Osho, My Friend by S.K. Sakena

THE WORLD may remember him as Osho, the enlightened, but for everyone in our family he was affectionately known as just Rajneesh. He was my father’s favourite student at Saugar University. Like with all teachers of yore, students used to collect at our home in the evening and debate matters philosophical. They talked of Gurdjieff, Nietzsche, existentialism, etc. My mother, as the Gurumaa used to indulge them with cups of tea and unending supply of pakoras. Rajneesh stood out by far as the brightest among the lot. When others would leave, he would retire to an empty room at the rear of our house and meditate for hours. My grandmother, who was the pooja-paath type, used to wonder what this chap used to do all by himself, for hours in that empty room. Much later, in his lectures and books Rajneesh has quoted my father with affection, as ‘my teacher’. Often he has criticized his ideas, too. Such was the ambience in which the quest for free enquiry was nurtured.

One summer, my father suggested that Rajneesh and I visit the temples of Khajuraho. Neither of us had heard of these temples and they were definitely not on the tourist map then. We hitch-hiked in a police van, and reached a Gandhi Ashram, in rustic Chattisgarh. Then we hit the dirt track and finally arrived at a circuit house in Khajuraho village. In the morning we made enquiries from the villagers and took one forest trail after another to reach these mind blowing temples. None of us had known what to expect. For the first time I wondered what the English explorers, with their Victorian values must have felt, when they chanced upon something so exotic (or erotic!).



Rajneesh and I marveled at the most sublime tribute to love and female form, which the Chandela kings had left behind for us. Was this an ode to the sublime yearning of the soul to merge with the divine? Or was it just hedonism and a public celebration of debauchery? What amazed us most was that, the village women went about their routine rituals and parikrama of these erotic temples in the most matter of fact manner, totally unabashed! As I clicked, Raj kept on saying, “I must see your pictures.” When the enlargements came, like an enthusiastic child he analyzed each picture. He particularly commented on the sublime expressions on the faces of entwined lovers.  I suspect, that the seeds of his book, ‘From Sex to Super consciousness’ were sown at this time.

Shortly thereafter my parents moved to Delhi. One day Rajneesh arrived at our home in Delhi, accompanied by two beautiful women. He touched my father’s feet and dedicated his first book to him. Thereafter, he was a very frequent visitor and was always accompanied by a beautiful girl or two. My father used to tease him, and ask him what his secret of attracting beautiful girls was. But my mother never approved of his coming home with his companions. Faster than we could realize, his lectures started becoming more and more popular and he finally made it to Chowpatty, for his discourses. He graduated quickly from ‘Acharya Rajneesh’ to ‘Bhagwan Rajneesh’. He attracted hippies, flower children and intellectuals – all those who had recoiled with disgust from crass materialism and the horrors of  the Vietnam war. Zen was the flavour of the decade and he became its star exponent.
Later in his life 21 countries of the world would not allow him to settle, until he came accepted to Nepal.(circa 1986).  .

It was here  when chance brought us together after 28 years. My wife and I were checking into the hotel Oberoi Soaltee, when we noticed that the lobby was full of people in orange robes, each dangling a pendant, with a photo of Bhagwan. Enquiries confirmed that, yes Bhagwan was very much in the hotel, observing silence. Many floors in the hotel had been taken up by his entourage. Each floor was well guarded. Every evening, the lawns of the hotel were overflowing with folk from the valley, who would wait for Bhagwan to give darshan. Then they would go away, when told that he was still in silence. The very thought, that I should attempt to meet him, did not cross my mind. However, my wife kept on insisting, that I was one person to whom he would not say ‘No’. Very reluctantly, I tried to find out his room number. The hotel staff had been ordered not to reveal his whereabouts. However, with some manipulation I managed to meet his very suspicious secretary, who kept on saying “No, No”, even before I had said anything. Finally, I gave him my card and said, “I do not want to meet Rajneesh. Just give him this visiting card of mine. That’s all!”
Then things moved so fast. Like electricity, the word went around that Bhagwan was indeed going to emerge from his silence and give a discourse, in the Banquet Hall in the evening. We bought our tickets and purposely sat in the last row, so as not to be noticed. Besides, I was not sure, whether he would recognize me after 28 years. Suddenly there was hushed silence. The robed disciples formed a corridor and he appeared with folded hands. A benign figure with a hypnotic smile and in a diamond studded designer robe. His cap had two rows of diamonds and his slippers too! He settled down in an executive chair and started by saying, “We are so lucky today!” Then pointing towards me, he continued “Today my Guru’s son is here with us.” All heads turned towards the last row, but still no one could make out, who was being referred to. Then he started his discourse. My mind was too much in a daze to concentrate on what he was preaching. The discourse over, the disciples again formed a corridor. Much to everyone’s surprise, he headed straight for me and caught hold of my hands and looked lovingly into my eyes. Minutes passed and no word was exchanged between us. We just looked at each other and in silence spoke so much. His hands were so soft and I did manage to notice his diamond studded watch. After what appeared like eternity, he folded his hands in Namaste and walked on. Bhagwan had disappeared into silence again.

