Jyun Macchali Bin Neer #4

Sharanananda! This sutra is certainly very worth pondering, because the whole foundation of this country’s so‑called religiosity rests upon it. It is the bedrock of the so‑called religious personality. But the kind of personality it produces is nothing but hypocrisy. This formula cannot give real religiousness to life; it gives deception. And the sutra is such that the error in it does not show up at first sight; even if you think about it, you may not see anything wrong. It looks so obvious—like two plus two makes four. Who would oppose it?

“By helping others one earns merit; by hurting others one incurs sin.”

But I oppose it. From where I see, the truth is exactly the reverse: “From merit arises compassion and beneficence; from sin arises the urge to hurt.” Then the question will arise: how does merit happen? Merit is the fragrance of meditation; sin is the stench that arises from the absence of meditation. Where meditation is, a radiance of merit surrounds life—just as when a flower opens, fragrance spreads; just as when incense burns, the air becomes perfumed. Where there is merit, there is spontaneous benevolence.

Beneficence without merit is impossible. What will you share if you have nothing to give? Merit means inner wealth. If there is something within you, you can give; if not, you will only pretend to give—or you will give what you do have, namely the outer. Merit has nothing to do with the outer. You can give money, but giving money has no inherent connection with merit—because to accumulate money in the first place you must hurt others.

Try to understand the arithmetic.

Where will the money come from? You exploit with one hand and accumulate with the other. You suck out ten rupees and donate one. How else will you donate? Where will the money come from? You will donate to the very people you have exploited. Why is there poverty? First you create the poor—and then you say, “The poor are Narayana himself!” First you make him “Daridra Narayana.” You have to—otherwise how will you serve? First you drain him so he becomes destitute; then you acquire merit, perform charity. Then you give him a couple of pieces of bread; you build him a hut, open a dharmashala, build an orphanage; set up a widows’ home—first manufacture widows! Do not let a widow remarry—otherwise how will you run widows’ homes? How will charity happen? First make them meek and destitute. You must—otherwise where will you get the wealth to give? How will you do “good deeds”?

If charity is done outwardly, its very basis will be the hurting of others. And what right have you to call charity that which rests upon harm? Those you call donors, benefactors, “great givers”—where does their wealth come from? Birla built so many temples—naturally, a “great giver”! But where did that money come from? Has anyone exploited this country as much as Birla has? And do not think he gave away as much as he exploited. He didn’t even donate the interest! It’s a cozy arrangement: keep this world in your hands and secure heaven as well. Plunder here, and plan to plunder there too. Naturally, having built so many temples, Birla will be seated right next to God. Who has ever built so many temples? Is there any such “great giver”? Squeezing here, and expecting to squeeze there as well.

I once met Jugal Kishore Birla. I told him, “These temples, these rest houses, this charity—it’s a deception.” He bristled. “You are a strange man! No sadhu or saint has ever said this to me.”

I said, “I am neither a sadhu nor a saint. I am indeed a strange man! I can only say what is true. How would sadhus and saints say it? They are encamped in your very temples. There is collusion between sadhus and you. Your so‑called rishis, munis, mahatmas—live off your coins. They will sing your praises, chant your glories. Why would they speak against you?”

He said, “Even Mahatma Gandhi never spoke to me like this.”

I replied, “How could he? You had signed checks for him—‘write whatever amount you want.’ Mahatma Gandhi had given Birla a list of people who should receive a monthly stipend from Birla. Jayaprakash Narayan’s name was on it. All his life, Jayaprakash Narayan took money from Birla—while bringing socialism, while fomenting revolution—and took Birla’s money! What a conspiracy! And not only JP—there was hardly any leader in India who didn’t take money from Birla. They talk about ‘Daridra Narayana’—and then must praise Birla, must sing his eulogies.

“I don’t need anything from you.” Seth Govind Das had taken me to him—India’s longest-serving parliamentarian, a member from the British era till his last breath. They say that except for Winston Churchill, no one in the world served in parliament for so long. He took me so that Birla might support my work. Naturally, the poor man was embarrassed. He began tugging at my kurta. I said, “Please don’t pull my kurta. I will say what I have to say.”

He said, “Let me remind you, we came precisely to seek help from him.”

I said, “I am not here to take any help. And I cannot accept help on any condition. If what I say seems right to him and he wishes to participate in my work, he may. But if he thinks he can buy me for a few rupees, he is mistaken. Perhaps he bought Mahatma Gandhi and Jayaprakash Narayan; I have nothing to do with that. I am not for sale.”

How will you do “charity”? With money? Where will the money come from? The great “donors” of your history have been the greatest exploiters. I do not consider the giving and taking of outward things to be charity or merit. Merit is the sharing of joy, the sharing of love. That is inner wealth. And the difference is vast. Outer wealth must be snatched from others to be had at all. Inner wealth need not be snatched from anyone; you were born with it—you only have to unearth it, to discover it. Within you there is joy, love, song, music, dance—everything is lying within. There is a potential for celebration, but you must search for it; the process of that search is meditation.

Therefore I say: from meditation comes merit; from merit, beneficence. But meditation is, at root, “self‑interest.” Here another obstacle arises, because your notions are fixed—and once notions are fixed, the capacity to think dies; thought has long been carried out as a corpse; discretion is lost.

Meditation is “self-interest,” because it is the search for the meaning of the self. To know the meaningfulness of the self is real “self-interest.” I do not consider “self-interest” a bad word—it is a lovely word. See its etymology: swa-arth—“the meaning (arth) of the self (swa).” That is precisely the aim of meditation. And only one who has known the meaning of oneself can truly be of use to others. Why? Because one who has known the self has also known that there is no “other”—only the expansion of one. This hand is mine, and this hand is mine. They appear two, but they are not two, because both are joined in me.

