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Village entertainment
One of the greatest losses to India happened when India became
divided from Pakistan, and that was the last thing the politicians
ever thought about.
In my childhood I encountered it almost every day, because all
over the country the streets were full of magicians.
I have seen with my own eyes things which even today I cannot
figure out how they were managing. Of course there were tricks
behind them; there was no miracle, neither were they claiming
that they were performing miracles. They were simple people, poor
people, not arrogant, but what they were doing was almost a miracle.
I have seen magicians in my childhood putting a small plant
of a mango tree, just six inches high at the most.... In front
of everybody they would dig the hole, put in the plant, then cover
the plant and then chant in gibberish so you cannot understand
what they are saying. The pretension is that there is some communication
between them and the hidden plant.
The moment they remove the cover, that six inch mango plant
has ripe mangoes. And they would invite people - you could come
close, you could see that those mangoes were not in any way tied
on. People would come and see and they would say that they are
grown, not attached. The magician would offer those mangoes to
a few people so that they could taste that they were not false
or illusory - and people would taste them and say, "We have
never tasted such sweet mangoes in our whole life!" And there
was no claim for any miracle.
I have seen magicians bringing from their bellies big round
balls of solid steel. They would be so big it was difficult to
take them out of their mouths - people were needed to pull them
out of their mouths - and they were so heavy that when they were
thrown on the earth they would make a dent. The magician would
go on bringing bigger and bigger balls.... It was a trick - but
how were they managing it? And they would throw those big balls,
almost the size of a football - they would throw them in the air
and they would fall and create such a big dent in the earth. They
would tell people, "You can try" - and people would
try, but they were so heavy that it was difficult to pick them
up. And they all have come - a dozen or more, all around - from
the belly of the magician.
He would show, half naked, the upper part of his body naked
- he would show that the ball was moving upwards. You could see
that the ball was moving upwards, that it was stuck in his throat,
and you could see and you could go and touch and feel that the
ball was inside. Then, with great difficulty, he would bring it
into his mouth and he would cry, tears coming, and ask people
somehow to take it out, because he is not able. They would destroy
all his teeth to help him - and the miracle was that as they were
taking it out, the ball was becoming bigger. By the time it was
completely out, it was so big that that man's belly could not
contain even a single ball, to say nothing of one dozen balls.
But all these magicians were Mohammedans, because it was not a
very creditable job. These were street people. Because of the
division of Pakistan, all those Mohammedan magicians have moved
to Pakistan. They were coming from faraway Pakhtoonistan, Afghanistan.
But now the roads are closed; now you don't see the magicians
anywhere.
Otherwise it was almost an everyday affair - in this marketplace,
in that street, near the school, anywhere where they thought they
could gather a crowd.
I have seen with my own eyes something which sometimes I wonder
whether I have seen it or dreamed it. I have not dreamed for thirty-five
years...but the thing is such that it is absolutely unbelievable
that it really happened.
A magician came to our school. The school was a very big school,
with almost one thousand students and nearabout fifty teachers.
Even the principal of the school, who was a postgraduate in science,
first rejected the man: "We don't want any nonsense here."
But I had seen that man doing impossible things, and I told him,
"You wait." I went into the office of the principal
and said, "You are missing a tremendous opportunity. You
are a scientist.... I know this man; I have seen him performing.
I can ask him to do the best that he can, and what is the harm?
After school time, those who want to see can stay."
Those magicians were so poor that if you could give them five
rupees, that was too much. I told the magician that I had convinced
the principal, he was ready to allow it after school - "but
you have to do the greatest trick that you know. On your behalf
I have promised - and he is a man of scientific mind, so be careful.
There will be fifty graduates, postgraduates, so you have to be
very alert. You should not be caught, because it is also a question
of my prestige."
He said, "My boy, don't you be worried."
And he did such a thing that my principal called me and said,
"You should not associate with such people. It is dangerous."
I said, "Have you any idea what he did?"
He said, "I don't have any idea, and I can't even believe
that this has happened."
The magician threw up a rope which stood in the air just like
a pillar - a rope which has no bones, nothing, it was just coiled
and he had carried it on his shoulder - ordinary rope. He went
on uncoiling it and throwing it out, and soon we could not see
the other end. What happened to the other end?
