On the Way to the Burning Ghat
We burned Osho’s body at night, at the old burning ghat, the one down by the river. The bit I remember most clearly is walking with the body down the road…. Asha and I were walking right next to the body. I couldn’t have been much closer, I was wandering along down the road beside him… I’d only made it under the wire. My head was still full of the crazy taxi ride from Bombay, up through the mountains in the middle of the night.
(I still hadn’t got over the shock of hearing about Vivek. Her body had been found in a Bombay hotel room – dead from a drug overdose. Whether it was an accident or whether she had deliberately killed herself no one knew. Vivek! How could Vivek be dead? It didn’t seem possible. In the old days I think all of us had been half in love with Vivek… “Death comes dancing” Osho had said once, in a famous rap. But I didn’t think Death had come dancing to Vivek – I didn’t get the feeling it had been like that at all. There had been a cover-up at the ashram. They had taken her body to the burning ghat, the same way we were going now, just a month before. Only they had taken it secretly, in an ambulance, and in the middle of the night.)
I looked at Osho as I walked beside him. His face looked grey and waxy in the half-light…His face looked drawn – much, much older than I remembered him, and he seemed smaller. We turned at the end of the lane and began to walk out of Koregaon Park.
The glare and din coming from the main road became more pronounced now. So much had the procession swelled that it stretched right across the road and we had to walk over that heap of rotting garbage the locals always kept to one side there; I could feel it slipping and giving way under my flip-flops, I thought my foot was going to go right into it; that was bad stuff, even the crows and pie-dogs wouldn’t touch it. Then we were under the great banyans lining the main road. Dusty roots hung down above the madness. Trucks, it was mostly trucks. Beat-up trucks, just in from the Deccan, heading on down through the mountains to Bombay. Buses, taxis, motorbike rickshaws, scooters, bicycles, buffalo carts.
People on foot dodging in and out of it, and all around us the way India juxtaposes different cultures and centuries – all incompatible and yet intact and somehow functioning simultaneously, the way things function in a dream. Ragged silhouettes on bicycles, rickshaw wallahs darting in and trying to touch the body (someone shouting “Don’t let the Indians touch the body!”) peasants dragging carts out of prehistory back to their villages.
While we waited at the traffic lights a young truck driver, manky tea-towel wrapped round his head and beedi clenched between his teeth, leaned out of his cab and yelled something cheerfully enough. A young woman in a sari sat on the back of her fiancé’s bicycle, reading a book in the light of a truck headlights. A London double-decker bus, incredibly battered, went by like something out of a dream.
‘Rich man’s guru,’ that was what they had said, wasn’t it? Well, there didn’t seem to be too much money around that night, as we turned off the main road and took the little sideroad leading down to the burning ghat. We passed the shack selling sugar and soap and beedis, and went on down through the slum. This was the cremation of an ordinary Indian. Prem Paritosh
The above text is extracted and edited from the first chapter of Sam (Prem Paritosh’s book Life of Osho., 1997). The book is still available through amazon.co.uk.
Will there be more instalments? Can’t wait to hear what happens next.
You said: “His face looked grey and waxy in the half-light…His face looked drawn – much, much older than I remembered him, and he seemed smaller.”
That me too I recognized… had been standing very close to Osho’s funeral pyre, that I could see his face, really unreal – couldn’t believe that I see Osho underneath the Wood, his face really waxy, unreal. A moment I doubted if it was Osho’s body, guess something like “Hope”.
The ceremony, how Amrito announced Osho’s dead, personally I did not liked. If this was a adequate ceremony, I don’t want to judge.
“Osho is for me within the true Self, like a Lighthouse in the dark.”
That is quite a metaphor, Preetam. Still, if you are sailing on a ship of fools, you will still end up on the rocks. It’s a cruel sea.
Lokesh,
With old Captain Ahab steering the boat we might all end up inside Moby Dick. Probably best not to externally reference.
Many disciples have projected their own wisdom onto some old chappie who just sits there without saying much. The nodding of the head and the closing of the eyes being perceived as a sign of wisdom.
‘Being there’ with Peter Sellers is a great film.
My posting of Porky Pie by Kevin Mahogany didn’t come through. Worth checking out yourself.
roman says:
Lokesh, With old Captain Ahab steering the boat …
I am glad nobody mentioned Captain Pugwash …
Vartan
Thar she blows!
