On ‘Woman and Revolution’—whenever I think of speaking on it, the first thing that arises in me is: where is woman? Woman, as such, has no existence. The mother exists, the sister exists, the daughter exists, the wife exists—but “woman” has no existence. There is no such independent personality as “woman.” She has no separate identity of her own. Her existence is only to the extent that she is related to a man. Her relation to man is her existence. She has no Atman of her own.
It is astonishing—but a bitter truth—that woman exists only in the proportion in which she is related to man. If she stands unrelated to any man, she has no existence. And if there is no existence, what revolution can we even speak of?
Therefore, first it must be understood that woman has not yet even established her own existence. Her existence is submerged in the existence of man—an appendage to him.
Bernard Shaw wrote a small book. Its title startled everyone when it first appeared: The Intelligent Woman’s Guide to Socialism. People were puzzled. They asked, “For women? Is a guide to socialism needed for women and not for men? You should have titled it The Intelligent Men’s Guide to Socialism.”
Shaw said, “If I write ‘men,’ women are included; but if I write ‘women,’ men feel excluded. Isn’t that strange? If we say ‘human beings,’ women are included. But if we say ‘women,’ then are human beings not included—are men not included?”
Woman has not been able to gather an existence beyond the shadow of man. Where the man is, there the woman is. But where there is only a shadow, there is hardly any need for the man to be present!
If a woman marries, she becomes ‘Mrs.—’ the shadow of a man’s name—Mrs. So-and-so. But the reverse never happens; the man does not get renamed on the woman’s account. If a man’s name is Chandrakant Mehta, then whatever the woman’s own name might be, she becomes ‘Mrs. Chandrakant Mehta.’ But if the woman’s name is Chandrakala Mehta, the husband does not become ‘Mr. Chandrakala Mehta.’ It never happens—because she is a shadow; she has no existence of her own.
The scriptures say: when a woman is a child, her father should protect her; when young, her husband should protect her; in old age, her son should protect her. All men must protect her—because she has no existence of her own. Only if she is protected does she “exist”; otherwise, she does not.
What foolishness is this! Woman has never yet declared her own being. So the first mantra of revolution is this: woman must clearly declare her own existence. She is—she has her own being, profoundly distinct from man. The dimension of her being, her direction, her very axis are very different. She is not a shadow of man; she has her own worthiness of being.
And remember: until woman proclaims her own existence, Atman cannot dawn upon her; she will remain a shadow.
I have heard a story told in Germany: the gods were displeased with a man and cursed him, saying, “From today your shadow will be gone; in the sunlight, no shadow will form behind you.” The man said, “What harm will that do to me? If this is the curse, so be it—what loss can it bring?” The gods said, “You will find out soon enough.”
As soon as he reached home, he found himself in trouble. When people noticed he cast no shadow, they deserted him. His wife folded her hands and said, “Forgive me!” His sons said, “We are sorry!” The villagers said, “Stay away! This man is dangerous—he has no shadow.” Gradually he became untouchable in the village. His own family shut their doors on him. Friends stepped aside in the street. Finally, the village council decreed, “Drive him out. A great disease has afflicted him—he has no shadow!” He cried out, “What harm is it if my shadow is gone? I am entirely intact—only the shadow is missing!” But no one listened.
Who knows if such a thing ever happened—but with woman the exact opposite has occurred: her Atman has been erased; only the shadow remains. If the loss of a mere shadow could ruin a man so utterly, imagine the plight when an entire gender has had its very Atman erased and is reduced to a shadow. To sense the depth of that suffering is not easy.
But why should men be concerned enough to reckon that suffering? It is in their interest that woman have no Atman—because whoever is to be exploited, if they have an Atman, there is danger of revolt. For thousands of years men, as a class, have exploited women. It serves their interests that women have no individuality, no Atman. For the day a woman has her own Atman, that very day the journey of rebellion will begin.
The exploitation between poor and rich is grave; yet deeper and older is the exploitation between man and woman. Man will not want it to end. And women have no Atman left to even think, to reflect, to give birth to a voice of revolt. The Atman has been lost—and the event is so ancient that no one even remembers it occurred. We go on living as if nothing happened.
Just as for thousands of years the Shudras were told, “You are Shudras,” and slowly they even forgot they were human beings—so is the situation with woman. She is merely the shadow of man; her interest lies in remaining behind him. To stand distinct, apart, there is no existence for her.
First understand this: can there be joy, freedom, creativity, expression, any fragrance in a woman’s life without an Atman?
There are religions that say there is no moksha for women. You know this: women are not allowed to enter the mosque. Astonishing! Is the mosque only for men? Not even the shadow of woman is allowed to fall inside. There are religions that deny women entrance to liberation. There are religions that proclaim, “Woman is the gateway to hell.” The most venerated scriptures of some religions use the most indecent words for woman. And more astonishing still: the very religions, the very gurus, sadhus, sannyasins, and saints who have been the greatest obstacles to woman receiving her Atman—women, in their strange madness, have taken upon themselves the entire burden of supporting them.
These temples and mosques stand upon the shoulders of women. Sadhus and sannyasins live upon the exploitation of women—and it is their long conspiracy that keeps woman from attaining an existence. Those who proclaim daily, “Woman is the gate of hell,” at whose feet do women bow—if only from a distance, since touching is forbidden? They keep thronging to them.
Recently in Bombay, a lady told me: a certain sannyasin’s discourse is going on, thousands gather to listen—but no woman may touch his feet. One day a woman touched them by mistake. The mahatma fasted for seven days in penance. And the result of this penance was that hundreds of thousands of women gathered for his darshan—“What a great saint he is!”
Even stupidity should have limits! Not a single woman should have gone there. Women should have declared a boycott: no one will go. But instead they rejoiced, “He is so pure. He fasts seven days to atone for a woman’s touch—what a great soul!”
Men have planted in women’s minds the notion that they are impure—and women have accepted it, settled into it.
