In Meera, found nowhere else, is a natural expression of love. There have been other devotees, but they all pale before Meera; they become the background. Meera’s star is a very bright, shining star.

Come, let us go toward this star. If just a few drops of Meera’s juice rain on your life, flowers will bloom in your desert. If in your heart just a few tears make rain clouds like Meera’s rain clouds, and in your heart a melody begins playing as it played to Meera, it is enough. One drop will color you and make you new.

So don’t listen to Meera logically, intellectually. Meera has nothing to do with logic and intellect. Listen to Meera with feeling, with devotion. Look with the eye of trust. Push aside logic, leave it to crawl along the bank. For a little while, let yourself go completely mad with Meera. This is the world of the mad. This is the world of lovers. Only then can you understand, otherwise you will miss.

First, a few things about Meera. Meera’s love for Krishna did not begin with Meera. Such a rare expression of love cannot begin just like that. The story goes back. This Meera is one of the GOPIS — devotees — who was with Krishna. Meera herself has declared it, but the scholars can’t accept it, as there is no historical proof for it.

I accept what Meera says. I am not interested in measuring true and false. To me it is pointless whether it is history or not. Meera’s statement — my agreement; when Meera herself says it, the matter is finished. The question does not arise of someone else raising further doubts about it. And those who raise doubts like this, they won’t ever be able to understand Meera.

Meera says, “I was Lalita. I danced with Krishna in Vrindavan, I sang with Krishna. This love is ancient.” Meera insists, “this love is not new.” And it entered Meera’s life in such a way that it is clear from the very beginning that the pundits were wrong and Meera was right.

Meera was little, some four or five years old, when a SADHU was a guest at her house. When this monk got up in the morning, taking out his idol — a statue of Krishna hidden away in his bag — to set it up to worship, Meera went completely mad.

DEJA VU happened. A memory from a previous existence came. That statue was such that picture after picture began opening. That statue became a catalyst — and once again the story began. It shocked her. Krishna’s form returned to her memory. Again that dark face, those wide eyes, that crown of peacock feathers, the flute-playing Krishna — Meera went back thousands of years in her memory.

She started to cry. She began begging the sadhu for the statue. But the sadhu also had great affection for his idol. He refused to give it; he traveled on.

A whole day passed. She ate no food, and drank no water. From her eyes tears flowed — on and on she cried. Her family was alarmed, now what can be done? The sadhu has gone, where can he be found? And will he give it up? Very unlikely.

And this statue of Krishna was certainly very lovely — the rest of the family felt it too. They had seen many idols, but in this one there was something alive, there was something alert, the aura of this statue was something more.

Certainly someone had carved it with love, not just for trade. Someone had carved it with feeling. Someone had put his total prayer, his full worship into it; or someone who had once seen Krishna had carved it. But the statue was such that Meera was gone, she simply forgot this world. For her the idol must be brought back to stay, if not she will die. This is the beginning of VIRAH — deep longing for God — at the age of four.

That night the sadhu saw a dream. Far away in the next village he slept. A dream in the night — and Krishna was standing there. He said, “Return the statue to whom it belongs. You have kept it for many years, this was a guardianship, but it is not yours. Now don’t carry it on unnecessarily. You go back and give the statue to that girl. It is hers, give it back. It is hers, your caretaking is over now. You have arrived where you were to deliver it, now the matter is finished.” The idol is for the one whose heart contains love for it. Who else?

The sadhu was scared. Krishna had never shown himself to him before. For years he had been praying and worshipping to this same idol — flowers were offered, bells were rung. Krishna had never appeared. He became very frightened. He fled back in the middle of the night. Arriving at midnight he woke everyone up and said, “You must forgive me, I have committed a great wrong.” He fell at the feet of that little girl, gave her the statue and went back.

This event, happening at the age of four or five, reopened her vision. Again the love flowed, again the journey began. Thus a deep relationship with Krishna was started again by this Meera in this lifetime.

This small, accidental event, happening when she was four or five years old… and a revolution happened. Meera remained ecstatic, as if she’d drunk liquor. By the time Meera was thirty-two or thirty-three years old, all those who had been important in her life until then had died. Everyone that her affection went out to, that she had loved, they all died.

