Who was he? What was he for me?

Last excerpt from Chitbodhi’s memoir, One Life: A True Account

“A Devil, taking my soul to hell? The best conman ever, taking advantage of all us poor undeveloped people? A Jesus? A Mohammed? An alien? A drug addict? A guy brainwashing us?”

Where is the answer to all this?

Energy darshan

In 1980 – I was an ashram-worker at the time – I suddenly got scheduled for an energy darshan with Osho; my only one, ever, at least officially.

I knew how it would work from the photos and videos. You sit in front of him, the light dims, he puts his thumb on your forehead, and people fall into some kind of ecstatic state. Great, but for me it was always doubtful, like some kind of esoteric show. Why should anybody suddenly fall into ecstasy just because he puts his thumb on their forehead? Probably everybody was afraid that nothing would happen to them, and so they just pretended.

For sure it would not happen to me, who had a clear mind, an average brain. There were lots of thoughts in my head while sitting and waiting that night for my name to be called. I certainly wasn’t going to admit that nothing was happening to me. I would just play along and pretend to be in heaven.

My name was called, I sat down in front of him, the light dimmed around me, I felt his thumb touching my skin – electricity of the most beautiful kind flowed into my body, like an ocean of prickling, bubbling champagne, filling me, from my toenails into every single hair on my head, waves from the bottom to the very top. Getting stronger and stronger, making me part of an ocean of the most beautiful electricity I have ever experienced. The very best of my sexual orgasms wouldn’t even be 1% of what I experienced in those 20 minutes.

Suddenly his thumb disconnected, there were arms lifting me up and leading me somewhere, gently putting me down on a cool floor. The waves went on, continuing and continuing. I was connected to the ocean of life without understanding or thinking about it.

Each time just a tiny bit less strong now, but ultimately the most beautiful experience of being part of something that defies logic and mind. Weaker and weaker by the second, I didn’t dare move, didn’t want to disturb the experience of this ocean in me, until the very last wave, almost not noticeable anymore, and then it was over…

I slowly got up, Osho had left already, I was almost alone. My mind was back and yes, what was that? What has happened to me?

Until today, as I write this in 2014, it still defies my mind.

Osho’s Enlightenment Day

March 21, 1987, a big day for the ashram, Osho’s Enlightenment Day, a yearly celebration commemorating the day he became enlightened in 1953. Hundreds of Indian sannyasins streamed in for the day and the evening gathering with him.

At these celebrations he would come out, sit in his chair, eyes closed, and everybody participating would sing and celebrate. Sometimes he would open his eyes; slowly turning his head, his gaze sweeping the maybe 2000 people sitting cramped, filling the last square centimeter of the hall.

We guards were split into two shifts. One could participate, and a small section was designated for us to sit to his right, pretty close to him. Mine was the first shift, but at a certain time I needed to leave and replace a front gate guard.

For some reason I never really liked these celebration days, all filled with people, everybody sweating – it always got so hot – not really enjoyable for me to sit here now in Buddha Hall.

My clothes stuck to my body from all the sweating. I had already checked my watch a few times for the moment I could leave to take up my post at the front gate, get out into the cooler air. That day I was also kind of bored to just be sitting and singing.

My mind went traveling, and maybe even a bit daydreaming. I looked to the right where the beautiful vegetation beside the hall reflected the lights from inside. While I was admiring the play of light on the wild mixture of tropical plants, dreaming away, suddenly some electric bolt hit me from the front – I mean electricity, at least 50 times stronger than the beautiful ocean I had experienced six years earlier; a thunderbolt, almost paralyzing me and all movement.

I forced my head to slowly turn to the front. Osho had opened his eyes. He had turned his head and now looked straight at me, his eyes locked into mine. The feeling had now changed; I felt that I could move my toes, my legs. There was a pleasant stream of bubbling champagne running through my body.

A huge smile appeared in his eyes. While the energy in me was now ebbing away, he turned his head, sweeping the thousands sitting in front of him.

What the fuck was that? What kind of man can do that? I have no answer whatsoever…

Osho today

So, what was this guy to me and what is he for me today?

Let’s say he lent me the crutches to learn walking – and I didn’t have to pay for them. After a while I could let go of one crutch, and after another while I could throw the second crutch away, and now I can walk somewhat.

In listening, for over 7 years, to the thousands of his discourses, I mostly remember these words, which I am paraphrasing here:

Don’t believe in anybody who knows the truth. No God, No Jesus, no Lama, no Mohammed, no Allah, and for sure don’t believe in me (Osho). Only you alone can know your sadness and love, your anger and frustration, your beauty and your ugliness. Only you can learn your own truth and your own happiness. Only you can become the master of yourself. Nobody else will ever be able to experience you. Don’t allow any masters to rule you. It’s you, and you are already complete; you just have to start living it.

I had arrived in Poona, in 1978, with a million questions inside of me, for which I wanted answers immediately. That also had made me miserable, deep down.

I haven’t received even one answer.

The questions have disappeared, and it sometimes even feels silly to remember them today. It’s so far back.

The biggest crook, or Jesus?

I don’t give a fuck! Not even for a second have I doubted that I was on the right path by meeting him. In the end there is no wrong path and there is no right path. All is OK, as long as I keep learning, as long as I stop and enjoy every second on my way, up and down, as life is, to the very end. And I will enjoy that last moment as the culmination of my rollercoaster ride, and I hope it will be with a smile, the same as my father when he died.

This is an edited except from chapter 39 of Chitbodhi’s One Life: A True Account