How astonishing! The very mahatma who fasted seven days because a woman touched his feet—he must have lived nine months in a woman’s womb; if impurity was to happen, it already did. It is difficult now to avoid impurity! He must have sat in a woman’s lap for years—the blood is hers, the flesh hers, the bone hers, the marrow hers, the whole personality hers—and from her touch he must fast seven days because she is the door to hell.
Woman needs freedom from sadhus and sannyasins. Unless she wages a direct rebellion against them, unless she declares: those who call woman the gateway to hell deserve no honor; those who call her impure deserve no respect—only a straight revolt will do—until then the first step of woman’s journey toward Atman will not be complete.
In lands where religion’s grip is strongest, woman is the most insulted and dishonored. Strange! As religion’s influence wanes, women’s dignity rises. The stronger religion’s grip, the deeper woman’s humiliation. What kind of religion is this? It should be the opposite: as religion deepens, everyone’s dignity should deepen.
But the stance religion has taken so far has been anti-woman. Why? Why five thousand years of voices against woman? There are reasons. These voices are not truly against woman; they are men’s voices against the attraction toward woman hidden within themselves. That inner sexuality which calls toward woman, the pull toward woman—those who flee from house and home find that call resounding all the more. Woman draws them more intensely. They curse the attraction within—“This is the gate of hell; let us be saved from it. Hell is after us!” No woman is after them; it is their own suppressed sex tormenting them. And to avenge that inner torment, they hurl abuse at women.
This procession of abuses has gone on so long that women themselves have accepted it: “Perhaps it must be true.”
Mahatmas, saints, and the so-called good people have not allowed woman’s Atman to blossom. And woman has been the very base that feeds and sustains these ‘good’ people. Go to the spiritual centers—one man will be seen alongside four women. And that one man often has come because his wife dragged him there—the real reason; otherwise he would not have come at all.
Religious establishments are run by women, and those very establishments have become conduits of poison against women. Who will rebel against it? If women do not awaken to it, who will fight this?
Listen to the preachers in the temples and you will be amazed: they are utterly obsessed with women. They go on saying something or other against them. They are worried about the women’s clothes—what they wear; even about their lipstick—what shade; even about the height of their heels—how many inches. What concern is that of a sadhu? What attraction is this?
It is suppressed sexuality. They have fled life and forcibly repressed desire. Now the repressed desire calls out in new forms. Woman dances in their eyes—and appears as if she may snatch away their heaven, their moksha, their God. So they go on railing against women.
Why am I saying this? Because as long as suppressed sexuality remains the norm, as long as moralistic traditions of repression persist, as long as we teach the suppression of desire in the name of morality, woman cannot be honored. It may sound strange, but understand it well: until sex is accepted as a healthy part of ordinary life, woman cannot be honored. The condemnation of sex has become, at last, the condemnation of woman.
First: woman has no existence of her own. If she is to proclaim her existence she must say, “I am I—not someone’s wife; that is secondary. I am I—not someone’s mother; that is secondary. I am I—not someone’s sister; that is secondary. These are relationships—one among countless relations—not my being.” This clarity must arise in every girl, every young woman, every woman of the coming generation: I, too, have an existence of my own.
How strange that women outnumber men on the earth, yet women are so frightened! To walk the streets without a guard is difficult. If women, who are more in number, were to decide just once, it would become impossible for anyone to throw a stone at them, to hurl even a pebble, to crack an obscene joke.
But women have no feeling of inner being, no Atman. Stones and curses are hurled at them on the streets—and what is the outcome? They come home seeking the protection of a man. Next time they will take the husband along—the son, the brother. To protect themselves from the men who harass them on the street, they will take refuge in other men. Then this slavery will never end.
If a man harasses outside, that man is the same who sits inside a home—just someone else's brother, someone else’s husband. The one who hurled the stone is someone’s brother and someone’s husband; and your brother and husband will be doing the same to someone else’s sister and wife. This is not a matter of one man or two; it is a matter of the male mind. Therefore, to seek protection from men is to take refuge with the very enemy. Woman must understand that she must protect herself. And from what must she be protected? What is the root of this chaos all around? Why does man seem so crazed?
I cannot tell you how many women say: to step onto the road has become hard; even an old woman passes and little boys shout insults. Life has become difficult...
And when women return harassed—someone has thrown a stone, someone has shouted abuse, someone has sung a lewd song—they propose remedies that are themselves the source of the disease. They say: boys and girls should not study together; keep our daughters away from boys; raise higher walls; draw longer veils. Not seeing that the higher the walls, the deeper the trouble grows. Because it is because of walls that stones are thrown. Because of veils that stones are thrown. The fundamental reason for the vulgarity between men and women—in streets, in scriptures, in books, in cinema—lies in the vast distance created between them. If we wish for a cultured relationship between men and women, this distance has to end. The more the distance, the greater the attraction.
I was speaking at a girls’ college in Patna on the Ganga. The river flows magnificently behind, but the college has raised such a high wall that you cannot even tell the Ganga is there. I asked, “What madness is this? You built a college on the Ganga, and raise a mountain-like wall?” The principal said, “We had to; when the wall was low, boys would stand and peep in.” I said, “If they peeped in, invite them and let them see—so they won’t need to peep again. Has the higher wall helped?” She said, “Not at all; they lean a ladder and climb. They even cross by boat from the river.” I said, “They will come—the higher the wall, the greater the invitation. The wall itself calls: something is hidden here. It creates madness.”
Bertrand Russell writes in his autobiography: when I was young, the Victorian age was on; even a woman’s toe was forbidden to be seen—the skirt had to sweep the ground. If ever a toe showed, lightning ran through the nerves. And now women stroll with thighs nearly bare in Europe—and no lightning runs. Whatever you hide becomes attractive. The hiders are astonishing. In Morocco, under Muslim influence, not only do women wear the burqa, they even put burqas on hens so the rooster will not see them! With such madmen shaping culture—no wonder the roosters in Morocco must also climb walls, throw stones, and catcall!
The more the distance, the greater the curiosity. The more you prevent natural, wholesome nearness, the more all behavior becomes abnormal, pathological. Because of these distances woman cannot gain a personality. A declaration is needed.
