I struggled to get out of bed. Joel knocked on the door and hurried to get me downstairs. Breakfast finished in 5 minutes and Joel had woken with a mission-Porridge.
I didn’t share his enthusiasm I went for a cup of tea and a croissant and then went off for my aveydic massage.
My shoulders retracted. Instead of the computer induced slouch I was normally accustomed to; my shoulder blades were closer together and seemed to point in a completely different direction from before. The massage was very very good.
Joel knocked on my door to go for lunch. Joel maintained a strictly “clear head policy”. Although Joel carried with him at all times a formidable intellect and a veritable library of information, his mental desktop was always clear. The impact of this for Joel was an uncluttered mind. However on a day to day basis this policy did have its drawback. Joel would think food, off we would go but our trip would be aborted as didn’t have his vouchers which he needed to pay for food. The same thing happened on the trip the shop. He was totally prepared for inaction and he didn’t notice details.
As we walked through the canteen for lunch that day, there were people everywhere wearing purple eye patches covering their right eyes. The people on the next table were all wearing maroon eye patches. “I wonder why they are wearing eye patches Joel”, I commented. “What eye patches?” was the reply.
I now had a theory as to why I had experienced some level of enlightenment and Guru Joel had not. Joel was always in a natural meditative state whereas I was in a naturally neurotic state. For Joel to meditate at Osho was not relaxing as he first had to get to the correct place at the correct time. In order to do this, conscious thought, a timetable and watch were involved. This meant Joel had to return to consciousness. For Joel this was like getting on the M25 to get to where he had already set off from. But that was Joel. He needed something more hardcore where the need for ANY mundane thought was removed.
I then had my nlp training with Premandana. Premandana was an English guy who lived in Hamburg.
“What do you know about NLP ?” he asked.
“Well all I know is what I have seen Paul McKenna do on TV” I replied.
“Ah Paul” said Premadana. They obviously knew each other well. Perhaps they were rivals. Cynical thoughts were entering my mind. Paul Mckenna must be gutted driving around in his Ferrari when he could be working in an ashram in Pune
“Why did you choose NLP” he asked. I had to answer truthfully as Paul Mckenna’s friend would know if I was lying.
“It sounded interesting and given the choice the choice of colour therapy, family constellation training, reiki and NLP; I thought NLP would have the most benefit.”
He took me through some mental exercises. Like Joel, I was also advised to go on the practioners course. However, I wasn’t a potential guru like Joel.
He took me through some mental exercises and then tried hypnosis on me. This lead to a rarther embarrassing conversation between my subconscious and Premanda. My subconscious was meant to respond to questions by the use of movements. Moving my toe signified yes touching my face signified no. I got a cramp in my ankle and an itch on my face. Premanda really wasn’t sure what my subconscious was telling him but anyway I was a new changed person, well for 45 seconds anyway.
Tonight was the night. I was going to the "evening meeting".
The “evening meeting” was the most important part of the day “an opportunity to experience alertness with no effort – the essence of the meditative experience.”
There are very strict rules for attending the evening meeting. Only white robes are permitted so I had to buy a new robe from the Osho shop. The mediation would take two hours so I also bought the meditation chair. I was ready for action.
Joel also got fully kitted up.
We were sat on the green marble floor of the auditorium. The pyramid roof was above us with circles of various colours being projected onto the triangles that formed the pyramid.
Around us were hundreds of people all dressed in white robes.
At the front of the auditorium at the left hand side was a band. Keyboards, drum kit, electric guitar…..
Then a voice appeared from the front of the stage telling us that in order not to break concentration coughing and sneezing weren’t allowed. As far as I could remember these were involuntary bodily functions so I didn’t understand how they could be banned from the auditorium, but this was definitely the case I assure you. If we couldn’t last to the end of the meeting we were also required to leave.
There was silence.
The band starting playing. The music was high energy dance music. The type of music I expected to be played at a gay night club. Everyone danced with there eyes closed. Well almost everyone. The dancing must have lasted 20 minutes. During the dancing there were 3 simultaneous shouts of “Osho”. We stopped.
We sat silently. Then it was time for “gibberish”. At this point everyone in the room had to speak in a language they did not understand. Literally just to sit and talk rubbish. The purpose of this I understood was also to empty the mind of junk. The gibberish part was over.
The large movie screen at the front of the auditorium came to life. In front us was the bagwan – Osho himself. Although he was dead I would hear the wise man himself speak. But I had a problem. The guy didn’t look like someone I was going to take advice from.
He looked like a cross between Benny from crossroads and Sue Ellen in Dallas. Let me explain. He was dressed in a woolly beanie hat. He wore a long silver grey beard. His eyes were obscured by huge purple tinted sunglasses. The sunglasses were wide at the side like those Karl Lagerfeld used to wear with gold trimings. He wore a – I don’t know how to describes it- but it had huge shoulder pads and was in shades of dark brown and caramel. On his wrist he wore a diamond bracelet. He could have a baddie in 1970’s episode of Doctor Who. He looked too ridiculous to be a serious baddie like in a James Bond film.
He walked onto the screen with cheesy music, that combined with the way the film had been shot made it look like a 1980’s Ronco infomercial. He moved slowly and sat down on a white leather throne and spoke.
The sermon had been recordered when Ronald Reagan was US president. Generally it was pretty basic stuff about if man didn’t change the world would end. I agreed with the sentiments of his words which tied in with my own beliefs. There was one profound comment that a religion based on hate would be more powerful than any nuclear weapon, considering this film was made 20 years ago I was impressed with the insight.
The movie finished and we all sat and listened to Osho. Then there was some more standing and sitting and then the bagwan told a joke. I am not sure if he recordered 365 jokes, but I am sure the same one isn’t played everyday. The joke relied on the punch line from a 1980’s commercial for coca cola. “Everything tastes better with coke”. That was it for me. This really was McDonalds. This was a total joke and the fact that I had suspended my disbelief, gone and bought another set of bloody robes and sat there not coughing or sneezing for 2 hours made me feel pissed off and slightly ridiculous”.
At last, dinner.
“Fancy a curry, Joel” the joke was wearing thin but it still amused me.
For me there was an impact of Joel’s natural meditative state. We would enter the canteen at the same time. I would have paid, found seats and would be waiting while Joel would still be contemplating which curry to have and in which amount to get and which plate to put it on. Decisions, decisions, decisions !. “How fucking long could he take ?”.What was he thinking ?
“Should I have curry,?
