In 1969, I spent four days with Osho who was then known as Acharya Rajneesh. He had accepted our invitation to give talks at Patna University. His fiery and libertine speeches had made a deep impression on me. But when I met him in person, he exceeded all my expectations. He remains the most loving and the most compassionate person I have met all my life. Within those four days I had realised that what I had with him was the single most meaningful relationship in my life. In such a short span of time so much had changed inside me. A lifetime had gone by. Acharyashree’s presence, his love, his blessings had seeped into me like fluoride in water. Each bone, each tissue, each cell of my body felt deeply nourished. I wasn’t the same person that I was before. Just as a piece of iron temporarily becomes a magnet in the magnetic field the same way in his presence we were all transported into a different space. The town was the same, the smell, the people, the colours, the trees were the same and yet in his presence they all acquired a deeper meaning. The trees appeared more alive, colours came out more vivid and there was new sweetness in the air. The entire nature seemed to revel in his presence, exposing the most intimate and beautiful part of herself.
It was only when Acharyashree left town that I gradually became aware of what we call reality—the open gutter by the roads, the heaps of garbage, the bustling city-dwellers, moving frantically around town like the caravan of ants, the waft of fried samosas and Indian curry that interspersed with the thick froth of winter mist and pervaded all corners of the streets. It took me a while to adjust to his absence. To understand and reflect upon the profundity of what had happened to me during those days I started strolling around the city aimlessly. These strolls gave me solitude and insights, even in those places where I was least expecting them. The story I am narrating to you is from one of those strolls that had led me to the Patna Railway station one particular evening.
I was in my early twenties and had had a few experiences of romantic love. But I had never known the intensity with which the beloved’s absence undoes the peace of one’s heart until that day. Sufis have the tradition of addressing God as the beloved and they sing and dance to his glory. Ordinarily, such sentiments are applied only to lovers. But the love affair with the master surpasses all other love affairs. Acharyashree had opened those chambers in my heart that I didn’t know existed. And with him gone, his absence was asserting itself like a huge void, which made everything else in my life seem insignificant.
I kept watching the passengers, the bogie and the beggars in the platform listlessly. I wondered where so many people were going. What destiny awaited them at their destinations? Just as I was caught in my own web of solitary musings, I caught her glimpse again. She must be in her early thirties. She had become an intrinsic piece of the mosaic that the Patna Railway station was. I had seen her numberless times in the same tattered clothes, the same unkempt, matted hair running frantically when any train arrived at the platform and inspecting each compartment with strangely animated eyes. This animation brought a new lightness in her feet and dilated her pupils. She would pry into each compartment scanning each passenger and run into another compartment disappointed.
Countless times I had watched her scanning the trains. Each compartment left her more disappointed. By the time she managed to scan the entire train she would be engulfed by a disappointment so huge that it bloomed around her like an invisible halo of gloom. Tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked. It was heartbreaking to watch her thus. There was a strange beauty in her face, the beauty of melancholia, of the defeated, of the one who had given up on life. It didn’t arouse passion but it demanded to be seen. In her face the suffering had acquired its most penetrating expression. She must have come from a good family. Her frail and dainty body bore a certain nobility of manners.
After having seen her many times, I had enquired the local vendors about her. What I heard left me in daze for days together. She came from a well-to-do family from a suburb around Patna. When she was still a young girl of around 20 she had eloped with a man who went to the same college as she did. The man had assured to marry her and she must have left her home behind in the great hope of spending the rest of her life with her beloved. By evening they had arrived at Patna. The man had taken her to a hotel, where they must have consummated their love. They spent a few days in the city enjoying their new-found freedom. One fine morning he woke up early and told her he had to go back to his house to fetch some money as he was running out of cash. They had come together to the station and he had left with the promise of coming back. She sat down in one of the benches waiting for him to arrive back anytime. A day passed and then another day and another and another. At least a decade had passed by but the man had still not arrived. The desolation got the best of her. Someday, she would be seen in torn clothes and blue marks on her flesh, which mutely testified the cruelties of her predators. I was told she had been sexually abused repeatedly over the years. But despite it all, she continued watching out for her beloved to return back.