Women’s movements are necessary, widespread movements: stop seeking protection from men. And beware of men’s scriptures—all scriptures were written by men. Where is a scripture written by women? Men wrote them, from a class perspective; the woman’s side was never seen.
Men’s scriptures say: if a woman becomes a widow, she must not remarry—it is sin. But they do not say that if a man is widowed he must not remarry. Clever people! If the woman is widowed, remarriage is impossible; but the man may marry as many times as he wants. Why this difference?
Male jealousy—possession. The dying husband says: before death you were my property; after my death you remain my property. This possession will continue even after I am gone. Woman is property—in our country we even say “stri-sampatti,” woman-property, like furniture.
In China, scarcely fifty years ago, just as a man has the right to break his own chair, if he broke his wife’s legs no case could be filed. China said something very ‘true’: women have no souls; thus, to kill a woman is not violence. Atman resides only in men. And if the woman is mine, my wife, I have the right to beat her—even to break her neck—no case can be filed. She is my property.
Therefore I said: not more than furniture. If I break my chair, no court asks, “Why did you break its leg?” In China a husband could kill his wife and face no trial—till only yesterday!
Woman is treated as property. And the dying husband wants to ensure that after his death his property will not become someone else’s. For long, another arrangement stood: the husband would take the wife with him in death. Sati was necessary: if the husband has died, what need is there for her to be? She had no being of her own. If the husband was, she was; if he is not, neither is she.
And if you asked the male lawgivers why she should die on her husband’s pyre, they would say: “Because woman loves so much that she cannot live without him.” But no man has ever loved enough to climb onto his wife’s funeral pyre! Not one. Yet millions of women were burnt on their husbands’ pyres. Burning a living person is not easy—you know how it feels to put even a hand into fire. They had to devise intricate ritual so that the horror would not be visible. The husband is dead; the wife weeps. Priests—the many forms of wickedness often wear the face of virtue—urge her: “Do you wish to be sati?” In that hour, one’s lover dead, a thought arises—“I should die too.” In two months, six months, the wound would heal; but at that moment, before a corpse, if she refuses, life will be worse than death: the village will brand her ‘un-chaste.’ So they coax out a yes. Then as she is placed on the pyre—a living woman into flames—she will run, scream. So that the village not see, ghee is poured to raise thick smoke; priests stand around with burning torches to push her back if she flees; drums and chanting are raised so that her cries not be heard. This was the ritual. And we burnt millions. And women did not raise a voice! And worse: when sati was somehow stopped, widowhood replaced it. A momentary death was not as cruel as a lifetime’s living-death without love. But all this was for women—because the lawgivers were men; they never even noticed what they were doing.
Woman must refuse this. She must declare: I will regulate my life myself. I will not go to male lawgivers to ask how I am to live.
As long as she is treated as property, the story of slavery cannot end. What is the secret of treating her as property? The technique? So long as women agree to marry without love, they cannot be more than property. As long as girls accept arranged marriages—fathers and brothers arranging a man she has neither known nor loved, for whom no song has risen in her heart—so long as marriage without love continues, woman’s status cannot rise beyond property.
Second: if women wish to discover their Atman, know this clearly—better to remain without marriage than to marry without love. To marry without love is a sin, a crime. How can one bind oneself for life to someone without love? How obscenely mechanical! Yet we go on thinking: first marriage, then love will come by and by. Love will not come; quarrel will come—ever-present in every home. But society is arranged so that however much you fight, you cannot escape; you must go on fighting.
I heard: a little girl and a small boy were fighting loudly. Their mother scolded, “How many times have I told you not to fight!” The daughter said, “We’re not fighting—we are playing Mommy and Daddy!” That game runs day and night—the children watch. What game is this, in the name of love? A long quarrel. Everyone is bored, but no one asks whence the boredom arises. In that boredom children are born; such children cannot be the finest flowers of humanity. The best are born out of deep love—but where is love?
Astrologers decide if two should marry. They match horoscopes. But see the condition of those whose charts were matched—how are they faring? In this land nearly every marriage is chart-matched; tally the result: life has become a hell. Yet there is no awareness of what we are doing.
No marriage can be auspicious unless it arises out of love. Love alone longs to unite; without it, all marriages are immoral.
But our situation is inverted. If two people love, we call their relationship immoral. And when two are tied by two Brahmins matching papers, we call it moral. If a youth and a young woman love and a child is born, we call the child illegitimate. A child born of love is ‘illegitimate’; and a child born of a loveless marriage is ‘legitimate’! Absurd. Only those born of love are legitimate; children born of marriage alone, without love, are illegitimate. Yet this is the tale that continues. When will we change it? If we wish to bring fragrance and music into life, such loveless marriage must end. Better a world with many unmarried people than a world crowded with wrongly married people—they are dangerous.
In seeking her freedom, a woman must be clear: beyond love—no. For the girls of the future this must be crystal clear: if there is love, then marriage can follow; if there is no love, there is no need of marriage. Let love come—let there be patience.
But the society of today is an enemy of love. Why? Because if love comes first, what will happen to arranged marriage? If love arises, arranged marriages cannot stand; and arranged marriage must be preserved. So keep boys and girls apart; walls between them; guards with guns; forbid love everywhere; murder love wherever it sprouts.
And when love is murdered, the natural flow of human life is murdered. With the murder of love, woman is murdered—because if woman is anything, she is a thirst for love, a call of love, a seed of love. Where love is killed, the Atman of woman is finished. The day love is honored in the world, that day woman will be honored. The proclamation of woman’s Atman is inseparable from the proclamation of love.
Mothers, whose daughters are growing—remember: do not marry them off until love begins to blossom in their lives.