“No wait, I know, I will have curry instead“
There were only 6 choices but it still took him 45 minutes. I had now started to participate in the waiting for Joel while he got his fucking dinner meditation.
Osho had a great merchandising operation, books in every language, CD’s, robes, massage chairs. You could get even get a daily message sent by sms to your mobile phone. This was a truly 21st century religion. You could visualise the future direction of Osho. Osho retreats in every country, Osho theme parks and Osho cruises and Osho cola.
The guru Joel was going on about objective reality. As I was enlightened from my meditation I challenged his assumptions. I didn’t agree with him. How could there be a universal reality as people perceived things in different ways. To Joel this displayed my total ignorance. The conversation ended when he used the word “fuckwit” to convince me of the validity of his superior view.
Showing posts with label pune. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pune. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
Osho Day 3
Today I would go to some of the meditation sessions.
I had my herbal tea and croissant and watched.... The symbols of westerner life that Osho was supposed to relieve you of, seem to be appearing more frequently. Mobile phones and mp3 players were starting to appear. I had seen my first lap top.
My cynicism was growing by the minute. Was I really going to sit in a room chanting with disaffected lentil eaters? I was struggling to gain enough enthusiasm to get out of the chair.
No I would go and try it. You can’t knock it until you’ve tried it so I woke up Joel and off we went.
We entered the auditorium which was a large marbled floored room with frosted windows on both sides. Above was a huge pyramid shaped roof which was supported by 4 wide circle columns.
Nadabrahma Meditation consisted of:
30 minutes of humming.
15 minutes of moving your hands around.
15 minutes of sitting still.
I went through the motions thinking that I was going to be bored shitless for the next 60 minutes but I was wrong. For me the session probably only lasted 45 minutes because I was asleep for 15 minutes, but the rest of the session went pretty quickly.
In between sleeping humming and making my hand actions I did experience something. For the first time I could remember my mind was momentarily empty. That moment might have only lasted for a matter of seconds but those seconds were great. It was like hitting the delete button on a computer and tonnes of junk had been removed from head.
We walked out the auditorium.
“Well?” said Joel.
“I felt something!” Joel turned to look at me waiting for the one liner.
“I did honestly”. Joel’s brow was furrowed and his head had tilted to one side. He was withholding further comment in case I was taking the piss.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he replied.
I was now into meditation. I now understood what people were talking about. I was addicted. I was enlightened and Guru Joel, had he been sitting down, would have fallen off his chair.
Half an hour later we were in the Kundalini Meditation Session.
This consisted of
15 minutes of shaking.
15 minutes of dancing
15 minutes of sitting still
15 minutes of lying down.
The Kundalini Meditation didn’t work for me. The shaking and dancing with my eyes closed made me feel like I was the only person at a rave. But, I was still ready for another try.
My simplistic views were shifting. Meditation was now good, perhaps Osho wasn’t all bad?.
If Osho was bad, why were there so many intelligent, affluent, middle class people here? Maybe I had it wrong. This was the most cosmopolitan place I had ever been. There were Russians, Romanian, Scandinavians, Chinese, Japanese, Indonesians, Americans, Brazilians, Israelis (lots and lots of Israelis), Italians, Dutch, Spaniards, French, Germans, Mexicans, Indians, New Zealanders, Australians and Turks. But none of these people were poor. The Indians were Armani Exchange wearing mobile phone carrying cappuccino drinkers.
More things were occurring to me. The people in general were very subdued. There were groups of Latin blooded people, but there was no noise, no shouting, no laughing. Why wasn’t this like club med. Then it came to me. These were seriously depressed people. I was at a Club Depressed.
We went to the outdoor cinema which was showing the “Fantastic Four”. The alternative was the outside “sitting in the dark mediation”. If the film didn’t work, we would also be doing the outdoor “sitting in the dark mediation”.
I had my herbal tea and croissant and watched.... The symbols of westerner life that Osho was supposed to relieve you of, seem to be appearing more frequently. Mobile phones and mp3 players were starting to appear. I had seen my first lap top.
My cynicism was growing by the minute. Was I really going to sit in a room chanting with disaffected lentil eaters? I was struggling to gain enough enthusiasm to get out of the chair.
No I would go and try it. You can’t knock it until you’ve tried it so I woke up Joel and off we went.
We entered the auditorium which was a large marbled floored room with frosted windows on both sides. Above was a huge pyramid shaped roof which was supported by 4 wide circle columns.
Nadabrahma Meditation consisted of:
30 minutes of humming.
15 minutes of moving your hands around.
15 minutes of sitting still.
I went through the motions thinking that I was going to be bored shitless for the next 60 minutes but I was wrong. For me the session probably only lasted 45 minutes because I was asleep for 15 minutes, but the rest of the session went pretty quickly.
In between sleeping humming and making my hand actions I did experience something. For the first time I could remember my mind was momentarily empty. That moment might have only lasted for a matter of seconds but those seconds were great. It was like hitting the delete button on a computer and tonnes of junk had been removed from head.
We walked out the auditorium.
“Well?” said Joel.
“I felt something!” Joel turned to look at me waiting for the one liner.
“I did honestly”. Joel’s brow was furrowed and his head had tilted to one side. He was withholding further comment in case I was taking the piss.
“What about you?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he replied.
I was now into meditation. I now understood what people were talking about. I was addicted. I was enlightened and Guru Joel, had he been sitting down, would have fallen off his chair.
Half an hour later we were in the Kundalini Meditation Session.
This consisted of
15 minutes of shaking.
15 minutes of dancing
15 minutes of sitting still
15 minutes of lying down.
The Kundalini Meditation didn’t work for me. The shaking and dancing with my eyes closed made me feel like I was the only person at a rave. But, I was still ready for another try.
My simplistic views were shifting. Meditation was now good, perhaps Osho wasn’t all bad?.
If Osho was bad, why were there so many intelligent, affluent, middle class people here? Maybe I had it wrong. This was the most cosmopolitan place I had ever been. There were Russians, Romanian, Scandinavians, Chinese, Japanese, Indonesians, Americans, Brazilians, Israelis (lots and lots of Israelis), Italians, Dutch, Spaniards, French, Germans, Mexicans, Indians, New Zealanders, Australians and Turks. But none of these people were poor. The Indians were Armani Exchange wearing mobile phone carrying cappuccino drinkers.
More things were occurring to me. The people in general were very subdued. There were groups of Latin blooded people, but there was no noise, no shouting, no laughing. Why wasn’t this like club med. Then it came to me. These were seriously depressed people. I was at a Club Depressed.
