Seriousness in art

The ego can exist only if you take yourself and everything seriously. Nothing kills the ego like playfulness, like laughter. When you start taking life as fun, the ego has to die, it cannot exist anymore. Ego is illness; it needs an atmosphere of sadness to exist. Seriousness creates the sadness in you. Sadness is a necessary soil for the ego. Hence our art is so serious, for the simple reason that they are the most egoistic people in the art. They may be trying to be humble, but they are very proud of their humbleness. They take their humbleness very seriously.

interview

Sandarbh with a decade long history in site specific, experimental and community based collaborative art practices has come up with its first nature Sandarbh from 20^th to 30^th October in Silvassa. Nature Sandarbh is a unique initiative in the history of Sandarbh as it evocates and revitalize the missing link between the artist and nature. Nature being the inspiration to various art and artist is evident throughout history. It may be the dance, music, engraving of the tribal societies or the landscape paintings, nature take various forms to satisfy the artistic inspiration and creation.

The organizers of Sandarbh this time came up with a specific themeThe Nature and the Artist. The extension of art into nature is conceived as a vibrant dialogue leading to our understanding about nature and our society. How we understand, assimilate, alter and co-exist with nature. Talking to one of the artist and organizing member of Sandarbh Somu Desai, the conception of nature art workshop and idea of bringing Sandarbh to Silvassa is made clear.

Sandarbh in Silvaasa: I want to create platforms for small town art students

Interview with Somu Desai

Ritesh Panda: Somu, you have been active as an artist and activist in Silvassa for a long time. Could you please tell us how you happened to be in Silvassa and decided to make it as your turf?

Somu Desai: Silvassa is a Union Territory and geographically it is a part of the South Gujarat region. Silvassa is famous for its forests. Many people come to this place as a part of their vacationing in Daman, which lies a few kilometers across Silvassa. In this region there are a lot of traditional art forms like Warli painters and Tharpa dancers.

During my college days I used to come to this forest area to do my trekking and sketching. Slowly I developed friendship with the officers here. Many of them come on deputation posts from Delhi and they have been generally interested in art. I live in Killa Pardi, a few kilometers from here. Once I became friendly with these officers, I started coming to this area quite regularly.

A few years back, in one of meetings with these officers, I suggested how Silvaasa could become a major attraction in India’s art and culture map. We have a lot of forests and natural beauty. We have three forests resorts here. Why don’t we get artists from cities here? Initially it was difficult to convince the officers. So I went on to do some art workshops in and around these areas with the students from B.A Mehta Kala Mahavidyalaya, Amalsad and Fine Arts College, Amalsad. Slowly Silvassa became an attraction for many young artists and art students.

Ritesh Panda: Could you please talk about your educational background and other activities?

Somu Desai: I studied in B.A Kala Mahavidyalaya, Amalsad. As in most of the small town fine art colleges, here too the students were trained to become designers and workers in the flourishing textile industry in South Gujarat. Students were not exposed to contemporary art or gallery systems or anything. As I used to visitBombay quite regularly, during my college days, I could see a lot of art. After graduating, I went to Bombay to become an artist. But you know, with a degree from a small town college and no patrons around, it was difficult to survive. So I started working as a designer. I could have gone into my family business. But somehow I wanted to live an artist’s life. So after almost a decade, I decided to go to Baroda and live there.

Ritesh Panda: Apart from working as a designer, what were your activities during those ten years of obscurity?

Somu Desai: I never left my friends in Pardi and Silvassa. I made trips between Silvassa and Bombay and in the meanwhile the officers were alerted to do some public art projects. I got the commission to do a few sculptures in and around Silvassa. It gave me a lot of confidence. But I did not have the right situations to stay back inSouth Gujarat and work. There were no friends with whom I could talk on art. It was frustrating. I am talking about the late 1990s.

Ritesh Panda: How did you find a way out?

Somu Desai: I went back to my college, tried to get students to work with me. My friend Akshay Naik, who is a professor in my college, has always been very supportive. He encouraged the students to work with me. But the students were not ready to take a plunge. They couldn’t think on their own. They were all thinking about a career in the textile mills. None was thinking about going to JJ School orBaroda or Delhi to pursue higher studies.

Ritesh Panda: And you decided to do it all alone?

Somu Desai: My decision to go to Baroda was a sort of symbolic move. I was already in my mid thirties and I did not want to join the college to do pursue a post graduation. But I knew that Baroda was the place where a lot of artists live and work. It is the place where you could find a lot of fresh and vibrant minds. So I shifted to Barodaand set up my studio there. Soon my studio became a meeting place for several artists and young students. Actually, I was learning a lot through my association with these friends.

