Hello,  this is your captainless captain speaking..
Welcome aboard Oshonews flight no.05H0 – from here to here.
We will be cruising at an altitude of much higher than the unconscious masses, and if you look out of the window over to your left, you will see the rotten humanity committing global suicide.
For your entertainment please find the latest copy of “ivory tower”, our exclusive in-flight magazine in the pocket in front of your seat.
Don’t forget to catch up on this weeks sensational story – famous Osho therapist Ma Prem Mahamango’s  thrilling account of her tantric sex-sessions in a DIY orgone machine on the roof of Jesus house back in 1975 with Swami Banana, a world-famous astrologer and orgone engineer from großharden ,who was a great grand-nephew on his cousin’s side of Wilhelm Reich.
Ah! I think you`ll agree that its memories like that that make the here and now worth living.
Our in-flight assistants will be round later with a menu full of bland flavourless and tasteless dull mush. Please don’t complain, as they simply wont take any notice.
The cult may experience some turbulence later on, in which case, I suggest you ignore it. It works for me.
In the unlikely event of our cult having to make a crash landing, please fasten your seat belts, ,sing a mantra and pretend it isn’t happening.
I hope you have a very enlightened flight. I know I will.
thank you
and yahoo.
love.

After some days of silence and isolation it was once more time to visit my guru, Gandhooji. It’s hot in Bangalore just now and during the night a thunderstorm boomed across the city, its rain bringing welcome relief from the oppressive heat. Early morning and the roads were wet and steaming as I sped out of town in a rickshaw. After the inevitable haggling session with the pan-chewing rickshaw driver, I entered the master’s ramshackle house, where satsang was just beginning. It looked to me like it was to be a question and answer session.
The first question came from an old bespectacled man, whom I’d seen before at previous satsangs. He spoke in Kannad, which is the local language. A young man with a pencil moustache acted as translator.
The old man cleared his throat before he said, ‘Master, how can one identify a false guru?’
Gandhooji, who was sitting on his usual battered arm chair, surrrounded by a mixture of about two dozen Indian and western seekers seated on the cement floor, nodded before lighting a cigarrette. He took a few long drags that managed to produce a coughing fit, which sounded as if his lungs were being ripped apart. The coughs slowly diminished and, when they ceased, the master bent forward and took a few sips of tea from a cracked porceline cup that was set on the dirty floor in front of him. He finished his cigarrette, coughed twice and then said. ‘One need not be overly concerned about whether or not a guru is false, because ultimately all external gurus are, in a mysterious way, false. The whole point of a guru is for him or her to tell you that the real guru is your own self within. It is that self, out of grace, which takes form and manifests outside to tell you ‘I am within you’. It is that same grace that drives one inward, while all the time also dragging one towards the centre.’
The old man sitting at the master’s feet was shaking his head impatiently. Ghandooji lit another cigareette. The old man sat up straight on his cushion, pushed the white Gandhi cap on his head to one side, tugged one of his hairy earlobes and said. ‘With all due respect, Maharaj, that’s not the first time I’ve heard what you just said, and I understand the meaning your words of eternal wisdom convey.’ The man paused, raised his hands in a namaste, bowed his head in reverance and then continued. ‘The false gurus I am referring to are those charlatans and imposters, popping up on every street corner of Mother India, claiming to be enlightened, when in fact they are just scoundrels out to misguide gullible people for one selfish reason or another.’
Ghandooji nodded sagely saying, ‘What I said still stands in relation to these people you wish to denounce. For the most part these people are harmless enough and unless one is very stupid it is only a matter of time until their deception is unveiled and seen for what it is. Some of these ‘false gurus’, as you describe them, are preachers. It is important to understand the difference between a preacher and a teacher. Preachers are often good with words, whereas it can happen that a real teacher is illiterate. But that does not matter, for a lit candle does not need to use words in order to share its flame with another. Then again, a real teacher may be a doctor, artist or even a smelly rickshaw driver who farts all day long. (subdued laughter from the congregation in the room) Real teachers are exceedingly rare today. Preachers are common. A real teacher will merely inform you of the fact that you are no different from him or her. That you are that which is sought. This is the ultimate teaching. All else is preaching.’
The old man, sitting at the master’s feet, was once more shaking his head. Gandhooji raised his chin in an invitation for him to voice his agitation.
‘Yes, yes, ‘ said the man, ‘that’s all very well, but what about all those unenlightened rich gurus and the wealth they gather from spinning their web of deceit and ensnaring innocent victims? You surely understand what I mean.’
Gandhooji raised his grey eyebrows and smiled enigmatically. ‘Mmm…victims you say? In such a play there is only one real victim and that is the deceiver. To pretend that one is enlightened and have to live up to the expectations that go with such a role requires a certain stamina. If one keeps up the charade over an extended period of time the strain of doing so can lead, in certain extreme cases, to a premature death. If anything, one should feel compassion for someone playing such a role, for it is only out of people’s ignorance that the need for someone to play such a role is created.’
The old man was now nodding in agreement. He looked up at Gandhooji and said, ‘I never looked at it like that before. I suppose you could say that these false gurus are performing a socio-religious service.’
The master looked at the man for a moment then threw an empty cigarette packet into his lap. ‘I don’t know about socio-religious service but I do know that I am out of cigarettes Perhaps you’d be so kind as to perform some Ganhooji sevice and walk down to the end of the street to the beedie wallah and purchase me a fresh packet.’ ( a few giggles in the background)
The old fellow nodded, took of his glasses, stood and headed for the door.
Ganhooji called after him. ‘Take an umbrella.’ Kaboom! Just as he said that there was an extremely loud boom of thunder, and a crack of lightning so close it shook the building. The old guy froze on the spot. Gandhooji asked him a question, which he called out in a loud voice to compete with the sudden downpour of rain taking place outside of the open windows. ‘And remember, if you meet one of those false gurus on the street corner that you’ve been so concerned about what do you do?’
The old man turned to face the master and said, ‘Maharaj, I will feel compassion for them.’
Gandhooji chuckled and then declared, ‘Very good, that is the correct answer.’ He then produced a fresh packet of Gold Flake cigarettes out of nowhere and beckoned for the old bloke to return to the red cushion at his feet saying, ‘Come back here, Muckerji, you stuborn old goat. You’ll catch pneumonia if you go out in that downpour.’ The master scanned the room for a moment and then asked, ‘Any more questions?’ He was greeted with silence. He rubbed his nose, lit a cigarette, then pointed and looked up at the mildew-stained ceiling. Two seconds later there was the loudest crash of lightning I’ve heard in my entire life. At the back of the room a couple of old Indian ladies in sarees screamed in fright. Gandhooji gave a vigourous shake of his shaved head and then called out, ‘Anyone care to join me for a game of Monopoly in the kitchen?’ Everyone, including my humble self, raised their hand. The master chuckled and declared, ‘I’m only joking.’
This has been Swami Lokesh reporting to you live from Gandhooji’s ashram in Bangalore.

