Osho Day 7 Departure Day

Day 7

There was a knock at the door. The door not disturb sign had been ignored. It was 8.20 am. It was Joel.

Joel knew it was departure day. He had woken up and a thought had made its way into his head. Joel had a purpose - To depart

“WHAT” I bellowed at the door.

“What time we are leaving ?”

“Five thirty this afternoon” I replied.

I was counting the hours. I lay in bed working out ways to avoid having to wear my maroon robe. I could stay in my room until departure time but I decide to get up and meet Joel for lunch. I was no longer a disciple. I looked at the robe wearers with sympathy. These people needed help.

We went for lunch.

Joel was at the counter. He had found the Bombay Aloo. Joel careful positioned his bowl picked up the scooper and careful starting the intricate task of transferring potato to bowl. There were rules about how food was put into bowls at Osho. To avoid biological contamination, the bowl had to remain on your tray at all times. A queue had formed behind Joel. Carefully he scooped, transferred and deposited the turmeric covered potato chunks. But that wasn’t the end of the process. Once deposited the potato had be levelled and compacted in the bowl before the processes started again. Joel was oblivious to the impatient people behind him. Joel went through the process with the second scoop until the bowl was filled to just the right level and so he moved around the canteen.

We were ready to leave.

So what did I think of Osho…..

Well, I am still thinking about it. It was a very interesting experience.

The Nadabrahma meditation was a revelation.

The massage was great. The place and people were very nice

But the rest of it seemed a joke. A week long fancy dress party. It was emotional valium for the internationally depressed. An addictive quick fix which brought addicts back to Pune year after year, for months at a time.

For me Osho was at best a pseudo spiritual Chinese takeaway quickly removing the misery in ones life. A temporary departure from problems at home. But like Chinese food, an hour later and you need something else to feed on.

At worst, it was a McDonalds, a sanitised, westernised money making machine feeding the desire of the affluently depressed with total unadulterated crap.

I could not believe what people would allow themselves to do. Get up for 6.00 am and do dynamic mediation. Wear maroon robes. Wear white robes. Walking round with single eye patches. Wear white socks. If it was a rule to walk on one leg whilst wearing underpants on your head at 4.00pm there would be people doing it.

Maybe this was the cosmic joke- That people would pay for this sort of mild humiliation whilst Osho lay in rest, near one of his many Rolls Royces.