Those who have written books about Meera, they all say, “unfortunately.” I can’t say that. I will say, “most fortunately,” because for me there is no such feeling toward death that it is necessarily some form of curse. It all depends on you. Meera used it rightly. Wherever love was torn out, each and every vessel of love gone, she offered this love of hers up to God.

The last stage was staying with her father. Her mother died, her husband died, her father died. There were five deaths passing in a continuum. All her attachments in the world were broken.
She made good use of it. She turned broken worldly attachments into detachment towards the world. And the love that became freed from the world, she offered up to the feet of God. She submerged herself in the passion-song for Krishna.

And these deaths did one more fortunate task — she was shown one thing, that everything in this universe is momentary. If the beloved is to be sought, seek in the eternal. Here nothing is yours. Don’t go astray here, don’t lead yourself astray. Here everything touched will go away. Here death, and death only, increases. This is a graveyard. Don’t get any idea of dwelling here. No one has ever remained here.

All that she’d seen with her own eyes… Thirty-three years old is not very old. She was young. So many deaths happened in her youth that the thorn of death showed her totally, clearly, that life is momentary. And then her mind turned away from all this. Turning away from this one can turn towards the divine.

First Meera danced only at home, before her Krishna statue. Then love began to rise like a flood, and the house could not contain it. Then she danced in the village temples, in the sadhu’s SATSANGS. Then love started rushing in such a flood that she was no more conscious. She drowned, she became absorbed, she became filled with Krishna.

Naturally, as she was a lady of the royal household, of a respected family, trouble came to the family. The family always becomes troubled. A thousand kinds of rumors began to spread in the community, because the matter went beyond the tradition.

You can imagine — Rajasthan of five hundred years ago — women didn’t come out from behind their veils; their faces were never seen in public. And in the royal household, even more difficult. And she began dancing in the streets, she began dancing in the midst of the common people. Even though the dance was for God, to her relatives dance was still dance — there was no difference for them. And those who had been the closest to her were all gone.

Her brother-in-law was on the throne. Wherever Meera sings that the king sent poison, that the king sent a snake in a basket, that the king had thorns scattered in her bed, it indicates her husband’s younger brother. Her husband had passed away.

Her brother-in-law was Vikramajit Singh. He was an angry youth, an ill-natured youth. And this was too much to hear… Meera’s fame was insufferable to him. Meera was so famous, people began coming from far away. Ordinary people came for her darshan; saints, monks, respectable people came too. Hearing the news of Meera they came from afar. The fragrance began to spread. The perfume was like the musk deer; everyone whose nostrils got a whiff of musk had to come.

This is a very surprising thing. From every part of the country people came, but the blind family members couldn’t see. Those people coming became the cause of more difficulty for the family because Meera’s fame was a shock to their egos. The king on his throne thought, “Someone in my own family higher than me? This is unbearable.”

Then he found a thousand excuses, and all the excuses logical — fault can never be found in them: “She is mixing with the commonfolk, with her veil aside. She is dancing in the streets; sometimes while dancing she doesn’t pay attention to her clothes. This is unbecoming. It is not proper for a lady of the royal household.”

But consider the stories: poison was sent and in Krishna’s name Meera drank it; and it is said that the poison became nectar. It must have become! It’s bound to. With so much love, so much welcoming — if someone drinks even poison it must turn into divine nectar. And if in anger, in violence, in hate, in enmity you drink ambrosia it too will become poison.

In these events that have taken place in the lives of enlightened ones, I look for demonstration of this psychological truth. Meera receives the poison as nectar; then it becomes nectar. How you accept the world is how the world becomes. This world is created from your acceptance. This world is the extension of your vision.

It became difficult for Meera to remain in her village, so she left Rajasthan. She went to Vrindavan. “I’ll go to my beloved’s town,” she thought. She went to Krishna’s village, but the same troubles started up. Because he was not there now, Krishna’s village was under the yoke of pundits — brahmin scholar-priests.

There is a lovely episode. When Meera arrived at Vrindavan’s most famous temple, an attempt was made to stop her at the door, because entry to the temple was forbidden to women. The high priest of the temple had never seen women. Meera was a woman, so arrangements were made to stop her.

But those people who were standing by the door to stop her, they were struck dumb. When Meera came dancing, holding her EKTARA in her hand, playing music; and a crowd of devotees behind her, spreading wine in all directions, and all drunk — in that drunkenness those who stood guard were also stunned. They forgot they were meant to stop her until Meera had entered inside.