But we are afraid of love. Don’t let boys and girls meet—we fear ‘immorality’ may spread. As if immorality were scarce today! I was walking through a college corridor. The principal was loudly scolding a student. I went in; it seemed a matter of love, and I thought I might help. The principal said, “You have come at the right time—explain to him. This foolish boy has written a love letter to a girl.” I asked, “Foolish? If he does not write a love letter now, when will he? What is his fault?” The principal said, “I am telling him to regard every girl as his sister—and he says he does, but he lies.” The boy said, “I do regard every girl as a sister; I never wrote a love letter; I don’t know who did.” The principal turned to me: “Explain—he is lying.” I said, “How do you know? Is it not that you are fifty, and even now you find it hard to regard every woman as a sister, so you think he cannot at his age? Perhaps that is the problem.” The principal was shaken. He told the boy to step out. I said, “No—he should stay; the talk must be before him.” Then I told the boy, “If you truly have never written a love letter, you are in trouble—you are abnormal; your life will be ruined. At your age it is natural to write. The question is not ‘don’t write’—it is ‘don’t write the wrong kind of letter; write a worthy letter.’ The principal’s task should be to say: ‘You wrote—but look at the language, the tone—this is unworthy of love.’”
But principals stand like policemen in colleges; teachers pace the aisle between boys and girls like sentries; parents have only one concern: that love should not happen. What is going on?
Remember: if the season for love passes, love will never come. Every flower has its season; every bud its hour. Love has its season. If that time passes under guard and ten years go by, the bud cannot fully blossom. A life without love will remain in your hands.
This is a great crime against humanity—and in this country, it is acute. Let love have its season—give it understanding, space, opportunity. But everyone stands on guard to prevent it from blooming, and then we cry: love is so rare in the world. Of course it is rare! You do not allow the seed to sprout, the bud to flower—then lament that flowers are few.
But know this: man is not greatly concerned with love; therefore I speak to women. For man, love is one activity among many; he can do without it twenty-three and a half hours a day. His deeper quest is ambition—fame, position, prestige. He can kick love aside to become a mahatma—for the respect, the statues, the photographs. He can abandon love to be a leader, a martyr. Man lives from the center of ego—and ego is inimical to love. Only when ego dies in a man does love begin. Woman does not live from the center of ego; her center is love. If love’s possibility is diminished in her, her life becomes boredom and meaninglessness. Today, women’s lives are emptied of meaning because man has built a society that feeds the ego, not love.
This is the challenge before women: to create a world—and they can, for sons and daughters are theirs—in which there is no marriage without love, in which future sons and daughters have every facility for love to grow.
I do not mean that boys and girls should be left unbridled—to do anything. No. They should be educated—given intelligence about sex and love—so that when they are young, they understand what is appropriate and what is not.
A friend of mine went to Sweden. He is young, married, very moralistic. In the home where he stayed lived a father and his only daughter—the mother had died two years earlier. The daughter was fascinated by India; she had read many books. One night, as my friend went to sleep, the girl came and said, “You will be here only two days. You are the first Indian I have met. I don’t want to be away from you even at night. I want to sleep in this room.” My friend panicked—as any Indian man would. “In the same room? Alone? You will sleep here?” She said, “Yes—what harm? What are you afraid of?” He said, “Not fear—but a man and woman, alone, in one room!” She said, “What kind of man are you? Why so frightened?” She could not know that any Indian would be thus frightened—not of the woman, but of his own repressed sexuality within. She slept there. For two nights, my friend could not sleep; the thought kept nagging: “A girl is also sleeping here.” I told him, “How foolish! You sleep in your place; let her sleep in hers—what is the problem?”
Two days later, when he was leaving, he told the girl’s father privately, “You are careless! I might be okay, but what if an unknown man is not? You allowed your daughter to sleep in the same room!” The father said, “How long shall I object? My daughter is twenty-two; she understands life. If even at this age she knows nothing, then she must learn by experience. How long can I keep guard? I have raised her, educated her, given her understanding. Now she can steer her own boat. If not now, when?”
This is beyond our understanding. For Indian parents, the only work is guarding their children—and the life of both parents and children is wasted. Under a twenty-four-hour guard, boys and girls become sneaks and liars—learning the back alleys of darkness.
No—if women come to see clearly that the true voice of their being is love, then mothers must become allies and friends to their daughters in nurturing love’s full possibility. And remember: let marriage follow love—never precede it. The day marriage follows love, woman will regain her Atman. Only through love can it be found.
I have said these few things hoping that a revolution may arise in woman’s being. Without it, she cannot contribute what she must to human civilization; nor can she attain the flowering, peace, and joy that are her birthright. And a woman’s joy matters deeply—she is the center of the home. If the center is sad, defeated, weary, the whole circle—the family revolving around her—will be sad and defeated.
Where there is a woman laughing, smiling—whose footsteps sing with love, whose heart is joyous, whose breath is filled with love—that home will be filled with a new fragrance, a new music. And it is not a matter of one home; it is every home. If it becomes possible in every home, a new society will be born—peaceful, joyous, radiant.
Today society is neither joyous, nor peaceful, nor radiant—only desolate, broken. We live as if life were a compulsion. Sartre used a phrase: “condemned to live.” As if we are pushed into a house where we knew the entrance but do not know the exit. We run, we search—“Where is the exit?” And in India everyone asks, “Where is the exit?” Grabbing the feet of sadhus and sannyasins: “Maharaj, how do we escape the cycle of birth and death? How to be free of life? Where is moksha?” If life is fulfilled with joy, life itself becomes moksha; life itself becomes Paramatman. Beyond this moment there is no other God, no other liberation. In the very now, for the one who lives totally, Paramatman is realized.
And in this great revolution—to bring humanity nearer to the divine—woman can be the great collaborator. For that revolution I have offered these sutras: woman must declare her Atman and her existence; she must refuse to be property; she must declare men’s laws as class-biased and craft her own; she must accept everything without love as immoral. Love is the root mantra of ethics. If even this much happens, a new woman can be born.
I have said these few things. I do not say: accept what I say—there is no need. Only this request: whatever I have said, ponder it calmly, impartially. Perhaps even one or two points may be true; if you see a truth, its consequences begin to flower in life.
May the divine grant that woman find her Atman—this is my prayer as I end. And at the end I bow to the Paramatman dwelling within all. Please accept my pranam.