I had never seen her beg though. People would just take pity on her and leave some food by her side. When she was done staring vacantly she would pick up whatever was left around her and ate it listlessly in a mechanical attempt to preserve her body. How could she die before he returned?
It sent shudders through me when I thought how she had forgotten everything—her name, her home, her history, herself—and yet that through that ocean of dementia, she retained the memory of that promise. The promise of the beloved. The promise of meeting. The promise of togetherness. The promise that had been betrayed. And betrayed so ruthlessly. My heart welled up. I watched her crouching by the pillar. She sat motionless with the resignation of a corpse. How cruel the man must have been to desert her thus. And how unfortunate! Just how unfortunate.
Just then, a train came looming. The long locomotive came by slowly like a giant reptile, emitting faint heat making the platform a few degrees warmer. Something stirred inside her. She looked at the train and her pupils dilated again. One could see the rush of blood in the green veins in her forehead that suddenly swelled. She clutched her blouse with her right hand and stood up expectantly. That instant her body alighted with a new hope.
How could destiny be so cruel? How could the train carry thousands of passengers every day and just not that man? Even before the train stopped she jumped into the compartment that was the closest to her. Through the bars of the window, I saw her hustling through the compartments. The passengers, who were deboarding saw this crazed creature with disdainful eyes. Children shirked in panic and women scanned her torn clothes and her young, beautiful body and twisted their lips in disgust. I just kept watching her. She scurried through them like a rat. People reluctantly made a passageway for her so that she wouldn’t touch them. And she ran past them untouched. Untouched by their disdainful stare, untouched by their cleanliness, untouched by their judgmental sneers, untouched by everything. Her faith in love was so virginal. Nothing else existed except that promise. That moment she appeared to me like a mythical character, a Majnu, whose story was yet to be written. The world would someday read her story and weep to her agony. But that moment as she ran past them they dismissed her like a freak, unworthy of their attention, let alone sympathy.
This has always been the fate of lovers.
My eyes were teary again. A turbulent storm was brewing inside me. Acharyashree had made no such promise to me and yet I was beholden to him. I knew just as river seeks to merge into ocean, I would find no peace until I met him again. I had seen that mad woman many times but that day we were tied together by a strange fate. I felt the enormity of the absence that ate her heart. I felt her pain of separation. I realised when one sees the glimmer of love, how everything else in the world fades to its comparison. Although it is convenient to prune the branches of love from the very early age so that none witnesses its glory and therefore can settle down in the mundane world with dull complacency but how meaningless a life that would be! True, love will bring agony, love will bring separation but it is only in that violent pang of melancholia life reveals its most intimate secrets. In those four days, Acharyashree had shown me the otherworld, the ecstasy of falling in love, of rising in love, of evaporating in love.
Now it seemed foolish to go back to that dull complacent life again. I had been touched by the fire of love. And just like that woman, and all the lovers of the past and present, I was destined to walk alone, misunderstood. Some would pity me, some would be enthralled by my story, some would dismiss it off as obsession. But it takes a lover to understand the story of a lover. There might not be many left, but I will feel fortunate if just one of you will read this and see that glimmer.
(Extracted from Swami Anand Arun’s upcoming book My Days With Osho)
I wonder what kind of people like to look at other people´s marriage photos? Sometimes it is part of the job if you work in the photo archives of news media, sometime it is for politeness sake!
Anyway, before going to bed last evening, I saw this article, and before sleeping a thought arose: after reading, ‘My Golden Days with Master A or My life with Master B’, I will sell the books on ebay or put in the waste paper container and go for the search, ‘My search for Master C or Master D or Master E.’
This story could be read a little differently.
It may not just be the archetypal tragedy of love, loss and reflection of eternal truth presented by the author, but also an indictment of a `religious` society that simply can`t deal with sex and love and has so little respect for women – moralistically casting her out and then raping her.
It`s the Rotherham mind-frame.
Btw, did you know that most people in India believe that marriage is a cure for mental illness?
It sounds like the tagline for a very dark sitcom and so it is….
I read Arun’s tragic tale and found it interesting enough to reach his somewhat warped conclusion. Some strange metaphors that sound like he picked them up from other writers. Take the following: “his love, his blessings had seeped into me like fluoride in water.” Fluoride? I suppose that is how it might be once you have joined the Happy Smile Club (a reference to an old toothpaste tv ad).