We went to the outdoor cinema which was showing the “Fantastic Four”. The alternative was the outside “sitting in the dark mediation”. If the film didn’t work, we would also be doing the outdoor “sitting in the dark mediation”.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Osho Day 2
Early Morning dynamic mediation started at 6.00am. I decided to plump for the early morning sleeping mediation. That brings me on to another thing that I discovered pretty early on at Osho. I though meditation was done sat cross legged on the floor, but no I was wrong. There were numerous versions at Osho. Meditation could involve sitting, standing, shouting, wailing, spinning and dancing. In fact any activity that took an hour or more could have meditative properties. Hence I had already participated in the “Waiting in the dinner queue” Mediation and “Exchange sterling into rupees” Mediation.
I got up at 12.00 and had a shower.
I met Joel for lunch. He really was going for it. He had been up at 6.00am for the dynamic mediation which involved.
We sat at lunch talking to Austrian women called Tina. She looked about 30. She had been at Osho for a month. I wondered how Osho had changed her and what insights she had to share. I wondered if she had a sense of humour. I introduced Joel as he sat down
“You are brothers”,
“Yes” I replied. “But I am older by 10 minutes”
She looked at me “But we are not identical” I chipped in. She looked at my face for guidance and then smiled politely.
Tina had arrived a month ago with her boyfriend. They had separated after two weeks. He had gone off to Goa and was now back in Germany and she stayed. Tina spoke perfect English and told us about Osho. She was very pleasant but she certainly wasn’t at peace with herself. Why she at Osho ?. Her answer was her relationship with her parents and her childhood. She looked like she might cry at any moment.
If I didn’t get Osho, the Americans at the end of the table certainly didn’t get Osho.
Their conversation revolved around mobile phones and client contact software. Even I
knew these were not suitable discussion topics.
I went off for my Core Integration yoga massage. The black robe that met me was filled by an Italian woman in her mid thirties from Tuscany. She came out to work at Osho every year. The massage was excellent. It was a combination of very firm deep tissue massage and assisted yoga. My arms were pulled behind my back while the masseur’s feet were rooted firmly between my shoulder blades. I was compresses into a little ball while she put her weight on my back squeezing me into a smaller space. I drifted in an out of consciousness, but the pressure soon brought me back.
Joel returned from his NLP hypnosis. “Well”, I asked? “The guru had told Joel that he had never seen anybody complete the mental exercises in the way that Joel had done. In short Joel was exceptional and should consider getting involved in training people in NLP.” In short the Guru had told Joel that he was a Guru and needed training in order to share his wisdom.
48 hours since arrival Joel was a Guru and a disrespector.
Having missed the evening session we played Joel’s version of rummy. Joel rummy or Zen Rummy as it soon became to me, bore no resemblance to any version of rummy I had played or heard of before.
Why Zen rummy? Well as with many activities shared with Joel it required patience. He had not played the game for some time. Consequently the game changed and evolved over the course of several days, as he remembered the rules.
Dinner was spent talking with, well more listening to a German Computer programmer. He had been coming to Osho for many years, staying for months at a time. The reason for his visits – to try and resolve the problems in his life which were in essence – a serious back problem, his childhood and relationship with his parents, his job which he hated and a property deal that had turned sour leaving him burdened with an unsaleable property which was consuming 15-25% of his income. Joel listened intently for over an hour. After 45 minutes, I was struggling to stay awake and went for a walk.
We went for a coffee at the coffee bar. There we bumped into the Californian who had sold us our treatments. He told us about Osho the man and about the beliefs. He had known Osho well. He had been deported with him from Greece and had been arrested with him in America. Krishna Pram otherwise known as Jim. I was right, he was from California, but San Diego not LA. He divided his year between San Diego, Europe and Osho. He would work for a couple of months in the US, he would then live for next to nothing in Pune whilst working at Osho and would then spend some time in Europe.
This was a person who knew stuff. He could give us an insight. I listened as Joel tried to find out the essence of Osho. Pram otherwise known as Jim, tried to dazzle Joel with the concept of nothingness and the inexpressible essence of his belief. A poor choice of tactics! Joel hit back with Descartes and explained that the contradiction between consciousness and nothingness. Pram was struggling. He went for another analogy in an attempt to divert Joel. Pram was struggling. “It is not about the words Osho uses but the spaces between the words” Joel then launched himself into objectivist metaphysics. Pram was now metaphorically on the ropes. “Ah, you are very bright” said Pram submissively. This was a disciple of Osho, possible the Saint Paul of Osho and he had been philosophically mauled by my little brother. The rest of Pram’s comments mostly involved four letter words and references to the “cosmic joke” what ever that was.
I thought it about it for a while why was this affluent Rolex wearing Caifornian schlepping backwards and forwards between San Diego and Pune. What was drawing him to the place - the peace, the spiritualism. No in my view it was the opportunity to meet women.
I got up at 12.00 and had a shower.
I met Joel for lunch. He really was going for it. He had been up at 6.00am for the dynamic mediation which involved.
We sat at lunch talking to Austrian women called Tina. She looked about 30. She had been at Osho for a month. I wondered how Osho had changed her and what insights she had to share. I wondered if she had a sense of humour. I introduced Joel as he sat down
“You are brothers”,
“Yes” I replied. “But I am older by 10 minutes”
She looked at me “But we are not identical” I chipped in. She looked at my face for guidance and then smiled politely.
Tina had arrived a month ago with her boyfriend. They had separated after two weeks. He had gone off to Goa and was now back in Germany and she stayed. Tina spoke perfect English and told us about Osho. She was very pleasant but she certainly wasn’t at peace with herself. Why she at Osho ?. Her answer was her relationship with her parents and her childhood. She looked like she might cry at any moment.
If I didn’t get Osho, the Americans at the end of the table certainly didn’t get Osho.
Their conversation revolved around mobile phones and client contact software. Even I
knew these were not suitable discussion topics.
I went off for my Core Integration yoga massage. The black robe that met me was filled by an Italian woman in her mid thirties from Tuscany. She came out to work at Osho every year. The massage was excellent. It was a combination of very firm deep tissue massage and assisted yoga. My arms were pulled behind my back while the masseur’s feet were rooted firmly between my shoulder blades. I was compresses into a little ball while she put her weight on my back squeezing me into a smaller space. I drifted in an out of consciousness, but the pressure soon brought me back.
