Upasana Ke Kshan #7

But our difficulty has become that whatever is said turns rigid within a few days, and then it becomes necessary to negate it. And then it seems as if we are asking you to break something, to drop something. But each time, negation brings you back to the source. Through negation we have to return again to the original. Otherwise, in between a great web gets woven, and then it has to be broken. One has to speak in the language of negation for this very reason: if one speaks in the language of affirmation, the whole ritualistic machinery starts up again.

Expansion happens.

There will be spread. Therefore negation must be carried to the ultimate point where everything is negated, where even the seer is negated. And the nearest duality to That is the duality of the witness. The duality closest to nonduality is the witness. We may call this the last compulsion. It should be called the minimum evil. This too is an evil—this should be understood. It is the final evil; and the day even this drops...

If, instead, we grasp the seen, then we are at a great distance. From the seen we will have to come to the seer, and from the seer we will have to go further back. So the less we hold on to—so that it can be dropped—the better. It is undertaken with that in mind. It is complete upasana (devotional approach); there is no deficiency in it.

It certainly does awaken. It arises in everyone. Even someone who has come and is standing there for no reason at all, even if he has come just for entertainment, even someone who stopped while merely passing by—something stirs in him too.

Yes, something does happen. Something does happen. But those you could call fired with a burning inquiry are very few. That is why, even with so much effort, very great results are not seen. Otherwise, if even one person in a village were truly inquisitive, the whole atmosphere of the entire village would change.

Only a few people are needed. We don’t need vast multitudes, not millions. If in each village there is even one person who is truly filled with inquiry, such a one becomes a great center of revolution. There are very few, yes—but there are some. And because a few exist, the stream does not break. Otherwise, with the whole current having gone the other way, it would have snapped long ago. The entire mass mind has indeed moved in the opposite direction. Yet a handful hold the thread, and by offering themselves in one way or another, they keep that thread alive.

No, it won’t make any difference.

Nothing—it's just exercise. Fine; it's good for exercise. Beyond that, it has no meaning.

...there is always a contradiction. Either people will think they must be told, "Touch the feet," only then will they understand.

But they do understand other things. For example, if they get angry—if rage arises—they are ready to break someone’s head, to hit someone on the head with a shoe; and it never occurs to them, “What will come of hitting someone with a shoe?” They are simply expressing a feeling. Or when someone falls in love with someone, he embraces them; he never thinks, “What will come of embracing?” These are expressions of the feelings that arise within us.

(The audio recording of the question is unclear.)

What is happening inside him is the question—not the feet. Somewhere within him something has arisen, perhaps without his even knowing it, and his head has become joined to someone’s feet. What he is gaining or not gaining is not for someone else to understand. But if, seeing him, someone imitates him and places his head at someone’s feet, he will gain nothing.

I was reading a Sufi story. There was a Sufi fakir, Junaid. He used to tell a story. A gardener was planting grapevines in an orchard. The gardener was about sixty years old, and the variety he was planting would bear fruit only after thirty years. The emperor of the village passed by, stopped his horse, and said, “Old man, what are you doing? These grapes will come only after thirty years—and by then you won’t even be around. How old are you?” “Sixty,” the gardener said.

The old gardener replied, “Master, we have eaten the fruits of many trees that we did not plant. Those who planted them are no longer here to eat their fruits. If we do not plant such trees whose fruits will be eaten by those who come after us, our duty remains unfulfilled. We do not plant all fruits for ourselves.”

The king said, “Right—you have courage and heart; I am pleased! And if you remain alive and I too remain alive, when the first fruits come from this vine, send them to me.”

Thirty years passed; the gardener lived on, and so did the king. When the first grapes came, he sent them to the emperor. When the grapes reached the court and the message came that they were from the gardener to whom you had said he would not be able to eat these fruits, the emperor said, “Fill the basket with diamonds and jewels equal to the weight of the grapes and send it back. This man is courageous and alive to life.”

This news spread through the whole village: a gardener sent a bunch of grapes and, in return for ordinary grapes, the king sent diamonds and jewels.

The next day the whole village stood there with baskets brimming with grapes. The first to arrive was a woman. She said, “Go, deliver these grapes to the king and tell him to fill the basket with jewels. We must not be wronged; if one man was given, we too must be given.”

In the morning the king got up and saw people all around the palace with grapes in their hands.

He told his soldiers, “Drive them all away. And tell them, you fools, you should first have asked: in return for whose grapes was the answer sent? The reply was not for grapes alone. Whose grapes? And what is the secret behind it—you should have asked that, but you simply showed up with grapes.”

So, touching feet can also draw a response—but whose feet are you touching? If someone, without seeing, simply places his head at anyone’s feet, he will find he gets nothing. He will go away saying it is useless labor and foolishness. And then two situations arise.

I face very big problems. I face questions others do not. My dilemma is that I know the flavor and joy of touching feet. And I also know the stupidity and foolishness of it. I know both. Therefore it becomes a great difficulty for me. Out of a hundred, ninety-nine people touch feet merely out of dullness and blind habit. They would touch anyone’s feet. Such people must be stopped. And I also know that even among a hundred, there is one person for whom stopping would be utterly inappropriate. And saying both things creates a great tangle: what am I saying, what do I mean? It creates much difficulty. Much difficulty.

Therefore I say that touching feet should be stopped. The one who won’t stop—fine. The one who will stop—also fine. Because the one who stops, stops because for him it was useless. And the one who won’t stop—there was meaning for him, so he will not obey you.

In a meeting in Bombay, in Matunga, I said: I forbid touching my feet; no one should touch my feet. I came down from the stage, and a woman came up and said, “We refuse to obey you.” She touched my feet. The next day she came to me and said, “What right do you have to stop us?”

I said to her, “No right at all. What right could I possibly have? But if someone can make such a claim, then she becomes entitled!”

(The audio recording of the question is unclear.)

Yes, let someone make such a claim! Then fine—the matter is finished. Then it is your ownership, your joy; what is there left to say?

Yes, there should be worthiness even for making a claim. But the other one stopped; he had no claim. He was touching just because he saw someone else do it. That’s fine—he too was released.