But then again and again you had to face this issue: you are coming from a small town college so you are not so great. After ten to twelve years of experience in working as a designer and artist, here you are again thrown back to the position of a student. But I worked along with the youngsters and seniors alike. Many of them were skeptical about my moves but soon I could convince them that I was there for learning and improving and eventually proving my mettle to myself.

Ritesh Panda: Now you are with all the artists. Many people look up to you for support and guidance. How did it all happen?

Somu Desai: In 2007 I was in Baroda. Then I came to know about Sandarbh happening in Partapur. A few friends were going and I joined them as I was interested in nature oriented public art. I had already traveled in Bastar and worked with certain NGOs working with the local artists and artisans. In Partapur, I thought, I could extend my activities in a new location.

I should say, 2007 was a life changing year for me. In Partapur, I met JohnyML, art critic and curator. I had already read of articles written by him and I was already a fan of his writings even without knowing him in person. Initially, it was difficult to warm up towards each other but soon we shared a few cigarettes and became friends. Meeting JohnyML was really a turning point in my life. I was a volunteer in Sandarbh and he was a visitor. But by the end of Sandarbh, we had already decided to couple of interesting workshops in Silvassa. Meeting Chintan Upadhyay in Partapur was the beginning of another great friendship.

Ritesh Panda: Then why did you leave Baroda?

Somu Desai: My decision of leaving Baroda came as a shock as certain chain of ill happening took place in my family. Despite my interest to stay back in Baroda has to be reviewed and I had to take a firm stand in order to support my family and relations in Pardi. Leaving Baroda wasn’t a very tough decision to take because my family needed me and I have to choose my priorities.

Ritesh Panda: Pardi and Silvassa became your base and did it change the attitude of the local fine arts students?

Somu Desai: Akshay Naik and I myself invited JohnyML to give a talk in BA Kala Mahavidyalaya. He came and spoke to the students. He could not speak in fluent Hindi. However, in his broken Hindi he could convey what he really wanted from them. The students liked his presentation. He asked them to come out of their cocoons and fly to the big world. And interestingly many did. Today so many students from this region apply for higher studies in Baroda.

This visit was in a way historical, at least for me and my friends in this region. JohnyML proposed an idea of traveling across India and visiting the small town fine arts colleges. Soon we turned that idea into a reality. JohnyML spoke to the artists and well wishers and they supported us with funds. We traveled along the north India region and visited eighteen fine arts colleges and made a report. This report could be seen in www.artroutes.in. Photographer Feroze Babu fromKochi gave us pictorial and technical support. It was a great trip. And interestingly, the trip was concluded with a visit in the B.A Kala Mahavidyalaya, where the students gave us a great welcome.

Ritesh Panda: What are the other projects you did during that period?

Somu Desai: I did ‘Vibrant Gujarat’, the mural project in Baroda. It was conceptualized by JohnyML. The ‘Still in Baroda Thrill in Baroda’ sticker project was another exciting project that I did. I participated in Video Wednesdays @ Gallery Espace, New Delhi. Then I helped in bringing a lot of art camps to in and around Silvassa, Daman and Pardi. Today a few artists have planned to set up their studios in this region. I am also one of the directors of the artists residency program ‘the Zero Kilometer’ with JohnyML (www.zerokilometer.com)

Ritesh Panda: You are now the Director of Silvassa Art Gallery. Is it a government post?

Somu Desai: The building where now Silvassa Art Gallery works from was a court. I proposed the administration to develop it as a gallery. They renovated it and changed it into a gallery. I organized a few shows here and this gives an opportunity to the students and graduates from this region to exhibit their works. Also I presented Chintan Upadhayay rare and academic works here. I invited JohnyML to curated a video show, which he did early this year. Now I am the officiating director of the gallery. I don’t want to take any permanent posting as I want to be a full time artist and activist.

Ritesh Panda: How did Sandarbh come here?

Somu Desai: Chintan Upadhyay has been asking me to organize it in Silvassa for long time. I wanted to give it a new twist. I did not want it to happen just like another site specific workshop. I wanted it to be a nature workshop where artists could work in any medium, not just the site specific work. Even they can create sounds. They can act, perform and photograph. So I was preparing for that all these days. And today it is becoming a reality. I asked a few friends including critic JohnyML to suggest the names of the artists and they are all coming to work here. There will be established artists visiting during the workshop and doing performances and presentations.

And personally speaking, by doing Sandarbh here, I create an opportunity for the young art students here to come and volunteer themselves in the project and learn from the participating and visiting artists.

Workshop in action

Sandarbh workshop and residency started with the welcome meeting, with various participant from different part of India. Giving a brief introduction on the history of sandarbh Somu Desai announces the opening of the workshop.



