Life Celebration and Farewell in Finchley, London, 15th August 2018, with about 150 attending. With text of all tributes read during the event.
As people entered, some of the pre-recorded didgeridoo tracks were played that Parmartha loved, and once all were seated and the coffin was brought in – carried by six friends: four men and two women – Miten’s ‘These Diamond Days‘.
A close friend, Peter (gardener by profession), then placed two of Parmartha’s boots, filled with soil and plants, on top of the coffin, as another friend placed Parmartha’s maroon hat there too.
Maneesha acted as m/c (master of ceremonies).
Welcome to this, the celebration of the life of Parmartha, aka Clive Critchley, and our chance to give him a beautiful send-off.
Parmartha had many friends from various walks of life, including walking itself, who may be here today: school friends, university friends; friends from the Irish self-sufficient free-holding; colleagues from Freedom From Torture; tennis partners; those he met in the Colindale allotments and those who shared his spiritual interests, foremost, sannyasins, disciples of the mystic, Osho.
It is this last affiliation that – at Parmartha’s’s request – colours this Celebration.
Parmartha was very pro-active about his dying. With one friend, he dictated his obituary. Over 2-3 visits he and I (at his request, there as his meditation support and counsellor, he also asked me to be his celebrant) discussed how he would like his celebration – not funeral! – to be.
For example, he suggested friends could wear clothing in the red-orange colour range. He asked for specific ‘Pune 1 Music Group’ songs from the World of Osho and specific musicians, Vikas and Yatro. He wanted Navajat to present the Eulogy and agreed with my idea for individuals to pay their tributes. He also liked the suggestion that I read out the discourse excerpt in which Osho talks of death and of how to give a beloved a good ‘send-off’, given on the occasion of the first death in the Pune community, around 1976, when a Dutch sannyasin, Vipassana, unexpectedly fell ill and died.
Two very close and old-time friends of Parmartha, Kim Wells and Peter Kerner, helped by Patrick Tobin, a friend from the meditation group that he co-founded with Navajat, put much time and energy into organising the Celebration and also the Reception at ‘The Five Bells’ pub. And Clive (Jitendra) contributed his considerable skills to making a beautiful ‘Order of Service’ which included photos of Parmartha at various stages of his life, involved in a variety of activities.
It might seem strange to some of you that Parmartha wanted a celebration, but as a long-time meditator, he would have known himself as other than the body-mind, as consciousness. When we have that experience, then, as the Dalai Lama puts it, “Death is just like leaving behind old clothes.”
So for the meditator death is a release, a freedom, and so something to be celebrated. Parmartha is free of a sick and painful body, so we can be happy for him. So this is an opportunity to celebrate that release for him and to celebrate what he has meant to us in his living.
Many were involved in his life; some of us were involved in his period of illness and dying. Foremost was Vartan – Vartan, who took Parmartha to appointments, even though that had to be via public transport, and who was literally at his bedside almost constantly and, fittingly, was there – along with two other friends – when Parmartha drew his last breath.
So, may I say on everyone’s behalf: Thank you, Vartan. I know it was out of your love and not a duty; still, thank you.
(You all have a copy of the Order of Service…)
Now I will invite Navajat to deliver the eulogy…
My friend Big P,
Our friendship took a long time to develop and was perhaps rather unlikely. He was a networker and I a loner; he was a communard and I an occasional, somewhat wary communal visitor; he was born in liberal capitalism and I in fascist communism – and as a result I’d go for Boris and he for Jeremy [British politicians, Boris Johnson an ambitious Tory and Jeremy Corbyn, leader of the Labour Party].
As a matter of historical fact, Parmartha and Corbyn did meet somewhere: when Big P was a shop steward and Jeremy congratulated him then on the good work he was doing…and they shook hands! So I am rather put out that the Great Leader is not here to commemorate and celebrate with us! After all, P left the Green Party and rejoined Labour specifically in order to support him…about which, I may say, I was in some disagreement with him!
This and other such disagreements eventually came to a head between us, and the good effect was that we both realised that our friendship and our co-operation in the meditation group – that many of you enjoy too – were not affected in the least. It was a growth moment for us and our intimacy deepened.
The – what we came to call – Café Society actually resulted from our desire to meet more often and perhaps even regularly. He was well connected in the sannyasin community and the social world, and I live in the lost depths of far Essex – and until recently could not even email – forget social media!