All magicians used to have a child who was their helper. He called
the boy, "Are you ready to go up the rope?"
The boy said, "Yes, master" - and he started climbing
the rope. And just as the other end of the rope had disappeared,
at a certain point the boy also disappeared. Then the magician
said to the crowd, "I will bring the boy down, piece by piece."
I was sitting by the side of the principal. He said, "Are
you going to create some trouble for me? If the police come here
and see that a boy is cut into pieces...."
I said, "Don't be worried, he is just performing a magic
trick. Nothing is going to be wrong. I have been watching him
in many shows - but this I have never seen."
The magician threw a knife up and one leg of the boy came down,
and everybody was almost breathless. He went on throwing knives...another
leg...one hand...another hand...and they were lying there on the
ground in front of us, not bleeding at all, as if the boy was
made of plastic or something. But he was speaking...he was doing
all the things the magician was saying. Finally came his body,
and just the head remained.
My principal said, "Don't cut his head!"
I said, "Don't be worried. If he has cut him...what does
it mean? If the police come, you will be caught."
He said, "I was saying from the very beginning, no nonsense
here, and now you are talking about police. I have always been
suspicious of you; perhaps you may have informed the police beforehand
to come at the right time."
I said, "Don't be worried."
And then the magician shouted into the sky, "Boy, only
your head is there; let it drop." The head came rolling down,
and he started putting the boy together again. He joined him perfectly
well, and the boy started collecting his things and said, "What
about the rope? Should I start pulling it back?" The magician
said, "Yes" - and the boy started pulling the rope back
and coiling it.
I had only heard about the rope trick, which is world famous.
Akbar mentions in his Akbar Nama, his autobiography. Since Akbar
it has been a rumor in the air that there are magicians who can
perform it, but no authoritative account is available. One British
viceroy, Curzon, mentions in his memoirs that he saw the rope
trick in New Delhi before his whole court.
I was making every effort to find some magician - so many magicians
were passing through my village, and I would ask them, "Can
you perform the rope trick?"
They said, "It is the ultimate, and only very rare masters
in magic can do it."
But this man - I had not asked him particularly for the rope trick,
but he did it. Even today I cannot believe it. I can see the whole
scene, I can see the principal freaking out - and all the magician
got was five rupees.
Magic simply means something unbelievable, so absurd, so irrational
that you cannot find a way to figure it out. satyam18
Call it meditation, call it awareness, call it watchfulness -
it all comes to the same: that you become more alert, first about
your conscious mind, what goes on in your conscious mind.... And
it is a beautiful experience. It is really hilarious, a great
panorama.
In my childhood in my town there were no movies, talkies. There
was no cinema hall. Now there is, but in my childhood there was
not. The only thing that was available was that once in a while
a wandering man would come with a big box. I don't know what it
is called. There is a small window in it. He opens the window,
you just put your eyes to it and he goes on moving a handle and
a film inside moves. And he goes on telling the story of what
is happening.
Everything else I have forgotten but one thing I cannot forget
for a certain reason. The reason, I know, was because it was in
all those boxes that came through my village. I had seen every
one, because the fee was just one paise. Also the show was not
long, just five minutes. In every box there were different films,
but one picture was always there: the naked washerwoman of Bombay.
Why did it used to be in every one? - a very fat naked woman,
the naked washerwoman of Bombay. That used to be always there...perhaps
that was a great attraction, or people were fans of that naked
washerwoman; and she was really ugly. And why from Bombay?
If you start looking...just whenever you have time, just sit
silently and look at what is passing in your mind. There is no
need to judge, because if you judge, the mind immediately changes
its scenes according to you. The mind is very sensitive, touchy.
If it feels that you are judging, then it starts showing things
that are good. Then it won't show you the naked washerwoman of
Bombay, that picture will be missed out. So don't judge, then
that picture is bound to come. ignor26
When films were shown for the first time in small villages people
started throwing money, as is the custom in villages. If there
is a drama company or something, someone dancing, they throw money.