Slide presentation on the national and international workshop and residency done by Sandarbh and BLVS.







Group of artists and volunteers hiking in and around the Luhari forest




Workshop opening music and party

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If you are identified you feed the mind; if you are not identified you stop feeding it. It drops dead on its own accord.

One day Buddha is passing by a forest. It is a hot summer day and he is feeling very thirsty. He says to Ananda, his chief disciple, “Ananda, you go back. Just three, four miles back we passed a small stream of water. You bring a little water — take my begging bowl. I am feeling very thirsty and tired.” He had become old.

Ananda goes back, but by the time he reaches the stream, a few bullock carts have just passed through the stream and they have made the whole stream muddy. Dead leaves which had settled into the bed have risen up; it is no longer possible to drink this water — it is too dirty. He comes back empty-handed, and he says, “You will have to wait a little. I will go ahead. I have heard that just two, three miles ahead there is a big river. I will bring water from there.”
But Buddha insists. He says, “You go back and bring water from the same stream.”

Ananda could not understand the insistence, but if the master says so, the disciple has to follow. Seeing the absurdity of it — that again he will have to walk three, four miles, and he knows that water is not worth drinking — he goes.

When he is going, Buddha says, “And don’t come back if the water is still dirty. If it is dirty, you simply sit on the bank silently. Don’t do anything, don’t get into the stream. Sit on the bank silently and watch. Sooner or later the water will be clear again, and then you fill the bowl and come back.”

Ananda goes there. Buddha is right: the water is almost clear, the leaves have moved, the dust has settled. But it is not absolutely clear yet, so he sits on the bank just watching the river flow by. Slowly slowly, it becomes crystal-clear. Then he comes dancing. Then he understands why Buddha was so insistent. There was a certain message in it for him, and he understood the message. He gave the water to Buddha, and he thanked Buddha, touched his feet.

Buddha says, “What are you doing? I should thank you that you have brought water for me.”
Ananda says, “Now I can understand. First I was angry; I didn’t show it, but I was angry because it was absurd to go back. But now I understand the message. This is what I actually needed in this moment. The same is the case with my mind — sitting on the bank of that small stream, I became aware that the same is the case with my mind. If I jump into the stream I will make it dirty again. If I jump into the mind more noise is created, more problems start coming up, surfacing. Sitting by the side I learned the technique.

“Now I will be sitting by the side of my mind too, watching it with all its dirtiness and problems and old leaves and hurts and wounds, memories, desires. Unconcerned I will sit on the bank and wait for the moment when everything is clear.

Jesus and Nicodemus

One professor of Jerusalem University went to see Jesus. Of course, he went in the night. His name was Nicodemus; he was a very rich, respectable man, a great scholar, well known in the Jewish world. He was afraid to go to Jesus in the daylight, because what will people think? He was known to be a great, learned man, wise — what will they think? that he has gone to this carpenter’s son to ask something?

He was older than Jesus — could almost have been Jesus’ father. No, it was not possible for him to go in the daylight. Cunning and clever, he went in the night when there was nobody else. And Jesus asked him, “Why didn’t you come in the day?” He said, “I was afraid.” Jesus must have laughed. He said, “Nicodemus, for what have you come? What do you want of me?”

He said, “I would like to know how I can know God, how I can know the truth.” Jesus said, “You will have to be reborn.” Nicodemus could not understand. Jokingly he said, “What do you mean? Have I to enter again into a woman’s womb? Are you joking or something? Are you kidding or something?” Jesus said, “No, I mean it — I mean what I say. You have to be reborn. You are such a coward. This is not life. You don’t have any courage. You will have to be reborn! You will have to become a new man, because only that new man can come to truth and realize it.

Even to see me you have come in the night. How will you be able to go and see the truth? How will you encounter God? You will have to go naked. You will have to go in deep humility. You will have to drop all your respectability, all your scholarship. You will have to drop your ego — that’s what to be reborn means.”

The first birth is only a physical birth; don’t be satisfied with it. It is necessary but not enough. A second birth is needed. The first birth was through your mother and father; the second birth is going to be out of the mind. You have to slip out of the mind and that will be your rebirth — you will be reborn.

Gurdjieff used to tell a story

A very, rich man went on a pilgrimage. He had many servants and a very, big palace where he lived alone with all these servants. He called all the servants and told them, “One by one, by rotation, you have to be on guard. I don’t know how much time I am going to take, it may be many years; the journey is long, the pilgrimage is hazardous. I may come back, I may not come back, but the palace, the garden, and everything has to be present as it is.”

They said, “Of course. Whatsoever you say we will do.”