We wanted to open our meetings to other friends as well, but soon after that realised that just sitting in cafés is not quite enough. That’s when the idea of including meditation came about. We are both inspired by George Ivanovitch Gurdjieff as well as by Osho – perhaps rather intellectually by the former and ‘livingly’ by the latter – and so the combination of applied practical spirituality and café life immediately struck us as obvious.
And then came the fortuitous finding of Queen’s Wood Café, a synchronistic contact with its owner, followed by further harmony there and then of the completion of the ecological building of that wonderful cabin behind the café…which really is a temple – come and see!
So The Saturday Morning Café Meditation Society for Spiritual Excellence and Temporal Jollification grew from very tiny and personal beginnings into what it is today: a small and unknown non-institution entirely lost and unheard of in the broiling vastness of North London.
Parmartha became more and more involved and eventually it became precious to him – and without his support and guidance it would have had most likely sunk without much trace. In that sense he was like a rock – really a ‘Peter’! Comparatively, he spent a surprising amount of money supporting the health of this enterprise. We were both quite amazed how these once-weekly meetings fed, supported and invigorated our spiritual endeavours.
Meanwhile, our friendship was deepening. As his cancer came up, it became part of it all. Slowly, I started perceiving depths in Big P which I had never previously suspected. As our intimacy grew, so did my respect. The fact that I hardly knew anything about his outer life didn’t come into it. I have learned more about his – to me, previous – life in the past few weeks than in all the time of our previous acquaintance.
Being by his side is my closest approach to an attempt at conscious dying. To my cognisance this started amongst our friends perhaps two-and-a-half decades ago when Swedish Anna, a longtime sannyasin, found she had cancer. I wasn’t close to her, but was of the circle. Impressively, in her last days, she had a large mirror placed at the foot of her bed..to reflect her awful corporeal reality…her commitment to here and now!
Then followed Swami Anand Paritosh in 2009 – he had held her space back then during her last months and was inspired by her way. He and Parmartha were close friends, and P was instrumental in the publishing of Pari’s two books: one on his seeking and being with Osho, and the other on his serious and conscientious two-year experiment with LSD and consciousness.
Dharmen, also known as Brian, one of P’s best friends, also succumbed to cancer more than a year ago, and there was a deep interplay between the two friends.
I am honoured to have had the chance to share gentle and effortless intimacy with Parmartha in his last days, weeks and months. I have the regret of not having done and played more with him when he was still able to enjoy open Nature.
Goodbye and Adieu, my friend.
Song ‘Loving You More Each Day’, a sannyas song, much loved by Parmartha, written by Navajat
Tribute to Parmartha
by Kim Wells, a friend for 50 years – this is a slightly extended version
Parmartha (known to some of you as Clive) and I were friends for fifty years. A long time, but it went so quickly. We were young…once – ever so young, we had energy to waste – entrenched in youth – and then suddenly, inexplicably…we were old. Dangerously old.
And now, sadly, Parmartha, once so full of life, is alive no longer. He had a very full life, a generous, giving, creative life. In some ways he was larger than life. He ploughed his own furrow; solid, grounded, self-sufficient, self-possessed and self-assured.
Parmartha had many talents, wore many hats, mostly metaphorical. He was an accomplished pianist and sportsman, lifeguard; winner of the Young Socialist debating contest in SW England when he was complimented by his local MP, Tony Benn; a certified philosopher (student of Karl Popper), liberal studies lecturer, social worker, gardener; a cleaner for the cantankerous Spike Milligan who was not impressed by his very basic domestic skills and sacked him in the first hour; spiritual seeker, meditation leader, magazine and website editor, shop steward, horticultural therapist, house parent, theatre director, actor, disco manager and prodigious networker.
What didn’t he do?
But I shall remember him best for his capacity for fun, adventure and theatricality, and his playful sense of mischief.
You wouldn’t think of Parmartha as a ballet dancer. As a gifted footballer, yes, a fierce tackler, a good header, maybe a dainty dribbler, but not as a danseur…a danseur of the pas de deux or even, in the chorus, of the pas de beaucoup.