Joel returned from his NLP hypnosis. “Well”, I asked? “The guru had told Joel that he had never seen anybody complete the mental exercises in the way that Joel had done. In short Joel was exceptional and should consider getting involved in training people in NLP.” In short the Guru had told Joel that he was a Guru and needed training in order to share his wisdom.
48 hours since arrival Joel was a Guru and a disrespector.
Having missed the evening session we played Joel’s version of rummy. Joel rummy or Zen Rummy as it soon became to me, bore no resemblance to any version of rummy I had played or heard of before.
Why Zen rummy? Well as with many activities shared with Joel it required patience. He had not played the game for some time. Consequently the game changed and evolved over the course of several days, as he remembered the rules.
Dinner was spent talking with, well more listening to a German Computer programmer. He had been coming to Osho for many years, staying for months at a time. The reason for his visits – to try and resolve the problems in his life which were in essence – a serious back problem, his childhood and relationship with his parents, his job which he hated and a property deal that had turned sour leaving him burdened with an unsaleable property which was consuming 15-25% of his income. Joel listened intently for over an hour. After 45 minutes, I was struggling to stay awake and went for a walk.
We went for a coffee at the coffee bar. There we bumped into the Californian who had sold us our treatments. He told us about Osho the man and about the beliefs. He had known Osho well. He had been deported with him from Greece and had been arrested with him in America. Krishna Pram otherwise known as Jim. I was right, he was from California, but San Diego not LA. He divided his year between San Diego, Europe and Osho. He would work for a couple of months in the US, he would then live for next to nothing in Pune whilst working at Osho and would then spend some time in Europe.
This was a person who knew stuff. He could give us an insight. I listened as Joel tried to find out the essence of Osho. Pram otherwise known as Jim, tried to dazzle Joel with the concept of nothingness and the inexpressible essence of his belief. A poor choice of tactics! Joel hit back with Descartes and explained that the contradiction between consciousness and nothingness. Pram was struggling. He went for another analogy in an attempt to divert Joel. Pram was struggling. “It is not about the words Osho uses but the spaces between the words” Joel then launched himself into objectivist metaphysics. Pram was now metaphorically on the ropes. “Ah, you are very bright” said Pram submissively. This was a disciple of Osho, possible the Saint Paul of Osho and he had been philosophically mauled by my little brother. The rest of Pram’s comments mostly involved four letter words and references to the “cosmic joke” what ever that was.
I thought it about it for a while why was this affluent Rolex wearing Caifornian schlepping backwards and forwards between San Diego and Pune. What was drawing him to the place - the peace, the spiritualism. No in my view it was the opportunity to meet women.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Osho Day 1
Day 1
The first morning was something of a surprise and shock. From a meditation centre I was expecting calm relaxed people with a laissez fair attitude to life and organisation. Instead we were met with Indian Beaurocracy with a gaunt unshaven German face in the form of Herman the German organiser. Here was the deal. The information meeting started at 9.30 am. Without the information meeting you couldn’t participate and basically had to stay in your room until the next information meeting. There was only one information meeting a day. You had to register before the information meeting and registration opened at 9.00 am. Within the 30 minutes, the group of 35 people (including us) who were from a variety of countries had to
Change money.
Register their details on the system
Take an aids test.
Get the results of the aids test
Pay for the information meeting
Buy vouchers as cash wasn’t handled.
Go across the road and buy a robe.
The sequence had to be done in the correct order. There was no formal guidance prior or during the process and it had to be completed within 30 minutes or we would be spending the next 24 hours doing nothing.
The stress built up steadily as the minutes ticked away and the standard scenes of unstoppable objects (American Tourists) hitting immovable objects (German Organisers) was unfolding. “I just need to check-in to the hotel” said the America. “I will be back in 15 minutes”. This was met with “If you leave zee building, you vill ave to vate until tomorrow for yor tour”.
“But”, said the American. “No buts”, said Herman. “Zeez are zee rules”
We were taken around the resort by a Belgian girl and her female Taiwanese Tonto complete with plated pigtails. Dressed in our burgundy robes, we were were led around. The campus was attractive: a combination of colonial, traditional low rise office buildings and new age pyramids. It was nice but not in the same league of say a deluxe holiday resort. The best description I could give of the surroundings was a down market club med that had recently been renovated. I had expected quiet and isolation. It was quiet but not isolated. It was partly overlooked by low rise residential buildings and higher rise office blocks. Basically you went to the bottom of Pune high street and turned left and you were at Osho.
Then there was our introduction. This included what I dreaded most – group exercises. People were called up to the front of the room according to Nationality. “Ah, you are from Germany. You will dance like German people and everybody else in the room will copy you”. The Germans slapped there ankles and thighs and danced around. The Israelis were called up. Hava Nagila I thought, but no they got Arabic music. Not what they were expecting but fine. The Indians got Punjabi music everybody copied them well. Then there was the call I dreaded “anyone from England.” Me and Joel walked to the front. “You are from England” they confirmed?. “Yes we are” we replied. “Good”, Tonto looked up from the CD case “We have some Irish music that you can dance to”. After a momentary pause while we considered whether there was any point discussing this issue, off we went. Joel and I dressed in our burgundy robes, doing our best Michael Flatley impersonations copied by the on looking group of Germans, Israelis, Indians and the American. If I only I had a photograph. Ah but photographs are not permitted at Osho.
We then did group dancing with masks and were shown an introduction into dynamic meditation.
We sat outside with Sabena and Tonto. Sabena told us of her problems and why she had come to Osho which essentially was a difficult relationship with her parents.
After lunch of vegetarian Indian food, I went to book some one on one activities, NLP hypnotism, core stability training, ayeveda massage. The costs were mounting up. I went to sort out some more cash. Cash was king at Osho. Like a car with a big engine burning petrol, Osho burned cash.
I went to the multiversity booking centre were you booked your courses or sessions. Behind the desk was a Californian called Jim. He was in his late fifties had a good tan and closely cropped grey hair. His sign burns were shaved at angle like captain Kirk and he wore a stylish antique Rolex on his wrist.
“I want the core integration yoga massage, please”.
“OK” said Jim who starting taping into his computer terminal. “We have availability with Mahindra, he is excellent,. Oh here, he is”. I turned round expecting to see a wiry little Indian man. Instead, in front of me stood a huge Scandinavian. He was in his late 50’s or early 60’s. His wild hair and long beard were completely white. He was dressed from head to feet in black robes with a white sash. I had one thought “Osho’s converted Santa to the dark side”.
