| 
Part IV : Influence of the mystic, Masto, continues
Perhaps Masto wanted to go soon, and was just fulfilling the last
task given by his guru, Pagal Baba. He did so much for me, it
is difficult to even list it. He introduced me to people so that
whenever I might need money I just had to tell them and the money
would arrive. I asked Masto, "Won't they ask why?" He
said, "Don't you be worried about it. I have answered all
their questions already. But they are cowardly people; they can
give you their money, but they cannot give you their hearts, so
don't ask that."
I said, "I never ask anybody for his or her heart; it cannot
be asked. Either you simply find that it is gone, or not. So I
will not ask these people for anything except money, and that
too only if it is needed."
And he certainly introduced me to many people who have always
remained anonymous; but whenever I needed money, the money arrived.
glimps33
I was introduced to Indira too by Masto, but in an indirect way.
Basically Masto was a friend of Indira's father, Jawaharlal Nehru,
the first prime minister of India. He was really a beautiful man,
and a rare one too, because to be in politics and yet remain beautiful
is not easy...
It was my feeling also, when I was introduced by Masto. I was
only twenty. After only one more year Masto was to leave me, so
he was in a hurry to introduce me to everybody that he could.
He rushed me to the prime minister's house. It was a beautiful
meeting. I had not expected it to be beautiful because I had been
disappointed so many times. How could I have expected that the
prime minister would not just be a mean politician? He was not.
It was only by chance that, in the corridor as we were leaving
and he was coming with us to say goodbye, Indira came in. At that
time she was nobody, just a young girl. She was introduced to
me by her father. Masto was present, of course, and it was through
him that we met. But Indira may not have known Masto, or who knows?
- maybe she did. The meeting with Jawaharlal turned out to be
so significant that it changed my whole attitude, not only to
him, but to his family too.
He talked with me about freedom, about truth. I could not believe
it. I said, "Do you recognize the fact that I am only twenty
years old, just a young man?"
He said, "Don't be bothered about age, because my experience
is that a donkey, even if it is very old, still remains a donkey.
An old donkey does not necessarily become a horse - nor even a
mule, what to say of a horse. So don't you bother about age."
He continued, "We can forget completely for a moment how
old I am and how old you are, and let us discuss without any barriers
of age, caste, creed, or position." He then said to Masto,
"Baba, would you please close the door so that nobody enters.
I don't even want my own private secretary."
And we talked of such great things! It was I who was surprised,
because he listened to me with as much attention as you. And he
had such a beautiful face as only the Kashmiris can have. glimps38
In my memory, I am standing with Masto. Of course there is nobody
with whom I would rather stand. After Masto, with anybody else
it would be poor, bound to be.
That man was really rich in every cell of his being, and in
every fiber of his vast net of relationships that he slowly made
me aware of. He never introduced me to the whole; that was not
possible. I was in a hurry to do what I call not-doing. He was
in a hurry to do what he called his responsibility towards me,
as he had promised Pagal Baba. We were both in a hurry, so as
much as he wanted to he could not make all his relationships available
to me. There were other reasons also.
He was a traditional sannyasin - at least on the surface, but
I knew him underneath. He was not traditional, but only pretending
to be because the crowds wanted that pretense. And only today
can I understand how much he must have suffered. I have never
suffered like that because I simply refused to pretend.
You cannot believe, but thousands of people were expecting from
me something of their own imaginations. I had nothing to do with
it. The Hindus, among my millions of followers - I am talking
about the days before I started my work - they believed that I
was Kalki. Kalki is the Hindu avatara, the last. I have to explain
it a little, because it will help you to understand many things.
In India, the ancient Hindus believed in only ten incarnations
of God.
aturally - those were the days when people used to count on their
fingers - ten was the ultimate. You could not go beyond ten; you
had to begin again from one. That's why the Hindus believed that
each cycle of existence has ten avataras. The word 'avatara' means
literally "descending of the divine." Ten, because after
the tenth, one cycle, or circle, ends. Another immediately begins,
but then there is again a first avatara, and the story continues
up to the tenth... Kalki is the tenth and the last Hindu incarnation
of God. After him the world ends - and of course begins again,
just as you demolish a house made of playing cards, then start
afresh. glimps40
Masto was a king - not a playing-card king, not even a king of
England, but a real king. You could see. Nothing else was needed
to prove it. It is strange that he was the first person to call
me "the Blessed One," Bhagwan.
When he said it, I said to him, "Masto, have you also gone
as mad as Pagal Baba, or even more?"
He said, "From this moment, remember, I will not call you
other than what I have just called you. Please," he said,
"let me be the first, because thousands will call you 'the
Blessed One.' Poor Masto should at least be allowed to be the
first. At least let me have that prestige."
We hugged each other, and cried together. That was our last meeting;
just the day before I had had the experience (of enlightenment).
It was 22nd March, 1953, that we hugged each other without knowing
that this was going to be our last meeting. Perhaps he knew, but
I was not aware of it. He told me this with tears in his beautiful
eyes....
But Masto looked like a god who had come to earth. I loved him
- without any reason of course, because love cannot have any reason.
I still love him. I don't know whether he is alive or not, because
on 22nd March, 1953 he disappeared. He just told me he was going
to the Himalayas.
He said, "My responsibility is fulfilled as far as I had
promised Pagal Baba. Now you are what you potentially were. Now
I am no longer needed."
I said, "No, Masto, I will need you still, for other reasons."
He said, "No. You will find ways for everything that you
require. But I cannot wait."
Since then, once in a while I used to hear - perhaps from someone
coming from the Himalayas, a sannyasin, a bhikkhu - that Masto
was in Kalimpong, or that he was in Nainital, or here or there,
but he never came back from the Himalayas. I asked everybody who
was going to the Himalayas, "If you come across this man...."
But it was difficult, because he was very reluctant to be photographed.
glimps32
|