Old Captain Ahab and his obsession has sunk us all. An idiot like Lear – poor Cordelia. Still some managed to get on a lifeboat. I made it to Starbuck’s for coffee.
Like Ishmael it was just chance, no cosmological order here.
ya all are sailing on the “Good Ship Lollipop”!!!!
Perhaps, better a ship of fools, instead an old frigate with liars.
Preetam says:
… The ceremony, how Amrito announced Osho’s dead, personally I did not liked. If this was a adequate ceremony, I don’t want to judge.
I didn’t realise that the cockcrow was a toy they had in the ashram … I thought it was real … how pathetic.
Vartan
‘I don’t want to judge.’ Last time I said that a friend informed me that if you don’t have any judgements you won’t have any values either. Any comments?
Well we are back with Freddie Nietzsche.
There are only perspectives but some perspectives are better than others. Most of us are part of master/slave morality, having internalised these values over thousands of years. The majority of us are herd animals with only a few moving beyond these dichotomies, trying to live like free spirits. Freddie would probably include Beethoven here. He even preferred a tyrant like Caesar Borgia to servile foot lickers.
Don’t entirely agree with Freddie but there maybe something in what he and your friend says. From my perspective creating a democracy by eating lamb kebabs is a crap perspective. Adopting a Gorilla and caring for other species isn’t. Are we animals and are there only interpretations?
How much is it worth?…for in resurrecting the past ghosts of my diatribe with you, I now fear I cannot speak until I am spooken to…
ps thats for Lokesh..
If you believe that you’ll believe anything…however it could have been the last judgement he was referring to at which point I’d put the value at around £4billion squillion to settle the case ex-jude.
…and you’d be dead mighty quick.
Prem Paritosh, the writer of this article, is he not the person who wrote a book before his own death?
It means the article can be an excerpt from his book?
In this case, i think editors could have waited two months to publish it during Osho’s death anniversary. Timing is very important,store manager will be fired from the job if during Christmas, he displays half pants and t shirts!
Shantam, sorry to be the one that drop’s this on you, but being your friend an’ all I have to tell you. All authors write books before their death. The exceptions are disembodied Tibetan monks etc.
Thanks to Kavita and Rajni from the last post I can now trumpet my resurrection and have been re-born as a more decent and better all rounder with more of the 50% goodies than ever before. If there are any evangelists watching may I just borrow from them for a moment and say ..Hallelujah Jesus.
let us now join together brethren and sisteren in considering…
Osho’s death here is re-visited for a regular smashing un-ashing and dare I say not the last time, which means that if we didn’t have the opportunity to think about it before in the last 21ish years (where have I seen that number before) then we can start to smack ourselves and say gosh yes I suppose there’s always another insight available if you think about it.It may even percolate inwards in that slightly expectant way we have of considering all things spiritual and aligning ourselves with it, but not necessarily literally in a prone position on the dining table, well not just yet anyway.
In case you’re thinking about not thinking about it, (the event in the photo that is) that could result in missing out until the next 21 years go by, in which case I’d take your chance now , because you never know we or you or me might not be here in 21 years time ..and then where would you be ? Without any mortally coiled reflections on death but with all the experience of it and no-one to tell. Which is not a result really. Not in the scheme of things, for verily we are gathered here today to remember a fellow air cadet. You never know maybe remembering things will start a new craze in Frank’s retirement home, and we can all have a Xmas barny with some old favourites from the kaleidoscope of memories seen though the telescope of time…perhaps a pretend neo encounter group, as we invent things we don’t like about each other to pass the time, or a good old days sitting crammed up together cheek by jowl on comfy cushions in a confined space, maybe a linen cupboard .. then hurtle ourselves in blind namasteed devotion as someone drives round the home very slowly in a drive by, as we imagine it was then, then.
We could then watch it on film and use it to remember things next year.It could run and run ad infinitum.
and now for the coming om to yourself bit…
Apparently St Francis meditated for many hours on Cimabue’s 12century- ish painting of the ‘passion’ and death of Christ, which resulted in his(St Francis) enlightenment..so stick with it dear readers and maybe use the above picture as a screen saver…you never know…
otherwise you might be joining Frank in his retirement home sniffing cleaning fluids William Blake-style and having to listen to his poetry evenings after supper..followed by cryptic comments..a fate worse than death some might say….
hallelluujaaahhhhhhhhhhh
er ‘what picture’, I hear you all chorus ? the one I imagined of Osho at the burning ghats..see what you can do with your fertile imagination in a similar vein as mine sees all sorts of things that aren’t there…but are..or not if you see what i mean
Two bits of controversy hiding in this prose.
