Tag Archives: Books I Have Loved


Books on Daya:
The Last Morning Star (in English)
Jagat Taraiya Bhor Ki (in Hindi)

THE SONGS OF DAYA. She was a contemporary of Meera and Sahajo, but she is far more profound than either of them. She is really beyond numbers. Daya is a little cuckoo — but don’t be worried…. In fact in India the cuckoo is called koyal, and it does not have the meaning of being nuts. Daya is really a cuckoo — not nuts, but a sweet singer like the Indian koyal. On an Indian summer night, the distant call of the cuckoo; that’s what Daya is… a distant call in the hot summer of this world.
– Books I Have Loved, Chapter #12

Daya has trodden the path and is acquainted with it. She has left no stone unturned on that path. She has died in the dust of the path. Treading on the path, traveling on the path she has become empty in every way. Now just the fragrance of the path is there. That very fragrance has appeared in her small verses.
Daya belongs to those devotees who have left no information about themselves. They drowned so much in singing songs of the divine that no time was left for leaving information. Just the name is known.
– Early Talks, Chapter #9


Book on Dadu:
Sabe Sayaane Ek Mat (in Hindi)

He was called Dadu, which means the brother. He was so loving that people forgot his real name and simply remembered him as Dadu, the brother. There are thousands of songs that Dadu sang, but they were not written down by him, they were collected by others, just like a gardener collects flowers long fallen.
– Books I Have Loved, Chapter #7

“Dadu was the most beautiful flower”
“And the day Dadu died Rajjab simply closed his eyes. It was closing eyes to the world. He was saying, Now there is nothing more to see. I have seen that which is really worth seeing. Now why waste your eyes and why collect dust? Once you have mirrored God then there is nothing else — you have seen the ultimate.”
“And what happened to Sundero, another disciple? When Dadu died he laid himself down on the same bed and remained on the same bed; he never left the bed again. The Master had slept on it his whole life: it was full of his vibe, it was full of his presence, it was soaked with him. He would not leave the bed. “Why?” people would ask him.
And Sundero would say, “There is nowhere to go. I have arrived — this is my home. This is my MOKSHA, this is my heaven. And I would like to LIVE in this beautiful space that the Master has created in this bed, and I would like to die here.”
It is becoming so attuned with the Master that you don’t feel your life and your death as separate from him; that is the meaning of it.
Sundero was so attuned with the Master’s life that it used to happen sometimes that he would speak in Dadu’s name. And he was told by people, “You are not Dadu!”
Then he would say, “Yes, forgive me. I forget! But if you ask in reality, then I am Dadu — I have become one with my Master.”
That is the ultimate state of disciplehood: when the disciple becomes one with the Master. He used to say that he was Dadu. He has written songs in which his name is not given but Dadu’s name — and people think that is not good. And the scholars go on discarding all that has been written by Sundero; they think that is not from Dadu.
But I say to you: it IS from Dadu! Sundero has become just a hollow bamboo on the lips of Dadu. Sundero exists no more as a separate entity. That is the ultimate goal of a disciple: when the disciple and Master meet and merge and become one. Sundero has become one with the Master, hence he has every right to sign ‘Dadu’. He signs his poems as Dadu, not as Sundero — and I TOTALLY agree with him! And I would like the scholars to be a little more sensitive.”
– Be Still and Know, Chapter #9

Chuang Tzu…

Books on Chuang Tzu:
The Empty Boat (in English)
When the Shoe Fits (in English)

Chuang Tzu is a rare flowering, because to become nobody is the most difficult, almost impossible, most extraordinary thing in the world.
Chuang Tzu says: To be ordinary is to be the sage. Nobody recognizes you, nobody feels that you are somebody extraordinary. Chuang Tzu says: You go in the crowd and you mix, but no one knows that a buddha has entered the crowd. No one comes to feel that somebody is different, because if someone feels it then there is bound to be anger and calamity. Whenever someone feels that you are somebody, his own anger, his own ego is hurt. He starts reacting, he starts attacking you.
– The Empty Boat, Chapter #1

Chuang Tzu says that the real, the divine, the existential, is to be attained by losing yourself completely in it. Even the effort to attain it becomes a barrier — then you cannot lose yourself. Even the effort to lose yourself becomes a barrier.
– When the Shoe Fits, Chapter #1

Chuang Tzu says: Even the distance of a hair is enough, and heaven and earth fall apart. Just the distance of a hair — not much at all, almost negligible — but it is enough to separate earth from heaven. When even that much difference is not there, one is enlightened.
– Theologia Mystica, Chapter #15

Chuang Tzu is very rare — in a way the most unique mystic in the whole history of man. His uniqueness is that he talks in absurdities. All his poems and stories are just absurd. And his reason to choose absurdity as his expression is very significant: the mind has to be silenced. With anything rational, it cannot stop; it goes on and on. Anything logical and the mind finds nourishment through it. It is only the absurd that suddenly shocks the mind — it is beyond mind’s grasp.
His stories, his poems and his other statements are so absurd that either people simply left him, thinking that he is mad…. Those who were courageous enough to remain with him found that no other meditation is needed. Just listening to his absurd statements, the mind stops functioning. And that is the meaning of meditation.
Meditation is not of the mind.
– The Razor’s Edge, Chapter #14

Chuang Tzu is one of my love affairs, and when you talk about someone you love you are bound to use extremes, exaggerations, but to me they don’t sound like that. I could give the whole kingdom of the world to Chuang Tzu for any single parable that he wrote — and he wrote hundreds. Each is a SERMON ON THE MOUNTAIN, a SONG OF SOLOMON, a BHAGAVADGITA. Each parable represents so much, and so richly, that it is immeasurable.
– Books I Have Loved, Chapter #14