Okay.

What was I telling you? I cannot remember it, remind me.

“We were talking about how Morarji Desai and Satyabhakta became your enemies, and the last thing you said was that Morarji Desai had something in his eyes that was slimy and slippery, which you remember.”

Good. It is better to not remember it. Perhaps that’s why I cannot remember. Otherwise my memory is not bad, at least nobody has told me that. Even those who don’t agree with me say that my memory is just impossible to believe. When I was moving around the country, I remembered thousands of people’s names, their faces; not only that, but when I met them again I immediately remembered where we had last met, what I had said to them, what they had said to me – it may have been ten or fifteen years before. Naturally the man would be astonished. It is good that at least my memory fails exactly where it should, at Morarji Desai, that is.

You cannot believe that even God makes caricatures. I have heard he made creatures, but caricatures? Specially made for cartoonists? Morarji is a walking cartoon. But I had not laughed at him; I was so full of the strange meeting between a boy and the prime minister, and the way they talked together. I still cannot believe that a prime minister could talk that way. He was almost just a listener, only asking questions so that the conversation would continue. It seemed he wanted it to continue forever because many times the door opened, and his personal secretary looked in. But Jawaharlal was really a good man; he had turned his chair away from the door. The personal secretary could only see his back.

Only later on did I understand, when Masto told me that this was the first time he had seen Jawaharlal put his chair this way. He said the personal secretary is meant to open the door to announce that the time for the visitor is now over, and another visitor is ready to enter.

But Jawaharlal was not bothered by anything in the world. It was as if all that he wanted to know about was vipassana. I was a little hesitant to tell him what vipassana is because of the situation. I will have to tell you the meaning of the word vipassana. It means “looking back.” Passan means “looking,” vipassana means “looking back.”

What I am doing at this moment is vipassana.

I was knocking Masto with my leg but he was sitting like a yogi. He was afraid I would do something like that, so he was prepared, in a way prepared for anything to happen. And I really hit him hard.

He said, “Aargh!”

Jawaharlal said, “What is the matter?”

Masto said, “Nothing.”

I said, “He is lying.”