The man went away. Months passed, years passed. By and by the servants started completely forgetting that they were servants because the master had been gone so long. Man’s memory is not that long, and there are things which one does not really want to remember. One’s being a slave and somebody being the master who wants to remember that?

Each servant had to guard the palace in rotation, and when each servant was guarding, he would pretend that he was the master. Anybody coming to the palace or passing by would ask, “Whose palace is this?” The servant would answer, “It is my palace, my garden. Don’t you like it?”
This was happening with all the guards.

Years passed; the guards completely forgot about the master and that he was going to return. “By now he must be dead, something must have happened. And it is good that we got rid of that fellow — now we are the masters.” They declared to the whole town, “We are the masters” — and the town had also forgotten the master. It was long before — only old people remembered that somebody had been there, but it was only very vaguely. When he went, where he went, and what happened to him, nobody was aware.

But one day, the master appeared; he knocked on the door. The slaves looked at him and suddenly fell at his feet: “Master, you are back!”

He said, “I told you I would come back, even though it may take a long time.”

They said, “Forgive us, because the city people will say we have committed a crime against you. We had forgotten you completely, and we enjoyed being the master so much that we declared that we were the masters — and the city believes that we are the masters.”

Gurdjieff used to tell this story, saying that the same is the case with the watcher. The watcher is absent; the mind — which is just a slave — is pretending to be the master. And it is not a question of a few years — for millions of years the master has been absent. Perhaps the master has never been home; there is no question that he had gone, because once he arrives he never goes. So your thoughts, and the combination of thoughts which you call your mind, certainly, confidently believe that they are the master.

Just tn, to watch your thoughts. Remember one thing: Thought itself cannot watch another thought — that is impossible. A thought cannot become a watcher of another thought; so when in your mind the thought arises, “I am watching,” you have missed, because it is a thought. When the watcher is there you will not even have the idea of “Aha! Got it!” Lost it! You were just on the verge of getting it and Werner Erhard entered, and EST finished everything: “Got it!” Even that much, just two words, is enough; the mind is back.

It is always the mind that gets it, or does not get it; the watcher simply watches. No idea is formed, just absolute silence prevails. And in that moment is the seeing, knowing, experiencing — without any thought. Can’t you experience anything without any thought? You will have to learn, because mind has been trained for centuries just to think every experience in words.

Story of a Fakir and Pundit

There is a Sufi story. To earn his living a Sufi fakir used to work as a ferryman on a river. One day a village pundit wanted to go across the river. The fakir offered to take him across free of charge. He used to charge one or two paisa for the journey. The pundit sat down in the boat and the fakir started rowing. They were the only people in the boat.

The pundit asked him, ”Can you read and write?” What else can a pundit ask? He wants to teach others whatever he knows himself. We can give to others only what we have. Pundits are obsessed with their so-called knowledge. He could not see the radiance of the fakir, he took him to be an ordinary boatman.

But the fakir was an extraordinary man. The pundit did not know that the godliness about which he had been contemplating, hearing and discussing was present in this extraordinary man. It was peeping through him. If he had eyes to see he could have found in the fakir all that he had dreamed about and read about in the scriptures. Something was present there.

But all that the pundit could ask was, ”Do you know reading and writing?”

Well, if a pundit even meets God he is sure to ask, ”Where is your certificate? What is your

education?” A pundit has his own world, he lives in his own world of words and scriptures.

The fakir replied, ”No, I do not know reading and writing. I am absolutely illiterate and rustic.”

The fakir said, ”I don’t know anything. I am absolutely illiterate.”

On hearing this the pundit remarked, ”Then one-fourth of your life is wasted.”

The boat sailed a little farther. The pundit asked again, ”But you must know arithmetic at least? It is necessary for maintaining accounts.”

The fakir said, ”I do not possess anything so there is no need to maintain any accounts. Whatever I earn during the day, I spend by the evening. I do not earn more than the need of my daily bread. By the night I am a fakir again. Then in the morning I start earning again.

Existence has been providing for me enough until now so why should I worry about tomorrow? If somebody gives me money, it is all right. If somebody does not give me anything, even then it is all right. I have lived up to now and will be able to live in the future also. Neither the giver gives anything which lasts forever nor the one who does not give takes away something which may be a loss forever – it is all just a play”

On hearing this the pundit said, ”Well, half of your life is wasted.” Just at that time a storm started, the boat began to toss over the waves and it seemed that it may sink any moment. The fakir laughed because the pundit got very frightened. Who will not when death is imminent? The pundit used to talk of deathlessness, used to say that the soul is immortal, but these scholarly claims of the soul, of deathlessness, are of no use when faced by death.

The fakir asked him, ”Do you know how to swim?”

The pundit answered, ”No, not at all.”

The fakir said, ”Then the whole of your life is wasted! I am going to jump because this boat will sink.”

