Don't Imitate, Just be Yourself

Question 1:

Truth is beginningless.

The UPANISHAD'S word anadi does not mean old, it means beginningless. Anadi means that which has no be ginning, the beginningless. It does not mean ancient as you seem to think. However old and ancient a thing may be, it has a beginning, but truth has no beginning. And that which becomes old cannot be truth, because truth is now, in this moment.

Truth is neither new nor old. What is called a new truth is going to become old in the future. What is now called old was new sometime in the past, and what is new today will grow old tomorrow. It is in the nature of things that everything new becomes old. Truth is neither of the two; truth is eternal. Or you can say that which is eternal is truth. So anadi means the eternal, not old and ancient.

When Krishna says, "I teach the truth that is ANADI," it does not mean that he is talking about some old and ancient truth. Krishna means to say that which is, is truth. He says, "I teach you the eternal truth." Those who knew it in the past - if they really knew it - knew the truth that is eternal. And those who know it today - if they really know it - know the same eternal truth. And those who will know it in the future, if they really know, it will be the same truth that is without beginning and without end. Only falsehood can be old and new; truth cannot be new or old.

Of course, there are two ways of saying the truth.

When Buddha speaks about truth he does not refer to all those who have known truth in the past, there is no need. When he knows truth on his own, he need not produce witnesses in his support; that would make no difference whatsoever. What he knows he knows; witnesses are not going to add anything to it. Even a thousand names of people who have known truth will not add one iota to the measure of Buddha's truth, nor will they add to the glory and grandeur of truth itself. That is why Buddha says it directly as he has known it.

And Buddha does so deliberately; there is a good reason why he does not mention the names of the old seers. In Buddha's time these authoritative names were being misused and they carried a danger with them. Remember, whenever Buddha said something he always asked his listeners not to accept it just because somebody else knows and says it. He always warned his listeners against authority. Throughout his life, Buddha insisted that unless someone knows truth on his own, he should not accept it as true on the authority of others - including Buddha.

Buddha is speaking to seekers; his listeners are all seekers of truth. They are very different from Krishna's solitary listener, Arjuna. It is essential for a master to ask his disciples, the seekers of truth not to accept anything, not to believe just because he says it. If they believe something as true, they cannot go on the quest for truth. And if Buddha cites authorities in his support he is laying a precedent for coming generations to cite him as an authority. So he steers clear of all previous authorities and says plainly, "I say to you what I have known, but don't accept it until you know it for yourselves."

But Krishna speaks to an altogether different kind of person, his listener is not a seeker of truth, he is not on an adventure to find truth. Arjuna is quite different from the disciples of Buddha. Arjuna is not seeking truth, he is confused and deluded. The situation of imminent war has overcome him with weakness and fear. So Krishna is not interested in unveiling and exposing truth to its roots - he only tells him what truth is.

Arjuna has not come to him for truth; he wants Krishna to dispel his confusion and fear. There fore Krishna says that what he is saying has been said by many others in the past. If Arjuna happened to be a seeker. Krishna would certainly ask him to prepare himself for an encounter with truth. But Arjuna wants only to understand what reality is; he is not prepared to go in search of truth. He is not in an ashram or a monastery to learn truth from a master; he is preparing to wage war. And being confronted with the special conditions of the Mahabharat he is frightened and depressed. So Krishna, in order to dispel his despondency and bolster his morale, tells him that what he is saying has the support of many wise men of the past, that it is the eternal wisdom.

This kind of teaching has relevance and meaning for Arjuna. If Arjuna had come to him on his own with a desire to find truth, it would have been altogether different. But this is not the case. That is why Krishna explains to him the long tradition of truth so that Arjuna can grasp it properly.

There is yet another reason for Krishna's taking this approach.

If a person goes to Buddha, he goes as a disciple, as one surrendered to him. Arjuna is Krishna's friend, he is not surrendered to him. Much depends on particular situations and relationships. While Buddha's disciples accept what he says, his own wife refuses to take him at his word. When Buddha returns home after twelve years - during which time he is widely known as the Buddha, the awakened one, and people from all over have come to his feet in search of the truth he has known and proclaimed - his wife Yashodhara, on meeting him, refuses to accept him as Buddha.