But in 1970, he persuaded me to join an evening class in contemporary dance, a modern form of ballet. In those less liberated days, we were the only members representing the male gender. What I used to dread – and what he didn’t seem to mind – was when the macho car mechanics class came out early to leer at all the lithe, leotarded, young female dancers, and jeer, yes, jeer, at Parmartha and me, pirouetting precariously, flouncing, floundering and flailing about, falling over our feet.
Of course, we weren’t there solely because of our artistic pretensions. There was an ulterior motive. But unfortunately, our romantic overtures towards our fellow dancers were not so much rebuffed as ignored. We later found out, they thought we were gay…and, not only that, romantically entwined.
Parmartha was a Queen…Scout. In case there is any misunderstanding here, I should point out that this is a prestigious scouting award Parmartha gained when he was 18. As an extension of his bent in this direction, he introduced me and many others to the joys of exploring the countryside.
Barbed wire fences, bogs, brambles, “keep out, private” signs…were no barrier to this intrepid rambler. We would punctuate our walks with stops in idyllic country pubs, some of which wouldn’t serve us.
We often went off-piste – sorry, off pi…ste (pee..ste).
And if we got lost, it was the map…the map that was wrong.
Parmartha’s first law of hill walking: always keep your height. Not easy – especially on hills. I’m surprised we ever got home. No, to be fair, Parmartha was a good map reader.
As a Queen Scout, I don’t know what Baden Powell would have made of him in those days. He probably wouldn’t have given him too many brownie points…or forgiven his trespasses, at least not those in the grounds of his friends’ stately homes.
Parmartha did continue to embody one principle of the Scouts throughout his life: that a scout smiles and whistles under all difficulties.
Once in Ireland, after walking for five hours in heavy rain trying to hitch a lift, he turned to me and said: “This is the life!” I raised my eyes to the heavens and despaired. But soon after, we shared a moment of bliss when, in the middle of nowhere, we came across a cosy pub and had a cup of “Irish tea.” An “Irish tea” is a cup of tea with a whisky in it, a drink that Parmartha often asked for in Ireland and which the Irish had never heard of. (This request was normally greeted with a quizzical, indulgent look, as if to make allowance for his being English and thus a bit mad or simple. Though one female publican treated it as an act of sacrilege, exclaiming: “Look, I’ll give you a cup of tea and a glass of whisky – and I won’t look to see what you do with them!”).
Of course, Parmartha was right. This – all this – was the life, is the life! Parmartha could take the rough with the smooth.
It was this boy scout stoicism that enabled him to bear his final suffering with such fortitude, dignity and grace. He said in his final days that he’d had a complete life, didn’t fear death and that meditation, his spiritual path, had helped tremendously.
Thank you, Parmartha, for being so much part of my life, for all the fun, adventure and laughter you inspired in me and the friends we shared.
Thank you for all your patient understanding, particularly all that mental first aid you gave me when I was bogged down in a string of strung-out, stricken, strangulated relationships…yes, thank you for all the vicarious suffering…that you experienced on my behalf!
And thank you for all the love, joy and support you gave me, my daughter, Jo, and so many others.
A Child’s Perspective
I know – looking at me this might be hard to imagine, but there was a time when Parmartha used to walk along the sea wall in Dublin with me on his shoulders – of course I was only 6.
We first met in Dublin around 1977 and hit it off straight away when we went to a very rustic cottage called Ringwood in the depths of rural Ireland. There we would go swimming in an ice cold local river, milk the goat and collect eggs from Arthen’s hens… He taught me how to play knock-out whist and we would have outdoor adventures together in the fields.
Some of you might remember I was a bit of a challenging child – Indeed, Parmartha gave me a book containing the transcript of my Darshan with Osho that said I looked like I had “Pockets full of toads and a head full of what adults might call mischief.” As an adult looking back, I can’t really see what he saw in me – I would have run a mile!
However, this didn’t seem to matter to Parmartha, there was a different sort of vibe that resonated with me. I suppose I didn’t have to play up to get his full attention; when we were together, we were really together and that felt great.
It may also be possible that after me, other kids were a breeze when he was looking after them in Medina – who knows? – but one thing’s for sure, he had a fun, gentle and non-combative way with kids, and I always looked forward to seeing him – and believe this feeling was widely shared.
