(5 July 1952 – 21 December 2022)
A true friend
Sw Anand Prabhat (Nimrod Getter) was a true friend, such a rare thing in this world. He was kind, compassionate, and full of humour and real, as real as one can be.
He had the most beautiful eyes, hidden behind his trademark glasses as if he was shy of the magnificent light shining through them. He moved through life with a smile in those eyes, taking in all life brought, enjoying the ride. Whoever was around was welcome to share his being and he touched and inspired many, many people from all walks of life. He loved life and life loved him, showering him with blessings, which he received with great humility.
A fully-formed human, balanced between a sharp, analytical mind on the one wing, and a big heart on the other, he moved through life guided only by his own inner sense of flow. Stubbornly. Maddeningly sometimes. But with utter integrity. Nothing was holy, and everything was sacred in our friendship.
He arrived in Poona by chance in 1975, and immediately fell in love with the master. When Osho threw a mala around his neck, his life was changed forever. By then he was already on his journey, but meeting the master gave him focus and direction and understanding that surrender was the ultimate weapon. He trusted, and dove into the great mystery without looking back.
When the ranch ended, he looked into his master’s eyes as Osho boarded the plane for India and knew it was time to walk his own path now, being so full with what the master had given. Time to make the teachings his own, find out for himself what it meant, saying that it was indeed necessary to reinvent the wheel for oneself. With all that, he was full of gratitude and immense love to the master until his last breath.
Prabhat loved beauty, clarity, clean lines – back-lit preferably. His whole life was a work of art, tastefully lighted. He was ridiculously creative. From a tiny shack on a scruffy roof in Tel Aviv’s run-down garment district he created the most beautiful living space, which he called the Freezone. It was an aesthetic extravaganza of colour and surprises, a haven of tranquillity floating above the noise and dirt of the city. Right to the very end he was busy with creative projects, small touches of beauty in his home. He was unstoppable.
His work had him travelling all over the world, away for 6 months at a time making movies (mostly doing the lighting). But he also travelled as a way to discover himself. Disappearing off the edge of the known world for months on end. Taking himself out of his comfort zone to see who he was outside of the every day identity. It’s something we did together sometimes. His camera was always with him and his photos are the treasure he brought home with him. Beautiful moments of presence, illuminated for us to see.
His son Tom was born in 2006, and this changed his path. His travels stopped and he threw himself totally (of course!) into the role of fatherhood. Although once Tom was old enough they went off on adventures together every summer too, introducing Tom to the joy of strolling casually through the streets of an unknown city, no particular place to go, camera in hand, taking in the ordinary magic of a street scene.
When he was diagnosed with cancer, it was clear to him that he was not going to fight it. He befriended “my sweet cancer” as he called it, negotiating how best they could live together for long enough to see his child grow. As usual he followed his own inner guidance in this, not necessarily what the experts advised. He was told that he would survive maybe a year. He lived a full life for seven more years, grateful for the many insights brought by death’s close presence in those years.
In the last couple of months, as his body failed, his spirit shone. He was even more beautiful, accepting the situation with all his heart, passing through the steps of letting go with his usual totality, diving in deep. With his last physical strength he made sure that all loose ends were tied, so the people who were dependent on him would be free to move on with their lives. Every day, as he lay in bed, he made space for all the people who loved him to come by and say farewell. There were many! And his close friends and family were with him daily, taking care, the celebrative spirit of Osho always with us. We laughed, we ate good food, we hugged and cried, we talked deeply and reminisced. Living life fully. Because until you are dead, you are alive!
So, he left as he lived, on his own terms and with great generosity, full of love. And, with typical style, right on his 47th sannyas birthday, the shortest day of the year, the day when we move back into the light.
To we who loved him so much, his presence is felt now strongly, his heart entangled with ours without any barriers. We are one.
Sannyas darshan: A blissful morning
Prabhat means morning and anand means bliss – a blissful morning. Morning is going to be your meditation time, so wherever you are, never miss the sunrise.
Just fifteen minutes before the sun rises, when the sky is becoming a little lighter, just wait and watch as one waits for a beloved: so tense, so deeply awaiting, so hopeful and excited, and yet silent. And just let the sun rise and go on watching. No need to stare; you can blink your eyes. Have the feeling that simultaneously inside, something is also rising.