She takes him to be the same person who had left his home stealthily in the dead of night twelve years ago. And she resumes the argument from that very point. She is as angry as she was the following morning when she had come to know how her husband had deserted her, and she vehemently accuses Buddha of betraying her.

Buddha's wife has her own characteristics. If Buddha tells her straight off that he is now a Buddha, she would say, "Don't talk nonsense, I know who you are. Nobody is a Buddha." If Buddha has to communicate with his wife he will do it very differently, because she is altogether different from his devotees and other seekers. There is a sweet story related with this episode.

When Buddha initiated Ananda into sannyas, because he was his elder cousin, Ananda exacted three promises from him. At the time of initiation he said to Buddha, "Before I become your disciple, I would like to have a few assurances from you. Since I am your elder cousin brother, I am your senior and am in a position to command you to do certain things. Once I become your disciple, your junior, I will lose that status; then you will be in a position to command me and I will do your bidding.

Right now you are my younger cousin brother, so give me three promises." Buddha asked him what his desires were.

Ananda said, "Firstly, I will always be with you from morning to morning; you will never send me away from you on an errand. Secondly, if I bring any visitors to you - even at odd hours of the night - you will never say no to them. And you will answer every question I will put to you at any time and place. And thirdly, I will attend, if I want to, even your very private and confidential discussions with your visitors." Being the younger brother, Buddha not only accepted Ananda's conditions, he honored them throughout his life. He never felt any difficulty about it.

But when he returned to his home town after twelve years and was going to visit his wife, Yashodhara, these promises given to Ananda years ago came in the way. Ananda, as usual, wanted to be with him during his meeting with his wife, but for the first time Buddha felt embarrassed. He said to Ananda, "Just think, I am going to visit her after twelve long years. And for her I am not Buddha, but the same old Gautam Siddhartha, her husband who left her in the dead of night without informing her. And you know she is a proud woman and she will take offense if you come with me; she will think it is a strategy to prevent her from expressing all her bottled-up resentment and frustration. sorrow and suffering. I am aware of my promise, but I beg of you not to insist on it for once."

This is a very sensitive and delicate moment and Buddha's response to it is so human and beautiful.

When Ananda reminds him that he has transcended all associations and attachments - no one is now a wife or a son to him - Buddha tells him, "This is quite true, Ananda, as far as I am concerned.

But for Yashodhara I am her husband, and it is not in my hands to undo it."

Ananda keeps out of Buddha's way. 'When Buddha meets Yashodhara the expected happens. She bursts out crying; all the pent-up anger and pain and agony she has silently suffered for twelve years comes out in a torrent. Her outburst is quite justifiable. Buddha listens to her very silently. When she quiets down and wipes away her tears, Buddha says to her very gently, "Yashodhara, look at me attentively. I am not the same person who had left you twelve years back. I don't come back to you as your husband, the husband is no more. I am altogether different. You talked so long to the departed one; now you can talk to me."

The relationship between Krishna and Arjuna is radically different; they are friends. They have played and gossiped together as intimate pals. If Krishna tells him only this much, "I speak about the truth that I have known," Arjuna will retort, "I know you and your truth." So he has to say, "What I say is the same truth that has been said by many other seers. Don't take it amiss because it comes to you from a friend. What I say is really significant."

The GEETA is the product of a particular situation; and this has to be borne in mind, otherwise there is much room for misunderstanding. Buddha's situation is different from Krishna's. He can afford to say, "What I say is truth; I am not concerned with what others say about it. And I also urge you not to accept it on my authority. You need to come to it on your own." And it is not an egoist's statement. An egoist would insist on being accepted as an authority. Buddha is simply stating his individual experience to stimulate the thirst for truth in his listeners. He tells them again not to take it as a belief, but go on their own search for truth. But he is also clear that what he says is his own experience. This is simply a state, ment of fact.

