Nirbija remembers visiting LaoTzu House in Pune.
In front of Osho’s door
In India, the hour after sunrise has a unique brightness and beauty.
Before my eyes the sun’s golden rays filter through the foliage of a huge tree. Myriads of microscopic dust particles dance among them, softening everything in sight. I am walking home after Dynamic Meditation at the Osho Meditation Resort, to grab a cup of chai.
I am going through a story of drama and separation from my girlfriend. I had misbehaved and, in a dreadful fit of anger, she had told me what was wrong with me. More Dynamics and Kundalinis as I enter the valley of guilt. The suffering in my heart ceases, at least for a few moments, in the silent stage of Dynamic, and during evening discourse.
In the middle of this turmoil a miracle happens: my ex approaches me in the ashram during lunch and asks, “Would you like to guard Osho’s door in Lao Tzu House?”
“I have never done anything like that, what do I need to do?” I ask doubtfully.
“Nothing. You can do my 3pm shift tomorrow. Just tell the guard that you are standing in for me. They will show you where to go and what to do. Your shift ends after an hour and someone else will replace you.”
The door to Osho’s room had always been guarded by a trusted disciple. The Master’s privacy was top priority. This guarding continued for a while after he had left his body.
I am overjoyed to get this invitation. Is this the Buddhafield in action? Working as the hands of existence, the healing energy field of the Master?
Lao Tzu House is a two-storey building with the sort of flat roof typical in Koregaon Park. Its driveway is connected to the circular road surrounding Buddha Hall, so that Osho could be driven to the daily discourse. On my first shift I enter the driveway’s gate after being identified from a list of names. I walk down the drive. Just in front of the half-circle covered porch before the main door to the house, the Rolls Royce keeps watch like a steel dragon, protected under a pagoda-shaped roof. Avesh, Osho’s former driver and mechanic, is dusting it off. A friendly guard escorts me up the steps and into the house. Finally I arrive at the entrance to Osho’s room. The door is made of dark hardwood.
As soon as I sit down on the chair in front of his room, I start getting a relaxing feeling of at-homeness spreading all over me. I become silent, and melt slowly into a new, friendly universe. My inner drama evaporates. Something healing envelops me, and after one hour I leave refreshed and happy. Had I really “guarded” the door or, instead, did the healing energy here take care of my tormented soul? This space seems so natural that I even forget to write anything in my diary. I once heard Osho say that our mind is conditioned to remember the thorns of life rather than the petals and fragrances of a blooming rose…
But how come I still remember this event? Was it perhaps because of my crystal?
At the time, many of us were discussing the unusual qualities of crystals; even Osho had mentioned this in some discourses. One of their properties was the ability to store information. I wanted to put this to the test in an experiment. Could my crystal store some of the precious energy, that to me seemed so clearly to be Osho’s presence, if I placed it at his door?
The next day, as I walk through the entrance to Lao Tzu House for my second shift, I become aware that on each side there is a row of large, shimmering, purple mineral druses full of amethyst crystals. As planned, when I reach Osho’s room, I carefully lean my crystal against the door panel. Again I feel like a child who is welcomed into this existence, so carefree and safe. The turmoil in my mind is melting away and soon I sit effortlessly in silence. The guilt about my failure in the relationship is magically blown away. My inner judge, who usually preaches to me about all the ideals I have violated, now this guy is on vacation! This state reminds me of when I used to sit and listen to Osho in discourse. When he left his body in January 1990, I cried like a child who had lost his mother. Now, in front of his empty room I experience something as if his presence is still here.
My guarding assignment ended after a couple of shifts – and my crystal is with me to this day. It is still radiating something of these memories. And I am deeply grateful to my ex for her generous gift. At the time it helped me heal from the first shock of our separation, and it laid the foundation for a lasting friendship. She had shared with me a precious opportunity to heal my wounds in the garden of love of the Master.
Then, in December 1992, on Osho’s second birthday celebration without his physical presence, I was lucky enough to be able to look into Osho’s empty room, when the door I had previously guarded was opened for the occasion. On that day, anyone in the commune could line up, in their maroon robes, in a long, silent and joyous queue, to enter Lao Tzu House and solemnly pass by the now-open door on the first floor.