One who has discovered the innermost center immediately sees: on the circumference we are different, at the center we are one. Then “benefiting others” is not even “other”-benefit; it is one’s own joy overflowing. Therefore such beneficence does not build ego. There is no strut: “I donated so much, I earned so much merit, I built so many rest houses, so many temples, so many mosques, opened so many public water stands, planted so many trees.” There is nothing to talk about. It was my joy. No one has to repay anything.

And who is “the other”? One alone lives. The One alone beats in every heart. But only one who knows oneself becomes awake to this truth, filled with the awareness of this non‑duality. In Vyasa’s sutra, duality is accepted from the outset: “By beneficence (toward others) comes merit.” The “other” has been assumed as other, and you are to serve him.

A mother was telling her little child, “Son, always remember—helping others is merit; serving others is merit. God made you so that you may serve others.”

Children have an unsullied vision—neither rotted nor stale; neither Hindu nor Muslim, neither Jain nor Buddhist. Clear sight. The child said, “I understand this. You have told me many times that God made me to serve others. Then the question is: why did he make the others? So that I may serve them? He made them also to be served? What will the others do? Why were they made? If you say the others were made to serve me, and I was made to serve them, then God is making very poor arithmetic.”

The child said, “Let me serve myself; let them serve themselves—finished. Why spread such a net? If they can serve me, they can serve themselves. If I can serve them, I can serve myself.”

This very notion of “charity to others” is a device for hiding “hurting others.” Without hurting others there is no money, no position, no prestige. Only by hurting others does one get everything. Then guilt arises from the hurt: “What am I doing?” To cover that guilt, you must do something—its name is charity. You have to plaster over the guilt; hang pretty curtains over it. Put two flowers over the wound so it is hidden. The wound is forgotten, the flowers are seen.

Hurting continues; to conceal it, charity continues. And for how many centuries have you practiced charity on Vyasa’s authority—and still it has not worked. When will it? For at least ten thousand years you have been doing charity. Neither beggary disappears nor poverty, nor misery. The miserable increase; poverty grows; beggars multiply. Charity is happening—where are the results? What comes into your hands? Nothing at all. The arithmetic is vast.

Mahatmas preach, “Do charity,” and the charitable keep doing charity. Nothing changes. By preaching that service and charity bring great merit, mahatmas ensure that service is done to them. And those who serve use it to hide their crimes. They toss a couple of scraps—to the very people whose blood they have sucked. But their hands are stained with blood; those must be washed too—so they wash them in Ganga water. Charity is their Ganga water. It is a way to conceal hurting others. It will never erase it—because we do not want to solve the problem, only to hide it. We want a screen so no one sees, a mask to cover the face.

Hence I say: this sutra breeds hypocrisy.

My emphasis is on meditation. Meditation means: self-interest—supreme self-interest, ultimate self-interest! Nothing in the world is more private than meditation. It has no social reference. It means going into your aloneness, becoming solitary, silent, empty, thoughtless, choiceless. In that thought-free, cloudless inner sky, the inner sun appears; everything is lit. Then flowers of love bloom within you; springs of bliss break forth; streams of nectar flow. Then pour out, share—one must share. And that sharing is what I call charity.

And without meditation, you will hurt others. Inevitably you will. Why? Because one who is himself miserable can only distribute misery. And the non-meditative will be miserable—otherwise why would anyone seek meditation? If happiness were possible without meditation, it would have happened long ago. Without meditation, the seed of happiness never sprouts; how will flowers blossom, how will fruit come? Meditation is the sowing of the seeds of happiness.

Buddha was passing by a field. The farmer stopped him and said, “Bhante, I have a question. I am a farmer. Please explain in a language I can understand. I cannot grasp big scriptures.”

Buddha said, “I don’t speak of big scriptures. I too am a farmer.”

The farmer was startled. “You—a farmer? You were not a farmer before; I know you were a prince. Nor are you a farmer now—you are enlightened. I have never seen you farming. Where is your field? Where is your crop? And if you farm, is this any time to wander about? This is the season! Where are you going?”

Buddha said, “I farm within; you farm without. I sow seeds within and reap an inner harvest. You sow seeds outside and reap an outer harvest. I am speaking your language—you yourself asked me to. So I am speaking in your language.”

Meditation is inner farming, inner gardening. And when flowers bloom within and the crop waves, when waves of bliss arise in you—what will you do? You will have to share it. When a cloud is filled with rain, it must pour. When a lamp is lit, its rays spread. When a flower has fragrance, it must drift outward—striving even to touch the stars.

One who has bliss within will share it. And bliss is the true wealth—because it need not be taken from anyone; it is one’s own. Only what is one’s own, given, is merit. What is not your own—how do you gain merit by giving it?

Where did Birla get this money? No one brings it at birth. The Jains say in their scriptures that Mahavira renounced his wealth—such a great renunciation. I ask them: did Mahavira bring it with him? He came empty-handed; that money could not have been his. It belonged to those to whom he “gave” it back. To give back what belongs to another—what kind of charity is that? Wealth cannot be one’s own. Every child comes empty-handed and every corpse leaves empty-handed. In between there is four days’ moonlight—then a dark night. Those four days of moonlight you begin to call “mine.” It is not yours, not at all.

Only four days of moonlight—
moonlight cannot be trusted.
Therefore I take the side of darkness—
light cannot be trusted.

How many lamps in homes do you extinguish
to celebrate, O naive one, your Diwali?
O you destined to die—upon life itself,
life cannot be trusted.