But that was not the end of the evening. Hell broke loose. His disciples crowded around me. Each wanted to hug me and had tears in their eyes, exclaiming, “Oh, Bhagwan knows you!’. ‘Oh, Bhagwan touched you!’ It was getting more than I could handle. The melee felt like a riot of Elvis Presley fans. I would have lost my shirt and it would have been torn to shreds, by souvenir seekers.  My wife and I made a quick exit. This was my last encounter with the man I knew as Rajneesh and Bhagwan.

(first published in Merinews)

This entry was posted in Discussion. Bookmark the permalink.

41 Responses to Osho, My Friend by S.K. Sakena

  1. madhu dagmar frantzen says:

    Here we go, Friends of Sannyas News (UK), here we go!

    A rapport from a Human Being and some totally unexpected corner, invoking a Heart Beat that one could really sense a ´Mystery School´ is still functioning and not being smashed in total.

    Immensly grateful to read your rapport, Mr S.K. Sakena. Lots to digest if the medicine of that is fully taken.

    And thank you, S.K Sakena (and those who chose to post it here-now) with a very grateful and touched heart…

    With Love,
    to the author and for those who invited for this read and fellow-readers,


    • kusum says:

      Sure, Osho is enlightened. That does not mean that he stopped being a normal human being.

    • madhu dagmar frantzen says:

      Here we strolled a bit further, meanwhile, Friends of Sannyas News, UK, ´on and on it goes´, and even a new thread topic contribution is on the go, taken from a really nice storyteller, who, as Frank put it, knows to contribute to “enlightentertainment at its best” in a light way. Do love to read that too and join Frank here…love to read more of such.

      If S.K. Saksena reads by chance some responses to his report (from 1986, Nepal) at this temporary virtual place too, I´d like to share with him that his clear insight about some greediness and false friendliness in the entourage he very sensitively captured then I very much appreciated to read here, as well as I truly appreciated his honest report about himself, being glued then (1986) with his eyes to some diamond sparkles wherever (watch, clothes, cap, slippers…) be those fake or real, btw.

      Even the slippers besides the watch, he found time to examine with his eyes. Just very honest and refreshing to tell us all about it.

      If we would have tea together, I´d like to ask S.K. Saksena if he has also captured some flavour of the love affair happening between Osho aka Bhagwan and his people, if he had felt – is feeling that too?


  2. shantam prem says:

    And Mr. Saxena never visited Osho again, even when Osho was calling people, with expressions similar like, “Don’t miss me. My boat is ready to leave for the other shore.”

    It is no eye tonic to read sentimentality around meeting celebrities – religious or cinematic.

  3. Arpana says:

    I knew you would get jealous, Shantam. I have been waiting for you to write a post like this.

    • shantam prem says:

      And i knew your reaction, Arpana.
      Get some degree in Psychology.

      • Arpana says:

        You didn’t know my reaction, Shantam; and your speedy reaction proves me right. You are are jealous.

        I do have a degree in psychology, Shantam, plus a B.A Hons. and an M.A. in Art, and most of the work done for a Phd.

        Although seeing through your babyish nonsense doesn’t require a degree in anything, just minimal perceptiveness, something you are singularly lacking in.

        • madhu dagmr frantzen says:

          Have a tea break, Arpana, with some very nourishing ingredients; it works for me (at least, temporarily) in these precarious times.