“This has always been the fate of lovers” is one of Arun’s conclusions. Testimony to his not having much experience on that particular field of play, or having read enough books on the subject, or seen enough good films.
There is one sannyasin guy who drops a lot of old photos from Poona 1 and the 70s in Goa on Facebook. I always check them out to see if there is anyone else I know in the photos that I recognize, besides him. Over the years, it has become obvious that this chap feels that the best years in his life happened 40 years ago. I can see how it can happen, but there still exists something sad about it. There is a bit of that in Arun’s memories of Osho, plus he has a major investment in glorifying his time with Osho. He is an obvious sentimentalist, something Osho claimed not to be, although he also glorified his past. Now, we have a movie about it.
Thing is, we all have a past, but I thought the whole idea was to live now and let go of the past. Arun has set himself up as a star disciple, carrying Osho’s imaginary torch, yet he is constantly recounting episodes from his past.
Arun declares, “Within those four days I had realised that what I had with him was the single most meaningful relationship in my life.” Yeah, but like, man, if my memory serves me well, Osho pointed in a direction that said all such relationships with him were merely products of the imagination.
It all sounds very spiritual, but is it? The idea that the guru is interested in you as a person is a false one. Truth is, the guru sees you as a fucking nuisance, a pest, a hindrance. The sooner you get out of the way and let it happen, the better. All this sentimental and emotional crap about disciples’ golden days with their guru is just so much sugar coating on a lump of shite.
Real masters make masters in their own right. It is in order to pay respects to one’s teachers but Arun’s sentimental hogwash has nothing to do with that, although it might appear so. That is because he makes it all so special, his special experiences with Osho. An investment.
We all have our Osho experiences. So what? It is time to move on from spiritual experiences and focus on who the fuck we think it is that is having all these experiences and what for. Saving them up for a rainy day? Count me out from what I see as a very old pardigm that has long ago reached its sell-by date.
In his time, Osho was a razor-sharp cutting-edge phenomenon. If you believe you want to carry that torch you can start by ditching all our yesterdays from the likes of Arun and start living all our todays by little old you, because that is all you really have and you do not even have that, unless it is imbued with the power of love, which is about all that is real in a world of illusion.
Kabaam! That is the thing about a magic show, the magician knows it is all a trick…the dummies actually believe it is real. It is.
Lokesh, you can write anything about Arun tale. I am sure Arun did not write this keeping in mind you or other western followers of Osho. Every writer has some image about his target readers.
Why editors have chosen this tale is a matter of curiosity as 90% bloggers are from Britain, Ireland, Scotland. Maybe the success of Arun makes it interesting. Without doubt, Arun is most probably the most successful Osho entrepreneur. He is in the right place at the right time in the right country.
OSHO,
WHY DO INDIANS THINK THEY ARE MORE SPIRITUAL THAN OTHERS?
https://justpaste.it/WhydoIndians
Actually the article was sent to us from Arun, SP, presumably in the hope of publication.
We figure whatever our differences with him, he deserves some space. He certainly has not sat on his bottom since he left Pune for the last time.
Best and most succinct post, especially given the length, you’ve ever written. I would like to have written, said, something similar.
Arun, Thank You for such a beautiful article. You are obviously All Heart. Yahoo!!!
Perfectly correct, Saadz!
Yahoo!
When I met Acharyaji, his love, his blessings also seeped into me like fluoride in water Previously I had been suffering from truth decay but now I was grinning from ear to ear with Colgate ring of confidence!
It was like getting a lifetime supply of mental floss for free! After tasting ultrabrite enlightenment, everything else was just truth-paste!
Just then, a train came looming. The long locomotive came by slowly like a giant reptile, emitting faint heat, making the platform a few degrees warmer. Then I noticed a chai-wallah – he looked at the train and his pupils dilated again. One could see the rush of blood in the green veins in his forehead that suddenly swelled. He clutched his trishul and stood up expectantly. That instant, his body alighted with a new hope as he rushed from carriage to carriage looking for Muslims to disembowel!
