Prapat

It is difficult to summarise someone’s life in a few lines, even more so when it comes to those who take life in their stride with passion and face it head-on with a free spirit; whose lives are particularly lively and vibrant, intense, full of emotion, lived with a thirst for curiosity and a desire to experiment, whose lives are full of so much. Even more difficult it is when all this belongs to those who are forced to leave their bodies prematurely.

Prapat Salvo Riccobono came into the world in 1959 in Sicily, in Sferracavallo, a pleasant seaside village near the city of Palermo, on the anniversary of the discovery of America.

He spent his childhood between the sea and the surrounding countryside (some of which belonged to his family), rich in orchards and citrus groves; swimming, fishing underwater and climbing trees, he grew up well-hardened, agile, sporty, strong and wild.

He was quick, bright, quick-witted, independent and highly sensitive, and his half-Zorba, half-Buddha soul, which marked him throughout his life, was already apparent.

He soon picked up his first guitar. Music and his inseparable guitars accompanied him to the end.

At a very young age his spiritual side was already fascinated by the paths of the soul and the unconscious. He began to read texts on Western and Eastern philosophies and everything else related to the human mind and psyche; at the same time, quoting Lou Reed’s famous song ‘Walking on the wild side’, he ventured into ‘underground’ streets, experimenting with things and situations that were decidedly less spiritual, but which were part of the other half of him and which undoubtedly contributed to enriching his knowledge of life and making him into a special person.

The passage through certain “dependencies” was almost obligatory given the historical period, a situation from which he was able to emerge alone and with his head held high. He travelled extensively, especially to the East and to India, which he loved very much. As a natural consequence of a long journey came his choice to take sannyas, although he had been reading Osho (who was still called Bhagwan) for many years before; it was so that in a beautiful sannyas initation in Poona he became Swami Anurag Prapat (Waterfall of Cosmic Love).

A sensitive multi-instrumentalist, capable of transforming any object in his hands into music. Versatile both as an artist, in his manual skills and with the most modern technology, as it is popularly said in Italy “where you put it, it sounds” (dove si mette suona) to indicate the one who, self-taught, succeeds excellently in everything he does.

Among other things, he always worked very well with wood and leather, and lately he had taken to making beautiful bows and arrows for target shooting, a discipline he approached with dexterity and mastery and experienced as a meditation. He composed music, edited videos and much more, all with the playfulness and amazement of a child having fun – and it was no coincidence that he called what he used ‘my toys’.

He was cheerful, engaging, likeable – a beautiful man, naturally elegant, who exuded a special charm and, with his manners, knew how to win everyone over and make up for any shortcomings.

He was charismatic, undoubtedly an alpha male, and there were many women ‘falling in love’ with him, but also many men were fascinated by his personality, his life and his stories, his conversation as a speaker, always lively, up-to-date, full of information beyond the mainstream, the result of his desire to go ‘beyond’ and trying to know the ‘truths’.

Prapat lived a beautiful and enviable life, free, making his own way and doing what he liked and wanted to do, knowing how to enjoy life as only a few do. A true Zorba – and he could not have done otherwise. He was definitely one of those who leave their mark.

He passed away on 9 October 2021, on the eve of his 62nd birthday, following the worsening of a bad liver tumour diagnosed about four years earlier. The irony is that the funeral was held on 12 October, his birthday, a date he had never really liked to celebrate.

Those who go through life like this never die.

Jivan Loredana writes:

I have been asked to tell a few anecdotes from Prapat’s life. It seems easy, but it is not; a flood of memories crowd my mind: what to choose? Just in these days I realise, almost astonished, that Prapat and I had known each other for almost 40 years, of which a little less than 20 of them we had lived together as a couple – even if with many other lovers in between (the female crowd around him was impossible to keep in check especially in those years and on this we could write entire chapters…) but, despite everything, we were “us” and we have always remained so, even as friends.

We were lovers, partners, father, mother, brother, sister, son, daughter, sorcerer, fairy, friends, accomplices at heart – always, even when we quarrelled. I could write a whole book on the crazy stories we lived through together or on the many anecdotes of his life as a young man that he often loved to recall in great detail. We met each other during some crazy and magical events and, even though we had not been together for several years, in his last months we always found ourselves as ‘us’ with the same ‘magic’ that characterised our relationship over time.

Death reveals.

As the time approached that prepared him for the great passage ‘over the bridge’, Prapat always remained lucid, calm and quiet, composed, brave and strong like a true emperor, fragrant and beautiful even though he had become skin and bones. Right at the end his eyes, open like windows that deliberately let me see inside, looked at me and spoke, and told me what he saw in the passage.

Now, after those shocking days in which, among other things, a whole life fell over me with all its memories, I asked myself: ‘Loredana, what to choose? What is the first thing that comes to your mind that is exclusively linked to him?” Mmm… music? parties? the sea? dancing? …mmhhh…

There are two things I instinctively associate with him: the first is ‘pumpkin’.

Yes, pumpkin, the beautiful orange Halloween pumpkin. Whenever I see one I cannot help but think of the “pumpkin cream”, a velouté that he loved and cooked beautifully. Although I have seen him prepare it a thousand times – I am also a good cook – the way he made it, nobody else can!

I perfectly remember the preparation of the ingredients that he cut with care. And above all the ritual that accompanied the cooking where potatoes, carrots, onions and herbs, that made the basis as he pointed out, had to “marry” in the pot first before adding the pumpkin chunks.

For Prapat, this ‘marriage’ was the sacred fulcrum for the success of the dish – woe betide if the ritual was not carried out properly! When it was cooked, everything was blended with an immersion blender and the result was a marvellous pumpkin cream, which he loved to combine with ditalini rigati.

The other thing that makes me think of him are red red roses, those beautiful ones with the long stem and the big corolla… But this is a more intimate story to be told.

Prapat is music, perfume, joy of life, a sun.

Photos and bio also from Jivan Loredana – translation by Osho News

More Tributes

Prapat has always been a special friend – he was an adventurous soul, with an artistic flair… In the memory of my heart I keep the motorcycle trips in India, the music sessions – all the night long, the adventures, the deep and honest sharings.
Lot of Love, dear Friend – wherever you are ❤️🙏
Paragyan

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