doesn’t come to the mind.”
Osho’s parents and close members of the family had moved into the ashram and lived in Francis House for some time. Devateerth soon became known for his love of kirtan—the Indian music that is played and sung among the Indians, who often met in his house to perform. He also became a familiar figure around the grounds of the ashram and Koregaon Park, walking statuesquely, cane in hand. Of course we know he is Osho’s father—not least because he has a striking resemblance to Osho—but he obviously regards himself as just one of us and, later, simply as one of Osho’s disciples.
*
The following day, Osho tells us: “Yesterday I went to see [my father]: I was immensely happy that now he could die a right death. He was no more concerned with the body. Yesterday, early in the morning, at three o’clock, he attained his first glimpse of the eternal—and immediately he became aware that he was going to die. This was the first time he had called me to come…because he was certain he was going to die. He wanted to say goodbye, and he said it beautifully—with no tears in the eyes, with no longing for life anymore.”
Devateerth’s body is brought to Buddha Hall, and all of us who live in and around the ashram flock there to celebrate. His wife and sons make their way to where his body lies on the podium. They sit next to him, gently touching and caressing his body for the last time. Osho arrives, walks up the steps to the podium and places a garland of flowers on his father’s chest and a hand on his head. His other hand goes to that of his mother, who is clearly grief-stricken.
As with Vipassana’s, Devateerth’s body is carried in a procession to the ghats to be burned; we are now an even larger group who sing and dance our tribute of love to Devateerth. The following day in discourse Osho answers a question by a sannyasin: she says she feels moved by Devateerth’s becoming enlightened; it brings home to her that enlightenment really is available to all of us.
Osho replies that that is the beauty of being in a commune:
You know this man, he is just like you. You have been drinking tea with him, gossiping with him, reading the same newspaper, listening to the same radio, looking at the same TV, you have been to the same movie. You know him, inside and out; he was just like you. If he can become a Buddha, then why not you? In fact his becoming a Buddha becomes the greatest uplifting force in your life…Many people with whom you were working will one day become buddhas.
My effort here is to help you all to live like buddhas and die like buddhas. The death of a Buddha is both! It is not a death, because life is eternal. Life does not begin with birth and does not end with death. Millions of times you have been born and died; they are all small episodes in the eternal pilgrimage. But because you are unconscious you cannot see that which is beyond birth and death.
As you become conscious you can see your original face. He saw his original face yesterday. He heard the one hand clapping, he heard the soundless sound. Hence it is not death: it is attaining life eternal. On the other hand it can be called a total death—total death in the sense that he will not be coming anymore. Rejoice!
Chapter 7: Words—and Spaces In Between
I am not interested in creating beliefs in you and I am not interested in giving you any kind of ideology. My whole effort here is—as it has always been, of all the buddhas since the beginnings of time—to provoke truth in you. I know it is already there; it just needs a synchronicity. ~ Osho
Through my work with the creation of the darshan diaries a long and intimate relationship begins with Osho’s words. In fact, it had begun with the book I’d read before meeting Osho, The Dynamics of Meditation.
I had delved into a few other “spiritual” books. They were serious, turgid for the most part, their language arcane and musty. It always took some perseverance to excavate their meaning, to translate what I read into the vernacular and an everyday twentieth-century context. Or they were “new-agey” and simply did not resonate with me—why, I couldn’t put my finger on.
As I’ve said earlier, though I was resistant to becoming a disciple, on reading the first book of Osho’s I knew I was reading the truth. Fast-forward some years, and I submit a question for discourse: “When you speak I hear the sound of truth resonating in me, yet I am not enlightened. How is it I can recognize that which I haven’t realized?”
There are many things in this small portion of your question, Osho responds. When you hear me you are hearing existence itself, just the way you hear the wind passing through the pine trees or you hear the sound of running water. When you hear my sound and truth starts resonating in you, it is simply a bridging between the master and the disciple. If what is coming from me originated in existence itself, and you are in love, in trust, feeling one with me, you will start resonating with the same truth that is making me a vehicle.
It does not need you to be anybody special; it just needs a loving heart, a trusting heart with open doors so the breeze that is coming is not obstructed, so the fragrance that is flowing can overwhelm you, can surround you, can open your heart like a rose opening its petals.
But your problem is, “How is it possible, because I am not enlightened?”
With his wonderful humor, Osho then asks:
Who said that to you? I am saying every day you are enlightened, and you are so stubborn that sometimes I also start feeling it would be better I join you and become unenlightened. Why keep this separation? Either you become enlightened, or I am going to become unenlightened. There is a limit to everything! I don’t know who the person is who goes on spreading these rumors that you are not enlightened. What is the source of this knowledge?
I know it: for thousands of years you have been told you are not enlightened. The people who were telling you that you are not enlightened were on an ego trip. They were enlightened, you were not enlightened; they had arrived, your journey is going to be very long, perhaps many, many lives.
As far as I am concerned, I want to say not only are you enlightened, the trees and the rivers and the mountains and the stars, all are enlightened. Otherwise is not possible. I want to make it absolutely clear to you: to be alive is to be enlightened. Wherever there is life, wherever there is love, enlightenment is just hidden underneath. You may not recognize it. The whole effort is to help you to recognize it.
All the meditations are nothing but an effort to feel your enlightenment—which is already the case; whether you feel it or not it does not matter. If you feel it you will rejoice; your life will become a dance, moment to moment, of tremendous glory and majesty, of grace and gratitude. If you don’t recognize it you will remain miserable, asking all kinds of idiots, frauds, "How can I become enlightened?"
Then why has this whole humanity become unenlightened? How have they managed? Just by forgetting, just by being too involved in other things. The world is vast, and the mind goes on taking you into new desires, new longings, new achievements, new greed. Slowly, slowly a curtain falls between you and your mind, and the mind completely forgets your being. It forgets completely that there is an inner world also, not only an outer existence. The outer is very poor in comparison to the inner. But once you get involved with the outer, it is so vast that there is a possibility you may wander around in the universe for millions of lives. And you may not realize that you are wasting your time… that it is time to look in.
Maneesha, promise me to never ask again, "I am not enlightened, how to become enlightened?”
Sitting directly in front of him and just feet away, though I remain with my eyes remain closed, I have to grin.
And