We are aware that what Buddha says has been said by others too. We know that the Vedas and UPANISHADS have already said what Buddha says. But why doesn't Buddha say so? There are reasons for it, and the reasons are inherent in the conditions of Buddha's time. By the time of Buddha, the tradition of the Vedas and UPANISHADS had completely degenerated and decayed, it was really corrupt and rotten. To say a word in favor of these old scriptures was tantamount to providing support to a decadent and rotting tradition. Knowing well that the Vedas and the UPANISHADS contained the same truth, Buddha could not take their support. Because it was with their support that a monster of falsehoods, superstitions and crass hypocrisy was stalking the land, mercilessly exploiting and oppressing the people. That is why he kept quiet about them.

It is not that Buddha is not aware that the Vedas and UPANISHADS contain the truth. But it often happens in history that when a new Buddha comes he has to fight and uproot many old truths, because being old they get so badly mixed up with falsehoods that to support them would automatically strengthen those lies.

Krishna did not have to face such a situation. In his time the tradition of the Vedas and the UPANISHADS was very much alive. It was really at the height of its glory, absolutely unpolluted and pure. For this very reason we say Krishna's Geeta is the quintessence of the Vedas and the UPANISHADS. In fact, we can say Krishna himself is the embodiment of the great culture which had come out of these scriptures. Krishna reflects all that is essential and basic to that culture; he comes at a time when the Vedic civilization was at its zenith. Buddha comes when it had touched its nadir.

It was the same culture, but Buddha had to witness its utter decadence and degradation, when the brahmins had ceased to be knowers of truth and instead were busy exploiting people in the name of God and religion. Every conceivable filth and ugliness, corruption and depravity had entered this culture, which now had nothing to do with religion.

Krishna represents the summit of UPANISHADIC teachings. In his times the UPANISHADS have touched the pinnacle of attainment and splendor. The light of knowledge emanating from them is spreading in all directions, and their perfume is everywhere in the air. The UPANISHADS are not a dead thing, they are fully alive and youthful and their music can be heard even in the bushes and shrubs of the land. So when Krishna talks about them, he is not talking about something old and dead; he is talking about something which is in the prime of its youth.

But by the time Buddha comes, twenty-five hundred years after Krishna, the whole tradition is dying and rotting, only its corpse is Lying before him. Clearly, Buddha cannot invoke their support. It is not out of any arrogance that he declares his truth on his own.

At the same time there is nothing egoistic about Krishna when he seeks the support of the old seers and their sayings.

Question 2:

It is a significant question. And there are two beautiful aspects to it.

Firstly, Krishna declares himself to be the best among all things - of all the seasons he is the spring, of all the cows he is the kamdhenu, of all the elephants he is the eirawat. And secondly - and this is more significant - he finds his peers even among the lowliest of creatures like cows and horses.

Both things should be taken together. While he declares himself to be the best among different classes of creatures, he does not distinguish between one class and another. Even when he claims to be the eirawat among elephants, he remains nonetheless an elephant. Even when he claims to be the best among the cows he remains a cow. Similarly he is quite at home among snakes and reptiles. He does not exclude the meanest categories as you think. He chooses to be the best even among the meanest creatures of this universe. And there is a reason. But why does he declare him self to be the best and the greatest among us all?

On the surface it seems to us to be an egoistic declaration, because we are so much involved with our egos that everything we see appears egoistic. But if we go deep into it we will know what a great message is enshrined in Krishna's declaration. When he says that he is the eirawat among the elephants, he means to say every elephant is destined to be an eirawat, and if one fails to be eirawat he fails to actualize his best and highest potential. Similarly every season has the potential to grow into a spring, and if one fails to attain to the highest in its nature, it fails its nature. And if a cow fails to be the kamdhenu, it means she has gone astray from her nature. In all these declarations, Krishna says only one thing: that he is the culmination, the perfection of nature in everything. Whoever and whatever attains to the sublime reflects godliness. This is the central message of this declaration.

Please understand its deeper significance.

It is not that an elephant who does not become the eirawat is not a Krishna, he too is a Krishna, but a backward Krishna; he has failed to be the eirawat which is his potential. Krishna says he reflects the innate potentiality of each being come to its completion, that each being can grow into Krishnahood, god-hood. Krishna symbolizes the actualized form at its best, the highest of each one's possibility.