Mahindra had no bookings for when I wanted. So Jim fixed me up with Devan “she is also excellent”. Jim obviously knew all the staffs’ abilities OR he was over from Osho’s LA sales office and he was demonstrating a standard US sales technique.
I met up with Joel who had booked his self hypnosis course. “I have got a really good instructor sorted for tomorrow”.” How do you know he’s good?” I asked him. “The guy behind the desk told me he is excellent! “
I went back to my room. Joel who had been doing his own thing knocked on my door. He was off to the 4.15 session of kundalini Meditation session. At 4.25 there was a knock at my door. It was Joel.
“That was quick, what happened?” I asked.
“Well, I arrived 2 minutes late, just as they were closing the doors. Apparently he and the group of other people with him were told they were disrespectors and were instructed to leave immediately. “
Twenty four hours hadn’t yet passed and Joel had been branded a “direspector.” I was the brother of the “disrespector.” This could have consequences.
I had spent most my day people watching. Despite the uniformity of the maroon robes, you could still differentiate between various groups of people.
There were the obvious Indian yogis. These were small wiry men with long beards which varied from dark black to shining silver grey.
There were the top “big issue” sales people. Not your average straight corner sellers but, your hard core high volume movers who had won the right to be here. Despite the standard robes - the woolly hats, unkempt beards and dodgy shoes gave them away. These were rarely seen.
There were the Japanese, small dark haired. But their distinguishing feature was the Nike or Adidas logo on the maroon techno fleece gillets or jackets worn over there maroon robes.
There were the Germans who combined socks and sandals.
Then there were the Italians. Their robes were different from everyone else. Perfectly pressed, a slightly different shade of maroon, coordinated with the right shoes and sunglasses, jewellery and bags. Somehow the robes just looked better on them. “Hold on one minute their robes were different”. There were no silk or linen robes or coordinating linen trousers in the Osho shop. They had there robes made for them.
Finally there were the backpackers – flip-flops or no shoes.
I understood the idea of the robes - uniformity, removing materialism from the campus. But it didn’t work for me. Why ? Jewellery, Sunglasses (see the paragraph about the Italians) shoes, (ditto the previous point). There was plenty of Channel, Cartier, Gucci and Prada on display even before 8.00 pm when the robes came off.
I had only been at Osho for 24 hours but I was already forming a view of the experience.
Joel told me I had to suspend my natural scepticism in order to get something out of Osho. He was right of course, but I was already struggling. None of the 3 osho people I had met that day had given any reason to believe otherwise. It hadn’t taken the German out of Herman. He was still as uptight as any of his countrymen. The Belgium and Tonto had both folded under easy questioning during the Welcome meeting. “One of the Israelis had asked for explanation and instruction into the mediation.” The response he got was to be pointed to where he could buy Osho books, CD’s and magazines about meditation.
This was not what I was expecting. Some of my friends had been reborn into the Judaism. They were won over people by philosophical debate, reasoned discussion and by a hard sell from experts; men who had studied their stuff over decades. Not an emotional troubled ex-Sabena stewardess who lacked the ability to answer the simplest of questions. There was no history, no context, and no debate. There was simply activity followed by inactivity.
Osho allied itself with many crank therapies that were on offer as paid courses. Reiki, constellation training, cranial biodynamic, post reichan therapy, tarot, colour therapy. All of these were available as paid courses within Osho
There were a lot of Israelis staying and working at Osho. What had happened on Yom Kippur I wondered?
Joel talked to me about changing my mental state. “You know when you are doing something and you are not concentrating on anything in particularly. Your mind is blank then a thought just pops into your head…..” I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.
This was an extremely important comment that gave me an insight into Joel and the differences in our mental processes. Joel’s mind was always completely prepared for inactivity.
I on the other hand I was always thinking something, well to exact always worrying about something…things I had to do, work tasks, plans, ideas chores. I always did at least two things at once. I watched TV while working on the computer, I read books while listening to music, I ate lunch while reading or walking.
I couldn’t think of a time when my mind was idol. Joel was permanently relaxed and I was neurotic.
The first morning was something of a surprise and shock. From a meditation centre I was expecting calm relaxed people with a laissez fair attitude to life and organisation. Instead we were met with Indian Beaurocracy with a gaunt unshaven German face in the form of Herman the German organiser. Here was the deal. The information meeting started at 9.30 am. Without the information meeting you couldn’t participate and basically had to stay in your room until the next information meeting. There was only one information meeting a day. You had to register before the information meeting and registration opened at 9.00 am. Within the 30 minutes, the group of 35 people (including us) who were from a variety of countries had to
Change money.
Register their details on the system
Take an aids test.
Get the results of the aids test
Pay for the information meeting
Buy vouchers as cash wasn’t handled.
Go across the road and buy a robe.
The sequence had to be done in the correct order. There was no formal guidance prior or during the process and it had to be completed within 30 minutes or we would be spending the next 24 hours doing nothing.
The stress built up steadily as the minutes ticked away and the standard scenes of unstoppable objects (American Tourists) hitting immovable objects (German Organisers) was unfolding. “I just need to check-in to the hotel” said the America. “I will be back in 15 minutes”. This was met with “If you leave zee building, you vill ave to vate until tomorrow for yor tour”.
“But”, said the American. “No buts”, said Herman. “Zeez are zee rules”
We were taken around the resort by a Belgian girl and her female Taiwanese Tonto complete with plated pigtails. Dressed in our burgundy robes, we were were led around. The campus was attractive: a combination of colonial, traditional low rise office buildings and new age pyramids. It was nice but not in the same league of say a deluxe holiday resort. The best description I could give of the surroundings was a down market club med that had recently been renovated. I had expected quiet and isolation. It was quiet but not isolated. It was partly overlooked by low rise residential buildings and higher rise office blocks. Basically you went to the bottom of Pune high street and turned left and you were at Osho.
Then there was our introduction. This included what I dreaded most – group exercises. People were called up to the front of the room according to Nationality. “Ah, you are from Germany. You will dance like German people and everybody else in the room will copy you”. The Germans slapped there ankles and thighs and danced around. The Israelis were called up. Hava Nagila I thought, but no they got Arabic music. Not what they were expecting but fine. The Indians got Punjabi music everybody copied them well. Then there was the call I dreaded “anyone from England.” Me and Joel walked to the front. “You are from England” they confirmed?. “Yes we are” we replied. “Good”, Tonto looked up from the CD case “We have some Irish music that you can dance to”. After a momentary pause while we considered whether there was any point discussing this issue, off we went. Joel and I dressed in our burgundy robes, doing our best Michael Flatley impersonations copied by the on looking group of Germans, Israelis, Indians and the American. If I only I had a photograph. Ah but photographs are not permitted at Osho.
