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Part VI : Old and new friends
You ask: You address certain sannyasins by our original name,
never using our sannyas name. Not only this, but you affix to
our name "ji," "Babu," "Bhai" - a
sign of respect shown to elders! - and I feel embarrassed.
Govind Siddharth, this is true. There are a few people who I
have known long before the initiation into sannyas started. Even
before sannyas they were sannyasins by their attitude, by their
gratefulness. So when they took sannyas, as far as I was concerned,
there was no change. They were already sannyasins to me. They
were unaware of it, but to me there was no change. This was the
reason that I continued their old names.
For example, I am addressing Govind Siddharth for the first
time; otherwise I have always called him Lashkariji. Kakubhai…Falibhai…
Jayantibhai…I have known them for so many years before sannyas,
and there has been no drastic change. They smoothly moved into
sannyas, so smoothly that I don't remember a few of their sannyas
names. I don't know what is the name of Falibhai, and there is
no need. Falibhai will become enlightened as Falibhai. He must
know his sannyas name, but I have forgotten because I have never
used it. And that was the case with Lashkariji. Today I have used
Govind Siddharth before you all, but from tomorrow - again
Lashkariji!
Names don't matter.
I can understand your embarrassment that I am calling everybody
else by the sannyas name and not calling you by the sannyas name - "Is
there something missing?" No, there is not anything missing.
Even before you became a sannyasin there was nothing missing.
Your sannyas has not been a revolution but an evolution. You have
simply grown; you have not taken any jump, there has not been
any need.
And you should understand my trouble also: when I see you, I
don't remember Govind Siddharth, I remember Lashkariji. So you
should be compassionate towards me too; I have my troubles. Now
when Kakubhai comes to see me, I don't know his sannyas name.
But the important thing is sannyas, not the name. And it is something
inner, not something outer. So don't feel that way.
I can see the point, that you respect me. And this has been
the human tradition all over the world: that if you respect me
then I cannot respect you - and that is absolutely wrong.
If you go to a Jaina monk and you put both your hands together
with deep respect and bow down to him, he cannot do the same to
you - because you are respecting him, you are putting him
on a higher pedestal; now from that pedestal he can only bless
you. Jaina scriptures, Hindu scriptures, Buddhist scriptures all
prohibit it: sannyasins should not be respectful towards non-sannyasins.
They should be compassionate - compassion keeps you above
them.
But about everything, my approach is different. I respect all
those who respect me. I love all those who love me.
The more you respect me, the more I respect you; it is a mutual
phenomenon. There is no question of somebody being superior and
somebody being inferior….
So as far as I am concerned, I am not one of your so-called holier-than-thou
saints.
I love you. I respect you. I am grateful, as you cannot conceive.
I am immensely thankful to every person who has come to me to
share my joy, to share my being, to be part of my celebration.
upan14
In 1985 Osho was to say:
One of my oldest sannyasins, Ma Yoga Laxmi, was the president
of the Indian section of my sannyasins for almost ten years, and
has been with me almost for twenty years…. false04
Mukta…as far as I am concerned, you are the only sannyasin
amongst millions who has loved me from the very first day you
entered into my room some twenty years ago.
Mukta is one of those unwavering people that have become very
rare in the world. She had not come for me; she had come just
to accompany another sannyasin. That other sannyasin has disappeared
long ago….
But Mukta is made of a different metal. She had come with that
sannyasin just to see India; she had no conscious intention even
to meet me. She came to see me just accidentally because that
woman was coming to see me. And miracles happen in the world:
that woman is lost, and Mukta has never left me for a single moment - here,
in America, going around the world. She has left her home, she
has left her husband, she has left her children, she has left
all the heritage that her old father has left for her. She never
went there to get that heritage; her other sister has swallowed
the whole thing.
She has never complained about anything. She has never differed
in her mind for a single moment; she has passed from disciplehood
to the state of devotee long ago.
So it may have been, Mukta, that "the other morning you
looked so young in my eyes. I love you" - but I have
been loving you for twenty years. I can remember the first day
you entered into my room in Bombay. Sitting on the sofa, I had
a very clear perception that you had not come with Pratima, that
sannyasin, but that Pratima had come with you, my future sannyasin.
And the same day Mukta became a sannyasin.
Such unwavering trust and love is the only miracle worth calling
a miracle. Jesus walking on water is not miracle…. satyam27
Osho writes a letter to Mukta (1971):
Dear Mukta.
Love.
Yes, you were related to Yoga Vivek in one of your past lives.
Now many things will be remembered by you soon
because the key is in your hands.
But do not think about them at all
otherwise your imagination will get mixed up with the memories
and then it will be difficult to know
what is real and what is not.
So be always aware from now
that you are not to think about past lives:
let the memories come up by themselves.
No conscious effort on your part is needed;
on the contrary it will be a great hindrance.
Let the unconscious do the work,
you be just a witness,
and as the meditation will go deeper
many locked doors will be opened to you.
But always remember to wait for the mysteries to reveal themselves.
The seed is broken - and much is to follow.
You need only wait and be a witness. teacup06
Here is Haridas. He is one of my oldest sannyasins. He is German
and he heard Adolf Hitler's name for the first time from me! Can
you believe it? But he was born after the second world war. fire03
In my childhood days I used to play the flute, and one of my
friends - not really a friend, but an acquaintance - used
to play on the tabla. We both came to know each other because
we both loved swimming….
This boy, Hari was his name too. Hari is a very common name
in India; it means "god." But it is a very strange name.
I don't think any language has a name for God like Hari because
it really means "the thief" - God the thief! Why
should God be called a thief? Because sooner or later he steals
your heart…and the sooner the better. The boy's name was
Hari.
We were both trying to cross the river in full flood. It must
have been almost a mile wide. He did not survive; he drowned somewhere
on the way across. I searched and looked, but it was impossible:
the river was flooding too fast. glimps27
When Haridas came to me I gave him the name Haridas in remembrance
of him, because he looked almost like Haridas. And whenever I
look at Haridas I always smile - I remember him. He simply
got lost into the river. We tried hard for two, three days; we
could not find even his corpse. spcial02
I love the Italians. Just one thing I hesitate about, which is
that they look a little greasy - but I can tolerate that.
And the second thing is their spaghetti. I don't know that it
is something bad….
Just by coincidence an Italian woman who was one of my first
sannyasins…She is a professor, but I don't think she has
ever taken a bath. On her face you can see layers and layers of
powder. She stinks…and this was a bad fate for spaghetti.
She prepared spaghetti and brought it for me - and the spaghetti
was also smelling and stinking the same! Since then I have become
so afraid of spaghetti that I have never tried it. That one experience…I
did not even taste it. I somehow managed that that woman should
go away. I said, "I will eat it" - and the moment
she was gone I flushed it. Even after flushing it my whole bathroom
was stinking! socrat24
Sheela had come first to me because her husband was suffering
from cancer, and the doctors in America had said that he cannot
live more than two years. She was desperately in search of someone
who could help.
Her husband, Chinmaya, was a beautiful man. He remained with
me, and it almost always happens, when you are facing death meditation
is easy. You cannot postpone it, because tomorrow you may not
be here to meditate.
So Chinmaya tried hard to meditate, and that helped him to live.
All the medical experts were agreed. They could not believe what
had happened to him, because two years was the maximum limit for
his disease.
But he lived almost ten years, and lived happily in spite of
cancer, and died happily. Just a few years more and he would have
been enlightened. But he reached to the point that in the next
life the remaining small part can be done. His next life will
be the last life.
Sheela had to remain with him, so it was just accidental, her
coming to me, her remaining with me. bond05
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