Every being, every thing is capable of attaining to Krishna-hood. And if one fails to realize himself fully, it simply meanS that he has betrayed his innate nature, he has deviated from it. There is not even a trace of egoism in Krishna's declaration. This is his way of saying that one cannot attain to godliness unless he becomes like the lion among animals, like the spring among the seasons, like the Ganges among the rivers. One comes to God only when one attains to one's own fullest flowering, not otherwise.

By way of these illustrations Krishna persuades Arjuna that if he flowers to the maximum as a warrior - which is his innate nature - he will be. come a Krishna in his own right. Had Krishna been born two thousand years later he would have said, "I am Arjuna among the warrior."

When Krishna declares his being, he is not claiming greatness. To claim greatness he need not compare himself with beasts and birds, snakes and reptiles. Claims to greatness can be made directly, but Krishna really does not claim any greatness for himself. He Is speaking about a law of growth, a universal law which is that when you draw out the best in you, when you actualize your highest potential you become God.

One of the Sanskrit names of God Is Ishwar, which Is derived from aishwarya, meaning affluence.

It means when you attain to the peak of affluence as a being, you become God. But we never pay attention to this aspect of godliness, which is affluence in every respect. So to be the lion among the animals, the kamdhenu among the cows, and the spring among the seasons is to attain to godliness, to God. When there is no difference whatsoever between your potentiality and actuality, you become God. When the highest possibility of your life is actualized you attain to Godhood.

If there is a distance between your potential and actual states of being, it means you are yet on the way to your destiny. And godliness is everybody's destiny; it is really everyone's birthright. When that which is hidden in you becomes manifest, you are God. Right now you are part hidden and part manifest, you are on the way to flowering. You have yet to burst into a full spring, you have yet to become God. If Krishna happens to visit our garden here and says that he is the most blossomed one among all the flowers of this garden, what does he mean by it? He means to say that other flowers have the potential to achieve this flowering, and they are on the way to it.

It is right that Krishna does not relate himself with flowers yet hidden in their buds or in their seeds.

He connects himself only with those that have fully flowered. And there is a reason for it. He is speaking to Arjuna who is depressed and confused, and he is not only trying to revive him but also to inspire him to blossom fully as a warrior, to actualize his potential as a warrior. Then alone, Krishna says, can he attain to God, to the utmost peak.

Here Krishna is having to play a double role. Because Arjuna is his friend, he cannot be too hard with him. He has to speak as a friend but all the time he is aware that he has to help Arjuna to come to the same flowering of being which he embodies in himself. Therefore, from time to time he gives glimpses of his own flowering, of his own fullness, so that these glimpses gently seep into Arjuna's awareness.

Krishna will be of no use to Arjuna if he re mains only his friend, but if he reveals his godliness indiscriminately, Arjuna may be so frightened that he runs away. So all the time he has to strike a balance between the two roles he is playing. While he continues to be Arjuna's friend he also declares his godliness from time to time. Whenever he finds Arjuna is relaxed, he declares his godliness. And when Arjuna is assailed with doubt and confusion he returns to his friendly approach.

His task is very delicate, and very few Buddhas have had to deal with such a situation as Krishna faces in the war of the Mahabharat.

Bud&a does not have to deal with such a delicate situation. He knows his people clearly; he knows who is who and what they want. His people have come to sit at his feet to learn truth from him, so communication with them is easy and straight. Mahavira too, has no such difficulties with his listeners. Krishna's difficulty with Arjuna is real, he has to play a double role.

It is really difficult to teach a friend, to be his teacher It is difficult even to be an advisor to an intimate friend. If you try he will say, "Shut up, don't show off your wisdom." Arjuna can say to Krishna, "Keep your sage advices to yourself, I know how much you know, since we have grown together from child.

hood." Arjuna can run away in such a situation. So Krishna on the one hand placates him with phrases like "O great warrior," and on the other he tells him "You are an ignoramus, you don't know the reality."

