Is it a kind of compromise when Shankara says that Maya is inexpressible?

Questioner: is it a kind of compromise on the part of shankara when he says that maya is inexpressible?

Shankara has no choice but to compromise. Whoever insists on an incomplete truth meets with this fate; he has to compromise at one level or another. The other side of reality which he goes on denying will assert itself, because it is very much there. He will have to accept it in one form or another. He will call it maya that is indescribable, he will call it utilitarian truth or the truth that is transient. It does not matter what he calls it, he will have to accept it because it is there. Shankara cannot say that he will not speak about maya. Why should he speak about a thing that does not exist? But he speaks. And then he has to compromise in one way or another. Only a man like Krishna can be uncompromising, he need not compromise. He is uncompromising because he accepts both sides of…

Osho, by calling maya “indescribable” (anirvachaniya), isn’t Shankara making a compromise?

Shankara will have to compromise. Whoever insists on a partial truth will have to compromise at some level. Because the other cannot be denied—it is. One has to accept it in some form—call it maya, call it the truth of renunciation (nivritti), call it conventional truth (vyavahar)—give it some name, but somewhere you will have to grant it recognition, because it is. Even Shankara cannot say, “We won’t talk about maya,” because why talk at all about something that does not exist? Yet he has to speak of it. So Shankara has to compromise! Only a man like Krishna is non-compromising. He has no need to compromise, because he accepts both together. He says: both are. Whoever denies one will, at some deeper level, have to make a compromise with the other, the very one he has denied. The one who accepts both has no reason left to compromise; there…

Shandilya says: all these statements are right, and yet none is right. His statement is very unique. He says: all that has been said—I–Thou; Thou; I; neither I nor Thou—is right in one sense, from one standpoint; but from only one standpoint. From the rest, it is wrong. Even to say “neither I nor Thou” is not entirely true. If neither remains, why seek such a state at all? If both remain, the world remains—the quarrel of I–Thou persists in subtle form. If one remains, half the truth appears; if the other, still half. These are one-sided views—ways of speaking. They reveal the compulsion to speak, but they do not proclaim the fullness of truth. Shandilya says: ubhayapara—both, and beyond. It is this and that; it is both. There is a saying “neti-neti”; Shandilya says “iti-iti”—this too, that too. All these statements hold some truth.

Osho, Buddha insists on emptiness and Shankara on fullness. They each marshal weighty arguments and debates for their respective positions. They know the Truth, the Divine. Even so, why do they refute the other and extol their own? And you support both at once—why is that?

Death is just as divine. Night is as much God as day is. One aspect had been missed; there had been too much talk—only talk remained; the air was smoky with words; a web of words had been woven. A fresh expression was needed; the Divine was in search of a new word with which to knock again on the hearts still untouched by the stupidity of scholarship; to call again to those who are innocent, guileless, simple. Buddha caught hold of “emptiness.” It was a significant word. Consider: Buddha and Mahavira were born in the same era. Yet Buddha’s impact was unprecedented; Mahavira’s was not. Buddha’s thought spread across the world; its waves went to far horizons. Mahavira’s remained limited, reaching only a few. Both are equally wise. Both have the same experience. Both are mighty. One is not superior to the other, neither is behind. Then why did…

Osho, while refuting Adi Guru Shankaracharya’s aphorism “the world is illusory, Brahman alone is true,” you said the world is true and Brahman is true. But the definition of truth is: that which is not perishable. Since the world is perishable, how can it be true? It must be illusory. Brahman is imperishable, therefore true. I request you to define truth and shed light on this aspect.

Call a rose “rose,” or give it another name—there are thousands of languages, so the rose has thousands of names. Does the rose care? Call it beautiful or ugly—does it change the rose? Fashions change daily. A hundred years ago, who would imagine you would place a cactus in your drawing room, that a cactus would be called beautiful? Tell a villager today that a cactus is beautiful—he will stare: “What nonsense!” He plants cactus as a fence to keep animals and thieves out. He cannot imagine putting it in his house. He’ll say, “Am I mad?” Roses were beautiful—but now to insist “the rose is beautiful” sounds old-fashioned. The modern, cultivated people keep cactus. New poetry sings of cacti; new painters paint them. The rose has become passé. Nobility is out; the cactus is the proletariat. This is the age of socialism. To praise roses—aren’t you ashamed? Kings are…