George Gurdjieff used to tell a story

there was a magician who had many sheep. And it was a trouble to get them home from the forest every night — wild animals were there, and he was losing many of his sheep. Finally the idea came to him, “Why do I not use my expertise, my magic?”

He hypnotized all his sheep and told them different things. To one sheep he said, “You are a lion. You need not be afraid; you are the king amongst the animals.” To another he said, “You are a tiger,” to another, “You are a man.” And he told to everybody, to all the sheep: “You are not going to be butchered because you are not sheep, so you need not be afraid to come back home. You should come early, before nightfall.”

And from that day no sheep went missing. In fact, from that day no sheep was behaving like a sheep: somebody was roaring like a lion, somebody was behaving like a man, and nobody was afraid of being butchered, killed — the very question was irrelevant. And the magician was butchering them every day for his food. They may have been roaring like lions — that did not matter; they were sheep after all.

But he managed very beautifully. Giving one sheep the notion of being a lion, there was no need now to be bothered that he would try to escape, seeing that other sheep are being killed. Still sheep were being killed, but this sheep will know, “I am a lion, I am not a sheep. Sheep are bound to be killed!”

When he is killed, others will be thinking, “He was just a sheep, we are men. And he was not only a sheep, but a foolish sheep who used to think that he is a lion, and never listened to us. We argued many times, `You are a sheep. We are men, we know better. You stop roaring, that is not going to help.’” But the magician was in absolute control.

The story Gurdjieff was telling was about your religious leaders. They have managed to tell you things which you are not. They have managed to convince you that you know things which you know not. And this is the greatest crime that can be committed. But you cannot call them criminals, because they are not doing it to harm you. They are trying to serve you, they are trying to help you.

Sufi Stories of Sufi Mystics

A man renounces the world, his wife, his home. He is young and he is going in search of a master. Just outside his village under a tree, an old man is sitting. The sun is just setting, and darkness is descending. The young man asks the old man, “You look as if you are a traveler; you certainly don’t belong to my village.

I am a young man and I am in search of a master. You are old; perhaps you have come across a master in your journeys, and will be kind enough to help me with some directives, some guidelines — because I am feeling at a loss, where to go.” The old man said, “I will give you exact details. The master looks like this” — and he described the face of the master, the eyes of the master, the nose of the master, the beard of the master, his robe. ”

And he sits under a certain tree” — and he described the tree. And he said, “You will find him; just remember these details. Whenever you find a man who fulfills these criteria, you have found your master.” Thirty years passed. The young man became old, tired. He never came across anybody fitting the description given by the old man. Finally he gave up the whole idea of finding a master: “Perhaps there is no master anywhere.”

He went back to his village. And as he was entering the village, under the same tree… It was sunrise, there was more light. The old man had become very old. The last time they had met he must have been sixty; now he was ninety.

And because for thirty years the man had been looking for certain eyes, a certain nose, a certain beard, a certain robe, a certain tree…. As he saw the tree and he saw the old man he said, “My God, so you were describing yourself! Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you force me to travel unnecessarily around the world for thirty years searching for you, while you were sitting here?”

The old man said, “First throw out all your tantrums and your anger; then I will tell you the truth. Thirty years ago you were too young. The time was not right; it was sunset, darkness was descending. And you were in such a hurry to go in search, that if I had told you that I was the master you would have laughed and said, `This is strange that you are sitting just outside my village!’ And you cannot blame me because I explained every detail, but your eyes were looking far away.

You were listening to me, but you were not looking to see that I was describing my eyes, my nose, my beard, my robe, that I was describing the tree under which I was sitting. You were not ripe. “These thirty years have not gone to waste; they have matured you. Now you can recognize me. Just look; it is sunrise, the right time. And it is not the beginning of your journey, you had already given up. I am meeting you at the end of thirty years of long, arduous effort.

That which you can get cheap you cannot recognize. You had to pay these thirty years and all the troubles that you went through just to be mature enough to recognize me. “I could have told you on that day too — but it would have been pointless, and you would have missed me. “And you think you have been in trouble for thirty years?

Just think about me — for thirty years I have been sitting under the same tree, because I described this tree. I have not left it for a single day because I was aware that any moment you might come, and if you didn’t find me here I would have been proved to have spoken lies. I have been sitting here for thirty years continuously — day in, day out; summer, winter, rain, but I have been sitting here.

And you see I am old. I was worried that if I died before you came back, it would be a tragedy. So I have been trying to somehow cling to life — because as far as I am concerned there is nothing left; I have realized myself. Life has given everything that it can give. I have been sitting just for you.” The story is strange, but significant. It takes time to realize that which you are.

