silence shared in words
presents
Nobody Allows Anybody to Be Just Himself
Nobody wants to allow you to be yourself
on matters which are absolutely insignificant.
I used to have long hair in my childhood.
And I used to come in and out
of my father's shop, because the shop and the home were connected.
The home was behind the shop
and it was absolutely necessary to pass through the shop.
People would ask,
"Whose girl is this?"
because my hair was so long,
they could not think that a boy should be having such long hair.
My father felt very ashamed and
embarrassed to say,
"He is a boy."
But they said, "Then why all this hair?"
One day -- it was not
his normal nature
he became so embarrassed and angry
that he came
and cut my hair
with his own hands.
Bringing the
scissors with which he used to cut cloth
in his shop,
he cut my hair.
I didn't say anything to him
he was surprised.
He said, "You don't have anything to say?"
I said, "I will say it in my own way."
"So what do you mean?"
I said, "You will see."
And I went
to the opium-addict barber
who used to have a shop
just in front of our house.
He was the only man
I had a respect for.
There were
a row of barber shops,
but I loved that old man.
He was a rare variety,
and he loved me;
for hours we used to talk to each other.
What he was saying was all nonsense!
One day he was saying to me, "If all the
opium addicts
can be organized into a political party,
we can take over this country!"
I said, "It is a good idea."
But he said, "Because we are all opium addicts,
I myself forget my own idea."
I said, "You don't be worried. I am here
and I will remember. You just tell me what
changes you want
to have in the country, what kind of political ideology you want,
and I will manage it."
He said, "That's good."
So I went to him and I told him, "Just shave my whole head completely."
In India
the head is shaved completely only when your father dies.
For a moment even that opium addict came to his senses.
He said, "What has happened?
Has your father died?"
I said, "Don't bother about these things. You do what I am saying;
it is none of your concern!
You just cut my hair completely, shave it completely."
He said, "Done!
That is the easiest job.
He shaved my head completely,
and I went
home.
I passed through the
shop.
My father looked
and all his customers looked.
They said, "What happened?
Whose boy is this? His father has died."
My father said, "He is my boy and I am alive!
But I knew he was going to do something.
He has answered me well."
Wherever I went people would ask,
"What happened?
He was perfectly healthy."
I said, "People die at any age.
You are worried about him, you are not worried about my hair."
That was the last
thing my father ever did to me,
because he knew that the answer could be more dangerous!
On the contrary, he brought
a certain
oil that is used for growing hair.
It is a very costly oil,
comes from Bengal
out of a certain flower,
javakusum.
It is very costly, rare,
used only by the richest people and not by men but by women
to keep the hair as long as possible.
In Bengal I have come across women whose hair touched the
earth
five feet long, six feet long.
That oil simply functions powerfully on the hair.
I said, "Now you understand."
He said, "I have understood.
You use this oil quickly;
in
a few months your hair will be back."
I said, "You created the whole mess.
What was there to be embarrassed about?
You could have said, 'She is my girl.'
I don't have any objection about that.
But you should not have interfered with me the way you did. It was violent,
barbarous.
Rather than saying anything to me, you simply started cutting my hair."
Nobody allows anybody
to be just himself.
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