In 1979 we flew to India together and had three wonderful months in Poona. When my mother did a group for a week he took care of me. We would go to Cafe Delite with me on his crossbar for breakfast, a glass of sugar cane juice or maybe 10 chips – for some reason there were always 10! We also went swimming a lot and he was quite surprised when I told him a month or so ago that I couldn’t actually swim at the time!
He told me that a year later when he went back to Poona the beggars asked him, “Where’s your son?” Apparently, I used to go into the Ashram, beg and then go outside to give them the money! This all ended when Sheela – remember her? – summoned me to her office and put me to work in the kitchens at the Ashram… well, for a few days.
Not long after returning from India we relocated to London and would often see each other. I enjoyed playing table tennis and he did too, so we would sometimes go to the Sobell Sports Centre to play. Although he said that he would let me win just to keep the peace. Anyway, when we reconnected a year ago I mentioned that I wanted to start a local table tennis club, but lacked the vital second person. He said he’d come along, so I started it and now a whole bunch of people in the area enjoy evenings playing together – we can all thank him for giving me that nudge to get on with it.
When someone you love dies, for me it’s always accompanied with a flood of vivid memories. I hope, like me, they are of a warm, friendly and fun-loving person who lived life to the full – right to the very end. It also gives me great comfort to know he was surrounded by many wonderful friends who did so much to ensure he was well looked after and not alone.
Tribute to Clive
For some 20 years, Clive was working for Freedom from Torture with refugees and asylum seekers from all over the world who were survivors of torture.
He brought into the organisation his love of the outdoors, of nature and gardens. This love transformed many lives – and ultimately transformed his too. He asked me to talk about this love.
For 10 years every Wednesday, Clive and I met, with a group of clients, on an allotment.
The allotment had a big gate. When we stepped through that gate we entered a different world. Nature! What a relief it was to come here. We encouraged ourselves and our clients to focus on that relief, to leave outside the gate our emotions, thoughts, all the events that had been bombarding us throughout our lives and the past week. We encouraged us all to find out who we are when not boxed in by ourselves.
Of course, no gate is strong enough to keep everything out, many issues slipped though and had to be dealt with – but we always, always reminded each other to go back to nature, attend to the soil, breathe out, get out of our own way and, above all, not take ourselves so seriously.
As a result, our meetings, all 500 of them, were packed with a lot of laughter. Also, how little Clive and I knew about each other’s life! We were just not interested in our stories – that is why we know each other so well.
Some weeks ago, Kim asked me to come to hospital, because Clive wanted to tell me something – and there was not much time left for him. When I arrived I heard myself say: What the hell has happened to you? He looked like a dying man – but that was not what I was referring to.
Yes, he said, that is why he has asked me to come. A few days before, something happened. But actually the power of that event is in the fact that it was not an event at all. Nothing actually happened. It was the lack of an event that blew me open. I observed myself exhaling, this kind of exhale when we entered the allotment. But to my utter surprise, this time no inhale came back. I watched my body breathing in and out. But I was only breathing out. Like the sun that does not need refuelling, radiating heat for ever. What a relief it was when I looked at myself and my body and instantly knew, that this is not me. I am not the emotions, thoughts and events I thought I am defined by. I am the relentless power of this ever-radiating heat. I am not part of nature. I am nature! I am all of it!
The relief cannot be measured or explained. Its only expression is a continuous experience of joy and love.
Indeed, the next hour or two we laughed and talked and cleared some unfinished thoughts – while he was stroking my hands continuously. He just about was able to contain his love – jokingly I pointed out that soon he will have stroked the skin off my bone.
It was time for me to go. It was funny to watch how mind for a moment tries to create an event to bring in some emotions: “The last time we see each other.” “A last embrace.”…But the joy and love that was in the room did not provide any opportunity for an emotion or the idea of an event to settle down. Even if it had been possible, why would we ever chose an event and emotions over joy and love? Leaving him was truly a non-event.
Clive has not left us. We leave him when we create events and pack them with our emotions. Let’s recognise this gathering as a most powerful and beautiful non-event – and find Clive right in the middle of it.
Leonard Cohen’s Song ‘Anthem‘
Waves are coming in
by Deva Bhavit
Being with Parmartha in the last few days of his life cracked me open. I came upon this poem of Rumi which expresses the intimacy of those meetings:
Out beyond ideas of wrong doing and right doing
there is a field,
I will meet you there
when the soul lies down in that grass
the world is much too full to talk about
ideas, language, even the phrase ‘each other’
makes no sense.