Ramakrishna used to tell a beautiful story.

A bird was flying with a dead mouse and twenty or thirty birds were chasing him. The bird was very much worried. ‘I am not doing anything to them; I am just carrying my dead mouse. They are all after me.’ And they hit him hard and in the conflict, in the struggle, the bird opened his mouth and the mouse dropped.

Immediately they all flew towards the mouse; they all forgot about him. Then he sat upon a tree and brooded. They were not against him, they were also on the same trip — they wanted the mouse. If people are hurting you, open your mouth. You must be carrying a dead mouse! Drop it! And then sit — if you can, sit on the tree or under the tree and brood. And suddenly you will see that they have forgotten about you. They are not concerned. They never were concerned. The ego is a dead mouse.

A scripture is a scripture only if it gives you freedom

I have heard a story. A wasp made its abode near a window outside a big building. In winter this wasp would sleep and rest, in summer it would fly, dance and collect the pollen of the flowers. It was very happy. But this wasp was a special one – it was a thinker. It used to think a lot and used to look down upon other wasps because there was no thinking in their lives. Their lives were full of desire.

They never did any thinking, they never contemplated, they never knew the scriptures. Sometimes it used to fly into that building also. It loved that building. The people visiting the building seemed to it of its own type because they were thinkers. Actually, this building was a big library. Professors, teachers, writers, philosophers, poets used to come there. Usually people used to drive out the wasp but it always would come back.

Gradually it started reading and writing. It started in the children’s department and soon it was studying big books of philosophy. It began to read big volumes of science and poetry. It became very proud and just could not tolerate the other wasps – they seemed very insignificant. It became very egoistic. It was thinking day and night. It forgot all about dancing in the sun, flying in the air and visiting the trees. Now mostly it used to sit down engrossed in deep thoughts like, ”Who made this world? Why was it made? From where has this existence come and where is it going?” It used to think about these serious questions all the time.

One day it was reading a book on the science of aviation. It was written in that book of aerodynamics that the body of a wasp is heavier than its wings, so theoretically a wasp cannot fly because its wings are small and weak and the body is big and heavy. On reading this it became confused and puzzled.

Up to now it did not know that its body was big and its wings were small. It was the first time it had learnt this and, of course, whatever is written in the scriptures cannot be denied. It is not possible to go against what is said by the scientists. It became very sad. That day it did not fly back to its hive, it arrived there by crawling. How was it possible for it to fly – to do something which was quite against science? It became very sad and stopped moving about altogether.

It still saw the other wasps flying around, going to the flowers, but it thought that they were doing so out of ignorance – how can a wasp fly? Its wings are small and its body is big. It was full of pity for those who were flying because they did not know the facts of science. If they knew they would have stopped flying.

But one day a bird attacked the wasp, intending to eat it for breakfast. In its nervousness and confusion the wasp forgot all about the scriptures and flew away. It sat on a bush, rested a little and became calm and realized that it had flown! ”I was thinking that a wasp cannot fly but I have flown, so there must have been a block in my mind stopping my natural capacity for flying which melted in the moment of danger.”

It had read about mental blocks in the mind in a book on psychology. So it started flying again from that day. It gave up the knowledge of scriptures from that day, and from that moment it again became the wasp – the natural wasp! From that day it became free of knowledge and stopped looking down on other wasps. That day it experienced its true nature.

Religion is freedom from knowledge, and in that freedom is the ultimate knowledge. The scriptures are not meant to make you lame but to give you the capacity to fly. If the scriptures have made you lame, then it is sure that you have misunderstood them or you have interpreted them wrongly. If the scriptures have made you sad, then you must have missed something in them or must not have understood them properly. The scriptures which have snatched away your natural capacity to fly or flow are not your friends – you have turned them into your enemies.

A scripture is a scripture only if it gives you freedom. A scripture is a scripture if it makes you natural. A scripture is a scripture if it does not fill you with condemnation for others and is able to make you realize that the divine is hidden also within them.

BAAL SHEM

In the life of one of the great mystics, Baal Shem, there is an incident. He used to go towards the river in the middle of the night just to be in absolute silence, alone, to enjoy the peace and the beauty of the night. Just on the bank of the river was a rich man’s mansion, and a watchman was there who was puzzled about this man, Baal Shem. Every night, exactly as the tower bell was tolling twelve, Baal Shem would appear out of the darkness.

The poor watchman could not contain the temptation to inquire, “Why do you come here every night and sit next to the river in the darkness? What is the purpose of it?”

Rather than answering him, Baal Shem asked, “What is your work?”
He said, “I am a watchman.”

Baal Shem said, “Exactly — that is my work. I am a watchman.”
The watchman said, “That is strange. If you are a watchman, then what are you doing here? You should be watching the house where you are the watchman.”

