, he had become just a knowledgeable parrot – as Uddalak saw him from the window again, he ran out the back door, because now Satyakam cannot be allowed to touch his feet; now Uddalak would have to touch Satyakam’s feet. Because Uddalak was still a scholar, and Satyakam was coming not as a scholar but as one who is awakened.
Uddalak escaped from the house: “I cannot face him. I am ashamed of myself. Just tell him,” he told his wife, “that Uddalak is dead and he can go now to his mother. Tell him I died remembering him.” These were people made of different mettle. Satyakam went back home.
The mother had become very old, but she had waited and waited and waited. And she said, “You have proved, Satyakam, that truth is always victorious. And you have proved that a brahmin is not born, a brahmin is a quality to be achieved. Everybody by his birth is a sudra, because everybody’s birth is the same. One has to prove by purifying himself, by crystallizing himself, by becoming centered and enlightened, that he is a brahmin. Just to be born into the family of a brahmin does not make you a brahmin.”
If you meditate on the story, you will see: the very essence of meditation is to be so silent that there is no stirring of thoughts in you, that words don’t come between you and reality, that the whole net of words falls down, that you are left alone.
This aloneness, this purity, this unclouded sky of your being is meditation. And meditation is the golden key to all the mysteries of life.