Only four days of moonlight—
moonlight cannot be trusted.

First look at my self-respect,
then, if you like, shower me with abuse.
I make enemies for this reason only:
friendship cannot be trusted.

Only four days of moonlight—
moonlight cannot be trusted.

When lightning flashes, the whole world sees—
but when it strikes, it strikes somewhere.
The very bud that lends the garden its beauty—
even that bud cannot be trusted.

Only four days of moonlight—
moonlight cannot be trusted.

Whenever the preacher meets the cupbearer,
he talks of houris, of heaven’s maidens.
As for you, Sheikh Sahib—
I don’t even trust your piety.

Therefore I take the side of darkness—
light cannot be trusted.
Only four days of moonlight—
moonlight cannot be trusted.

We come into this world empty-handed; we go empty-handed. What we claim as “ours” in between is not ours. And what is not ours—what renunciation is there in giving it up? What meaning is there in “giving” what is not yours? It is absurd. Only what is authentically yours can be given—and there is joy in that giving. But first you must search for what is yours.

Therefore I am not in agreement with Vyasa’s sutra. I say: first meditation. From meditation, merit. Merit means wealth—inner wealth. Where there is merit, where inner wealth is, where inner dignity is, an inner kingdom—there, sharing begins.

And there is a further secret: if you share outer wealth, it diminishes; if you share inner wealth, it increases. The more love you give, the more loving you become. The more bliss you share, the more blissful you become. The more people become participants in your light, the more your light grows—brighter, fresher, newer, vaster.

Between the economics of the outer and the inner there is a fundamental contradiction. Outer economics says: save, hold, hoard, do not give—grab. If you share like this, you’ll become a beggar. It is an economics of loot. The inner economics is exactly the opposite: squander! Pour with both hands. Kabir says: pour out the inner bliss the way one bails water from a boat that’s filling—both hands at once. When inner joy arises, bail with both hands. The more you pour, the more you receive—new springs open, one cascade after another bursts forth. The entire kingdom of God becomes yours. It belongs to the giver.

And one who is miserable within—how will he avoid hurting others? A miserable person will give only misery—whatever he may say, whatever he may intend. I do not doubt the intentions of the miserable; daily you can see it everywhere: the miserable also want to give happiness. What parents do not want their children to be happy? But do they give happiness? Ask the children. They experience only hurt. Children can never quite forgive their parents.

That is why all hypocritical cultures have kept teaching: “Honor your parents.” Why? Because respect does not arise naturally; it has to be taught, imposed. The whole world agrees on teaching children to respect their parents. Why so much teaching? Do we teach any mother to love her child? No scripture instructs a mother to love her child—that love is natural, it needs no teaching. We do not encourage young people to fall in love—on the contrary, we warn: beware of love, do not fall in love. We put obstacles in their way. Boys and girls are not allowed to meet, to sit in the same class, to stay in the same hostels. Keep apart! Even sadhus are afraid of women; monks and nuns do not sit together. Separate flocks. Because what is natural is feared; it might break through all your saintliness and hypocrisy. It is there within, repressed—ready to erupt when given a chance.

But children are taught everywhere: honor your parents. Why? Simply because if we don’t teach them, far from respect, children will see their parents as enemies, and will disrespect them. Even with all the teaching they still disrespect; hence parents’ complaint in old age: “Why don’t our children respect us? We did so much, suffered so much for them, and today they don’t care.” What a dark age!

This has nothing to do with the “dark age.” The fact is, parents are miserable. Their intention is good—to make children happy. But however much a miserable person tries, he cannot make anyone happy; he will make them miserable. And children will take revenge. All teaching falls aside—every child takes revenge. He has to; a rage is born within.

Every husband wants to make his wife happy; every wife wants to make her husband happy. Wives are mad to make their husbands happy—and I do not doubt their intentions in the least. But what do they manage to do? Only make them miserable. Husbands make wives miserable; wives make husbands miserable. Both wanted to make the other happy. In this world everyone wants to make everyone else happy, and no one manages it; we all make each other miserable. There must be a fundamental mistake somewhere.

Vyasa’s sutra contains that mistake. The mistake is: we can make someone happy only if we are happy. If we are miserable, then however much we may want it, we will only spread misery. We will set out to do good—and bad will happen.

There is a lovely English saying, far more meaningful than Vyasa’s sutra: “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” Intentions were good, but people were pushed into hell. Wives have pushed husbands into hell; husbands, wives. Children have pushed parents; parents, children. The whole earth has become hell.

Therefore I oppose this sutra. I want to turn it upside down. You have lived by it for ten thousand years—the result is before you: a suffering, rotting humanity.

Try my way as an experiment: I say, from meditation comes merit, and from merit, beneficence—it happens inevitably; you don’t even have to “do” it. And from the absence of meditation comes sin, and from sin, the hurting of others.

Vyasa’s sutra says: “By beneficence, merit; by hurting, sin.”
My sutra is exactly the reverse: “From merit, beneficence; from sin, hurting.”

But between sin and merit, what will you do? How will you transform sin into merit? There is no alchemy other than meditation; no science other than meditation.

Hence my whole emphasis is on meditation. I do not tell you to correct your conduct; you’ve been told that enough, and conduct has not changed. Enough of that chatter. I say: take care of meditation. For now, forget conduct—take care of meditation. For now, don’t focus on conduct—focus on meditation. And once the lamp of meditation is lit within, you will be amazed: a magic has happened—your conduct changes by itself.

One who has eyes does not try to pass through a wall; he finds the door. He does not collide with things. Meditation gives you the inner eye, and the path in life makes itself clear. Behind meditation, conduct follows on its own—right conduct.