I made some enquiries: “Who is that man?”.
I discovered that it was Narendra Modi.
That moment he appeared to me like a mythical character, a Zorba the Buddha whose story was yet to be written. I crowned him as a newly crowned yogi and set off on my mission to make Osho into a Hindu god and build a yuga of superconsciousness that can last a thousand years by removing the alcoholic baboons who have abused the freedom that Osho has given them and hijacked our holy Samadhi!
Yahoo!
Hari Om!
Yogi, to read your post in this beautiful winter day and have a very good, hearty laughter was a blessing. You said it all, I just hope Arun reads your post. Who knows? Maybe he will know that we know…Cheers, Yogi!
Keep it up, Yogi. Love it. You have such a ring-a-ding-ding of confidence.
Thanks to SN for posting this truly inspirational article. As Saadz says, Arun, you are all heart. To have formed such an intimate relationship with the master of masters, Osho, is indeed the blessing of blessings and to spread Osho’s work to so many people is truly the work of a man who has really experienced and felt the master’s grace.
The deeply moving story of the poor woman in the railway station, ever awaiting the return of the beloved, is indeed the plight of all true seekers; we are all waiting on Godot. Such a poignant tale and something we can all relate to, I am sure. As Arun so rightly concludes, “It takes a lover to understand the story of a lover.” His compassion and humility knows no bounds, encapsulated so well in the following, “I will feel fortunate if just one of you will read this and see that glimmer.” Yes, a glimmer of truth is all it takes to stimulate the unquenchable thirst of the true seeker.
Shantam rightly concludes from his completely unbiased perspective, “I am sure Arun did not write this keeping in mind you or other western followers of Osho.” Such certainty can only arise from a man capable of understanding Osho’s legacy and message.
I am lost for words and leave you with something from Osho that will say more than I ever could: “Only idiots are not controversial.”
His blessings.
Is this new style of writing, Lokesh, parody in a very serious tone? Laughter arises before the last sentence.
Aye, Shantam, my point is that using what is generally accepted as spiritual language might often have something to do with adopting what is seen by many as spiritual behaviour, when it really has nothing much to do with a search for the truth. It is marketable, though.
People like Arun are striving to make Osho a respectable guru, easier now that he is dead, but whilst alive Osho did not care too much about respectability. I loved that about him. It was fun, apart from anything else.
Here is a picture of a lady I met a few moons ago on an Indian railway station…
Was it a one night stand, or did it go deeper?
Actually we only met for half an hour or so, until I jumped on a train.
She had a dog too…
Do you still keep in touch?
No, that was the last time I saw her. Actually, that monkey was being naughty and ripping posters off the walls of the platform.
What happened is she posed for some pictures with her monkey, and she kissed the monkey but it bit her on the nose.
Shortly after, I got onto a train and dissapeared into the potpourri of people and the chanting of tea wallahs: “Chai chee choii”…And guys selling omlittes.
Omlittes? What, like cheap spiritual comic books?
SS,
I suspect the monkey was getting jealous about the growing attraction between the two of you.
They can be like that (so I hear).
It’s a sad story really as you will probably never find anyone better. She even looks like she knows more about internet search engines than you do.
Such a waste.
My intuition is telling me, Swami Shanti, that you’ve given Swami Anand Anubodh the ‘ump.
ROTFLMAO
(MOD: given SAA the ‘ump – MEANS YOU’VE ANNOYED HIM RATHER A LOT!
Your intuition is wrong, Arpana.
I’m trying to find the picture of her being bitten by the monkey. Got it stored somewhere.
May your fucking sadist, cunning motivation for digital performance not prevail, Swamishanti. But…alas – this truly is a macho chat (if UK or not, is questionable).
It has ever been that way with very few GAPs, very rarely happening, then in spite of the mind-frames gathering here…and you gonna get your “XXX” by very special Tantan, most probably, but that doesn´t mean a thing.
Madhu
Madhu,
I assure you that the photos shown above have not been manipulated at all and are small snippets of my life journey on this planet.
And stop smoking those rocks.
Madhu,
I like the photo posted by SS only because it highlights, in a gross way, the plight of the women all over the world. It is our plight as well, Madhu. The whole world is still a “Rotherham mind-frame”, quoting Frank boy.
