When the young mother next door lost her child’s only shoe and wept for an hour, Papaji brought her a cup of tea and said nothing. Later, she thanked him. He shrugged. “Nothing to thank,” he said. “The tea was already there.”
The crow. The tea. The missing shoe. The blue marble. Nothing Ever Happened -life of Papaji-
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?” When the young mother next door lost her