I do not teach morality (niti); I teach religion (dharma). You have been taught morality—and you remained bereft of religion. Naturally your morality is hollow. A morality whose roots are not in religion has no roots at all; it is like plastic flowers. You can stick them on the surface. You may deceive others; perhaps you will even deceive yourself. But nothing has changed anywhere—everything remains as filthy as before.

Vidyadhar Vachaspati! I am fulfilling my duty. This is precisely my duty! Duty means: that which is worth doing. Today, what is worth doing—that is what I am doing.

But your question is important. And it is necessary to consider it piece by piece.

First, you say: “Why do you support Western civilization so much and oppose Indian culture so much?”

Because Western civilization starts with the body, with materialism. Western civilization has no spirituality. Western civilization is like laying the foundation of a temple but never raising the temple. And the Eastern civilization is such that the foundation was never laid, yet the dream of the temple is being seen. Western civilization means science; Eastern civilization means spirituality. But without science, spirituality will be impotent; it will have no foundation. First the foundation must be laid. If a temple is to be built, the stones of the foundation must be gathered—and only science can gather those stones. Spirituality has no way to gather them. Yes, spirituality can build the temple; spirituality will be the pinnacle—the golden spire! But if the golden spire is left standing by itself, no temple comes into being. Keep a golden spire lying around—it is good for nothing; it is hollow.

Science is the first thing, because the body is the base of man—and the soul is man’s ultimate discovery. That is the last word. First science, then religion.

India has been caught in a basic mistake. It disdained science; it is reaping the fruit. Because of the contempt for science you were enslaved for two thousand years—for no other reason. And even now, if you scorn science, you are only under the illusion that you are free; your freedom can be erased in two minutes. What will you do against the atom bomb? What will you do against the hydrogen bomb? Your freedom depends on the mercy of others, remember. Your freedom can be wiped out in an instant.

And we even feel no shame saying that the foreigners made us slaves. Then why did you become slaves? Such a vast country, a nation of four hundred million, became the slave of a nation only thirty million strong. You should drown yourselves in a handful of water before you ask such questions! No shame at all! Forty men get enslaved by three men, and still you abuse those villains that they made you slaves! Then what were you doing? Stoking the furnace? You could do nothing at all? At least you could have committed mass suicide. Even that you couldn’t. And you are the people who believe in the immortality of the soul—at least you should have died! If you could do nothing else, you could have died. The corpses would have remained. Then whoever wanted to claim ownership over those corpses could have it; they themselves would have run away. The stench of forty crore corpses—just imagine—the whole country would have become a graveyard! The English would certainly have fled.

But you became slaves so quickly. You were not enslaved because of the English; you were enslaved because of your so‑called rishis and munis. And until you understand this truth, you will be enslaved again and again. Slavery is written again in your fate. It is thanks to your so‑called sages that they taught you upside‑down things. They never gave you the foundation of life, and they started babbling about life’s peak. They never taught you A B C, and put Kalidasa’s treatises in your hands: “Read these, study them, son.” Without A B C you were handed great sutras. Like putting a sword in a small child’s hand—either he will injure himself or someone else.

You are the world’s oldest civilization. By now you should have had science at its Everest. But your so‑called religious leaders kept making you escapists, kept you fleeing. They kept saying: “The world is maya. And whatever has to happen is by God’s grace. Not even a leaf moves without Him.” Then how did the foreigners conquer you? The foreigners seem stronger than your God!

You say, “The Western foreigners looted us for hundreds of years.”

Why were you looted? You were incapable of doing anything? So impotent? Why so impotent? You lacked scientific means. You are people stuffed with stupidities. And you still want to preserve your stupidity and even want me to perform my duty—to preserve your stupidity! It is by destroying the very stupidity that has tormented you that I am fulfilling my duty. How else could duty be fulfilled?

Of course what I say will feel like poison, but I am helpless. If someone has cancer, the operation must be done. And what you are calling culture is your cancer. It has no foundation at all. You have a lot of religious blather. And your blather was of no use. You have always lost because of the wrong things. No one else is to blame. When Alexander invaded India and Porus was defeated, what was the reason? The reason was that Porus went to war with elephants, and Alexander came with horses. In that era horses were a more developed weapon than elephants. Elephants are fine if you want to take out a wedding procession, or lead the akhara of a saint. They are not fit for war. They take up too much space, they can’t run; against a horse they have no capacity. They need a lot of room even to maneuver. Horses can pass through small spaces. A horse has speed, swiftness, acceleration. To turn an elephant can take half an hour. Porus lost because of elephants. Porus lost because of underdeveloped means.

In two thousand years, think who all have made you slaves! Whoever came made you slaves. The Huns came, barbarians came, Turks came, Mughals came—whoever came; the English came, the Portuguese came, the French came—whoever came: you were sitting ready to be enslaved! You couldn’t even stand up to any one of them. And still you strut and say that they made you slaves!

You became slaves! You were sitting with your begging bowls spread, waiting for someone to come enslave you. You always had underdeveloped means. Whoever came had developed means. And today too, what is the real worth of your freedom? What value can the freedom of the weak ever have?

China seized your land; what did you do? Now you are free—at least show something! But Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru said: What will we do with that land? Not even grass grows there. See how we console ourselves? What will we do with that land? Not even grass grows there. Then why have an army at all? As it is, what grows in your country? At least discharge the military; drop this whole hassle. Seventy percent of the country’s wealth is spent on the army. For what? Save at least this. Some poor will get to eat, you’ll serve the divine poor, build some temples, some dharmashalas. For what else? And as it is, what grows here? Whoever comes will get fed up and go back.