          While having some tea, listening, taking in some valuable ingredients – as only one option, like from Scilla Elworthy, who is actually living close by your corner: ‘How to deal with a bully without becoming a thug’ (TEDx Eceter recording)

          Well, one cannot deal with a social bot like this, but one can (a little bit better) deal with some pain and shame, which came into appearance and is acted-re-acted out in these times and our own role in it.


          • Arpana says:

            That’s a really interesting notion. Madhu. Something I have given a lot of consideration to. Is it possible to stop a Trump, set boundaries for a Trump, without becoming more like a Trump.

            The key here is about identity. Identifying.

            Shantam Trump is hugely identified with the role he plays at Sannyas News. I am not even slightly identified with how I behave here.

            • madhu dagmar frantzen says:

              Well, what to say, Arpana? I see I didn´t get through what I wanted to share. Language problems? I don´t know. But the most courageous attempt may be to meet the ´inner-Trump´ inside. There you missed, as one can see in your last chapter at 12.03 pm.

              Better to leave Shantam Prem out of it. That was my suggestion. And otherwise I recommended to listen to a woman speaking with more weighted authority from experience according to such matters, unlike I am able to offer.

              The listening these days and times often does me good.

              That´s what I want(ed) to share with you.


              • Arpana says:

                I know you mean well, Madhu, but I don’t want to live the way you do. I really like being me.

                Sannyas News is a blip on the internet.

                I don’t want to run the Ashram. I don’t want to be President of the United States.
                I don’t want to take over Sannyas News and have every one fit with me.

                • madhu dagmar frantzen says:

                  Thanks, Arpana,

                  And sorry, I just pointed out the fact that you apparently need to keep hold on to your favourite animosities in the same way Shantam Prem is doing it, and that there may be a way out. That´s all.

                  If you call that repetitive animosity ´being you´, so be it.

                  If I share something here, which helps me to get over some stuckness in my life, it´s just an attempt to relate; also to relate, when I see and sense some stuckness elsewhere, where and when I am a witness to it.

                  It´s all about relating, isn´t it?


                  And yes, you are right:
                  “Sannyas News is a blip on the internet”
                  and a´blip is a blip is a blip´…as a ´rose is a rose´.

                • Arpana says:

                  If you can compare keeping Shantam in line with behaving like Donald Trump, then you’ve pretty much shut all possibility of dialogue down.

                • madhu dagmar frantzen says:

                  @ Arpana (11 January, 2017 at 9:13 am)
                  Who is shutting down whom here, and how, needs some consideration, Arpana, also from your side. Otherwise, we have (sometimes) some moderation, don´t we?

                  Re my response, I would say you deliberately mistake it and misunderstand it and teach me (again) that your kind of stubborness is awful for me, and maybe not only for me.


                • Arpana says:


                  Funny you should say that, Madhu. My impression of you is that you twist everything to suit your agenda.

  4. shantam prem says:

    Anyway, this word ‘jealous’ made me contemplate over my life situations. My mother says she has never seen me hankering about anything, even in childhood. Maybe the reason was being the only son of a well-to-do family in a relatively poor neighbourhood.

    The real competition started in Pune, there too it was more a sense of enviousness than jealousy with those Indians who being less intelligent and less handsome were getting those girls on daily basis; I would have fallen in love with one of them.

    Me being shy and romantic type believed in falling in love, whereas surroundings were creating fish market in Buddhafield.

    Some well-known old fisherman Swami even gave me the idea, “Be assertive. Don’t take rejections seriously, go on asking women, at the end of the day surely you too will get one.”

    At present, if I feel envious, it will be in comparison with Narendra Modi or Donald Trump. Sorry, no jealousy or enviousness with any living enlightened being or mini-guru.

  5. prem martyn says:


    The idea of love and sex being connected is not linear. In fact, it runs many different survival strategies.

    Pets, dogs are known to release hormones that stimulate the mammalian nurture response in humans, therefore they get to be looked after whilst idiotic humans have their most simplistic emotive responses passively emptied into non-human mammals as company, reassurance, identity. Just look at the average emotive development of the next doggie walking person you see and make a judgement.