Baal Shem said, “There is something to be explained to you: You watch somebody else’s house; I watch my own house. This is my house. Wherever I go, I go with my house — but I am continuously the watchman.”

I love the story. Be continuously a watchman of all dark moments. They will pass away. In fact, that is the definition: anything you watch, if it disappears by watching that means it was something wrong. If by watching it becomes more clear, closer, that means it was something to be absorbed.

There is no other definition of good and bad. It is watching that decides — the only criterion. What is sin and what is virtue? That which disappears is sin, and that which comes closer, becomes clearer, wants to become part of you, is virtue. Watching is certainly the golden key of spiritual life.

Mulla Nasruddin

Mulla Nasruddin is chosen an honorary magistrate. The first case appears. He hears one side and declares to the court, “Within five minutes I will be back with the judgment.”

The court clerk could not believe it — he has not heard the other side! The clerk whispered in his ear, “What are you doing? Don’t you see a simple thing? You have heard only one party, one side. The other side is waiting, and without hearing them you cannot give any judgment.”

Mulla Nasruddin said, “Don’t try to confuse me. Just now I am absolutely clear. If I hear the other side too, then there is bound to be confusion.”

These Sufi stories are not just ordinary stories, they are extraordinary. It is saying that every judge is listening only to one side because he already has a prejudiced mind; he is not capable of listening to both sides. For that a totally different kind of man is needed — which no educationalist concerning law and jurisprudence has even thought about.

Mulla Nasruddin

Mulla Nasruddin is appointed as the prime minister of a king because he was known to be very wise; somewhat weird was his wisdom, but still, wisdom is wisdom. The first day when they went to have their dinner together, a certain vegetable called bindhi was made by the cook, stuffed with Eastern spices. It is a delicacy.

The king appreciated the cook, and after that Mulla said, in appreciation of the bindhi, “This is the most precious vegetable in the world. It gives you long life, it keeps you healthy, it gives you resistance against diseases,” and so on and so forth.

The king said, “I never knew that you know so much about vegetables.”
The cook heard about it, so he thought if bindhi (lady finger) is such a thing that our king can live long and healthy and young… Next day again bindhi was made, and again Mulla praised it, going even higher than the first day. The third day bindhi was made and Mulla went still higher. The fourth day bindhi was made and Mulla was going higher and higher. The fifth day Mulla even said that bindhi is a divine food — God eats only bindhi.

But the king was bored. He threw the plate of bindhi and told Mulla Nasruddin, “You are an idiot. Bindhi… and God eats bindhi every day? You will drive me mad!”

Mulla said, “Lord, you are getting unnecessarily hot. I am your servant; you said bindhi was good, I simply followed you, and when I do something I do it perfectly. I am not a servant to bindhi, I am your servant. The truth is that bindhi is the worst thing in the world — even devils don’t eat it. You did well that you threw it.”

He threw his plate farther away than the king. He said, “You should always remember that I am your servant, and you are always right. And I am a consistent man; I will remain consistently your servant, whatever happens.”

God is the creativity

So if you really want to enter into the world of God you will have to learn the ways of creativity — and that has disappeared. Instead of creativity we value productivity: we talk about how to produce more. Production can give you things but cannot give you values. Production can make you rich outwardly but it will impoverish you inwardly. Production is not creation. Production is very mediocre; any stupid person can do it, one simply needs to learn the knack of it.

Zen story of a student interested in Martial arts

There is a very famous Zen story of a person who wanted to learn martial art. He went to a Zen master and said to the master "I wanted to learn martial arts sincerely, How long will it take me to master the martial arts."

The master's reply was casual, "Ten years."

Impatiently, the person answered, "But I want to learn it quicker than that. I will work extra hard, and will be very sincere and regular. How long will it take to master arts then?"

The teacher thought for a moment, "20 years."

Moral of the story - Mind is always impatient. Real effort goes in understanding the mind and putting it aside so that our inner nature can shine in our actions. More impatient we are, more time it takes to understand our mistakes and learn any art form.

THE FAKE MONK

There is a famous Zen story. I would like to tell it to you. A monk called himself the ’Master of Silence’. He was actually a fraud and had no genuine understanding. To sell his humbug Zen, he had two eloquent attendant monks to answer questions for him; but he himself never uttered a word, as if to show his inscrutable ’silent Zen’.

One day, during the absence of his two attendants, a pilgrim monk came to him and asked:”Master, what is the Buddha?” Not knowing what to do or to answer, in his confusion he could only look desperately round in all directions – east and west, here and there – for his missing mouthpieces.