The story posted by Arun still happens nowadays. Nothing to do with love. I agree that when Osho started ‘grooming’ us, he used to talk about love between a man and a woman, to make us understand something. But now we don’t confuse hormonal love with spiritual love any more. I can sympathise with this lady in the photo.
Cheers, Madhu!
Tan,
I have been referring in my responses to the very context of the thread and this snapshot of a tourist, as well as to the then following ´fantasies´ it provoked. My lines came out of sympathy to the women as you called it, and not out of the lack of it. (In another topic context, the pic would have got other ´comments´, wouldn´t it?).
Otherwise, you don´t tell me news by reminding me of the situation of many, many women all over the world (not only in poor countries).
If a “Rotherham mind frame” is happening as camouflaged as nowadays possible, it doesn´t need any applause. Never ever.
And thank you for reading.
Cheers too – from Madhu.
You’re in denial, SS.
YOU are in the DOGHOUSE.
Well done, Arpana, you’ve won a picture of a dog and a pig sleeping together:
Gosh. Thanks SS.
Pigs and dogs rock.
Shantam got like that when Russell Brand was discussed here in positive terms.
Stand?
One-night-squat, more like.
Another successful fellow in the trading of Spiritual commodities-
Osho is no longer in the body, but Osho`s brother is still here. And even sounds similar and looks similar.
So Shanti, take the jump and visit the holy brother. Show some respect to your observation, which proclaims, “Osho is no longer in the body, but Osho`s brother is still here. And even sounds similar and looks similar.”
Don´t forget to post some photo of you with him. It will be as classic as woman with a monkey posted here.
I knew a girl who was ‘stood up” at the Church altar, back here in silly old England. It was the talk of the town. They got her home, but she never could walk again. Her paralysis – well, you might say it was psychosomatic but it was real enough. She spent her life sat in a wheel chair at a bay window, looking down a garden path which her lover had come down so many times in their courtship.
I don’t see this story above as anything particularly to do with Osho, or Arun. But the story is telling and very sad, and fits with my own experience of the girl at the altar.
The story is greater than the observer, but Arun records it with human sympathy and grace.
“I don’t see this story above as anything particularly to do with Osho, or Arun.”
Yes, Parmartha.
And you love your ´silly old England´, don´t you? That decent smart art of storytelling and the long, long time you taught your colonies to adapt to it in perfect manners…just giving a little otherwise flavour to it, like a Bollywood adaptation.
However – it doesn´t fit with the chat response climate (so-called SS and some others) – as such in this thread (topic).
Too bad.
Madhu
I dont understand, Madhu, your comment here.
I have no affection for “silly old England”. I lived in an international commune, and have many good memories of it, and think, like Osho, there should be an international passport, not a national one.
I don’t see anything wrong with saying the story from Arun was genuine and heartfelt, but nothing to do with Osho.
“In his time, Osho was a razor-sharp cutting-edge phenomenon. If you believe you want to carry that torch you can start by ditching all our yesterdays from the likes of Arun and start living all our todays by little old you, because that is all you really have and you do not even have that, unless it is imbued with the power of love, which is about all that is real in a world of illusion.
Kabaam! That is the thing about a magic show, the magician knows it is all a trick…the dummies actually believe it is real. It is.”
Was scanning the posts of last days, this paragraph from Lokesh has provoked some thoughts.
Living out today, be here and now, Enlightenment is your birthright, you don´t need to crawl, stand up and walk kind of tv evangelical inspirational sentences work, the way a look at the nude double-spread works.
Matter of the fact is, Lokesh kind got the luxury to spend 7 years not just in the presence of Bhagwan of that time but his hot and cold people in an intimate way. After eating 100 rats any cat can talk about becoming Vegan.
My difference is basically on this point with most of the ladies and gentlemen calling themselves sannyasins or ex-sannyasins. I want to revive that brand, such people care a shit. They have the collective mind, “What does it matter, Starbucks has closed, my aya can make better coffee. In between I have also learnt how to make good latte.”
Underline thing is Bhagwan Shree and Neo-Sannyas were accidental or circumstantial in the West.