If you bear in mind this aspect of the GEETA, you will have no difficulty understanding it.

Question 3:

Don't think that only in the present it is difficult to play the role of Krishna; it was difficult in Krishna's own times. Otherwise there would have been not only one, but any number of Krishnas. And if it seems difficult for you today to become Krishna-like, know that it would have been as difficult in Krishna's time if you were his contemporaries. And for Krishna it would be as easy to be a Krishna today - if he were born again - as it was in his own days. But this illusion stems from our idea and habit of following and imitating others in every way. In fact, imitation is the beginning of all our problems.

You could never have imitated Krishna if you lived in his days, nor can you imitate him now. It is impossible. And if you do, you are right in saying that you will end up in a mess.

I have been talking on Krishna's life and philosophy not so that you will make him your ideal and imitate him. Nothing is farther from me than the idea of imitation. If we can understand Krishna's life, it will help us to understand our own life in its right perspective. If we fully unfold and understand Krishna's life, which is vast and multidimensional, it will enable us to unfold our own life and know it.

But you will never understand Krishna if you think in terms of imitating him.

If we imitate someone or other, we will never understand him because of that. And we will never understand our own life. In fact, the reason we want to imitate someone is that we don't want to take the trouble of understanding ourselves. It is convenient to live in somebody else's shadow and imitate him; it is a way to escape the arduous task of understanding ourselves. Understanding begins when someone ceases to imitate others, to be like others, when he wants to know directly who he is and what he can be.

The life of one who has achieved his full unfoldment helps to understand one's own life. It doesn't mean that one becomes like him, becomes his carbon copy. To become like others is neither possible nor desirable. Everyone is different and will remain different.

If you think in terms of imitation when we are discussing Krishna - and it seems from your question that you do think in such terms - then you will never understand Krishna. Never mind Krishna, you will never understand yourselves.

Secondly I would like to emphasize that although Krishna's philosophy, his vision of truth is significant and useful, it is not to be imitated, followed. When I ask you not to imitate his life which is so rich and dynamic, how can I ask you to imitate his ideas and thoughts, even his truth expressed in words?

No, you have only to understand them, not follow and imitate them.

Of course as you understand Krishna your own understanding and intelligence will grow and deepen; it will enrich you in your own way, No ideas, no thoughts, no principles will help you; only understanding will. Understanding is the key, the master key.

It is unfortunate that imitation has become the hallmark of our life; we imitate from the cradle to the grave. We imitate others' ways of living; we imitate their ideas and thoughts. We are nothing more than imitators in every aspect of life.

Before I go into Krishna's philosophy, it is necessary to warn you against imitation and following.

Don't follow anyone, not even Krishna. I say so not because it is not possible today to play pranks on your girlfriends or to run away with their clothes or to dance with them in the streets, Everything is possible, there is no difficulty in it. And if dancing with girlfriends is difficult today, it was difficult in Krishna's time too. Playing a flute was as difficult then as it is now. There is no basic difference between old and new times; the differences are minor. So it is not because of changed times that I ask you not to imitate. Imitation itself is wrong, utterly wrong, and it is always wrong. Imitation is suicidal. If you want to kill yourself, then only is imitation okay.

Krishna never imitates anyone. Buddha does not follow others. Can you name a person whom Krishna or Buddha or Christ ever imitated? It is ironic that we imitate those who never imitated others. It is so absurd. So the first thing to know about men like Krishna is that they never follow and imitate others, howsoever great the others may be. Persons like Krishna, Buddha, and Christ, are the exquisite flowerings of individuality; they are not carbon copies of others.

But we all try to imitate others. And imitation is dangerous. Playing the flute or loving a Radha is not so dangerous. Even today one does not refrain from falling in love with somebody else's wife. It happens almost every day. The husband is afraid of his wife, the wife is afraid of her husband, and yet extra marital relations happen everywhere. And it is no thing new, it has always been so. As long as husbands and wives ate there, their fear of each other will be there. And to be without husbands and wives is equally frightening. Man as he is is in fear. and this fear permeates his whole life.