We then did group dancing with masks and were shown an introduction into dynamic meditation.
We sat outside with Sabena and Tonto. Sabena told us of her problems and why she had come to Osho which essentially was a difficult relationship with her parents.
After lunch of vegetarian Indian food, I went to book some one on one activities, NLP hypnotism, core stability training, ayeveda massage. The costs were mounting up. I went to sort out some more cash. Cash was king at Osho. Like a car with a big engine burning petrol, Osho burned cash.
I went to the multiversity booking centre were you booked your courses or sessions. Behind the desk was a Californian called Jim. He was in his late fifties had a good tan and closely cropped grey hair. His sign burns were shaved at angle like captain Kirk and he wore a stylish antique Rolex on his wrist.
“I want the core integration yoga massage, please”.
“OK” said Jim who starting taping into his computer terminal. “We have availability with Mahindra, he is excellent,. Oh here, he is”. I turned round expecting to see a wiry little Indian man. Instead, in front of me stood a huge Scandinavian. He was in his late 50’s or early 60’s. His wild hair and long beard were completely white. He was dressed from head to feet in black robes with a white sash. I had one thought “Osho’s converted Santa to the dark side”.
Mahindra had no bookings for when I wanted. So Jim fixed me up with Devan “she is also excellent”. Jim obviously knew all the staffs’ abilities OR he was over from Osho’s LA sales office and he was demonstrating a standard US sales technique.
I met up with Joel who had booked his self hypnosis course. “I have got a really good instructor sorted for tomorrow”.” How do you know he’s good?” I asked him. “The guy behind the desk told me he is excellent! “
I went back to my room. Joel who had been doing his own thing knocked on my door. He was off to the 4.15 session of kundalini Meditation session. At 4.25 there was a knock at my door. It was Joel.
“That was quick, what happened?” I asked.
“Well, I arrived 2 minutes late, just as they were closing the doors. Apparently he and the group of other people with him were told they were disrespectors and were instructed to leave immediately. “
Twenty four hours hadn’t yet passed and Joel had been branded a “direspector.” I was the brother of the “disrespector.” This could have consequences.
I had spent most my day people watching. Despite the uniformity of the maroon robes, you could still differentiate between various groups of people.
There were the obvious Indian yogis. These were small wiry men with long beards which varied from dark black to shining silver grey.
There were the top “big issue” sales people. Not your average straight corner sellers but, your hard core high volume movers who had won the right to be here. Despite the standard robes - the woolly hats, unkempt beards and dodgy shoes gave them away. These were rarely seen.
There were the Japanese, small dark haired. But their distinguishing feature was the Nike or Adidas logo on the maroon techno fleece gillets or jackets worn over there maroon robes.
There were the Germans who combined socks and sandals.
Then there were the Italians. Their robes were different from everyone else. Perfectly pressed, a slightly different shade of maroon, coordinated with the right shoes and sunglasses, jewellery and bags. Somehow the robes just looked better on them. “Hold on one minute their robes were different”. There were no silk or linen robes or coordinating linen trousers in the Osho shop. They had there robes made for them.
Finally there were the backpackers – flip-flops or no shoes.
I understood the idea of the robes - uniformity, removing materialism from the campus. But it didn’t work for me. Why ? Jewellery, Sunglasses (see the paragraph about the Italians) shoes, (ditto the previous point). There was plenty of Channel, Cartier, Gucci and Prada on display even before 8.00 pm when the robes came off.
I had only been at Osho for 24 hours but I was already forming a view of the experience.
Joel told me I had to suspend my natural scepticism in order to get something out of Osho. He was right of course, but I was already struggling. None of the 3 osho people I had met that day had given any reason to believe otherwise. It hadn’t taken the German out of Herman. He was still as uptight as any of his countrymen. The Belgium and Tonto had both folded under easy questioning during the Welcome meeting. “One of the Israelis had asked for explanation and instruction into the mediation.” The response he got was to be pointed to where he could buy Osho books, CD’s and magazines about meditation.
This was not what I was expecting. Some of my friends had been reborn into the Judaism. They were won over people by philosophical debate, reasoned discussion and by a hard sell from experts; men who had studied their stuff over decades. Not an emotional troubled ex-Sabena stewardess who lacked the ability to answer the simplest of questions. There was no history, no context, and no debate. There was simply activity followed by inactivity.
Osho allied itself with many crank therapies that were on offer as paid courses. Reiki, constellation training, cranial biodynamic, post reichan therapy, tarot, colour therapy. All of these were available as paid courses within Osho
There were a lot of Israelis staying and working at Osho. What had happened on Yom Kippur I wondered?
Joel talked to me about changing my mental state. “You know when you are doing something and you are not concentrating on anything in particularly. Your mind is blank then a thought just pops into your head…..” I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.
This was an extremely important comment that gave me an insight into Joel and the differences in our mental processes. Joel’s mind was always completely prepared for inactivity.
I on the other hand I was always thinking something, well to exact always worrying about something…things I had to do, work tasks, plans, ideas chores. I always did at least two things at once. I watched TV while working on the computer, I read books while listening to music, I ate lunch while reading or walking.
I couldn’t think of a time when my mind was idol. Joel was permanently relaxed and I was neurotic.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Osho My Time in Pune
The Virgin stewardess had introduced herself and taken us through the menu. Glasses of champagne and canapes had been served.
In front of us were piled our complimentary Oswald Boteng amenity kits, bags of Virgin cosmetics, duvets, water bottles, blankets and virgin sleep suits. Our chairs were ready to transform into beds at the push of a button. But still 45 minutes into the flight the penny hadn’t dropped with Joel.
All the signs were there: The subtle change of boarding pass at the gate, the attentive service, the seat that changed into a bed, the champagne, the duvets, the offer of a massage on the plane.
“Lucky we got upgraded ay, Joel”. “Upgrade, what upgrade?” came the reply.
We journeyed through the night arriving in Mumbai the following morning. We had a 4 hour wait until our connection, so we sat at the Leela Kempinski hotel until it was time to catch our connection.
My suppliers in India had told me how much the country had changed and developed. I was expecting a change of the magnitude of what I had seen in Shanghai last year.