Osho is basically a deceased author, once in a while someone buys his books.
The fact that hot young gora women won’t have sex with you, Shantam, is nothing to do with Sannyas.
What a nonsense way of avoiding the hard fact that Sannyas has long been expired, almost like Nokia or Orkut.
Well, Shantam, YOUR own personal version of Sannyas has certainly “expired”, and quite a while ago. Have you ever considered that this might just reflect more on you than on the existence or otherwise of any outer manifestation?
In reality, you actually haven’t a leg to stand on as there are plenty of initiatives you could get involved in (as well as the ever-open option to start something in your own area yourself).
It seems to me that you are choosing to remain wilfully blind and deaf to the opportunities that are out there, thus living your life in a chronic state of complaint – hardly guaranteed to bring to you what you most want, or need. While imagining you’re in the vanguard of some noble ‘revolutionary’ crusade to bring down ‘oppressors’ and thereby restore you to your imagined former glory!
But, as usual, I expect you’re simply too enclosed in your self-serving ‘story’, too stubborn to even consider the possibility that you’re basically enmeshed, trapped in a load of self-made, self-excusing lies.
Could not disagree more, Shantam. Osho is alive, but in just a different and better way in the West. In fact, he himself gave up on India as far as I can see, in about 1969!
All sorts of people adopted Jesus and Mohammed into their own agendas, with results a thousand miles from their real intent when alive.
Actually, I don’t like the way you speak as if Osho and Sannyas is dead. Seems too unquestioning of your own opinion. Have you ever really considered that you are in fact a politician, but maybe one that is unaware of that?
Parmatha, if you read your own words, maybe you will see your experiences and perceptions are coloured by your closeness with Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh. In Osho´s presence you have not spent a single day.
To be up-to-date means to move from 19th January, 1990 backwards and not 1974 forwards. It is like a will written by anyone on his last days will be valid, even it is of one line. Submitting previous copies have no relevance.
MOD: FACTS WRONG HERE, SHANTAM. PLEASE READ OTHERS’ POSTS CAREFULLY! WE’LL LET PARMARTHA INFORM YOU.
Beautiful extract from a book I definitely will love to read. And though I do not agree with Arun on all points I have certainly over the years come to respect him and his work more and more.
But ofc this is mainly published here to give the pundits the perfect opportunity to shine their elitist arrogance and impeccable wit. Led by the amazing Luke Mitchell who – wow – is so advanced that he had long ago gone beyond spirituality!!
Well, at least that’s the understanding amongst this little group of regular (im)posters here. But seen from the outside they rather seem to suffer from an extremely common disease these days: the illusion that being negative and cynical is the same as being intelligent and critical.
As always reminding me of a line in one of George Harrison’s spiritual songs about just this kind of people: “So hateful at anyone who’s happy or free/They live all their life without looking to see/The Light that has lighted the world.”
You always sound really bitter and filled with hate towards the people who post here, Bodhi Heeren. Seems a bit personal.
If that’s the case then behind the bluster lies great insecurity, perhaps? And possibly a sense of being ‘let down’ by ‘fellow-travellers’, ie those he would have preferred to see things exactly how he does. Insecurity again? As why bother otherwise?
He talks the way people talk when a relationship has broken down, and they blame everything on the other, see themselves as the victim.
Psychology uncle is back! If disciple can psycho-analyse the motives of his teachers, that is the proof one has passed the bridge. Rest is all amateurish analysis.
Shantam.
Jayesh and Amrito are not to blame because no one will have sex with you.
Heeren,
It seems like you sometimes post here as some kind of corrective devotional duty. But you never read any replies or answer them. I can only imagine that you don’t actually read the entries very carefully either.
Anyway, I see the moderators have put your post up; one assumes they are democrats who believe that within reason everyone should have their say. Certainly very different to any stage of Sannyas I knew.
This was based on Osho’s own view that his commune was nothing about democracy. But he also said that he was not part of the commune, just a guest, so I figure we should make of it what we will.
I myself like the flavour of democracy, but freely admit I never found so many in the communes who were like-minded. Of course, actually outside the communes sannyasins were often of a democratic leaning.