Let us first understand this fear, and then we will go into the matter of truth and reality. You are not afraid of imitating Krishna because of public opinion. Fear of imitation is more basic, and I would like to go into it before I take up your question on philosophy and truth. I did not go into Krishna's personal life on my own, but because you had asked questions about it. And as you have raised the question of the fear of imitating Krishna, I will deal with it first and then take up the rest of the question.

The basic fear of imitation is quite different. Imitation in itself is unnatural and ugly and wrong. In this whole world no two persons are alike, the same; they cannot be. Each person is different, unique and incomparable. There is no way to compare you with any other person in the whole world. You are like you; you are you. Never a person like you has happened in the long past of mankind, and never one like you is going to happen again in the future. God is a creator; he is creativity itself; he is always original, and whatever he creates is original. He never makes a carbon copy, he has no use for carbon papers in the whole process of creation. He never repeats; you can't accuse him of repetition. And therefore, if you deny your individuality and try to follow and be like somebody else, you are violating the fundamental law of life. Imitation is a crime against God. He made you an individual and you are trying to be somebody's copy. He gave you individuality, and you are trying to impose somebody else's personality on yourself, an alien personality. This is the basic fear and fundamental problem of our life.

Up to now all religions of the world have taught imitation. Parents and teachers all over the world exhort young men and women from their early childhood to be like others, they never ask them to be like themselves, to be themselves. They insist to you, "Be like Krishna, Christ or Buddha, but never commit the mistake of being like yourself." Why? How is it that all educational institutions in the world teach you to be imitators and they never ask you to be yourself?

There are good reasons for it. The most important reason is that if everyone becomes himself, he will be a free individual, a rebel - not a conformist, a camp follower. He will be a danger to the institutions of parents, teachers, priests, managers of society, and to society itself. Every society is afraid of non-conformists and rebels. It honors the conformists, the yes-sayers. That is why everybody, from the president down to the parents pressures children, with one voice, to be followers, imitators. Otherwise they can't be certain who will turn into what.

There is no danger if you become like Rama, because everything about Rama is known, what he does and what he does not do. He is predictable. And if you become another Rama you will be as predictable, and society will know what you are going to do. And if you deviate from the outlined path they will declare you an outlaw and punish you.

If everyone is allowed to be himself, then it will be difficult to say what is right and what is wrong, what is virtue and what is sin. Therefore the society wants you to fit into its well-defined patterns and clear-cut molds. It does not care if by this effort your individuality is destroyed, your life is ruined, and your soul is impoverished. Its sole concern is to turn men into machines so that the status quo is maintained at any cost.

It seems man lives for society, society does not exist for man. The individual has no importance; he is just a cog in the social machine. It seems education is not meant for man; on the contrary, man is meant for education, for being educated the way the society wants. It seems tenets and doctrines are not made to serve man; on the contrary, man is born in the service of tenets and doctrines. It seems religion is not for man; man is for religion. It is ironic that man is not an end unto himself, he is just a means. And things that are meant to be means have become ends unto themselves. This is the danger. This is the curse of imitation, that man has been reduced into a thing, a non-entity.

Imitation is destructive, it kills the individual. And this danger is inner, spiritual; it is not circumstantial.

It is a kind of slow poisoning. Whether you imitate Krishna or Buddha, it makes no difference; all imitation is suicidal.

There is no mold, no pattern, no type into which man can be fitted. Every person is a unique and different individual, and he is meant to be him self. This is his freedom, his birthright.

So when I am speaking to you about Krishna, let no one think even mistakenly that I want you to be like Krishna. I am against all following, all imitation, all comparisons. Every suffering that comes to man from external sources is secondary; the suffering that imitation and following brings in its wake is real and colossal. You cannot become like Krishna without being dead. And it is only dead people who are afraid - afraid of everything. You are afraid of being beaten by the public if you dance and sing like Krishna. This is the fear of the dead, the imitator. A man who is fully alive is himself; he does not imitate. The more one is alive the more he is himself. And an alive man, a real individual is not afraid of society; on the contrary, the society is afraid of him. And that is why the society condemns him.