One, the death of Vivek – has the real story ever been told?
Two, Paritosh’s description of the journey to the Burning Ghats really captures India well, at least at that time. However Osho in life never trod those mean streets and slums, though many of us, his disciples, did. I dont think it means neccessarily he was not a “rich man’s guru”.
Parmartha,
Well with regards to Vivek we need some solid facts before we can lend a perspective. You’ve made an important point and there is food for thought here. Her death was tragic. Perhaps there is a tendency for many to shy away from tragedy but this world is also a vale of tears. I didn’t find that night at the ghats all happy clappy and neither did some others I was with.
roman: if you have learned anything from this life, in this plane of existence, it’s that LIFE is tragic.
According to rumours, His Flowers are in London. Probably just down the road from me. Hooray!
Vartan
You haven’t learnt that yourself. If you had you wouldn’t be eating blood sausage.
Jan Kott, a Polish writer, has written a brilliant book on tragedy titled ‘Shakespeare our Contemporary.’ Worth a read because he’s writing from experience and not just attacking readers for the sake of it. Didn’t you point out to Parmartha how privileged readers are to have you stirring the pot?
rumor has it she committed suicide cause she found out she tested positive for HIV.. some say the old man had it too… that’s why no autopsy and cremated so soon afterward. just rumors, with some legitimacy.
One, the death of Vivek – has the real story ever been told?
Yes.
I liked Vivek. Most of the guys did. Princess in the king’s castle. Out of respect for her I will say no more.
…and out of respect for us, stay silent.
so then, with all of your blabbering about osho, you then must NOT have any respect for him.
Osho? Never heard of him.
the problem with all these enquiries into “what really happened” (sheela,osho,vivek,inner circle etc…)
is that someone knows,and their power depends on it.and by wanting the knowledge they have,you play into their game and give them power.
they`ll never tell the truth.
look at sheela,for example.shes still lying away about what happened.
why?because its her last bit of power,her last hold over people.
the psychology is not unlike serial killers,like ian brady who withold information about where they buried their victims.
it gives them one last shred of control to hang on to….
like trying to stay afloat after the sinking of the titanic by clinging to one last floating turd.
good luck to `em!
good point frank.
the truth of it can be expanded to include all groups who maintain the vigilance of the “hidden story”, not just the Osho sannyasin inner circle people.
why does innocence turn into cynicism?
that’s why.
at least someone is paying attention
and thats all that matters, isnt it?
With a name like that you’ve got my attention.
Are you Ramaswami Krishnaswami Narayananaswami Suk’s
cousin?
sounds like a disciple of
rumbaba shree sri chogyam chomsky baksheesh freelunch macmaharishi adidas adischips oshananagaga bananasandcurdananda o`reilly-ji
to me.
He’s a close disciple of Shreik Mahapedogandhoo.
Hilarious!
i’ve been at the old ouijee board with a large jam jar ….and it spelt out something i can’t quite understand..maybe some can help…
it read…..
L..O…..
D …I…S ….EES V….I….V…..AR…K
N..OW……BU….G..GGERRR …O…OOOF …..ANDDDDD ….ME
..ND ..Y..ERR ….OOUN ….BUSSESNESSS…..YER BOOONCH AA LO..OOO..SERS…
I never go anywhere without my ouijee board. I get lots of messages from Osho and Jimi Hendrix.
apparently someone found this under her bed….
if you want to know what happened , Lokesh has the details….Ps Its very significant….
Pps that prem martyn is a right old stirrer….
I’ll only speak up if I am paid well. Like enlightenment, people don’t appreciate it unless they pay for it…in this case through the knows,,,ooops, I mean nose. Come on stump up.
For Sale :
Second Hand Gardening Equipment
Used RotoGhator , for digging up the Past. Complete with surplus Leads for extending up any Garden Path.
Item slightly worn out after years of abuse, hence will accept any generous offer.No Time Wasters.
…….