Osho's Commentary
On ‘Woman and Revolution’—whenever I think of speaking on it, the first thing that arises in me is: where is woman? Woman, as such, has no existence. The mother exists, the sister exists, the daughter exists, the wife exists—but “woman” has no existence. There is no such independent personality as “woman.” She has no separate identity of her own. Her existence is only to the extent that she is related to a man. Her relation to man is her existence. She has no Atman of her own.
It is astonishing—but a bitter truth—that woman exists only in the proportion in which she is related to man. If she stands unrelated to any man, she has no existence. And if there is no existence, what revolution can we even speak of?
Therefore, first it must be understood that woman has not yet even established her own existence. Her existence is submerged in the existence of man—an appendage to him.
Bernard Shaw wrote a small book. Its title startled everyone when it first appeared: The Intelligent Woman’s Guide to Socialism. People were puzzled. They asked, “For women? Is a guide to socialism needed for women and not for men? You should have titled it The Intelligent Men’s Guide to Socialism.”
Shaw said, “If I write ‘men,’ women are included; but if I write ‘women,’ men feel excluded. Isn’t that strange? If we say ‘human beings,’ women are included. But if we say ‘women,’ then are human beings not included—are men not included?”
Woman has not been able to gather an existence beyond the shadow of man. Where the man is, there the woman is. But where there is only a shadow, there is hardly any need for the man to be present!
If a woman marries, she becomes ‘Mrs.—’ the shadow of a man’s name—Mrs. So-and-so. But the reverse never happens; the man does not get renamed on the woman’s account. If a man’s name is Chandrakant Mehta, then whatever the woman’s own name might be, she becomes ‘Mrs. Chandrakant Mehta.’ But if the woman’s name is Chandrakala Mehta, the husband does not become ‘Mr. Chandrakala Mehta.’ It never happens—because she is a shadow; she has no existence of her own.
The scriptures say: when a woman is a child, her father should protect her; when young, her husband should protect her; in old age, her son should protect her. All men must protect her—because she has no existence of her own. Only if she is protected does she “exist”; otherwise, she does not.
What foolishness is this! Woman has never yet declared her own being. So the first mantra of revolution is this: woman must clearly declare her own existence. She is—she has her own being, profoundly distinct from man. The dimension of her being, her direction, her very axis are very different. She is not a shadow of man; she has her own worthiness of being.
And remember: until woman proclaims her own existence, Atman cannot dawn upon her; she will remain a shadow.
I have heard a story told in Germany: the gods were displeased with a man and cursed him, saying, “From today your shadow will be gone; in the sunlight, no shadow will form behind you.” The man said, “What harm will that do to me? If this is the curse, so be it—what loss can it bring?” The gods said, “You will find out soon enough.”
As soon as he reached home, he found himself in trouble. When people noticed he cast no shadow, they deserted him. His wife folded her hands and said, “Forgive me!” His sons said, “We are sorry!” The villagers said, “Stay away! This man is dangerous—he has no shadow.” Gradually he became untouchable in the village. His own family shut their doors on him. Friends stepped aside in the street. Finally, the village council decreed, “Drive him out. A great disease has afflicted him—he has no shadow!” He cried out, “What harm is it if my shadow is gone? I am entirely intact—only the shadow is missing!” But no one listened.
Who knows if such a thing ever happened—but with woman the exact opposite has occurred: her Atman has been erased; only the shadow remains. If the loss of a mere shadow could ruin a man so utterly, imagine the plight when an entire gender has had its very Atman erased and is reduced to a shadow. To sense the depth of that suffering is not easy.
But why should men be concerned enough to reckon that suffering? It is in their interest that woman have no Atman—because whoever is to be exploited, if they have an Atman, there is danger of revolt. For thousands of years men, as a class, have exploited women. It serves their interests that women have no individuality, no Atman. For the day a woman has her own Atman, that very day the journey of rebellion will begin.
The exploitation between poor and rich is grave; yet deeper and older is the exploitation between man and woman. Man will not want it to end. And women have no Atman left to even think, to reflect, to give birth to a voice of revolt. The Atman has been lost—and the event is so ancient that no one even remembers it occurred. We go on living as if nothing happened.
Just as for thousands of years the Shudras were told, “You are Shudras,” and slowly they even forgot they were human beings—so is the situation with woman. She is merely the shadow of man; her interest lies in remaining behind him. To stand distinct, apart, there is no existence for her.
First understand this: can there be joy, freedom, creativity, expression, any fragrance in a woman’s life without an Atman?
There are religions that say there is no moksha for women. You know this: women are not allowed to enter the mosque. Astonishing! Is the mosque only for men? Not even the shadow of woman is allowed to fall inside. There are religions that deny women entrance to liberation. There are religions that proclaim, “Woman is the gateway to hell.” The most venerated scriptures of some religions use the most indecent words for woman. And more astonishing still: the very religions, the very gurus, sadhus, sannyasins, and saints who have been the greatest obstacles to woman receiving her Atman—women, in their strange madness, have taken upon themselves the entire burden of supporting them.
These temples and mosques stand upon the shoulders of women. Sadhus and sannyasins live upon the exploitation of women—and it is their long conspiracy that keeps woman from attaining an existence. Those who proclaim daily, “Woman is the gate of hell,” at whose feet do women bow—if only from a distance, since touching is forbidden? They keep thronging to them.
Recently in Bombay, a lady told me: a certain sannyasin’s discourse is going on, thousands gather to listen—but no woman may touch his feet. One day a woman touched them by mistake. The mahatma fasted for seven days in penance. And the result of this penance was that hundreds of thousands of women gathered for his darshan—“What a great saint he is!”
Even stupidity should have limits! Not a single woman should have gone there. Women should have declared a boycott: no one will go. But instead they rejoiced, “He is so pure. He fasts seven days to atone for a woman’s touch—what a great soul!”
Men have planted in women’s minds the notion that they are impure—and women have accepted it, settled into it.