It is amusing that every society slanders and condemns the free individual, who is the only alive person - but this is not the whole story. The free individual is condemned in the beginning and worshipped in the end. It has always been the case. If a fully alive man remains alive to the end, he is destined to be condemned first and worshipped and adored later. And a really free person is not afraid of condemnation, ostracism, even crucifixion.

Krishna is one of those rare beings in man's history who choose to be themselves. He is not concerned about what you say about him. Do you think he was accepted as Bhagwan or God in his own times? No, he was accused and condemned in every way. And even today you will not spare him unless you shut your eyes to many episodes of his life.

Do you know how Jesus was crucified? He was condemned as a disreputable and dangerous person. When he was hanged he was not alone: he was placed between two thieves who were going to suffer the same fate. This was a declaration that Jesus was no better than the criminals. It is interesting that not only the people of Jerusalem - who had gathered in thousands to witness his crucifixion - had ridiculed him. Even one of the thieves on the cross made a joke at Jesus' expense.

He is reported to have said, "Since you and I are going to die together, we are kith and kin. So please save a place for me too in your father's kingdom when I reach there." Even a thief mocks Jesus and his kingdom of God. Not only his persecutors, not only the public of Jerusalem - even a criminal who was going to be hanged for theft thought Jesus was a good-for-nothing vagabond.

He thought himself better because while he had done something to deserve punishment Jesus was going to be hanged for nothing.

The society in which Krishna or Christ, Mahavira or Buddha are born does not accept them as Bhagwans, incarnations and messiahs. At first it condemns them, calls them names, mocks them, persecutes them. But they are brave people and cannot be intimidated. They bear the insults and humiliations with a smile of compassion on their faces. So how long can you go on? You will feel embarrassed, conquered by their love, their forbearance and com passion. And you begin to honor and worship them. But they take your worship with the same detachment and equanimity with which they take your insults and curses, because really nothing affects them - neither fame nor infamy.

And then the society hails them as God-incarnates.

I attach importance to a discussion of Krishna's life not because I want you to emulate him, but because he is the most beautiful and rare example of a multidimensional person. And if his treasures are laid before you they will help you uncover your own hidden treasures. This much importance Krishna has for me, nothing more. And remember, Krishna's treasures are Krishna's, and your treasures will be your own. And no one can say your treasures will not be even richer than Krishna's.

I want to remind you again that what happened to Krishna can happen to each one of you, and this awareness is enough. This whole discussion is just meant for this remembrance that you all are heirs to godliness.

You want to know about Krishna's philosophy of life. This desire for a life philosophy stems from the same source; you want something ready-made, an ideology, a doctrine, a tenet which you can impose conveniently on yourself and be finished with it. I will take up his philosophy tomorrow, but for a different purpose. I want you just to understand your own life with its help. I don't want you to accept and follow Krishna's views and ideas. People like Krishna look at life with extraordinary eyes; their perception is rare. It penetrates the innermost depth of life, and it will be a great gift if for a while we can look at life through the eyes of Krishna. That will go a long way to change and deepen our own perception, our own perspective of life.

You are here in Manali, in the Himalayas, surrounded by beautiful hills and majestic mountains.

But you can see only that much beauty in these mountains as your eyes, your perception, your perspective are capable of. Nicholas Roerich, the renowned painter, happened to live here for a long time. If you go and see his paintings, they will give you quite a different perspective of the same mountains; you will see them with the eyes of Roerich. He came to these mountains from distant Russia at a time when there were no roads as there are today to connect the Himalayas with the rest of the world. And once he saw the Himalayas he made them his lifelong home; he never left again. These very mountains before you now had possessed Roerich, enchanted him.

You have been in the Himalayas for some time, and I don't think you look at these mountains any more. You might have seen them for a little while the first day you arrived and you were finished with them. They are now nothing more than mountains.

But Nicholas Roerich spent his lifetime watching and painting the same Himalayas. The eternal and inexhaustible beauty of these mountains continued to enchant him till his last day; he never felt sated. He dedicated his life to painting them, yet his thirst and passion and love for them remained undiminished. He looked at them from hundreds of angles - during the day and night; morning, noon and evening; summer and winter; spring, rains and autumn; sun and moon and stars - and in all their myriad colors and moods. He was busy painting them even at the time of his death. So these mountains will look very different if you see them through the eyes of Roerich. They will tell you a different story if you get acquainted with the works of this man.