Ps more on that Ouija Board …
TE…LL LOK..ESH..RRR..E..S..P..ECT I SS..PP..E..L..T .. WiTHH O..N..L.. Y 1 RRR’S ..CHEEE…RRRSS….
Okay I admit it ..I am snowed in here in the Alps and utterly utterly bored…and owing to a nicked connection from the little train station I can just about bother you all on a regular basis……however any further requests to bugger off Martyn will be taken very earnestly…
Good grief, fighting off killer penguins down here on Ibiza. Down to our last boxes of ammo. Food also low. Looks like cannabalism is our only option. Send reinforcements ASAP. Tried contacting Osho on my ouijee board to ask for advice. Line’s dead. Obviously he has moved into silence. Typical. Jimi is not much better…although a lot of feedback can be heard, emanating from the moons of Jupiter.
the basis of our community life were/are inter and intrapersonal with an emphasis on contextual immediacy…..unless someone is planning on leading a group called ‘ How to die and leave everyone Guessing’ could we conclude then that not many of us wake up at night and are not worried sick by these and associated SN puzzles or their implications.
Its a bit like winning the lottery….you might get lucky and find it changes your life to ponder these erm pub-news stories or you might find that SN has a weird take on leaving no stone unturned or in the hands of a few guys who have all the accumulated sleuthfulness of a migrant herring.
Ps I have some excellent spam mails for investment opportunities too , but nobody believes in them either.
this is not the UK muckraker paper Private Eye but at least the jokes and ads are free..not necessarily good mind you …but free
Ma Anand Puja is the one I want to hear from, or about. I’d love to know what kind of job she is currently doing …
Shakespeare would have a field day with her. Osho never mentioned her. She either flew under his radar or …… or ……
Vartan,
What on earth has Shakespeare got to do with her? Or, are you referring to Carlos Shakespeare, the cab driver who picked her up just outside Portland. I believe he’s retired to Florida. Perhaps you can find him there? He’ll talk, like Lokesh, only if he’s paid. In Gold.
roman says:
Vartan,
What on earth has Shakespeare got to do with her?
I am sure old Billy could find some reason to shake his spear at her, crouched over her unguents …
My observation is, ” People who are nourished emotionally and sexually by their partners on regular basis don’t need to go to any master or any other kind of ardous search.
Feel good chemicals released in the brain give the feeling, spiritual evolution is as easy as reading ” Who am I” lying on the side table of the double bed!”
No wonder, married Indians(social cementing creates most stable marriages) did not follow Osho, even when he was Acharya Rajneesh.
For what?
Same is also true about all those sannyasins, who met their souls mates in the ashram. I was surprised many times, specially by my fellow Indians, once they got the girl friend, it became important to take the girl as far away from the ashram as possible, it means back to her flat in Germany/England/Swedan/Australia!
shantam prem says:
Same is also true about all those sannyasins, who …….. once they got the girl friend, it became important to take the girl as far away from the ashram as possible, ………..
Yes and no. Yes, some were using the organisation facilities (groups, etc) to pick up their next squeeze. And no, because a happy married busy life (plus children) doesn’t dampen spiritual quest, it just makes one too busy to be able to do anything about it. In traditional Indian practice, ‘spirituality’ is what is sought for, after the end of a fruitful life. Osho sannyas is for rebels and not for those tied down to institutional relationships.
I met my wife in Poona One, we spent almost four years there together. Which means, Shantam, that your hypothesis is a generalism that is inaccurate.
I wish not to comment at this moment about cirucmstances around Vivek(Nirvano)’s death, but feels like correcting one fact mentioned in the book.
She did not die in some Bombay Hotel room, but in her room at 17, Koregaon Park, Pune, India.
My feeling is, that Vivek was with Jayesh in order to be near Osho …
My feeling is that Jayesh was with Vivek to get close to Osho, not vice versa
my feeling is that they were all well-versed in vice.
Heraclitus says:
My feeling is that Jayesh was with Vivek to get close to Osho, not vice versa
Jayesh got close to Osho during the world tour when he was still with Hasya.
My feeling is that Swami Gandhoo is the culprit.
my feeling is that “my feeling is” is a sannyas-cliche used to pretend you`re not too much “in your head” but you are “coming from your heart” by mimicking oshos darshan diary verbal habits.
i wanna be like you-hoo
i wanna walk like you
i wanna talk like you-hoo
a monkey like me-he
can be enlightened like you-hoo….
my feeling is ,with that approach you might end up like swami “the doppelganger” brian “give him an oscar”rajneesh….
frank says:
……….. my feeling is ,with that approach you might end up like swami “the doppelganger” brian “give him an oscar”rajneesh….