What consolations you invent! In two thousand years, without exception, whoever came—and how small their numbers often were! The Huns had hardly any numbers. But whoever came, you were ready to kiss his feet.

And let me tell you, you did not become free because of yourselves. Drop this illusion. No matter how much your politicians try to convince you, you did not become free by your own doing. Because you made your “revolution” in 1942; you became free in 1947! What a joke! Has there been such a revolution anywhere? In 1917 in Russia, the revolution took place—did it take place in 1917 and succeed only in 1922? You made a revolution in 1942 and only in 1947 you became free! There is nothing of yours in this freedom. Don’t be under the illusion that you contributed something great. In this freedom too, it is the West’s favor upon you. They had given you slavery; they also gave you freedom. And today your freedom can be snatched. China can mount you any time. If it doesn’t, it is because of Russia, not because of you. And if China doesn’t, Russia will. You are a mule; someone or other will ride you. You will carry someone or other.

That is why I say: first science. Enough of this mistake; in ten thousand years this mistake has gone on long enough. Now science and scientific technology! But your foolish mahatmas keep teaching you to spin the charkha. If I oppose them, you feel I am your enemy. Spin the wheel! With a spinning wheel you will not counter an atom bomb. Keep spinning! You will be enslaved again. Some tell you to wear khadi. Some tell you to keep only three garments. Some tell you to practice brahmacharya. Some tell you to fast; some tell you to stand on your head, do yoga asanas. Some say sit in padmasana, in siddhasana. You have been doing all this for ten thousand years—what have you achieved?

I tell you, beget science—beget it in time. The greatest mistake we made in the past was not to beget science. And we could have, because we had no shortage of thinkers and philosophers. But we turned our thinkers in the wrong direction. We made them escapists, deserters. All our thinkers and philosophers went off to the mountains, into caves. If Albert Einstein had been born here, he would have been sitting in some Himalayan cave muttering Ram-Ram or reciting the Hanuman Chalisa. He is fortunate he wasn’t born here; otherwise you would have ruined him.

If you recite the Hanuman Chalisa, fine—you will also get a monkey-like intelligence. What more can one hope for? Some worship monkeys, some are cow-devotees, some worship elephants, some worship trees. You want me to save this culture? What is there in it worth saving? You want to save this trash and debris?

And you say, “Why do you support Western civilization so much and oppose Indian culture so much?”

Because I love India. I want it too to have its place in the world, to have an honorable place. And that cannot happen without science. India must learn science; the West must learn spirituality. Then all of humanity will come into balance.

So to the Westerner I say: learn spirituality. And to the Easterner I say: learn science. The West has laid the foundation; the temple is not yet built. We have imagined the temple, but there is no foundation. If I had to choose between the two, I would choose the West, because at least the West has laid the foundation. The foundation is primary. If the foundation is there, the temple can be built. But without the foundation how will the temple be built? Go on imagining, go on dreaming—nothing will happen.

In this country no temple could be built. Only the fantasy remained. What has been built? That once in millions one Buddha is born, one Mahavira is born among crores upon crores—do you call this any achievement? Do you call this a religious culture? People are dying, rotting, weak, ill, diseased. We have the lowest average lifespan in the world, the lowest average intelligence. We are the laziest and most sluggish. Work-shy. And you talk of saving this culture?

And you say, “Have you forgotten the dignity of our great moral values?”

What great moral values? Which moral values are you talking about? Mahatma Gandhi praised Ram Rajya greatly, but no one asked him that in Ram Rajya slaves were sold in the markets—human beings were sold. What great values are you talking about! Women were sold in the markets. And the fun is that not only kings and princes bought them, rishis and munis also bought them—at auctions! First, auctioning women, auctioning men—and among the bidders at the auctions were rishis and munis.

There is a story in the Upanishads of “Raikva with the cart.” He was a rishi who traveled by bullock cart, so he was called “Raikva the cart-driver.” Vinoba mentions him in many places, but incompletely and dishonestly. He mentions that the emperor of that time, in the last moments of his life, came to the feet of Raikva with much wealth. He brought chariots full of wealth—gold coins, diamonds, jewels—and piled them at Raikva’s feet and said, “Master, grant me Brahma-knowledge.” Raikva said: “Hey shudra! Do you think you can buy me with money? Take away your wealth!”

Vinoba praises this greatly: that it is wondrous—so much wealth and our maharshi said, “Take this wealth away; with this dirt you think you will buy me? You want to purchase Brahma-knowledge with this dirt? Hey shudra!” Vinoba explains that “shudra” here means: you have such faith in money, therefore you are a shudra; you have not understood. Take away all this wealth. Brahma-knowledge is not attained like this.

But this story is incomplete. Unless the whole is told, it is dishonest. The whole story is that when Raikva the rishi and this emperor were both young, they went to an auction where beautiful women were being auctioned. Naturally, Raikva bid on a beautiful woman—he bid high. But the emperor also wanted to buy the same woman. Against an emperor, the rishi could not stand, for he did not have that much wealth. He had enough otherwise, but not that much. So helplessly he had to give up the woman; the emperor bought her and took her away. From then on Raikva nursed enmity toward the emperor. Then in old age, when death comes near, the remembrance of Brahman can come to anyone. Death frightens all. The emperor panicked too and asked, “From whom should I seek knowledge?” Raikva’s name was great, so he went to him. Raikva said, “Hey shudra! Away! Take your wealth away. You think you will get Brahma-knowledge like this?”