Parmartha faced his illness and approaching death squarely. He remained himself, loving, astute, welcoming, no-nonsense Parmartha.
As his body came undone he let us see and hold his vulnerability and fragility without fear or shame. He asked for what he needed and wanted straightforwardly.
I experienced his acceptance of the total situation of his illness and impending death as a healing force, a creative act and an opening.
The more ill his body became the more intimate it was to sit beside him, to hold his hand, to place a cooling towel upon his head. We were unmasked and completely accepted in each other’s presence. It was intimate, beautiful and raw.
Parmartha told me that he wasn’t afraid and that he had lived a good life. I know that he had not simply grown old, he had grown up.
Parmartha’s very last words to me as I headed for the door were, “Bhavit, you are doing a good job.” These words live on in me now as a resource. He blessed me.
For two days after Parmartha dropped the body I saw and felt him in the people, in the trees, in the breeze, within myself. I temporarily woke up and knew that we are all of a oneness.
I would like to read now a song of Kabir which Osho says is a song of love merging with death:
The darkness of night is coming along fast
and the shadows of love close in the body and in the mind.
Open the window to the West and disappear into the air inside you.
Near your breastbone there is an open flower
drink the honey all around that flower.
Waves are coming in
There is so much magnificence near the ocean.
Listen, sound of immense seashells
Sound of bells
Kabir says, Friend, Listen, this is what I have to say:
The Guest I love is inside me.
Won by Walking
July 26, 2018 – Steve Small (formerly Prem Sudesh)
‘Only ideas won by walking, have authentic worth’
– That’s how Friedrich Nietzsche tried to bring us back to earth.
So still I walk, and watch you saunter
as only you could saunter, along the windy Seven Sisters
down spring-flowered gorges of western Crete
where disputed maps, wrong turns and blisters
only made a day complete.
Buddha said ‘friendship is not half
but the whole of the spiritual path.’
Osho said ‘easy is right.’
So come, let’s follow the play of light
through Gomera’s cake-cut shaped ravines
and into those north London meeting rooms
of endless Self-inquiry scenes.
Parmartha said so many things, like
‘A good book will write itself’
‘The wise scout always keeps his height’
and ‘Three minutes for the view?’
But most of all, those still and quiet exchanges
invitations to begin anew
draw me back, to that which never changes.
Nishigandha read two tributes by people who could not be present. One tribute was from Pauline whom she introduced with these words:
Many of you may not know Parmartha had a son, called Matthew. If you look at the back of the order of service you can find a picture of the two of them on a beach with Kim Wells, who is here today. Sadly, Parmartha and Matthew’s mother, Pauline, split up after she finished her training as a nurse, and he did not see the boy for 40 years. He was delighted when they came to visit him shortly before he died. Pauline asked for this tribute to be read:
Thank you for your dedication and hard work making sure I qualified as a nurse when we were students. I have enjoyed 40 years of nursing. Thank you for getting me there. I am so glad you achieved a great purpose in your life and have many friends and admirers of your work. Matthew and I were pleased to see you a few weeks ago. Rest in peace. Fond memories.
And the second tribute Nishigandha read was from Sigrid, his long-time partner, who lives in Vienna, Austria:
About 35 years ago, I was visiting Osho and the Oregon Ranch and I’d just started a meditation work programme in a toolshop when I met Parmartha there for the first time! I was immediately overwhelmd by his warm energy and familiarity when he looked at me! At once a ‘coming home’ moment, touching something new in myself.
It’s difficult to describe the strong energy field on the Ranch at this time; my experience was like seeng continuously the smallest, tiniest things transformed in an incredible joy and mystery! Connected with a deep learning to be on your own! To this, after having met Parmartha, for me a coming home as a woman too! Like just now, I saw myself, after meditation/work during the day, walking with Parmartha through a starry sky night, towards Zarathustra, one of the home places on the Ranch!
After leaving Oregon, Parmartha invited me to England, where he lived with a few sannyasins in a communal house in Glasslyn Road, North London. I have never experienced such a well-organised, beautiful living-together (including managing the household). The kids enjoyed the meals made by both of us: the Apfelstrudel (apple strudel) amd bangers and mash (sausages and mashed potatoes).
