Excerpted from: From Unconsciousness to Consciousness, #1
"The world of words, language, concepts, and the world of silence are so diametrically opposite to each other, they don't meet anywhere. They can't meet by their very nature. Silence means a state of wordlessness; and to speak now, it is as if to learn language again from ABC. But this is not a new experience for me; it has happened before too.
"For thirty years I have been speaking continually. It was such a tension because my whole being was pulled towards silence, and I was pulling myself towards words, language, concepts, philosophies. There was no other way to convey, and I had a tremendously important message to convey. There was no way to shirk the responsibility. I had tried it. The day I realized my own being, it was such a fulfillment that I became silent. There was nothing left to be asked.
"One of my professors in the university, who was a world renowned man, Doctor S.K.Saxena he had been a professor of philosophy in America for many years again and again used to ask me to ask him some question. And those were the days when I was so fulfilled and so content, there was no question, no quest left.
"So I used to say to him, 'I have answers; I don't have any questions.'
"He used to laugh and say that I am crazy: 'How can you have answers without questions?'
"I insisted to him, 'While you have questions you will never have answers. Unless your questioning drops away you will not find the answer. And it does not come in the form of an answer, but it answers all; not answering any particular question but simply answering all questions possible, impossible, probable, improbable.'
"After my enlightenment, for exactly one thousand, three hundred and fifteen days I tried to remain silent as much as it was possible in those conditions. For a few things I had to speak, but my speaking was telegraphic. My father was very angry with me. He loved me so much that he had every right to be angry. The day he had sent me to the university he had taken a promise from me that I would write one letter every week at least. When I became silent I wrote him the last letter and told him, 'I am happy, immensely happy, ultimately happy, and I know from my very depth of being that I will remain so now forever, whether in the body or not in the body. This bliss is something of the eternal. So now every week, if you insist, I can write the same again and again. That will not look okay, but I have promised, so I will drop a card every week with the sign 'ditto.' Please forgive me, and when you receive my letter with the sign 'ditto,' you read this letter.'
"He thought I had gone completely mad. He immediately rushed from the village, came to the university and asked me, 'What has happened to you? Seeing your letter and your idea of this 'ditto,' I thought you were mad. But looking at you, it seems I am mad; the whole world is mad. I take back the promise and the word that you have given to me. There is no need now to write every week. I will continue to read your last letter.' And he kept it to the very last day he died; it was under his pillow." Osho