How astonishing! The very mahatma who fasted seven days because a woman touched his feet—he must have lived nine months in a woman’s womb; if impurity was to happen, it already did. It is difficult now to avoid impurity! He must have sat in a woman’s lap for years—the blood is hers, the flesh hers, the bone hers, the marrow hers, the whole personality hers—and from her touch he must fast seven days because she is the door to hell.
Woman needs freedom from sadhus and sannyasins. Unless she wages a direct rebellion against them, unless she declares: those who call woman the gateway to hell deserve no honor; those who call her impure deserve no respect—only a straight revolt will do—until then the first step of woman’s journey toward Atman will not be complete.
In lands where religion’s grip is strongest, woman is the most insulted and dishonored. Strange! As religion’s influence wanes, women’s dignity rises. The stronger religion’s grip, the deeper woman’s humiliation. What kind of religion is this? It should be the opposite: as religion deepens, everyone’s dignity should deepen.
But the stance religion has taken so far has been anti-woman. Why? Why five thousand years of voices against woman? There are reasons. These voices are not truly against woman; they are men’s voices against the attraction toward woman hidden within themselves. That inner sexuality which calls toward woman, the pull toward woman—those who flee from house and home find that call resounding all the more. Woman draws them more intensely. They curse the attraction within—“This is the gate of hell; let us be saved from it. Hell is after us!” No woman is after them; it is their own suppressed sex tormenting them. And to avenge that inner torment, they hurl abuse at women.
This procession of abuses has gone on so long that women themselves have accepted it: “Perhaps it must be true.”
Mahatmas, saints, and the so-called good people have not allowed woman’s Atman to blossom. And woman has been the very base that feeds and sustains these ‘good’ people. Go to the spiritual centers—one man will be seen alongside four women. And that one man often has come because his wife dragged him there—the real reason; otherwise he would not have come at all.
Religious establishments are run by women, and those very establishments have become conduits of poison against women. Who will rebel against it? If women do not awaken to it, who will fight this?
Listen to the preachers in the temples and you will be amazed: they are utterly obsessed with women. They go on saying something or other against them. They are worried about the women’s clothes—what they wear; even about their lipstick—what shade; even about the height of their heels—how many inches. What concern is that of a sadhu? What attraction is this?
It is suppressed sexuality. They have fled life and forcibly repressed desire. Now the repressed desire calls out in new forms. Woman dances in their eyes—and appears as if she may snatch away their heaven, their moksha, their God. So they go on railing against women.
Why am I saying this? Because as long as suppressed sexuality remains the norm, as long as moralistic traditions of repression persist, as long as we teach the suppression of desire in the name of morality, woman cannot be honored. It may sound strange, but understand it well: until sex is accepted as a healthy part of ordinary life, woman cannot be honored. The condemnation of sex has become, at last, the condemnation of woman.
First: woman has no existence of her own. If she is to proclaim her existence she must say, “I am I—not someone’s wife; that is secondary. I am I—not someone’s mother; that is secondary. I am I—not someone’s sister; that is secondary. These are relationships—one among countless relations—not my being.” This clarity must arise in every girl, every young woman, every woman of the coming generation: I, too, have an existence of my own.
How strange that women outnumber men on the earth, yet women are so frightened! To walk the streets without a guard is difficult. If women, who are more in number, were to decide just once, it would become impossible for anyone to throw a stone at them, to hurl even a pebble, to crack an obscene joke.
But women have no feeling of inner being, no Atman. Stones and curses are hurled at them on the streets—and what is the outcome? They come home seeking the protection of a man. Next time they will take the husband along—the son, the brother. To protect themselves from the men who harass them on the street, they will take refuge in other men. Then this slavery will never end.
If a man harasses outside, that man is the same who sits inside a home—just someone else's brother, someone else’s husband. The one who hurled the stone is someone’s brother and someone’s husband; and your brother and husband will be doing the same to someone else’s sister and wife. This is not a matter of one man or two; it is a matter of the male mind. Therefore, to seek protection from men is to take refuge with the very enemy. Woman must understand that she must protect herself. And from what must she be protected? What is the root of this chaos all around? Why does man seem so crazed?
I cannot tell you how many women say: to step onto the road has become hard; even an old woman passes and little boys shout insults. Life has become difficult...
And when women return harassed—someone has thrown a stone, someone has shouted abuse, someone has sung a lewd song—they propose remedies that are themselves the source of the disease. They say: boys and girls should not study together; keep our daughters away from boys; raise higher walls; draw longer veils. Not seeing that the higher the walls, the deeper the trouble grows. Because it is because of walls that stones are thrown. Because of veils that stones are thrown. The fundamental reason for the vulgarity between men and women—in streets, in scriptures, in books, in cinema—lies in the vast distance created between them. If we wish for a cultured relationship between men and women, this distance has to end. The more the distance, the greater the attraction.
I was speaking at a girls’ college in Patna on the Ganga. The river flows magnificently behind, but the college has raised such a high wall that you cannot even tell the Ganga is there. I asked, “What madness is this? You built a college on the Ganga, and raise a mountain-like wall?” The principal said, “We had to; when the wall was low, boys would stand and peep in.” I said, “If they peeped in, invite them and let them see—so they won’t need to peep again. Has the higher wall helped?” She said, “Not at all; they lean a ladder and climb. They even cross by boat from the river.” I said, “They will come—the higher the wall, the greater the invitation. The wall itself calls: something is hidden here. It creates madness.”
Bertrand Russell writes in his autobiography: when I was young, the Victorian age was on; even a woman’s toe was forbidden to be seen—the skirt had to sweep the ground. If ever a toe showed, lightning ran through the nerves. And now women stroll with thighs nearly bare in Europe—and no lightning runs. Whatever you hide becomes attractive. The hiders are astonishing. In Morocco, under Muslim influence, not only do women wear the burqa, they even put burqas on hens so the rooster will not see them! With such madmen shaping culture—no wonder the roosters in Morocco must also climb walls, throw stones, and catcall!
The more the distance, the greater the curiosity. The more you prevent natural, wholesome nearness, the more all behavior becomes abnormal, pathological. Because of these distances woman cannot gain a personality. A declaration is needed.