You are going to get very pissed off with me then because I use “my feeling is” a lot. Sometimes I think and sometimes I feel. Is it a sannyasin thing? Maybe it’s because I’m a sannyasin. Too long to remember.
I am glad you mentioned Osho Brian Rajneesh. The Brian moniker (whoever came up with it) is pure genius. I’ve been trying to do research on him but I can’t. Something about him puts me right off. He should get fat. A fat Osho. That should do it.
vartan,
of course,the guy who came up with the moniker “brian” for rajneesh is a genius.
he`s right up there with leonardo,chuangtsu,rumi,
shakespeare et al..
no doubt about that.
but on the other hand,maybe it could be an overhyped word.
and you could find yourself coming out with stuff like:
“i feel that i need to share something with you…
my feeling is that paul gascoigne is a genius”
Rajneesh seen here :
http://www.google.ch/imgres?q=klingon+sitting&start=300&um=1&hl=en&client=safari&tbo=d&rls=en&biw=1130&bih=621&tbm=isch&tbnid=r5E8B_PVaLYJ9M:&imgrefurl=http://themeparkreview.com/forum/viewtopic.php%3Ff%3D2%26t%3D42618&docid=hy4rd1P5JibYhM&imgurl=http://themeparkreview.com/forum/files/klingons_891.jpg&w=640&h=435&ei=UQ_CULv-CsXItQaQyoHgDQ&zoom=1
Klingon : Here
http://www.buddhasangha.com/swamirajneeshquotes/SwamiRajneesh_Quotes12.jpg
Rajneesh Devotee here :
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SQwKHCoFrZI/TGi4KNnmcTI/AAAAAAAAAWE/zHbivw_fA9o/s320/klingon+totty+(glasgow+styleee).jpg
martyn says:
Klingon : Here
http://www.buddhasangha.com/swamirajneeshquotes/SwamiRajneesh_Quotes12.jpg
Brian’s Followers to his Mom: If it’s not a personal question, are you a virgin?
Thanks for sharing, Frank. Love…
http://www.grapheine.com/classiktv/index.php?module=see&lang=fr&code=5031391b19b1a91513be2a3a6f6c65bf
there may well be a sequel..but one only gets 30 secs to tell it like it is…
Reviews for the Soap-doc-mayhem n’mystery film are flooding in….
” What a gripping meditative thriller and and load of rubbish” …..Cosmopolitosh
”It had me be tied up in knots, I laughed until I begged them to stop” ..Bondage and Mystic Rose Meditator
” Obvious plot, ramshackle ending , terrible acting …ideal film for all the family..”
Overpriced Popcorn and Expensive Coffee Marketing Magazine
” If you are a true seeker, you will come out of this film none the wiser ”…. …The Harrow and Wembley Advaita Curry House (special two for one menu Fridays)
Lokesh says:
7 December, 2012 at 9:17 am
My feeling is that Swami Gandhoo is the culprit
Lokesh, who is this Swami Gandhoo?
my feeling is that he is a cross between
gandhi
and mr magoo….
Swami Gandhoo is the new Advaita teacher, who lives in a small village near Bangalore, that many sannyasins are visiting. I just talked to a friend who recently spent a month with Swami Gandhoo and he told me that Gandhooji told him that when thought has no customers thought vanishes. Thought is no more.
Swami Gandhoo was born in Rishikesh in 1943. Both his parents were German. He belongs to a long line of Advaita teachers. His guru was called Baba Mahadeva. That’s about all I can tell you right now.
i hear he`s got the mahatma`s good looks
and mr magoos vision…
he`s the rising star in advaita right now.
that guy`s gonna make it from here to here,for sure.
Many thanks, Lokesh-ji.
Just demonstrates, doesn’t it, that when the disciple is ready the Master appears?
Strangely enough, the other day someone I know was told by someone he knows that there’s a ‘proper little sex scene’ bubbling up around a certain ‘guru’ in that very area…Wonder whether he was referring to Gandhoo’s community…Reckon I might attempt to get to this guy by Xmas, or at least by 2013…Fancy a ‘spiritual adventure’, Shantam?