They started throwing money at films in small villages. I have
seen people in small villages throwing money - at the screen - a
dancing girl dances, they start throwing money. When a dancing
girl dances and her petticoat begins to rise up in the dance,
they bend down and start looking from below. There is nothing
there, just a play of light and shadow. But people, people just
like other people. This is how their whole life is. death05
Have you ever gone to see a drama, not from the audience, but
backstage where actors and actresses dress themselves up and prepare
themselves? Then you will be surprised.
That was one of my hobbies in my childhood, to somehow get backstage.
In my village every year they used to play Ramleela, the great
story of Rama. And it is far more beautiful if you see what happens
at the back. I have seen Sita, the wife of Rama... In India she
is worshipped as the greatest woman ever born, absolutely virtuous,
pure. It is impossible to conceive of a purer woman or a purer
love. It is absolutely impossible to conceive of a more religious,
more pious, more holy woman. But at the back of the stage I have
seen Sita before she goes on the stage - smoking beedies!...
Just to prepare herself, just to give herself a shot of nicotine,
Sita was smoking beedies. It was so absurd. I enjoyed it so much!
And Ravana, the man who is the criminal in the drama of Rama's
life, who steals Sita and who represents evil in India, was telling
Rama, 'You be aware! Last night you were continuously looking
at my wife in the audience, and if I see you doing that again
I will teach you a lesson!' Now, Rama is the incarnation of God,
but in the drama he was just a schoolboy - and schoolboys are
schoolboys. And Ravana teaching him, evil incarnate teaching God...'Don't
look at my wife - that is not right!'
I enjoyed being backstage so much that what happened on the
stage looked very ordinary.
When you become a witness you enter the backstage of life - and
there things are really absurd - you start seeing things as they
are. Everything is illogical, nothing makes sense. But that is
the beauty of life: that nothing makes sense. If everything made
sense, life would be a boredom. Because nothing makes sense, life
is always a constant joy, a constant surprise. lotus04
In my village, as happens all over the East, every year Ramleela
was played - the life of Rama.
The man who used to play the part of Ramana, the enemy of Rama
who steals Rama's wife, was a great wrestler. He was the champion
of the whole district, and the next year he was going to stand
for the championship of the whole state. We used to take a bath
in the river almost simultaneously in the morning, so we became
friends. I told him, "Every year you become Ramana, every
year you are being deceived. Just the moment that you are going
to break Shiva's bow so that you can get married to Sita, the
daughter of Janaka, a messenger comes running in and informs you
that your capital of Sri Lanka is on fire. So you have to go,
rush back to your country. And meanwhile, Rama manages to break
the bow and marry the girl. Don't you get bored every year with
the same thing?"
He said, "But this is how the story goes."
I said, "The story is in our hands if you listen to my suggestion.
You must have seen that most of the people are asleep because
they have seen the same thing year after year, generation after
generation - make it a little juicy."
He said, "What do you mean?"
I said, "This time you do one thing I say."
And he did it!
When the messenger came with the message: "Your capital,
the golden Sri Lanka, is on fire, you have to get there soon,"
he said, "You shut up, idiot" - he spoke in English!
That's what I had told him! All the people who were asleep woke
up: "Who is speaking English in the Ramleela?"
And Ramana said, "You go away. I don't care. You have deceived
me every year. This time I am going to marry Sita."
And he went and broke the bow of Shiva to pieces, and threw it
into the mountains - it was just a bamboo bow. And he asked Janaka,
"Bring...where is your daughter? My jumbo-jet is waiting!"
It was so hilarious. Even after forty years, whenever I meet somebody
from my village, they remember that Ramleela. They said, "Nothing
like that has ever happened."
The manager had to drop the curtains. And the man was a great
wrestler, and at least twelve people had to carry him out.
That day the Ramleela could not be played. And next day they had
to change Ramana; they found another person.
By the river, Ramana met me. He said, "You disturbed my whole
thing."
I said, "But did you see the people clapping, enjoying, laughing?
For years you have been playing the part and nobody has clapped,
nobody has laughed. It was worth it!"
Religion needs a religious quality. A few qualities are missing.
One of the most important is a sense of humor.