    Now then, let’s put things into context…Down at the Burning Man festival on the salt desert of Utah they have a yearly festival. I was reading a book review of a young girl of 25 who for five years set off to explore her sexuality. Then wrote about it. Included in the review is her story of the Orgy tent at Burning Man. It sounds similar to what the Agape festival at Humaniversity was about.

    It’s amazing what type of people exist and how different we all are. I have never met in my limited love-life two women who agreed on the nature of a woman’s sexuality or alternatively, on the ways to love via the body. I have therefore a complete disregard, zero interest in any notion of a generic liberation. It’s unique, especially when it comes to the significance of sex.

    Plus the fact that anyone rewrites the rule book, depending on convenience. There are no absolutes. The idea of having to be all Osho-ified, wafty and white-robed is nothing in the bedroom. Just a ritual ruse to look as if you can be trusted.

    I have met women with a liking for various indulgences and others who preferred to use and abuse than be used and abused. I have met those who love the glitz and those who hate it. I have met women who love the mind and those who just want the body.

    The notion of attempting to lasoo anyone with romantic sex is attractive but should not be confused with the underlying desperation or investment.

    As human beings we generally love sex because it feels good. We then release hormones to seduce our co-habitee until such time as decisions can be made.

    I met a German lady who was hit on several times a day in Pune but refused the offers thinking she was not that type of girl. The last time I spoke to her in a Dharamsala tea shop she had just spent two days being ultra-fucked by a man she met in the afternoon there. She had no regrets.

    I asked her what of the woman who refused the dates as being too casual? She replied that it was just her role to wait until the right buyer came along, but that she was now doing the buying.

    Be not afraid. Remember the orgy tent in Utah.

    Sex is for fun. Love is for co-dependency. You can have both, depending on how well adapted and sussed you are and if in a convenient, intelligent, straightforward commune.

    Emotive/erotic incest by controlling parents who live vicariously through children they control and ‘love’ is very sick-making, I know about these things.

    India is in deep shit because it doesn’t have a fluid rebellion against male psychology and woman’s dependency. Can’t afford it, even amongst the bourgeoisie. But Pune is their refuge for all things westernised. The recent video of Indians dancing there made me feel so sad they missed the original event. The guys and girls looked as singley and unmingley as their embarrassed, limited faces. Dead as the dodo. Dancing to thin air and not each other. No bollocks or tits, unlike Pune 1. I also did a Dance group in Nisarga…bloody fucking hell. Talk about retard repression. Curry aroma also not good for sweat.

    Sex done well can bring about transcendent silence.

    It’s fun.

    But it’s only hell when its prematurely exposed by therapists on a mission to prove how interfering they are and with zero risk. Like a back seat driver.

    Let no-one kid you that sex is less wonderful or entrancing when you get older. In fact, it’s probably even better because one just doesn’t give a damn about one’s interactions…and so is not seen as a needy bastard. Just a greedy one.

    Leave home, ET.


  6. Arpana says:

    That you are an only son comes as no surprise to me.

    “Hankering”…So what adjective would you use to describe your obsessive “hankering”
    to run the ashram, and have it as your very own toy?

  7. simond says:

    Lovely story, beautifully told and an absolute perfect example of the Osho I loved.

  8. shantam prem says:

    One of the common aspects among all the religions is to show utter pleasure while remembering and sharing stories of their great founders.

    I think it is adolescent resistance to say Sannyas is not religion. It has all the elements of religion. If not religion then is it a business?

    • Sammasati says:

      Well, spirituality and money had no discord among each other in Osho’s view. if I understand him correctly. Maybe he invented the ‘cashram’, as someone smartly coined it.

      There you have it, religion as business: Have everybody foolish enough to pay for something (as they are unenlightened enough to think it is something to be had) that Existence has given you for free.

      Of course, those who have paid will have a hard time admitting it, as always.

      • Arpana says:

        @Sammasati. 12 January, 2017 at 4:38 pm

        I paid for groups. Paid to be at the ashram . Paid for meditations. Paid for books. I regret not one penny.

        A guy I know did a years live-in counselling course at Medina. He paid a few thousand pounds. At the end he decided it wasn’t for him. His attitude was, “Well, now I know for sure – and what is money for?”

        You sound to me as though you attach a lot of importance to money.


Leave a Reply