The breeze was as one wave — it went right in and reached the inner sanctum. The priest freaked out. He had been worshipping Krishna; the tray fell from his hands. He had not seen a woman for years. Women were not admitted to that temple. How had this woman come inside here?

Now think a little… the guards at the door became immersed in feeling, but the priest could not dive in! No, the priests are the most blind people in the world. And to find a more unintelligent person than a scholar is difficult. The guards too were drowned in this juice. This drunken woman, this ecstatic Meera came, came as a wave — they too forgot for a moment, forgot completely what their job was. They remembered only when Meera had gone past.

It was a thunderbolt. Once the EKTARA was playing inside and the crowd had gone in, then they became alert to what had happened. But the pundit did not plunge in. Meera came dancing in front of Krishna, but the pundit was not immersed. He said, “Hey woman, do you understand that women are not permitted in this temple?”

Meera listened. Meera spoke, “I had thought that besides Krishna no other man existed. Are you also a man? I had understood Krishna was the only man and the rest of the world were his beloveds, that all were celebrating with him. So you, too, are a man? I hadn’t thought that there were two. So you are in competition?”

He was shaken. The pundit didn’t understand how to answer now. Scholars have answers to fixed questions, but this question had never been raised before. No one had asked it before Meera, no one had ever asked, “Does there exist some other man? I have never heard of this. You are saying very strange things. Where did you get such arrogance? Krishna is the one man, the rest are all his beloveds.”

But troubles were beginning, after this event. Meera was unable to stay in Vrindavan. We have always given ill treatment to enlightened people. After death we worship them; living we misuse them. Meera had to leave Vrindavan. She went to Dvarika.

Years later the political situation changed in Rajasthan; the kingship changed and the youngest son of King Sanga ascended the throne, Udaysingh Mevar. He was King Sanga’s son and the father of King Pratap. Udaysingh had great feeling for Meera. He sent innumerable messengers to Meera to bring her back: “This is our disgrace. This is Rajasthan’s disgrace that Meera wanders from village to village, moving here and there. This stain will always remain on us. Let her come back. Bring her back. We ask forgiveness for our mistakes. That which has happened in the past is gone.”

People went, pundits were sent, priests were sent to explain and convince, but Meera always gave the explanation, “Now where to come or go? Where should I go now, giving up this temple of my life’s love?” She was ecstatic in the Ranchhordasji temple.

Still Udaysingh tried very hard. He sent a group of one hundred men and said, “Bring her back no matter what. If she doesn’t come, give her a threat. Tell her you’ll fast sitting at the door of the same temple.” And they gave the threat. They insisted, “You must come, if not then we’ll die right here.”

Then Meera said, “This again; if I am to go, then I will go and ask my love. Without his giving permission, I cannot go. So I’ll ask Ranchhordasji.” She went inside and the story is very lovely, very surprising, very significant. She went inside and it is said she never came out again. She disappeared into Krishna’s statue.

This too couldn’t be historical, but it should be, because if Meera cannot merge into Krishna’s statue, then who can? And she had dissolved Krishna so deeply into herself, couldn’t Krishna at least let her be merged into himself? If not then the whole foundation of devotion will be broken. Then the trust of the devotee will be broken. Meera has dissolved Krishna so deeply into herself, then Krishna too has a responsibility.

Be aware, don’t take this as a fact and sit thinking over it. This is truth and truth is very different from fact. Truth is far above facts. Just what is there in facts? Not worth two cents. Fact is not the limit of truth. Fact is that which man’s small intelligence can understand. It is a fragment of truth; truth is vast.

If you ask me, I say it is so. Is has to be. If not, the devotee’s trust is wrong. Meera must have said, “Now what’s your feeling, shall I go now? Where will I go? Either come with me or take me into you.” Ultimately that which you love, you become.
Love with care and understanding. Make your friendships with awareness. Because this friendship is no ordinary matter. Meera’s friendship was with Krishna, and if finally she merged into his image then to me this seems to be completely right. It must be so. It is just so.

Awareness is the way of man, love is the way Or woman. On the path of awareness it is possible to teach; one can become a Master. On the path of love, how can you teach love? You can flower, you can bloom in love, but how can you teach it? Yes, if somebody wants to learn from you, he will learn it, but you will not be a Master.