I love you like always, but not happy with your advisers. As I see, they always suggest you to send your top diplomats – I mean Masters and Messiahs only through the Indian Channel.

Being an aware citizen of the earth, I would like to suggest -  this is not a right strategy. Other than back processing office work, India is no longer much cop..  Also Masters and Messiahs from India are always viewed elsewhere with suspicious eyes. They speak too much blah blah but without any sustainable content,  also their approach is just not contemporary.

May I suggest you a new land?

It may offend your top advisor but the fact is United States of America is the best land to launch your new chief Messiah. Americans know, how to sell, how to motivate, how to build trust around their products and services. Most of them are quite simple and easy, for example Coca Cola-sweet back water with some Fizz, MacDonald and Starbucks…burger and coffee, Apple and youtube–all about entertainment,  and now Facebook a 100 Billion dollar company where people can write with their photos, ” i am fine, hope you are Ok”.

Main thing is they know how to connect people..and as I understand, work of the masters is that people get connected with YOU in a simple and easy way..

Therefore it is very much recommended that send the next one through America. World needs a new Mark Zuckerberg kind of Messiah with his hooded T shirt and baby smile to win over the world..

Just think 800 million followers of new Messiah from America..Who swears by Thy name..

Will it not be a New dawn for the soul.. ?
Thanks

Feel like touching your lotus feet, our beloved God

Shantam