Later, Parmartha took me with him to the funeral after his father died. I still hear him singing so beautifully…loudly, beside me…
On a short visit to Austria to my parents, it wasn’t easy because of the language for Parmartha and my father to understand each other, but soon they were singing beautifully together on a walk!
I always felt most attracted to Parmartha by his incredible openess, a warm energy towards people, wherever on his way! His great lightness! Not hanging on to problems! But with a sensitive instinct, where needed or not! The something unpredictable in his being I Ioved like an open sky!
And even when Existence decided to make a bigger break or distance between us for many years, my feeling for him stayed unchanged in my heart, having him present at my side or not! It was rather a lesson for learning, to understand acceptance better or appreciate distance as a help for meditation!
A few years ago, Parmartha and I came in closer contact again and I realised how intensifying distance can also be for a fresh beginning, in whichever way!
And perhaps my body will feel stronger one day? I would manage a flight to England again? I would go to the places I have been walking with Parmartha, places he has shown me, like Queen’s Wood or Golders Hill Park, Parmartha’s favourite coffee house! I would happily sit there, doesn’t matter having him next to me or not anymore present in his former body! Just having him in my heart! Being grateful for the time walking with Parmartha for a while on this planet! Grateful for the deep guidance of Osho behind, from the very beginning, all the years until now! And far beyond…
After reading Sigrid’s tribute, to honour Sigrid’s love for Parmartha, Nishi then placed a rose from her garden, which Sigrid had given her, on the coffin.
Nishigandha then read these famous Shakespeare lines, from ‘The Tempest’.
I chose to recite it in honour of Parmartha’s interest in theatre and music, and of the performance we made together in a cabaret as punks singing ‘Ain’t Misbehavin’ with new lyrics as a skit on the strict AIDS precautions we were asked to observe at that time.
Of course it is appropriate above all as Shakespeare’s wonderfully profound poetry on the illusory nature of the material world.
Act 4 Scene 1 – Prospero speaks
Our revels now are ended…These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air,
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind: we are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep….
Quote from Shakespeare’s ‘The Tempest’
Song ‘Way Of The White Clouds‘
And as celebrant, Maneesha read the following quote by Osho:
“Whenever somebody dies – somebody you have known, loved, lived with, somebody who has become a part of your being – something in you also dies. When suddenly you come across death, the very earth underneath you slips away. Suddenly you become aware that this death also implies your death. Every death is everybody’s death. Never send a man to ask for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee.
Death reveals a fact about your life – that whatsoever you have been thinking as very concrete, real, is very filmy. It is dream stuff — it can be taken away from you any moment. So don’t be too much concerned with it…remain a little aloof.
In a way, nobody ever dies. In a way, every moment everybody is dying. So when you go to give [her] the send-off, give the send-off as one gives to somebody who is departing on a long journey. Not to a dead person – to an alive person. Let this be a send-off of dancing, celebration, festivity.
If you are happy, you help the other person to move easily into the unknown. If you are sad, it becomes difficult for the other to move away. Your sadness becomes heavy on the other person. It becomes like a rock, and hangs around the neck of the other.
Be happy! And let the other person also feel that [they are] remembered, that [they are loved], that [they are] accepted…and that they are leaving a happiness behind them, a gladness behind [them]. In that moment it is easier for the other to move; very easy to move. Then there is no repentance, and one doesn’t want to cling.
Life is beautiful; death is as beautiful as life. Life has its blessings; death has its own blessings. Much flowers in life; but much flowers in death also…
Death is one of the holiest of holies.
Now I will not delay you any more. [Parmartha] has to go long…beyond the stars. For five minutes sit in silence with me, and then you go….”
Excerpt from ‘Nothing To Lose But Your Head’
Silence for 5 minutes
Song ‘So Much Magnificence‘
I invite you now, as you leave by the back entrance, as you pass the coffin, if you feel to, you can make contact with Parmartha’s coffin.
Song ‘Asalaam Aleikum‘
Leaving venue, donation placing.
Reception at The Five Bells!
Thanks to Chris for getting this page together and to Nutan for the photos taken at the celebration
Osho talks about Vipassana’s death
Death is a door to God
Link to tribute page
Parmartha (29 May 1945 – 20 July 2018)