The pilgrim monk, apparently satisfied, then asked him:”What is the dharma, sir?” He could not answer this question either, so he first looked up at the ceiling and then down at the floor, calling for help from heaven and hell. Again the monk asked:”What is Zen?” Now the Master of Silence could do nothing but close his eyes. Finally the monk asked:”What is blessing?” In desperation. The Master of Silence helplessly spread his hands to the questioner as a sign of surrender.

But the pilgrim was very pleased and satisfied with this interview. He left the ’Master’ and set out again on his journey. On the road the pilgrim met the attendant monks on the way home, and began telling them enthusiastically what an enlightened being this Master of silence was.

He said:”I asked him what Buddha is. He immediately turned his face to the east and then to the west, implying that human beings are always looking for Buddha here and there, but actually Buddha is not to be found either in the east or in the west. I then asked him what the dharma is. In answer to this question he looked up and down, meaning that the truth of dharma is a totality of equableness, there being no discrimination between high and low, while both purity and impurity can be found therein.

In answering my question as to what Zen was, he simply closed his eyes and said nothing. That was a clue to the famous saying: ’If one can close his eyes and sleep soundly in the deep recesses of the cloudy mountains he is a great monk indeed.’

Finally, in answering my last question, ’What is the blessing?’ he stretched out his arms and showed both his hands to me. This implied that he was stretching out his helping hands to guide sentient beings with his blessings. Oh, what an enlightened Zen Master! How profound is his teaching!”

When the attendant monks returned, the ’Master of Silence’ scolded them thus:”Where have you been all this time? A while ago I was embarrassed to death, and almost ruined, by an inquisitive pilgrim"

KNOWLEGE IS TROBLE

I have heard about a great warrior in Japan, a samurai, a very famous swordsman: One night when he came tired after the whole day’s fight in the fields and he was just going to fall into bed, he saw a rat. And the rat was looking at him ferociously! The samurai tried to kill the rat with his sword. He was one of the best swordsmen known, but somehow he missed. He hit many times, he broke his sword, and he could not kill the rat. He became really afraid: ”The rat seems to be very mysterious. This is no ordinary rat!”
He started, perspiring – he had never perspired. He had been a fighter his whole life and now a rat had defeated him. He ran out, asked his wife what to do. The wife said, ”You are a fool! You need not kill a rat. Have you ever heard of anybody killing a rat by a sword? You just take our cat inside.” And the cat was brought inside. It was no ordinary cat; it was the great warrior’s cat. She was also trained in many things; she was one of the most famous rat-catchers. She came with all her art, with all her skill.
She tried, but the rat was really extraordinary. He jumped exactly into her eyes! And the cat escaped out. She had never seen such a rat – attacking the cat?! And she was also trembling like the warrior. The warrior said, ”This is too much!” Then the king’s cat was called. She was a master cat, very well-known all over the country; of
course, she was the king’s cat. The king’s cat came and she was also defeated by the rat. She went in, tried hard, used all her skill, but the rat was just too much.
Then the king’s cat suggested a cat she knew who was not famous at all. ”You have tried with famous cats, now you try with an ordinary one... just ordinary, plain ordinary.”
The warrior said,”But what can a plain, ordinary cat do?”
The king’s cat said,”You just try. I know this cat. She is so ordinary; she does not know a thing. The whole day she sleeps. But there is one thing about her: cats know, the whole country’s cats know that she is very mysterious. The mysterious thing is that she knows nothing about rats, rat-catching, the art, the technique, the methodology, the philosophy – she knows nothing; she has never been to any school or college or university. She is a plain, ordinary cat, but rats are so afraid of her!
Wherever she sleeps... no rat ever enters that house! Just her presence is enough. And she goes on sleeping, and nobody knows when she kills and how she kills.
”Once I went to that cat and I asked, ’What is your art?’ She simply looked at me, and she had no words to say, and she closed her eyes and went to sleep. And I woke her again and asked, ’What is your art?’
”She said, ’I don’t know. I am a cat, that’s enough. A cat is a cat and IS MEANT to catch a rat. What art? What nonsense are you talking about?”’
The cat was brought, and the samurai was not very hopeful because she was really very ordinary, just like any vagabond cat.
She came in, and without any skill she simply went in, caught hold of the rat and brought it out. All the cats gathered together and asked her, ”What is your art?” And she said, ”I don’t know any art. I am a cat! Is not that enough?”
That’s what I mean by being natural. Art is your natural blooming; art is not something like about theory, knowledge, and for justification. No, not at all. You need not go to any school to learn it. Because you may have been spoiled. Rats have been around you too much, and you have become afraid of the rats – not only afraid, you have started learning how to catch these rats. You have become very skillful, artificial; you know the know-how and that is your trouble. Your knowledge is your trouble.