The emperor asked his ministers, “What shall I do?” The ministers said, “Perhaps you have forgotten. Take along the woman you bought then. That is why he is angry.” The emperor then took that woman, and Raikva was very pleased and said: “Come, son, sit—now take Brahma-knowledge.”

This is the full story. See Vinoba’s dishonesty—he chose such a small piece that its meaning was turned on its head. This is the full story.

What moral values? What are you calling moral? The rishis had wives—more than one. And this is about the rishis; leave aside common people. Along with wives they had “vadhus.” Now the meaning of “vadhu” has changed; that is not the Vedic meaning. Now we call the wife “vadhu”—“var and vadhu.” But the old, Vedic meaning was different. Vadhu was the name for wife number two. There was the patni—the legitimate wife, married. And vadhu was the one who was purchased. You could have conjugal relations with her, but she was not the legitimate wife. Her sons had no legal rights to your property. She was a concubine. She was called vadhu. So rishis had many wives and even more concubines, vadhus. And you talk of moral values!

Krishna had sixteen thousand women, and you talk of moral values! And they were not all his married wives; they were abducted. Many were other men’s wives—kidnapped and carried off, snatched by force. What moral values are you talking about?

Your Pandavas divided one woman among the five of them. One woman had five husbands. They turned that woman into a whore. And among the five Pandavas, the chief was Yudhishthira, whom you call “Dharmaraj”—if one is called Dharmaraj, certainly he must be of great morality; otherwise why call him that? Great morality must have been there. And look at the morality: a gambler. And such a gambler that he lost all his wealth and even staked his wife. Today if someone staked his wife, let him try—he would rot in prison. And still Dharmaraj remained Dharmaraj. And there the great Guru Drona was present, and the great spiritual man, the very wise Bhishma, was present. They too sat silently. And this is much celebrated.

Just now someone wrote me a letter. Someone wrote: Maya Tyagi was stripped and paraded naked in the streets. You are God—why did you not protect her? Krishna, when Draupadi was disrobed, protected her.

The point is fair. But then I want Krishna’s other rights as well. I will save one Maya Tyagi, but Krishna also stripped many women and climbed up a tree with their clothes—that right I want too. And think of how many women he made into Maya Tyagis! And the one whose clothes he saved was his sister; and those whose clothes he took were others’ sisters. And he abducted sixteen thousand women—that right I want too. Then I am ready to fulfill the condition.

But what moral values are you talking about? What morality was there in your country? An empty hue and cry? And you fool the Westerners because they know nothing of your history. That is why your mahatmas go about in the West proclaiming India’s great morality. There has never been a country more immoral.

What did you do to the Buddhist monks? What mistreatment? How did Buddhism vanish from India? You boiled them in cauldrons. You uprooted the Buddhists entirely from India. What morality are you talking about? What moral values of yours should I respect?

What have you done to the shudras in ten thousand years? And not only you—what did your Rama do? Your Rama had molten lead poured into a shudra’s ears, and you still call him Maryada Purushottam. You feel no shame, no embarrassment. And the fun is that shudras too are eager to enter Rama’s temple. And people like Mahatma Gandhi and Vinoba run movements that shudras should be allowed into the temples. Into whose temple? This very Rama’s temple, who had molten lead poured into a shudra’s ears because he secretly listened to Vedic recitation. What crime was that? Does anyone own the Vedas? Does a shudra have no right to remember God, to attain God?

And what have you done to women? Just think! You erased them completely. Destroyed their entire individuality, destroyed their soul. In Jainism it is settled that from a female birth there can be no liberation. Women should burn the Jain scriptures. Yet those very women, like fools, sit at the feet of Jain monks and serve them.

Gautam Buddha for years would not initiate women. Whenever initiation was asked for them, he refused. Initiation only for men, not for women. Why? Are you so afraid of women? So terrified? And if you are so frightened, what kind of sannyasa have your monks attained? What meditation have they attained, if they are so afraid of women? And only under compulsion—because when Buddha’s stepmother asked, he could not refuse.

You talk of “own and other,” that who is one’s own and who is the other! But even Buddha, when other men’s women came, other men’s mothers came, he refused them. When his own stepmother came to take initiation, he could not refuse. And since he gave to his own stepmother, the door opened for other women as well. Remember what Buddha said the day he initiated women. He said: “If I had not initiated women, my religion would have lasted five thousand years; now it will last barely five hundred.”

Think of the insult to women! How they are insulted in countless ways! Rama rescues Sita and returns from Lanka; in Valmiki’s Ramayana the words he speaks are very crude. They do not befit Rama—at least not one called Maryada Purushottam. What did Rama say? “O woman, do not think I fought this war for you.” Truly, who fights for a woman—she is a shoe for the foot! Then why the war? “For family honor—for the prestige of the clan.” This ego of lineage—Raghu’s line! For its prestige he fought. Not to rescue Sita.

And then he asked Sita for a fire ordeal. Suppose we accept that there was fear: Sita was alone in Ravana’s hands—who knows, some immoral relation may have occurred. Fine—let a fire ordeal be. But Rama too had been alone all that time. If tests were to be given, both should have given them together, so that Sita too could be assured: the husband was away so long—who knows with whom he was, what he did. But a woman has no right to ask; the question doesn’t even arise. The man is a man—man-child! His case is different. The woman’s test was taken; his? What guarantee is there of him?

But we have so suppressed women, cut out their tongues, that it did not even occur to Sita to say: come, you too—with me you took the seven rounds; we both were apart so long; you might have been with who knows whom; let us both pass through together. If a test, let it be complete.

