Sixth...I always wanted to talk about this book but was afraid that I was going to miss because there was no time. I did not plan, just as always I go unplanned. I had thought to talk about only fifty books, but then came the P.S. and it continued and continued. Again fifty titles were completed, but there were still so many beautiful books that I had to continue and start the P.P.S. That is why I can now talk about this book. It is Dostoevsky’s Notes from the Underground.
It is a very strange book, as strange as the man was. Just notes – like Devageet’s notes, fragmentary, on the surface unrelated to each other, but really related with an undercurrent of aliveness. It has to be meditated upon. I cannot say anything more than this. It is one of the most ignored great works of art. Nobody seems to take note of it, for the simple reason that it is not a novel, just notes, and they too seem to the unmeditative to be unrelated. But to my disciples it can be of great significance; they can find treasures hidden in it.
Go on whispering...I’m not saying anything. Really I should not even have said that. That too is a kind of interruption. I should be more alert. But it is very difficult to be more alert than I am. More alertness does not exist at all, so what can I do? At the most I can ignore it. I have heard even your giggle...but please don’t freak out, freak in.