When the sun comes on the horizon, start feeling that it is just near the navel. It comes up over there, and here, inside the navel, it comes up, comes up, comes up, slowly. The sun is rising there, and here an inner point of light is rising. Just ten minutes will do. Then close your eyes. When you first see the sun with open eyes it creates a negative, so when you close your eyes, you can see the sun dazzling inside. And this is going to change you tremendously.
Osho, Hammer on the Rock, Ch 8 – 21 December 1975
This is the meditation Prabhat mentions in his interview, A bunch of rebels.
a poem by Nayana
I see you there
balanced with such poise and grace
on life’s last ledge
But I cannot touch you
I see you there
your form dissipating in the light
for the next Great Flight
I would touch you
but I hear dragon wings ready there to take you home.
My heart is breaking
split open by an excess of love
tinged with the sadness
of life’s quick passing,
Exalted with the
knowing of eternity.
Nowhere to go.
Oh, thank you dear friend
for the adventures we have shared,
for letting me in to your heart,
for touching mine so deeply.
For being there.
for being such a stalwart fellow traveller,
for all the things I have learned from and through you
(How to see light
Thinking is not all bad
for trying to understand my passions
(watching Star Trek for goodness sake!
All those horses you rode over the years…).
Even though you never really ‘got it’,
I appreciate the effort
I really do.
We are such different people.
You so Bach, with his neat and tidy themes and variations
Me, more Chopin, rushing off on passionate preludes
our souls are entwined
I feel you in my every cell.
Oh my friend, I will miss you and your irritating ways,
your stubborn, pig-headed, know-it-all self
as much as I shall miss your exquisite sense of beauty,
the quirky sense of humour,
the quick, incisive mind
I shall miss you sorely, I really will.
So, I see you there,
balanced with such poise and grace on life’s last ledge,
I wrap you in pink heart love, (sorry, I can’t help it!)
give a little wave
and let you go.
His legacy: photography, interviews and essays
Prabhat’s creativity and wisdom expressed also in words continue to remain with us in the form of a photo book. Is That So? and the many photo shows in our virtual gallery. From his travels in Asia come Tibet: Harsh. Extreme. from Italy Hidden Venice, Strolling through the Eternal City, and Every place a gem. From southern Europe, Storyteller Extraordinaire, from Israel, before and during the pandemic lockdown, Tel Aviv and On the bright side. To the delight of many sannyasins he shared his collection of photos taken in Rajneeshpuram: A Grand Show.
After the Netflix docuseries Wild Wild Country had come out, he wrote two articles for Osho News: Why we got the guns? and Feel the danger before it comes. At that time he was also interviewed by the Israeli paper, Haaretz, for a story about Osho’s secretary Hasya, How this holocaust survivor became Guru Osho’s right hand.
A timely essay for 2012 was also, Eyes open or eyes tightly shut? where he ponders how two groups of people look at, seemingly, the same occurrences and see diametrically different things.
And last but definitely not least, in A bunch of rebels he tells his story: how he came to sannyas and his experience as a commune member in Poona and Rajneeshpuram.
PS Nayana remembers (19 March 2023): Prabhat was a Mahasattva, they would become enlightened on their death. We laughed about it a lot at his death bed. He even had the official paper declaring it!
Ah, Prabhat, blissful morning. My friend of 45 years. Hanging out in the Bidi temple in Poona 1, even when I didn’t smoke, just to hang out with you. To me, you were always one of the cool ones, who came to Osho before me. Many people who took Darshan in Hammer on the Rock, dropped Sannyas on the Ranch or shortly after. You were always the open-eyed devotee, not a blind follower.
We patrolled Antelope together, you with the Uzi, in our mauve Stassi-inspired uniforms. I was nervous, you always looked cool.
These final years I’ve so much enjoyed your photographs and your intelligent sarcasms on Facebook. You hid your sweet cancer well.
So much Love you gave, and so much love follows you onwards. SVAHA!
Words are inadequate.
Love and gratitude just bubble up when I think of you.
Thanks for all the memories – especially the crazy early pioneering days on the farm. So much fun – and you were the mother hen looking out for the rest of us.
Love your creativity.
And your photos have brought so much joy to me and many others.
Thank you for sharing your passing. It has been a special time.
I know you will light up the beyond as you have done so here on this plane.
And we will meet again.
‘Til then, much love!
I received rhis message from Nimi, 8 months before he passed – 7 years after the diagnosis: “The most important thing I realized the moment I was diagnosed (and given just one year to live) is that I was gonna treat it like a gift, rather than a punishment. I still do.”
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