So Sita was tested; Rama was not. This is a country afflicted by male egotism. The way women have been wronged here, it cannot be called moral. And then a washerman says to his wife: “Where were you all night? I am no Rama to keep you in my house! Out!” Just on that, after the fire ordeal, Rama had Sita thrown into the forest. And you talk of moral values! If they had to go, then both should have gone to the forest. But he did not leave the kingdom, did not leave wealth, position, prestige; he left the woman. This is only the defense of ego, nothing else. That the ego not be scratched; that no one may say Rama kept a woman in his house. And what of the fire ordeal? Sita had given it; this gentleman had not. And he had her thrown out of the house! To protect his ego, lest anyone object, raise doubts. A pregnant woman! Not a thought. And you talk of moral values!

I see no moral values at all. The way the brahmins treated the shudras, nowhere has there been a greater injustice. Yes, your scriptures have lovely sayings. But one is not moral by writing lovely sayings. All scriptures have lovely sayings. What difference does it make? The word “Islam” means the religion of peace. But Muslims destroyed the world’s peace. What is in a name? Jesus said: God is love, and Christians committed more massacres and waged more holy wars than anyone. What do scriptures do? Scriptures can write very sweet words. What does it cost to write sweet words? Any fee? Any obstacle? Is it hard to compose beautiful poetry? But what evidence does life give? Life gives a different evidence.

I look at life. I do not look at your scriptures. And I find a fundamental contradiction between your scriptures and your life. And you are the real thing; what are the scriptures?

You ask, “The Western foreigners looted us for hundreds of years, sucked our blood, and left the germs of their pleasure‑obsessed, debauched culture in our pure mentality.”

Do you think the temples of Khajuraho, Konark and Puri were built by foreigners? Do you think the Koka Shastra was written by foreigners? Do you think Vatsyayana’s Kama Sutra was written by foreigners? Was the rishi Vatsyayana an Englishman? And this Pandit Koka, from whom perhaps Coca‑Cola gets its name—he was a Kashmiri brahmin who composed the Koka Shastra. What are you talking about? The world didn’t even know of the Koka Shastra or Vatsyayana’s Kama Sutras. In the West, discussion of sexuality is very modern. To tell the truth, only in the early part of this century did Sigmund Freud and Havelock Ellis begin the discussion of sexology in the West. And your Vatsyayana’s sutras are three thousand years old. And your Koka Shastra is fifteen hundred years old. What has happened in the West in the last eighty years, you have been doing for three thousand. And you talk of your pure mentality!

Does a man think at all? We have become so lost in the web of our own words that we have forgotten what we have done. Open your scriptures, open your Puranas, and then you will see. Your Puranas are filled with more filth than any dirty film ever made in the world. Your gods are filled with filth of a kind, with such lust, that even goons do not have. Open your Puranas. The gods come down secretly; the rishis go to bathe at brahma‑muhurta—perhaps that is why they were counseled to bathe then. They go to bathe at brahma‑muhurta; the gods come sneaking, posing as husbands. The wives are sleeping in their beds; the gods deceive them, have intercourse; and before the muni returns, the gods vanish. These are your gods! Then imagine what the state of men must have been. If this is the state of the gods, what of men?

What are you worshipping in Shiva’s pindi? It is a symbol of the generative organ. And still you feel no shame! And asking this question, Vidyadhar Vachaspati—you must be a knower of the scriptures; Vachaspati, Vidyadhar—you must know all this.

Yet you ask, “They left in our pure mentality the germs of their lust‑ridden, debauched culture!”

Not at all.

No race has been more pleasure‑obsessed, more sex‑addled than you. No one can destroy your purity—if there were any to destroy! What germs will anyone plant in you? Inside you are already crawling with worms; any germs would be chewed up and cleaned out by them.

And you say: “Today our youth, forgetting our golden culture… are blindly imitating the West!”

Let them—what else can they do? They have no choice. You have nothing for them to imitate. Everything you have is a blind imitation of the West. If you have trains, you learned from the West; if airplanes, from the West; the fountain pen, from the West; a bicycle, from the West; electricity, from the West; telegraph, post office… What do you have that you did not learn from the West?

Vidyadhar Vachaspati, when you fall ill you will immediately get admitted to a hospital—which is Western. You will immediately show your pulse to a doctor. I know vaidyas who, when they fall ill, go to allopathic doctors. They talk big about Ayurveda, but when trouble strikes they run to allopathy.

Whatever you have learned, you learned from the West. The truth is, you learned the very idea of democracy from the West. You learned the very idea of freedom from the West. All your leaders were educated in the West; that is why the talk of freedom and democracy arose, otherwise it could never have arisen in your minds. You have never been free for ages; you have never been free. Either you were slaves of others or the slaves of your own kings and princes—and your kings and princes sucked you dry as no one else did.

In your country you have seen nothing but slavery for centuries. That is why you felt no difficulty—your kings and princes sucked you, sucked you badly—you thought: what difference does it make whether the king is Hindu or Muslim or Christian? What harm to us whoever is king! What difference does it make? We are to be sucked anyway. Whether the mosquitoes are Indian or foreign, what difference? They’ll drink the blood. Whether they are white or black—what difference? Bedbugs are bedbugs; bring them from anywhere—they’ll drink the blood.

For thousands of years you have been slaves. You have never known democracy. You have never known freedom. And now suddenly you worry about blind imitation of the West. It will happen, because you have no values that an educated, cultured youth would be willing to accept. Either produce values—I am producing values. You have no values. I am producing values. And you can see that because of those values young people are coming from the West. Where there are values, youth will come from anywhere. Youth have vision, insight, courage, daring. The question is not why they blindly imitate the West; you have nothing for them to hold on to. There is nothing worth holding; then they are compelled.