Women’s movements are necessary, widespread movements: stop seeking protection from men. And beware of men’s scriptures—all scriptures were written by men. Where is a scripture written by women? Men wrote them, from a class perspective; the woman’s side was never seen.
Men’s scriptures say: if a woman becomes a widow, she must not remarry—it is sin. But they do not say that if a man is widowed he must not remarry. Clever people! If the woman is widowed, remarriage is impossible; but the man may marry as many times as he wants. Why this difference?
Male jealousy—possession. The dying husband says: before death you were my property; after my death you remain my property. This possession will continue even after I am gone. Woman is property—in our country we even say “stri-sampatti,” woman-property, like furniture.
In China, scarcely fifty years ago, just as a man has the right to break his own chair, if he broke his wife’s legs no case could be filed. China said something very ‘true’: women have no souls; thus, to kill a woman is not violence. Atman resides only in men. And if the woman is mine, my wife, I have the right to beat her—even to break her neck—no case can be filed. She is my property.
Therefore I said: not more than furniture. If I break my chair, no court asks, “Why did you break its leg?” In China a husband could kill his wife and face no trial—till only yesterday!
Woman is treated as property. And the dying husband wants to ensure that after his death his property will not become someone else’s. For long, another arrangement stood: the husband would take the wife with him in death. Sati was necessary: if the husband has died, what need is there for her to be? She had no being of her own. If the husband was, she was; if he is not, neither is she.
And if you asked the male lawgivers why she should die on her husband’s pyre, they would say: “Because woman loves so much that she cannot live without him.” But no man has ever loved enough to climb onto his wife’s funeral pyre! Not one. Yet millions of women were burnt on their husbands’ pyres. Burning a living person is not easy—you know how it feels to put even a hand into fire. They had to devise intricate ritual so that the horror would not be visible. The husband is dead; the wife weeps. Priests—the many forms of wickedness often wear the face of virtue—urge her: “Do you wish to be sati?” In that hour, one’s lover dead, a thought arises—“I should die too.” In two months, six months, the wound would heal; but at that moment, before a corpse, if she refuses, life will be worse than death: the village will brand her ‘un-chaste.’ So they coax out a yes. Then as she is placed on the pyre—a living woman into flames—she will run, scream. So that the village not see, ghee is poured to raise thick smoke; priests stand around with burning torches to push her back if she flees; drums and chanting are raised so that her cries not be heard. This was the ritual. And we burnt millions. And women did not raise a voice! And worse: when sati was somehow stopped, widowhood replaced it. A momentary death was not as cruel as a lifetime’s living-death without love. But all this was for women—because the lawgivers were men; they never even noticed what they were doing.
Woman must refuse this. She must declare: I will regulate my life myself. I will not go to male lawgivers to ask how I am to live.
As long as she is treated as property, the story of slavery cannot end. What is the secret of treating her as property? The technique? So long as women agree to marry without love, they cannot be more than property. As long as girls accept arranged marriages—fathers and brothers arranging a man she has neither known nor loved, for whom no song has risen in her heart—so long as marriage without love continues, woman’s status cannot rise beyond property.
Second: if women wish to discover their Atman, know this clearly—better to remain without marriage than to marry without love. To marry without love is a sin, a crime. How can one bind oneself for life to someone without love? How obscenely mechanical! Yet we go on thinking: first marriage, then love will come by and by. Love will not come; quarrel will come—ever-present in every home. But society is arranged so that however much you fight, you cannot escape; you must go on fighting.
I heard: a little girl and a small boy were fighting loudly. Their mother scolded, “How many times have I told you not to fight!” The daughter said, “We’re not fighting—we are playing Mommy and Daddy!” That game runs day and night—the children watch. What game is this, in the name of love? A long quarrel. Everyone is bored, but no one asks whence the boredom arises. In that boredom children are born; such children cannot be the finest flowers of humanity. The best are born out of deep love—but where is love?
Astrologers decide if two should marry. They match horoscopes. But see the condition of those whose charts were matched—how are they faring? In this land nearly every marriage is chart-matched; tally the result: life has become a hell. Yet there is no awareness of what we are doing.
No marriage can be auspicious unless it arises out of love. Love alone longs to unite; without it, all marriages are immoral.
But our situation is inverted. If two people love, we call their relationship immoral. And when two are tied by two Brahmins matching papers, we call it moral. If a youth and a young woman love and a child is born, we call the child illegitimate. A child born of love is ‘illegitimate’; and a child born of a loveless marriage is ‘legitimate’! Absurd. Only those born of love are legitimate; children born of marriage alone, without love, are illegitimate. Yet this is the tale that continues. When will we change it? If we wish to bring fragrance and music into life, such loveless marriage must end. Better a world with many unmarried people than a world crowded with wrongly married people—they are dangerous.
In seeking her freedom, a woman must be clear: beyond love—no. For the girls of the future this must be crystal clear: if there is love, then marriage can follow; if there is no love, there is no need of marriage. Let love come—let there be patience.
But the society of today is an enemy of love. Why? Because if love comes first, what will happen to arranged marriage? If love arises, arranged marriages cannot stand; and arranged marriage must be preserved. So keep boys and girls apart; walls between them; guards with guns; forbid love everywhere; murder love wherever it sprouts.
And when love is murdered, the natural flow of human life is murdered. With the murder of love, woman is murdered—because if woman is anything, she is a thirst for love, a call of love, a seed of love. Where love is killed, the Atman of woman is finished. The day love is honored in the world, that day woman will be honored. The proclamation of woman’s Atman is inseparable from the proclamation of love.
Mothers, whose daughters are growing—remember: do not marry them off until love begins to blossom in their lives.
