Nothing Ever Happened -life Of Papaji- -

They thought he was senile. Or stubborn. Or both.

But here is what they did not see:

Papaji had learned, somewhere in the long middle of his life, that happening is a kind of lie. We stitch events together like beads on a string and call it a story. But the beads are just beads. The string is just string. And the hands that hold them? Also beads. Nothing Ever Happened -life of Papaji-

“Papaji, tell me the most important thing that ever happened to you.” They thought he was senile

One evening, a journalist came from the city. She had heard rumors of a holy man. She brought a notebook and a recorder. She sat at his feet. But here is what they did not see:

He lived in a crumbling house on the edge of a town that had no train station. Every morning, the townspeople would ask him the same question: “Papaji, what happened today?”