I don't say that you should see these mountains the way Roerich saw them. No, I don't say that.

And it is impossible for you to see them as this great painter has. But for sure, after knowing him and his works your perspective will change and deepen, you will know these mountains better.

Many people have loved, but the love of Farhad and Majnu was extraordinary; it was as great as the Himalayas. And it is better to read their story, to be acquainted with their lives; it will be so rewarding.

Our love is utterly poor and fleeting; it begins and ends almost simultaneously. And once it is gone it becomes difficult to recall if it ever happened. No sooner the river of our ordinary love appears than it disappears and leaves us high and dry. But there are a few people who continue to love and love passionately till the last breath of their lives. Their love is immense and immeasurable. And it will do you good if you come to know these great lovers; it will help you to understand you own love and the problems of love. Maybe knowing them you become aware of the hidden sources of your own love.

It is there in every being, but we smother it and kill it.

I don't say that you should imitate Majnu and become like him. No, it is neither possible nor desirable, and an imitation Majnu can only be a caricature. You can have your cut in the pattern of Majnu's, you can dress like him and wander like a madman shouting, "Laila, Laila." But that has nothing to do with Majnu. You can act, but you cannot know his essential love. Acting is stupid.

But it is possible that the love of Majnu and Farhad will kindle the lamp of your own love, which is as good as extinguished. Maybe his love's power will catch fire inside you and you will become alive and aware of the source of your own love, which is as inexhaustible. It is in this sense I ask you to know them.

Many people compose poems and Lyrics, but the Lyrics of Kalidas, Shakespeare, or Rabindranath have something special, something unearthly about them. Listening to Kalidas or Rabindranath you come upon something you have never known before. Perhaps for the first time you glimpse your hidden possibilities.

From tomorrow morning I will speak about Krishna's philosophy, but I hope you will not make it into your belief and doctrine. I don't want you to become doctrinaire. Krishna is utterly undoctrinaire. So keep a distance from all theories, doctrines and dogmas. We are trying to understand Krishna for an altogether different purpose. When a glorious and resplendent person like him - who has attained to the fullest flowering of his being - looks at this universe of ours with the eyes of a seer and says something about it, his words have an extraordinary significance for us. His verdict about our world carries tremendous weight, and it is good to be acquainted with it.

It is useful to know what a man of such clarity and enlightenment has to say about man and his mind and the ways of his fulfillment. This knowledge, this information he brings us can touch some inner chord of our being and set us on a voyage of exploration. And there is only one worthwhile quest in life, and that is to know who I am or who you are. Then you will not turn into a Krishna-ite, but a traveler on the path to become yourself. And then you will also know that the man who asks Arjuna to die in pursuit of his self-nature is not going to impose any doctrines on you.

So I invite you to bring your questions on Krishna's philosophy from tomorrow onward, and I will go into them all. It is so convenient for me to speak in response to your questions. Then I don't need to strain my mind, it comes out naturally and flowing like a stream. Otherwise I find it hard to say a thing. My difficulty is that words and ideas are with me only as long as I am speaking to you. When I am not speaking my mind is utterly empty and silent, and resumption of speech becomes so difficult in such a state.

When you ask a question, it serves me as a peg to hang my ideas on. Ordinarily, speaking has become really difficult for me; I have to strain hard to say something. It is becoming increasingly difficult to speak on my own; it puts a great strain on me. Lately many friends have expressed a desire that I should speak independently, without the assistance of your questions. That will be really too much. It will not be long when I will cease to speak independently. Without your questions I don't know what I should say; words and ideas have left me. But when you bring a question there is no way for me but to respond to It, and so I become articulate. In the absence of your questions I have nothing to say on my own. On my own I am utterly silent. If I speak I speak for you. So bring your questions tomorrow and we will discuss them.

Now we will sit for meditation.