The airport, roads and Leela hotel were all exactly as I remembered them. Mumbai still ranks alongside Dhaka for the title of worlds most awful international airport (excluding Gatwick of course).
The domestic terminal was a whole different kettle of fish. It was new, modern, light, cool, clean and airy. This definitely was not the India I had seen before.We took our Jet airlines flight and arrived in Pune 45 minutes later.
Pune airport was great. A large concrete ramshackle hut of an airport You got off the plane and stood with all the other passengers by the wing of the plane we had just arrived on. Another plane turned around 100 feet away. It was moving by the force of its engines and as it turned its engines sent a gust of hot wind which blew away the cobwebs, as well as hats and newspapers. We collected our luggage and walked through airport.
The weather in Pune was very mild sweater wearing weather.
Joel having travelled round India the previous year was ready to offer his expert advice.
“Don’t hire the tax from those guys they will rip you off”.
“What do you want to do?” I replied.
“We will get a taxi outside” said Joel. I suspended my natural urge to argue and followed. Joel had done India last year as a backpacker and was now the self appointed India expert.
He strided off towards a motorised Rickshaw.
“Sorry Joel, I am getting a taxi”, I walked off to negotiate with the rip off merchant at the taxi rank. Joel may have done Rajastan, but I had been travelling to Indian for 15 years and I wasn’t spending 15 seconds in an Indian rickshaw
“How much to Osho ?” I asked.
“250 rupees (£3.00) for non air-conditioned and 350 rupees (£4.25) for an air-conditioned car. Sir”.
“See I told you,” piped up a voice behind me”, I have stayed in Hotels in India that cost more than that” he continued.
My week with my brother was going to be a learning experience. I had to suspend my desire to immediately reject his opinions and be more sympathetic to his ways. I would be conciliatory and non confrontational, but how? I had already vetoed his proposal of the rickshaw. Then it came to me. I would order the cab without air-conditioning. That way I could compromise with him.
“No air conditioning please”, came out of my mouth .
Then another thought immediately came into my mind. Why was I was worry about spending an additionally £1.25 because of Joel’s comment? He wasn’t even paying for the taxi.
“Change that, I will have the air-conditioned car”. We jumped in the 1960’s Morris Ambassador and off we went.
” Air con please” I shouted. It wasn’t hot. Actually it was a bit chilly but I was going to prove to my brother that I knew how to get my moneys worth in India.
We got to Osho.
Outside was a hive of activity. A scrum of Caucasians in maroon robes were milling around the entrance.
Here I was. I had travelled 3000 miles and now I was about to join the ranks of the “nutters in schmuters”. What was I doing ?
We approached the Welcome Desk. “We have reservations for 2 under the name of ……….”. Having checked his records the response came straight back at us with standard Indian effiency. “NO”. No ifs, no buts, no perhaps, no rechecking of the register Just “NO”.
Eventually we were granted a temporary pass to the guest house where we staying. I was surprised – it was not what I was expecting. The inside was well styled. It was all white and minimalist. There with white marble floors, dark wood doors and contemporary looking Italian furniture. On the walls were bright abstract paintings. I was sure the rooms would be a let down.
As far as I was concerned from my travels over the last 20 years, even 5 star Indian hotel rooms consisted of badly made mock reproduction furniture and smelt of damp, mothballs and disinfectant.
I was wrong. India had changed. I entered my room. Again more white walls dark wood doors and wardrobes. The dark wood bed frame was built into a unit which was attached to wall, complete with head board and side tables. There was a natural coloured linen roller blind which covered the window and plenty of good lighting. A reading light straight out of a habitat catalogue and a caramel coloured leather chair completed the look. The bathroom was equally impressive. There was a wet room style shower, sink and toilet. The styling was so close to be being perfect except for one thing - the tiling. The floor tiles which covered the floor of the bedroom and bathroom were a puce colour. It looked the contractor screwed up and rather than wait for the correct tiles to arrive they laid them down anyway.
We unpacked and made our way out of the guest house. The campus was deserted.
A sole person was walking towards us. She told us very politely that the evening meeting was in progress and during that time, the gates were locked and as weren’t in the evening meeting we had to stay in our rooms. She escorted us back and very politely told the counter staff not to let anyone else out.
It was Osho lock down and we couldn’t escape. We couldn’t say we were kidnapped. We had volunteered to join and now we were locked in
We waited for the evening meeting to end. We got dinner and then walked across the road. We bluffed our way into the main part of the campus which we weren’t supposed to enter as we hadnt registered. We walked towards the outside plaza. Here there was a group therapy session which was being hosted by a Swiss version of “Frazier”. Watching were hundreds of people.
“Vot question vood you like to ask?” Frazier said very softly through a microphone to the man sat next to him.
“Well”, came the reply. “I want to know why since my divorce I cannot maintain a relationship”.
Frazier then asked a series questions about the man’s life. One of his daughters had died and subsequently his marriage had broken down. As far as I was concerned – game over. The man’s question had been answered. But no….. wait!
Frazier went to the audience selected people at random who represented the man himself, his wife and his children including his dead daughter. The bereaved man then positioned the characters as if on a chess board. Then Frazier would ask him questions about the people assembled before him. He would then ask the assembled people about how they were feeling. The man with the deceased daughter would then move the people around in front of him and Frazier.
“How do you veel ? “ He asked the woman representing the mans wife. “I feel very sad in my chest”, “Exaaaactly” said Frazier. And so the questions went on getting more and more personal and cringful. If this was a TV program you would have watched it from behind a sofa with a pained expression on your face.
Frazier continued asking questions to each of the assembled people. After every response he would knowingly reply “Exaaaaactly” as if he knew telepathically exactly what was going to be said before the words were uttered.
This was Car crash therapy, the worst excesses of Trisha or Kilroy played out live in front of 100’s of people.
I was starting to worry…….
Joel went off to bed. I walked around the resort and read the information provided. The was a wide schedule of activities which included Zennis ( yes Seriously - a cross between Tennis and Zen Buddhism) it involved music, was played while dressed in full length maroon robes, perhaps without a ball !
In front of us were piled our complimentary Oswald Boteng amenity kits, bags of Virgin cosmetics, duvets, water bottles, blankets and virgin sleep suits. Our chairs were ready to transform into beds at the push of a button. But still 45 minutes into the flight the penny hadn’t dropped with Joel.
All the signs were there: The subtle change of boarding pass at the gate, the attentive service, the seat that changed into a bed, the champagne, the duvets, the offer of a massage on the plane.