SD,
yes,i`m getting some amazing reports coming in…..
i heard that there`s loads of unattached pink-rose-petal-skinned peaches over there in ghandoo`s ashram who know every tantrick in the book,just gagging for a bit of mahamudra with overweight,balding middle-aged dudes who can spout a bit of psycho-spirituo-babble….
and if you mention you knew osho and have been around,seen a bit and whacked a few,those chicks`ll be in a state of total let-go before you can say “my feeling is..”
ghandoo himself has recently announced that he is entering his pumping phase…
btw.have you read ghandoo`s book “fifty shades of enlightenment”yet?
it`s a modern spiritual classic.
those guys are putting the bang back in bangalore….
i`ve packed my meds and i`m booking my ticket… today
I received a hoax call this morning from an Australian radio station claiming to be from Gandhoo himself…….
…whilst watching a nature documentary on lemmings …..followed by genetic discoveries of mimicking behaviour in humans…careful out there now i wouldnt want any Gandhooers taking this for real…its only a j…..
ooops too late ..oh well back to the gene pool…..
makes you think though about how the giving and taking of supposed offence is a highly controversial issue with mammalian bio-illogical roots….
and for the legally-weighted social-democratic control freaks of the socially ordered republics out there, a veritable god-send for administering approved hand-ringing over the consequences of toying with the disadvantaged fragile inequalities of our mechanistic dislocated lives, lying just below the surface of daily unhappy ritual
apparently,then, the balancing or inability of ‘giving it back, large’ would uncover epic fratricidal biblical survivalism or genetic mammalian fragility.. so we must all mind our p’s and q’s from now on…
phew…..glad thats sorted .. now back to egalitarian non-consequential, ministered, safe teasing then.. and don’t answer any calls from ‘Gandhoo’
“there is no ghandoo-er
there is only ghandoo-ing
the doer is the done
just say: “thy will be done..”
and thy will be well and truly done”
—-swami gandhoo
The last time I had a prescribed meditation was when I had a truth ache…I had to take a whole bottle of antiskeptic with some anti-neurotics just to handle all the rapid affection it was producing.
The tendency will now be just as in the BBC Jonathan Ross hoax call to Manuel of Fawlty Towers (Andrew Sachs ) a few years back to make heads roll and limit the amount of swearing on adult shows, which had been in libertarian increment since the repressive ’60′s. Now because a fragile, culture bound (Indian ) individual with who knows what history and dislocated self and family image, did a sati. And we are supposed to go along with the hospital and look forward now to the banning of hoax media calls around the planet to/about the privileged and ruling classes. If this had been the 17th century the loss of a servant would have been seen as collateral damage. Now we are all collectively morally reprimanded/punished for long range distant and disconnected realities that have singular issues and turn them into corporate behaviourism through school obedience to regulated emotive integrity. What a load of hokum. Stuff King Edwards hospital blame game.. support the radio announcers. You cannot legislate for context but you can bet your bottom australian dollar there will be no more bollox calls. What a shame.
What this has to do with the resort.. well they also mandate apologising and contrition..and so would Rajneesh the Klingon do the same if he had control of it. They are all the same hierarchists as the ball grippers of ‘democracy’.
also recommended reading is the no-holes-barred, autobiog account of life in ghandoo`s ashram:
“banging in bangalore,mad for it in madras and what i saw in mysore”
by ex-disciple hugh jorgan (swami mahabananananda)
the fascinating story of a successful osteopath whose connection with ghandoo awakens him to the eternal spiritual truth that there`s only one bone that really matters……
The funny bone?
My feeling is that SN will be holding a whodunnit weekend over the New Year, where we can meet and exchange roles.
The roles this year are :
Greek man with upper class accent, eating take away kebab.
Thespian well connected gent standing near closet.
The Polish drinks waiter
The mystery man with a talent for comic conclusions and dead give-aways.
The conspiracy theorist in a Pinafore
The dyslectic computer programmer in charge of sotting thungs write.
An editor of a major news corporation in a deer stalker and with meerschaum pipe
Two giggly girls
A man with a spanish wheelbarrow, torn lottery ticket and a taste for noisy music.