They stopped me meeting their actors. They made it clear to every
actor that if anybody listened to me or met me, he would not be
allowed to act. But they forgot to tell one man who was not an
actor....
He was a carpenter. He used to come to do some work in my house
also. So I said to him, "I cannot approach the actors this
year. Last year was enough! Although I did no harm to anybody
- everybody loved it, the whole city appreciated it. But now they
are guarding every actor and they don't allow me close to them.
But you are not an actor. Your function is some other work. But
you can help me."
He said, "Whatever I can do, I will do, because last year
it was really great. Can I be of some help?"
I said, "Certainly."
And he did it!
In the war, Lakshmana, Rama's younger brother, gets wounded by
a poisonous arrow. It is fatal. The physicians say that unless
a certain herbal plant from the mountain Arunachal is brought,
he cannot be saved, by the morning he will be dead. He is lying
down on the stage unconscious. Rama is crying.
Hanuman, his most devoted follower, says, "Don't be worried.
I will go immediately to Arunachal, find the herb, bring it before
the morning. I just want some indications from the physician how
to find it, how it looks. There may be so many herbs on the Arunachal,
and the time is short, soon it is night." The physician said,
"There is no difficulty. That special herb has a unique quality.
In the night it radiates and is full of light so you can see it.
So anywhere you see a luminous herb you can bring it."
Hanuman goes to Sri Arunachal, but he is puzzled because the whole
of Arunachal is full of luminous herbs. It is not the only herb
that has that special quality. There are many other herbs which
have the same quality of being luminous in the night.
Now the poor Hanuman - he is just a monkey - is at a loss what
to do. So he decides to take the whole mountain, and put the mountain
there in front of the physician to find the herb.
The carpenter was on top of the roof. He had to pull the rope
on which Hanuman comes with a cardboard mountain with lighted
candles. And I had told him, "Stop exactly in the middle.
Let him hang there, with the mountain and everything!"
And he managed it!
The manager rushed out. The whole crowd was agog with excitement
at what was happening. And Hanuman was perspiring, because he
was hanging on the ropes with the mountain also in the other hand.
Something had got stuck in the wheel on which the rope was going
to be rolled. The manager rushed up. He asked the carpenter...and
the carpenter said, "I don't know what has gone wrong. The
rope has got stuck somewhere."
In a hurry, finding nothing, the manager cut the ropes, and Hanuman
with his mountain fell on the stage. And naturally he was angry.
But the thousands of people were immensely happy. That made him
even more angry.
Rama continued repeating the lines he had been told to say. He
said, "Hanuman, my devoted friend..."
And Hanuman said, "To hell with your friends! Perhaps I have
fractures."
Rama went on saying, "My brother is dying."
Hanuman said, "He can die any moment. What I want to know
is, who cut the rope? I will kill him."
Again the curtain had to be dropped, the Ramleela postponed. And
the manager and the people who were organizing all approached
my father saying, "Your son is destroying everything. He's
making a mockery of our religion."
I said, "I'm not making a mockery of your religion. I'm simply
giving it a little sense of humor."
I would like people to laugh. What is the point of repeating an
old story every year? Then everybody is asleep because they know
the story, they know every word of it. It is absolutely pointless.
But it is very difficult for the old traditionalists, the orthodox
people to accept laughter. You cannot laugh in a church. sword04
I was learning, but not in school, and I never repented for it.
I learned from all kinds of strange people. You cannot find them
working in schools as teachers; that is not possible. I was with
Jaina monks, Hindu sadhus, Buddhist bhikkhus, and all kinds of
people one is not expected to associate with.
The moment I became aware that I was not supposed to associate
with somebody, that was enough for me to associate with that person,
because he must be an outsider. Because he was an outsider, hence
the prohibition - and I am a lover of outsiders.
I hate the insiders. They have done so much harm that it is
time to call the game off. The outsiders I have always found a
little crazy, but beautiful - crazy yet intelligent. Not the intelligence
of Mahatma Gandhi - he was a perfect insider - nor is it the intelligence
of the so-called intellectuals: Jean-Paul Sartre, Bertrand Russell,
Karl Marx, Hugh Bach...the list is endless. glimps46
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