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Wrong, because I am whistling it every day. It can’t be said, but it can be whistled. And you know it too, that when you can’t say something, you find ways to whistle it. You want to say to some woman, “I love you,” and you can’t say it; then what do you do? You hug her. It is a way of whistling. You hold her hands, you look into her eyes, helpless, knowing well that you can’t say it, but still you impart, you commune. I am doing it every day.

Yes, that is right. Truth cannot be said. Nobody has ever said it, nobody is ever going to say it. By its very definition it is ineffable, inexpressible – but it can be whistled! Buddha whistled, Mahavira whistled, Jesus, Zarathustra, Mohammed… I am whistling it every day.

Of course I have to whistle it again and again because you don’t listen. And I have to whistle it again and again because every day I find I missed again. It is so difficult to say it, it is so impossible to say it. I try and then I say, “Let us see tomorrow. Let us improve it a little more. Maybe there is some other way and it can be whistled a little better.”

It cannot be said, that’s true; but it can be whistled. I am a proof of it – every day.

❂❂❂

The third question:
(You often say that life is fun. Still, sometimes you seem to be taking things very, very seriously.)

That, too, is fun.

❂❂❂

The fourth question:
(I love the way you walk. Why do you walk how you walk?)

Thank you! I am a drunkard, and I cannot do better. There is no art to it; it is just my drunkenness. And if you also want to walk like that, you will have to become like me. Don’t try to imitate it – because you can imitate a drunkard, but by that you will not become drunk. You can imitate a drunkard perfectly – even better than the drunkard himself – but you will not become drunk. Become drunk.

I am drunk with the divine. It is a miracle how I am here. When I stand on my feet, I say, “So, old boy, you are doing it again?” It is a miracle how I stand. It has become very, very difficult for me to be here on the earth. The wings have grown and the sky is waiting and my boat has arrived long before. I should have left this shore, but I am in deep love with you mad people, so I go on lingering a little more. I say, “A little more.” I go on postponing. I go on persuading the powers that would like me to leave now. I say, “Wait a little more. I can drive a few more people crazy.”