But we are afraid of love. Don’t let boys and girls meet—we fear ‘immorality’ may spread. As if immorality were scarce today! I was walking through a college corridor. The principal was loudly scolding a student. I went in; it seemed a matter of love, and I thought I might help. The principal said, “You have come at the right time—explain to him. This foolish boy has written a love letter to a girl.” I asked, “Foolish? If he does not write a love letter now, when will he? What is his fault?” The principal said, “I am telling him to regard every girl as his sister—and he says he does, but he lies.” The boy said, “I do regard every girl as a sister; I never wrote a love letter; I don’t know who did.” The principal turned to me: “Explain—he is lying.” I said, “How do you know? Is it not that you are fifty, and even now you find it hard to regard every woman as a sister, so you think he cannot at his age? Perhaps that is the problem.” The principal was shaken. He told the boy to step out. I said, “No—he should stay; the talk must be before him.” Then I told the boy, “If you truly have never written a love letter, you are in trouble—you are abnormal; your life will be ruined. At your age it is natural to write. The question is not ‘don’t write’—it is ‘don’t write the wrong kind of letter; write a worthy letter.’ The principal’s task should be to say: ‘You wrote—but look at the language, the tone—this is unworthy of love.’”
But principals stand like policemen in colleges; teachers pace the aisle between boys and girls like sentries; parents have only one concern: that love should not happen. What is going on?
Remember: if the season for love passes, love will never come. Every flower has its season; every bud its hour. Love has its season. If that time passes under guard and ten years go by, the bud cannot fully blossom. A life without love will remain in your hands.
This is a great crime against humanity—and in this country, it is acute. Let love have its season—give it understanding, space, opportunity. But everyone stands on guard to prevent it from blooming, and then we cry: love is so rare in the world. Of course it is rare! You do not allow the seed to sprout, the bud to flower—then lament that flowers are few.
But know this: man is not greatly concerned with love; therefore I speak to women. For man, love is one activity among many; he can do without it twenty-three and a half hours a day. His deeper quest is ambition—fame, position, prestige. He can kick love aside to become a mahatma—for the respect, the statues, the photographs. He can abandon love to be a leader, a martyr. Man lives from the center of ego—and ego is inimical to love. Only when ego dies in a man does love begin. Woman does not live from the center of ego; her center is love. If love’s possibility is diminished in her, her life becomes boredom and meaninglessness. Today, women’s lives are emptied of meaning because man has built a society that feeds the ego, not love.
This is the challenge before women: to create a world—and they can, for sons and daughters are theirs—in which there is no marriage without love, in which future sons and daughters have every facility for love to grow.
I do not mean that boys and girls should be left unbridled—to do anything. No. They should be educated—given intelligence about sex and love—so that when they are young, they understand what is appropriate and what is not.
A friend of mine went to Sweden. He is young, married, very moralistic. In the home where he stayed lived a father and his only daughter—the mother had died two years earlier. The daughter was fascinated by India; she had read many books. One night, as my friend went to sleep, the girl came and said, “You will be here only two days. You are the first Indian I have met. I don’t want to be away from you even at night. I want to sleep in this room.” My friend panicked—as any Indian man would. “In the same room? Alone? You will sleep here?” She said, “Yes—what harm? What are you afraid of?” He said, “Not fear—but a man and woman, alone, in one room!” She said, “What kind of man are you? Why so frightened?” She could not know that any Indian would be thus frightened—not of the woman, but of his own repressed sexuality within. She slept there. For two nights, my friend could not sleep; the thought kept nagging: “A girl is also sleeping here.” I told him, “How foolish! You sleep in your place; let her sleep in hers—what is the problem?”
Two days later, when he was leaving, he told the girl’s father privately, “You are careless! I might be okay, but what if an unknown man is not? You allowed your daughter to sleep in the same room!” The father said, “How long shall I object? My daughter is twenty-two; she understands life. If even at this age she knows nothing, then she must learn by experience. How long can I keep guard? I have raised her, educated her, given her understanding. Now she can steer her own boat. If not now, when?”
This is beyond our understanding. For Indian parents, the only work is guarding their children—and the life of both parents and children is wasted. Under a twenty-four-hour guard, boys and girls become sneaks and liars—learning the back alleys of darkness.
No—if women come to see clearly that the true voice of their being is love, then mothers must become allies and friends to their daughters in nurturing love’s full possibility. And remember: let marriage follow love—never precede it. The day marriage follows love, woman will regain her Atman. Only through love can it be found.
I have said these few things hoping that a revolution may arise in woman’s being. Without it, she cannot contribute what she must to human civilization; nor can she attain the flowering, peace, and joy that are her birthright. And a woman’s joy matters deeply—she is the center of the home. If the center is sad, defeated, weary, the whole circle—the family revolving around her—will be sad and defeated.
Where there is a woman laughing, smiling—whose footsteps sing with love, whose heart is joyous, whose breath is filled with love—that home will be filled with a new fragrance, a new music. And it is not a matter of one home; it is every home. If it becomes possible in every home, a new society will be born—peaceful, joyous, radiant.
Today society is neither joyous, nor peaceful, nor radiant—only desolate, broken. We live as if life were a compulsion. Sartre used a phrase: “condemned to live.” As if we are pushed into a house where we knew the entrance but do not know the exit. We run, we search—“Where is the exit?” And in India everyone asks, “Where is the exit?” Grabbing the feet of sadhus and sannyasins: “Maharaj, how do we escape the cycle of birth and death? How to be free of life? Where is moksha?” If life is fulfilled with joy, life itself becomes moksha; life itself becomes Paramatman. Beyond this moment there is no other God, no other liberation. In the very now, for the one who lives totally, Paramatman is realized.
And in this great revolution—to bring humanity nearer to the divine—woman can be the great collaborator. For that revolution I have offered these sutras: woman must declare her Atman and her existence; she must refuse to be property; she must declare men’s laws as class-biased and craft her own; she must accept everything without love as immoral. Love is the root mantra of ethics. If even this much happens, a new woman can be born.
I have said these few things. I do not say: accept what I say—there is no need. Only this request: whatever I have said, ponder it calmly, impartially. Perhaps even one or two points may be true; if you see a truth, its consequences begin to flower in life.
May the divine grant that woman find her Atman—this is my prayer as I end. And at the end I bow to the Paramatman dwelling within all. Please accept my pranam.