We are only at the second day of my primary school. It is going to be like that. Every day opens up so many things. I have not finished even the second day yet. Today I will do my best to finish it.
Life is interlinked, you cannot cut it into neat pieces. It is not a piece of cloth. You cannot cut it at all, because the moment you cut it from all its connections it is no longer the same. It becomes something dead, not breathing. I want it to take its own course, not even to direct it, because I have not directed it in the first place. It took its own course – unguided.
In fact, I hated guides and still do because they prevent you from flowing with that which is. They direct, their business is to hurry you up to the next point. Their work is to make you feel as if you have come to know. Neither they know, nor you.
Knowing only comes through living unguided, undirected. That is the way I have lived and am still living.
It’s a strange fate. Even from my very childhood I knew this was not my home. It was my Nana’s house, and my father and mother were far away. I had hoped that perhaps my home would be there, but no, it was just a big guest house, with my poor mother and father serving the guests continuously, for no reason – at least to me there seemed to be none.
Again I said to myself, “This is not the home I was looking for. Now where do I go? My grandfather is dead, so I cannot go back to that house.”
It was his house, and without him, just the house is meaningless. If my Nani had gone back it would have meant something, ninety-nine percent at least, but she refused to go.
She said, “I went there for him, and if he is not there then there is no other reason for me to return. Of course if he comes back, I am ready, but if he is not coming back, if he cannot keep his promise, why should I bother about his house and property? – they were never mine. There is always somebody who can take care of these things. I am not meant for them. I did not go for them in the first place, and I will not return for them.”
She refused so totally that I learned how to refuse…and I learned how to love. After leaving that house, we stayed a few days with my father’s family. It was certainly not just a family, but more a gathering of tribes, many families; perhaps a kind of mela, a fair. But we only stayed for a few days. That too was not my house. I stayed there just to have a look at it, then moved.