I saw the marble walls, the floor, and marble shelves built into the wall. My diary entry from this day displays a rough sketch of his chair, which is similar to the one he used during discourses, placed close to the large window looking out over the garden. Beside it was an emerald-green side table, also made of marble, both crafted by his disciples. All looked clean and simple, very Zen. Here my Master had lived his everyday life. This became a very intimate picture in my memory.
Relationship and meditation
Up until then, all my love affairs had ended in pain. What was the reason?
In the commune there were often questions sent in to the Master about the challenges of relationships, and Osho answered them with deep compassion. He spoke with fiery and cut-through clarity, but his love always spread like wings over our dramas. Once he jokingly mentioned that relationships seemed to be more important on our shopping list than meditation.
I also heard Osho point towards a higher love:
I mean by love a sharing of the hearts. But first you should find your heart.
I mean a sharing of beings. But first you should meditate deeply and go into the secret-most chambers of your being, so that you have joy and bliss to share in abundance.
Your love is not to share something but just to escape from yourself so that you can be involved with somebody else. Your love is against meditation.
My love is a flower of meditation.
It is a blossoming of meditation.
Only a meditator can be a lover.
Osho, The New Dawn, Ch 11
But how do we get there?
Just a few years ago, while listening to a discourse from 1987, I was greatly moved when I heard him talk about another couple who were struggling. Their problem was how to meditate and be together at the same time. His compassion with his female disciple was such that it melted my heart. I started sobbing uncontrollably; my nose was running, until the caring Ma next to me dropped a hanky into my lap. Osho proclaimed a new vision of how male and female seekers should to be together:
…I would like couples to grow together, hand in hand, dancing the same dance, singing the same song, so as they grow, their understanding about each other also grows and nobody creates trouble. Otherwise, whoever is left behind feels offended.
Your wife… or your girlfriend, is suffering from a natural phenomenon. She has been left behind. You have not cared to keep her hand in your hand; you have grown alone. Now, don’t be convinced by her ideas.
You, yourself say, “I feel for the first time that I have arrived home.”
You feel your serenity, your silence, your clarity, and still you are convinced by your wife that you are moving towards death, and that you are not moving towards love and life because you are becoming cold.
Now it is your responsibility. Love knows responsibility.
Share whatever you have gained in these ten years.
Osho, The Razor’s Edge, Ch 17, Q 2
I became aware that I am also one of those men who have misunderstood and have become self-centred in our efforts to meditate. I had not made any effort to communicate my inner experiences while I was exploring my feelings of unworthiness and co-dependency. Mostly, I was hardly able to accept them. I felt too ashamed to share these wounds with my lover. So, intimacy was missing.
Sufis speak of the valley of guilt that a seeker has to pass through when becoming aware of his unconsciousness (remorse was a common theme in my diary). I had not yet discovered how to be compassionate with myself and also to stand in the shoes of my partner and see her suffering and her challenges.
Sannyas in Lao Tzu House
If there is a temple in my life, it’s certainly Lao Tzu House. It’s legendary for many of us. The most important step in my life had taken place there; my intitiation into sannyas – on the porch of his house. This was in the small ceremony when I received sannyas from Osho.
As I sat before him, he looked into my confused mind like a loving doctor. And as if it was the easiest thing in the world, he diagnosed my inner world with one look – a mind full of desire and ambition. I was as if in a trance. With a few gentle words, the meaning of which I understood only years later, he explained to me my state of mind and also the cure: Light a fire of meditation within you and thereby burn all the seeds of desire.
That was the prescription. Instead of pills, he presented me with a mala – and a certificate with my new name. My sannyas name contains a symbolic image: from now on I was to be called Nirbeeja, which means: the black seed, charred in the embers of mindfulness.
Now, my long-term relationship with a female fellow-traveller provides me with the necessary fuel for this fire. On a daily basis!
Drawings from Nirbija’s diary – article updated on 19.10.2023 correcting date of peek into Osho’s room.
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