Create values. Produce an Einstein. Produce a Rutherford. Produce people here. Produce a Wittgenstein. Produce a Bertrand Russell. I am engaged in precisely that effort—to create values here, to create human beings here. Among my sannyasins today who have come from the West, you will be amazed to know, there are hundreds of Ph.D.s, thousands of M.A.s; some are engineers, some doctors, some surgeons, some renowned painters, some actors, some poets, some sculptors.

India has always had one complaint—that the West sucks away our talent. I am ending that complaint. We can bring the West’s talent here. But because of the donkeys of this country of yours, there is trouble. Because of them there is obstruction.

I am creating values and also giving them an attraction. The invitation of values has begun to reach. You are stuck on youth not blindly imitating the West. That is negative. I say: create values, and the West will imitate you. Why are you worried? It is always the weak who talk of not following others. The strong say: “Follow me.” What is the point in talking about not following others! And can you save your youth? What choice do you offer? What alternatives do you give your youth? Tell him at least one alternative. There is none. You tell him: “Read Tulsidas’s Ramayana!” What Ramayana will he read, of Baba Tulsidas, which is utterly inhuman! “Drum, rustic, shudra, animal, woman—these all deserve to be beaten!” How will youth agree? You are counting women along with drums, with rustics, with animals! And it is from women that you were born. How did rishis get born from animals? That is a great surprise! From animals suddenly God is being born! From beasts and rustics rishis and munis are coming forth! Emerging from cattle!

Where did Baba Tulsidas come from? But Baba Tulsidas is angry with women. And the entire reason for his anger is that his own wife awakened him. He could not tolerate it. He could not forgive her. He was a blind, greedy, lustful man. His wife had gone to her parents’ home. He could not sit quietly for a few days. He could have chanted Ram’s name, turned the rosary, done anything. Many kinds of stupidities come to us; we keep doing something. But no—on a dark monsoon night he arrived. The river was in flood. There was no boat. He thought a log was floating by—it was not a log; it was a corpse—and using it he reached the other side. He did not have the courage to enter by the front door, for people would ask, “How come you have arrived suddenly at such a midnight!” His lust must have flared so fiercely that even midnight did not matter. He could not restrain himself. So he tried to climb from the back of the house, thinking a rope was hanging. His lust must have been completely blind. A snake was hanging; he grabbed the snake and climbed up.

His wife was astonished. She said, “If only you were as blind in love of God as you are in my love—if only you were this blind in God’s love—then the ultimate bliss would be yours, truth would be yours, liberation would be yours!” Struck hard, he returned; he could not forgive this woman. It is this woman he writes against: “Drum, rustic, shudra, animal, woman…” Who was the drum here? Who the rustic? Who the shudra? This woman—or Baba Tulsidas? It was not the woman who climbed holding a snake, using a corpse. She had more restraint; this gentleman had none. That resentment sits inside him.

What do you tell the youth? That against Wittgenstein or Bertrand Russell he should read Baba Tulsidas? Let the village rustics read him—that is fine; the poor fellows have nothing else. Either they will read Baba Tulsidas, get lost in his couplets—or else “Ala‑Udal—such mighty fighters that swords lost to them!” They will keep repeating that. And what else do you have?

You say to me, “Isn’t it necessary, in time, to save our culture?”

In time, it is necessary to destroy it. In time, it is necessary to set it on fire. To be rid of it. In time, it is necessary to create a new culture—so that your youth do not go after others. Why should your youth go after others? But here a corpse is rotting. Your culture has been dead for long; for centuries its breath has not moved. How long will you hold on to a dead body? The stench is rising. Burn it and make ash. Give birth to a new culture. That is exactly what I am engaged in. If there is a new culture, the West too may be ready to follow it.

You can see direct evidence here. I never think negatively. I have no interest in why your youth imitate the West. My interest is: why not create such a culture that your youth follow it, and the West too follows it. But that culture will be different—it will differ from the West and from the East. It will not have the obscurantism of the East. It will not have the rot and decay, the old age of the East. It will not have the shallow materialism of the West, its superficiality. It will have the science of the West, the spirituality of the East. Somehow Albert Einstein and Gautam Buddha must be made to stand together, two sides of the same coin. Where science and religion meet—that coin belongs to the future. The dominion of the future will be run by that coin. That coin will be the currency.

Certainly, I will anger both. Indians will be angry because I will take science from the West. And the Western pundits and priests—they are also angry with me. In churches in Germany, Holland, America—sermons are being delivered against me, statements made. Hours of debate are going on. There is a storm all over the world; a discussion is on as to how true what I am saying is. And they are frightened, because I am attracting their youth.

Just now a team from Italian television has come here to make a film. They have come only to study why so many youths, boys and girls, from Italy are coming to Poona. They have come solely to study this and make a film about it. And you are worried that our youth should not imitate blindly!

I have no taste for negative talk. My taste is to create here such a soaring peak. A golden age can be brought, but it will be an age of synthesis. It will be neither India’s nor any other country’s. It will not be geographical. It will be of the whole earth. It will be of the whole human being. All of humanity will contribute to it. There will be the contribution of Lao Tzu, Chuang Tzu, Lieh Tzu, Confucius. There will be the contribution of Mahavira, Buddha, Raman, Krishnamurti. There will be the contribution of Jesus, Francis, Eckhart, Boehme. There will be the contribution of the Sufi fakirs, of the Zen monks, of the Hasidic mystics. There will be the contribution of Yoga, of Tantra. Whatever has been the best in the world, squeezing all those flowers I am preparing a perfume here. I have nothing to do with India and non‑India. But I am interested in the future. I have no taste for the past.

Enough for today.