“Lucky we got upgraded ay, Joel”. “Upgrade, what upgrade?” came the reply.
We journeyed through the night arriving in Mumbai the following morning. We had a 4 hour wait until our connection, so we sat at the Leela Kempinski hotel until it was time to catch our connection.
My suppliers in India had told me how much the country had changed and developed. I was expecting a change of the magnitude of what I had seen in Shanghai last year.
The airport, roads and Leela hotel were all exactly as I remembered them. Mumbai still ranks alongside Dhaka for the title of worlds most awful international airport (excluding Gatwick of course).
The domestic terminal was a whole different kettle of fish. It was new, modern, light, cool, clean and airy. This definitely was not the India I had seen before.We took our Jet airlines flight and arrived in Pune 45 minutes later.
Pune airport was great. A large concrete ramshackle hut of an airport You got off the plane and stood with all the other passengers by the wing of the plane we had just arrived on. Another plane turned around 100 feet away. It was moving by the force of its engines and as it turned its engines sent a gust of hot wind which blew away the cobwebs, as well as hats and newspapers. We collected our luggage and walked through airport.
The weather in Pune was very mild sweater wearing weather.
Joel having travelled round India the previous year was ready to offer his expert advice.
“Don’t hire the tax from those guys they will rip you off”.
“What do you want to do?” I replied.
“We will get a taxi outside” said Joel. I suspended my natural urge to argue and followed. Joel had done India last year as a backpacker and was now the self appointed India expert.
He strided off towards a motorised Rickshaw.
“Sorry Joel, I am getting a taxi”, I walked off to negotiate with the rip off merchant at the taxi rank. Joel may have done Rajastan, but I had been travelling to Indian for 15 years and I wasn’t spending 15 seconds in an Indian rickshaw
“How much to Osho ?” I asked.
“250 rupees (£3.00) for non air-conditioned and 350 rupees (£4.25) for an air-conditioned car. Sir”.
“See I told you,” piped up a voice behind me”, I have stayed in Hotels in India that cost more than that” he continued.
My week with my brother was going to be a learning experience. I had to suspend my desire to immediately reject his opinions and be more sympathetic to his ways. I would be conciliatory and non confrontational, but how? I had already vetoed his proposal of the rickshaw. Then it came to me. I would order the cab without air-conditioning. That way I could compromise with him.
“No air conditioning please”, came out of my mouth .
Then another thought immediately came into my mind. Why was I was worry about spending an additionally £1.25 because of Joel’s comment? He wasn’t even paying for the taxi.
“Change that, I will have the air-conditioned car”. We jumped in the 1960’s Morris Ambassador and off we went.
” Air con please” I shouted. It wasn’t hot. Actually it was a bit chilly but I was going to prove to my brother that I knew how to get my moneys worth in India.
We got to Osho.
Outside was a hive of activity. A scrum of Caucasians in maroon robes were milling around the entrance.
Here I was. I had travelled 3000 miles and now I was about to join the ranks of the “nutters in schmuters”. What was I doing ?
We approached the Welcome Desk. “We have reservations for 2 under the name of ……….”. Having checked his records the response came straight back at us with standard Indian effiency. “NO”. No ifs, no buts, no perhaps, no rechecking of the register Just “NO”.
Eventually we were granted a temporary pass to the guest house where we staying. I was surprised – it was not what I was expecting. The inside was well styled. It was all white and minimalist. There with white marble floors, dark wood doors and contemporary looking Italian furniture. On the walls were bright abstract paintings. I was sure the rooms would be a let down.
As far as I was concerned from my travels over the last 20 years, even 5 star Indian hotel rooms consisted of badly made mock reproduction furniture and smelt of damp, mothballs and disinfectant.
I was wrong. India had changed. I entered my room. Again more white walls dark wood doors and wardrobes. The dark wood bed frame was built into a unit which was attached to wall, complete with head board and side tables. There was a natural coloured linen roller blind which covered the window and plenty of good lighting. A reading light straight out of a habitat catalogue and a caramel coloured leather chair completed the look. The bathroom was equally impressive. There was a wet room style shower, sink and toilet. The styling was so close to be being perfect except for one thing - the tiling. The floor tiles which covered the floor of the bedroom and bathroom were a puce colour. It looked the contractor screwed up and rather than wait for the correct tiles to arrive they laid them down anyway.
We unpacked and made our way out of the guest house. The campus was deserted.
A sole person was walking towards us. She told us very politely that the evening meeting was in progress and during that time, the gates were locked and as weren’t in the evening meeting we had to stay in our rooms. She escorted us back and very politely told the counter staff not to let anyone else out.
It was Osho lock down and we couldn’t escape. We couldn’t say we were kidnapped. We had volunteered to join and now we were locked in
We waited for the evening meeting to end. We got dinner and then walked across the road. We bluffed our way into the main part of the campus which we weren’t supposed to enter as we hadnt registered. We walked towards the outside plaza. Here there was a group therapy session which was being hosted by a Swiss version of “Frazier”. Watching were hundreds of people.
“Vot question vood you like to ask?” Frazier said very softly through a microphone to the man sat next to him.
“Well”, came the reply. “I want to know why since my divorce I cannot maintain a relationship”.
Frazier then asked a series questions about the man’s life. One of his daughters had died and subsequently his marriage had broken down. As far as I was concerned – game over. The man’s question had been answered. But no….. wait!
Frazier went to the audience selected people at random who represented the man himself, his wife and his children including his dead daughter. The bereaved man then positioned the characters as if on a chess board. Then Frazier would ask him questions about the people assembled before him. He would then ask the assembled people about how they were feeling. The man with the deceased daughter would then move the people around in front of him and Frazier.
“How do you veel ? “ He asked the woman representing the mans wife. “I feel very sad in my chest”, “Exaaaactly” said Frazier. And so the questions went on getting more and more personal and cringful. If this was a TV program you would have watched it from behind a sofa with a pained expression on your face.
Frazier continued asking questions to each of the assembled people. After every response he would knowingly reply “Exaaaaactly” as if he knew telepathically exactly what was going to be said before the words were uttered.
This was Car crash therapy, the worst excesses of Trisha or Kilroy played out live in front of 100’s of people.
I was starting to worry…….
Joel went off to bed. I walked around the resort and read the information provided. The was a wide schedule of activities which included Zennis ( yes Seriously - a cross between Tennis and Zen Buddhism) it involved music, was played while dressed in full length maroon robes, perhaps without a ball !
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