I think I remember you in the distant past. A plumber in Pune 1? Anyway, good luck to you. I hope you find life treating you well.
MOD: IF Bodhi Heeren AGAIN FAILS TO REPLY HIS POSTS WILL NO LONGER BE PUBLISHED BY SN.
Bodhi Herring sums up his situation perfectly in his own words: the illusion that being negative and cynical is the same as being intelligent and critical.
Then we have a George Harrison line to put icing sugar on a person who is obviously bitter about something, although what exactly is none too clear, especially to him: “So hateful at anyone who’s happy or free.”
Get well soon.
Heeren is quite balanced in his approach. I wonder why mob is jumping on him. Most of sannyasins feel discussion on the sannyasnews is participated by the pig heads. None has any capacity even to analyse situations in the right perspective. It is like doctors checks his pulse to decide how much is the heartbeat of the patient.
Shantam.
The totally unbalanced Sannyas News pest, babbling about balance. You couldn’t make it up.
“Most of sannyasins feel discussion on the sannyasnews is participated by the pig heads. None has any capacity even to analyse situations in the right perspective.”
A perfect self-description of the one who’s posted the most – that’s you, Shantam!
Btw, I presume you’ve interviewed a large, fully representative sample (age, nationality, gender (etc.) before categorically stating that “most sannyasins” agree with you?
Quite often I have asked many sannyasins about the contents at sannyasnews, almost all of them have no high opinion. Few have even said they wonder how I can bear such mind-fuck as they don´t see much really thought-provoking or heart-touching contents.
MOD: POST EDITED. SHANTAM, WE REMIND YOU THAT CERTAIN ISSUES ARE NOW CLOSED.
Shantam, the truth is that you made a thoroughly bogus, ridiculously exaggerated claim in order to serve your personal agenda. You really are a shameless purveyor of propaganda.
And btw, I’d say you’re damn fortunate that SN has provided somewhere for you to publish your mediocre musings for so many years. I think a little bit of gratitude might be in order. And if that’s too much for you – then why not just f… off?
I say, SD, right on the mullah.
SD, are you the owner or shareholder of Sannyasnews? Many times before, too, I have expressed my sense of thankfulness towards the highly democratic approach of Sannyasnews, its founder and legacy holders. Maybe I am only one who has written few years ago, “If Sannyasnews will need the funding, i will be one of the first.”
Secondly, any person with a little brain will do the marketing research and check the moods of its target readers. I do this constantly. I ask readers of sannyasnews and also my page at Facebook not to hesitate to inform me about the opinions. My point of low intelligence contents is based on that feedback. If it pisses the reactionary writers, it is not my business.
What you fail to realise, Shantam, is that YOUR OWN posts have consistently shown “low intelligence contents” down the years: flawed, emotionalised arguments, carelessness with the facts, failure to understand, properly read (or even read at all) others’ posts, refusing to answer when ‘cornered’, boringly repetitious personal agenda-mongering – all with barely a hint of more than minimal self-awareness – not to mention many examples of sheer, unadulterated stupidity.
Given all that, I suggest that anyone who’s foolish enough to want to ‘befriend’ you on facebook is bound to be a fool and therefore someone whose views are not to be taken at all seriously.
Face it, you’re really only interested in two things (which, to you, of course, are intimately related, the first determining, in your mind, the second), ie ‘regime change’ in Pune and getting your leg over with foreign women. The rest (as a wise man whose name I don’t recall once said) is just a cackling cacophony of caca!
What exactly is democratic about Sannyas News? It’s a benign dictatorship.
Re George Harrison, gurus, negativity etc…
This is what Swami Prabhupaedo, George Harrison`s guru and starter of Hare Krishna movement had to say about women:
“It is not that the woman do not like rape. They like sometimes. They willingly. That is the psychology. Outwardly they show some displeasure, but inwardly they do not. This is the psychology.”
(Srila Prabhupada, Morning Walk, May 11, 1975, Perth).
“Although rape is not legally allowed, it is a fact that a woman likes a man who is very expert at rape.”
(Srila Prabhupada, Srimad-Bhagavatam, Book 4, Chapter 25, verse 41).
As a man who married a child bride who suffered several miscarriages before finally giving birth at 14, one cannot doubt that he was speaking from experience.