And such women have existed: Rabiya, Meera, Mallibai, Magdalen, Teresa. Such women have existed: Sahajo, Daya, Lalla. Many women have existed, but they were not Masters. They were so surrendered to God that they became Mistresses.

Meera says ‘I am a mistress to you. My Lord’ — a mistress to Krishna, to God himself. She sings the song of the glory of her Lord, she dances. If somebody can catch something from her, it is overflowing; but she cannot be a teacher. She is surrendered, her surrender is absolute. Yes, if you are in her company, you will learn what surrender is… but you will have to learn, she will not teach. A woman cannot be a teacher.

To teach, a certain different quality of energy is needed. Let me say it in this way, this is my experience: it is very difficult for a man to become a disciple, very difficult for a man to become a disciple. Even if he becomes, he becomes reluctantly. Surrender is difficult. How to surrender the will? Even if he surrenders, he only surrenders conditionally, in order to become a Master one day. He becomes a disciple in order to become a Master.

It is difficult for a man to surrender; it is very simple for a woman to surrender. It is very simple for a woman to become a disciple, it is very difficult for a woman to become a Master. Even after she has arrived, she remains surrendered. And for the man, even when he has not arrived, he remains deep down unsurrendered. On the surface he will show surrender, but deep down somewhere the ego persists.

A man can become a good Master. A woman can become a good disciple because to become a disciple means to become a receiver, to be receptive, to become a womb. To become a Master means to become a giver.

The same phenomenon continues… as it is there on the biological level, it remains on the spiritual level. Biologically, a woman is ready to receive the sperm from the man she loves. The man cannot become a mother, he can only become a father. He can trigger the process: the woman will become the mother, she will carry the child in her womb for nine months, she will nourish the child with her blood and her being, she will be carrying the pregnancy. The same happens on the spiritual level too.

When a woman comes to a Master she is immediately ready to surrender. If sometimes it happens otherwise — sometimes there are women who are very reluctant to surrender that simply shows they have lost contact with their womanhood. They don’t know who they are, they have become distracted from their centre. They don’t know how to surrender because they don’t know how to be a woman. If you know how to be a woman, if you are a woman, surrender is so simple, it comes so easily.

All the great disciples in the world were women. Buddha had thousands of disciples, but the proportion has always been the same: three women, one man. So was the proportion with Mahavir. He had forty thousand sannyasins: ten thousand men, thirty thousand women. And so was the case with Jesus.

The really devoted people around him were not the men but the women. When he was crucified, all the men escaped, there was not a single man. All those so-called ‘apostles’ had all disappeared, but the women were there. Three women were there: they had no fear, they were ready to sacrifice themselves.

When Jesus was taken down from the cross, it was not by men — those disciples had gone far away, and one or two were there but they were hiding in the crowd women took down the body. And it is very significant that when Jesus appeared after three days, resurrected, he appeared first to Mary Magdalen, not to a man.

This is very significant. Why? What about those twelve apostles? Why to Mary Magdalen? And she immediately recognised him, and she rushed to him and she said ‘So, My Lord, you are still alive!’ And when Jesus appeared to the disciples, male disciples, they would not recognise him, they thought ‘It seems tricky. How can this man come back?’

It is said that when he appeared before two disciples, male disciples, he walked with them for hours and they would not recognise him. And they continued talking about Jesus and Jesus was walking by their side. They were a little puzzled about the appearance of this man — he looked like Jesus but how could he be? ‘Just appearance? — one should not be deceived by appearance alone.’ For two hours they walked together.

When they went to an inn, all three sat there to eat their dinner and when Jesus broke his bread, THEN they recognised. Very materialistic mind. Suddenly they saw… because Jesus’ every act, his every gesture, was his, authentically his. Now they recognised because he was breaking the bread in the same way that they had seen Jesus break bread for years — then they recognised. But for two hours, the presence was not recognised. Magdalen recognised immediately.

When she went to tell the male disciples that Jesus was resurrected, they laughed. They said ‘Woman, you are hallucinating.’ And they laughed and they said ‘This is how women always are — imaginative, dreaming, romantic. Now look at this foolish woman. Jesus is dead. We have seen him die on the cross with our own eyes.’ But she cried and she said ‘Listen to me. I have seen him.’ But they would not listen.