And a cynical and complete utter Bastard third rate entertainer
plus
Assorted visiting guests
suspect murder props to include :
A frying man
A virtual opinion on a computer
and a Guide book on Teach Yourself Religious Legacies
..and the drum-’role’ please, for part-time cleaner, ideological furniture and word re-arranger, our resident Sikh-on-the-carpet, flying in for some homespun-fun.
I just watched a CD of a Gandhooji discourse. It was in Bangalorie, but somehow I understood every word. At one point he said in English, ‘The truth cannot be forgotten’ and I knew this guy is someone I have to see and my wife agrees…no tantric tussels with young tantrick yoginies for me.
I’ve booked a ticket for next week. I’m so excited I think I’ll smoke a pipe full of crack, just to get in the no-mind space.
Type Gandhoo or Swami Gandhoo at Google search and be amazed, Sannyasnews is on the top of the search list. After all, Lokesh has given birth to a new entity. He seems to have a good imagination, and also a healthy self esteem, otherwise a seeker on the run for the last 35 years can finally reach home through the power of sheer imagination.
At the ashes of personality Lokesh, soul can get birth..Sant/Bhagwan Lokeshwar arrives on the stage!
Please close your eyes, Ladies and gentlemen.
A soul? Shantam could you please explain to the readers what a soul is exactly.
This whole idea about being on a path that leads to enlightenment is perhaps the greatest of cosmic baloney carrots. If what we seek is here how can there exist a path? A path implies that you have to go somewhere and any somewhere is away from here. Who exactly is it that will walk the path…your soul? Gimme a break Jimmy.
Get in touch with Swami Gandhoo. He is the current avatar, showing that everything that we have been believing up until now is bogus, and that conceptual thinking is just that and has nothing to do with truth.
Jai Gandhooji! I am leaving for Bangalore on Friday to begin my new life.
Lokesh says:
10 December, 2012 at 8:38 am
……..This whole idea about being on a path that leads to enlightenment is perhaps the greatest of cosmic baloney carrots. If what we seek is here how can there exist a path? A path implies that you have to go somewhere and any somewhere is away from here. Who exactly is it that will walk the path…your soul? Gimme a break Jimmy.
Well put but wrong. The path from here to here is transversed by the psyche.
Lokesh says:
… A soul? Shantam could you please explain to the readers what a soul is exactly.
The soul is the part of yourself that connects you with others. The psyche is that part of your yourself that connects you with your self.
This definition of soul sounds like Love (with capital L), Vartan. What do you reckon? If so, it’s not exactly an ‘entity’ though – you know, a sort of ‘thing’ that we’re somehow all supposed to ‘have’, somewhere or other…It’s more a state, isn’t it? So in a way, the word is very likely redundant, or at best, confusing.
As for the psyche, well, that’s where the confusion arises, I guess, between Love and love (small l, emotionally charged, with need, attachment and all that goes with it).
Then there’s Being, isn’t there? With a connecting route to Love (or so I’m told)….
satyadeva says:
This definition of soul sounds like Love (with capital L), Vartan. What do you reckon? …
Love is an emotion. The soul as I described it is (for want of a better word) ‘a mechanism’. People with damaged souls have relationship issues with other people.
Psychotic people are uncomfortable with themselves.
An emotion like love can be directed towards others or towards the self.
Surely, Vartan there’s love (the emotion, with all its ‘normal’ issues of attachment etc., not least its opposite, hate) and Love (the impersonal kind, with no opposite, as realised and embodied in various Masters).
Otherwise, what’s so ‘special’ about them?!
There’s no need to invoke a ‘damaged soul’ to explain relationship issues or psychosis, these are caused by deep-rooted emotional wounds. Leave emotion out of ‘soul’, or as I understand it, Love (capital L), please, otherwise we’re in a right mess.
my feeling is…..
soul happens when you vibe with something/someone or do it easily or move with it/them well….
it`s a mistake to think soul a noun or a thing.
I am with Satyadeva
ascending silence permanent undamaged realization, Love with big L.
are you sure you’re not taking about Swami Kajagoogoo? You’re too shy shy i guess.
In the palace on the glass
side of life, the entrance
where spectators line the queue
waiting
anticipating and exclaiming the plain
truth, the waning tides
of fantastic parallel and drastic
fontanel piercing
approaching trepanation without
trepidation and a wild lust
for angel dust glittering
disco balls and last calls
during ladies night for
slighted karaoke champions