A chap as sensitive and talented as our George saw Prabhapaedo as the representative of the “light that lighted the world”. And subsequently donated a country mansion and loads of cash to this revolting character.
Like my grandad used to say, “There`s nowt as queer as folk.”
And as my grandad in a parallel universe might say:
“Never trust a man with a Trishul stuck up his ass.”
It`s an amazing comedy of errors really, when you think about it. A bunch of well-meaning, tripped- =out hippies and earnest straights thinking that they are seeing the light that lights the world”…Tripping out with Ganesh the psychedelic elephant… Being sweet-talked by a bunch of spi-fi hustlers…Dropping their minds and falling at the feet of God himself and all the while, God is really a dodgy geezer in the backroom systematically working his way through the full list of felonies and larcenies!
And it`s a story that just keeps on running….
Ah, Srila Prabhupada.
A bald-headed nut, who loved Krishna and parroting old scriptures. Osho once called him “the fossil”, because he was so attached to his old scriptures.
He couldn`t accept that astronauts had ever landed on the moon in 1969, as in his favourite scripture, the `Srimad Bhagavatam`, it states that the Sun is actually closer to the Earth than the `moon planet`.
Of course, if you read those kind of books and take them literally, you will believe that the sun is chasing the moon around the sky in a golden chariot.
I read some of his books and noticed that he spent a lot of energy attacking the followers of Adi Shankara for postulating that we are “all one”. This advaita philosophy is totally wrong, he ranted, we believe in “dvaita” – duality.
Dear Arun (as you or your friends might be reading),
You say: “But it takes a lover to understand the story of a lover”.
I agree.
However, the myriad of ways rivers take to join the ocean, myriad are the levels of understanding we are going through in that pilgrimage.
The story of that woman who became an ´Untouchable´, while not having been one of that caste from the very beginning (up to nowadays in all-India btw), is indeed a sad story, to deserve all compassion. And the end of such a story is not the end either. As you probably know about too.
The thread topic reminded me strongly of the first deep impressions I got when visiting India, travelling to the Ashram and then – the Master. Feeling of coming ´home´ – and coming home, not in a geographical or family-style way: coming home on a deeper level.
The relaxation, if I want to put it in words: ´Let it all BE´. India, being just quite a very fitting circumference in the streets, as it was for me, a western and a very ´thirsty´ human female being. With the quest: ´what is loving?´, ´what is compassion?´ As I was in divine discontent about the answers that had been given to me in my upbringing here.
Decades later, and having been cleansed a little bit by the river and rivers of Life I joined, I watched – AND being part of it too, seeing more deeper into the issues about what one calls ´identifications´ and that that has nothing to do with ´compassion´, although it looks like it so often, doesn´t it?
A never-ending story, that story of ´loving´and ´compassion´ and yes, sometimes painful, sometimes not. Ought to be that way.
And thank you for bringing Osho´s meditations into the world.
Madhu
Dear Madhu and Tan,
The lady in the photo was not in such a dire situation as you may have imagined. She was no beggar – probably rather some sort of travelling street performer.
Actually I saw her go into the railway station before me, she wasn`t actually living in the station, and she had a monkey on her shoulder and she was carrying a sack. When I met her later on the platform, she opened up the sack to reveal a rather stunned-looking puppy.
It was her idea for me to take pictures of her with my phone, and she was amused when I showed her the photos I had taken, even the one where she got bitten by the monkey.
She appeared to be agile and physically fit. There was a big contrast compared with women with a family whom I observed, who were sleeping rough, close by to the station, outside on the pavement, whose children played with coloured chalks and sat picking lice out of each other’s hair.
Thanks for some more information, Swamishanti; I can relate to that by own travel experiences.
I have been so stunned quite often; wouldn´t have been able to shoot photos, so stunned have I been. But inside my soul, there still are a lot of impressions, having very much enriched my ´view on the so-called ´world’ as such.
Madhu
Thanks, SS.
No kick in the balls for me then.
Cheers !
“tagline(s) for a very dark sitcom and so it is”
(borrowed from Frank, 22 February, 2016 at 9:52 am)
As you can´t stop it, can you?