A woman can be a perfect disciple, and this is how it should be. Woman is receptive, an opening, a womb. They have never been Masters in the sense that men have been Masters — like Mahavir, Buddha, Zarathustra, Lao Tzu. No, they have never been Masters like that. But there have never been disciples like women; no man has ever been able to equal them as far as disciplehood is concerned.

And let me tell you this, that as far as this division of male and female is concerned, the female mind is more blessed. Because the real thing is to receive the truth, the real thing is not to give it that is secondary. And a woman is always more total than a man. Whenever she receives the truth, she becomes luminous: her whole body, her whole being shows it; she carries an aura.

Have you not seen a woman who is pregnant, how beautiful she becomes? Her face glows, she is carrying a new life within her. And this is nothing compared to a woman who really becomes a disciple. She is carrying God himself within her. Her glory is infinite. So don’t be worried why women don’t become Masters. There is no need. If you can become disciples, that is natural and you will always remain true to nature.

Jesus was continuously being prepared during these thirty years. He was first sent to Egypt and then he came to India. In Egypt he learned one of the oldest traditions of secret methods, then in India he came to know about the teachings of Buddha, the Vedas, the Upanishads, and he passed through a long preparation.

Those days are not known because Jesus worked in these schools as an unknown disciple. And Christians have knowingly dropped those records, because they would not like the son of God to also be a disciple of somebody else. They would not like the very idea that he was repared, taught, trained – that looks humiliating. They think the son of God comes absolutely ready. Nobody comes absolutely ready. If somebody is absolutely ready he cannot come.

In this world, you always enter as imperfect. Perfection simply disappears from this world. Perfection is not of this world, cannot be – it is against the very law. Once somebody is perfect, his whole life enters into a vertical dimension. This has to be understood: you progress on a horizontal plane, from A to B, from B to C and D, and so on up to Z; horizontal, in a line, from past to present, from present to future. This is the way of the imperfect soul, just like water flowing in a river from the hills and plains to the sea – in a line, horizontal, always maintaining its own level.

Perfection moves in vertical lines, not horizontally. From A it doesn’t go to B, from A it goes higher than A, then higher, still higher. On this line, for those who live on this line, perfection simply disappears. It is not there because they can look in the future or in the past.

They can look back, but the perfect man is not there; they can look ahead, but he is not there; they can look here, he is not there – because a new line of vertical progression has started. He is going higher and higher and higher. He moves in eternity, not in time.

Then comes Krishna as the culmination, and he says, “Let us now live, we have done enough of thinking.”

In this context it is good to know that Chaitanya happened in Bengal exactly at a similar time. Bengal reached the zenith of dialectics and reasoning in the form of the navya nyaya, the new dialectics. Navadip, the town in which Chaitanya was born, was the greatest center of learning and logic. It was called the kashi of the logicians.

All logical learning of India found its apex in Navadip, and it became known as navya nyaya, which represents the Everest of dialectical reasoning. The West has yet to reach that peak. Western logic is old; it is not new. It does not go beyond Aristotle. Navadip took logic beyond Aristotle and carried it to its last frontier.

It was enough to say anywhere in the India of those days that such-and-such a scholar comes from Navadip – nobody dared enter into a debate with him. He was supposed to be invincible as a dialectician; nobody could think of defeating him in polemics. Students from all over India went to Navadip to learn logic.

Scholars of logic went there to debate with their counterparts, and if once someone won a debate he immediately became famous all over the country; he was acclaimed as the greatest pundit – the scholar laureate of India. Often enough it happened that someone who went to Navadip to debate got defeated at the hands of some scholar and became his disciple.

It was impossible to defeat Navadip; the whole town was full of logicians; every home was the home of a scholar. If someone defeated one scholar there was another round the comer ready to challenge him. The town was a beehive of scholars.

Chaitanya was born in Navadip, and was himself a towering scholar of logic. He was the top logician of the Navadip of his time, held in great respect by all. The same Chaitanya one day said goodbye to scholarship and went dancing and singing ecstatically through the streets of Navadip saying that everything is unthinkable.

When such a person says something it is bound to have tremendous significance. Chaitanya too represents the climactic point of a great tradition. After exploring and analyzing every nook and comer of thinking and intellectual understanding, after going to the very roots of words, concepts and their meanings, he renounces knowledge and returns to his basic ignorance and declares he is now going to sing and dance like a madman.

He said that he would not argue any more, not search truth through logic, he would simply live and live with abandon. Life begins where logic ends.