A new life, full of grace, love and joy

Childhood

I was born in Tapes – a small town in the south of Brazil – on the shores of a lagoon, the Lagoa dos Patos. From early childhood, I learned to love and admire Tapes’ natural spectacles – the rising sun and, above all, the rising full moon.

My father had an immense passion for sailing, which in summer became an almost daily activity. I especially remember two moments with him, when I was still very young, that left a deep mark on me. In one, he taught me how to swim in the lagoon at sunset – the light was golden and the water wonderfully warm. On another occasion, on a full-moon night, we were out on the boat. The water was absolutely calm, without a breath of wind. He put me into the water wearing a life jacket, secured by a rope, and I floated there quietly, safe, simply suspended before a spectacle of indescribable beauty.

My father was a notary public and my mother was his deputy. They both worked in a small registry office right next to our home. Whenever possible, my mother would join the family on sailing trips and would prepare the food we took with us.

My mother saved my life twice. The first time was during a weekend sailing and camping trip, when I nearly drowned. I was in the water close to the shore on the far side of the lagoon. When she saw me suddenly sink, she quickly rushed to the spot and pulled me out, after I had already swallowed several mouthfuls of water.

The second time was when I was about seven years old and suffered an electric shock while handling a floor polisher. An extension cord had come loose, and I tried to reconnect it by holding the metal pins. My whole body shook for several long seconds, until my mother heard my screams and came running to save me. I sometimes joke that it may have been my first Kundalini Meditation.

I have three sisters, all still alive and well, and I am the youngest of the four. Naturally, my father placed many expectations on me, projecting his desires onto me. This led to many conflicts throughout our lives, on many different issues – conflicts that intensified over time due to my rebellious personality.

It took me a long time to understand that my father and mother always did the best they could, each within their own limitations, each carrying their own pain and personal traumas – especially my father. My relationship with my family has always been one of love and care, each in their own way. To this day, I have a very affectionate relationship with my sisters.

My childhood, up to the age of ten, was very rich and lively, with a great deal of freedom to roam the streets and enjoy myself with friends in that small town. I grew up close to nature, with beautiful memories – cycling, playing football, swimming and simply having fun with friends.

I studied in Tapes for the first four years of my schooling. My parents always insisted that I focus on my education. From an early age, I was taught to prioritise my studies and only then engage in leisure activities – a lesson I have carried with me throughout my life.

I remember my father saying: “My son, you have two legs. One is called freedom and the other is called responsibility. Without responsibility, you have no freedom – and without freedom, you have no responsibility.”

My life took a traumatic turn when we moved to “the big city”, to Porto Alegre, a 120-km drive north. Our parents’ focus on education was such that they thought it would be best for me – I was 11 by then – and for my teenage sisters to move to Porto Alegre, where the schools were much better. Our mother lived with us for the first year, but then returned to Tapes to work with my father. Luckily, we had a lovely woman who ran our messy young household. Of course, we saw our parents at weekends and sometimes during the week as well. Still, in that big city, freedom was reduced to a bedroom in a flat, with no friends around and without the outdoor activities I loved so much.

This happened around the same time that I had to start wearing glasses, which led to constant bullying from my classmates. From an extroverted, outdoor boy, I became extremely shy – a country bumpkin, an outsider, so different from the other children in Porto Alegre. I could only make friends with the shyest and most rejected pupils in the class.

This period lasted until I entered university to study law. I continued to feel like someone who didn’t quite fit, questioning my choices. The world of law has always been very formal, and I found it extremely difficult to deal with that. I almost dropped out of university in my penultimate year because I felt so inadequate and out of place. But in the end, I decided to finish what I had started, so that I would at least have a profession. And that’s what I did.

Why law?

This choice came from the desire to help people. I have also always loved writing – as I still do today. At school, in the fourth year, I won a prize in a competition for the best essay in the whole school. The theme was “What I want to be in life”, or something like that. I wrote that I wanted to be a lawyer, to help the wronged and the persecuted. At the time, I imagined I would work in criminal law, but that remained only an idea – I never actually worked in that field.

My first years in legal practice were full of conflict. The formality of the profession, the obligation to wear a suit and tie – all of this felt very alien to me. Over time, I gradually accepted that I could practise law without losing my essence. There are aspects of the law that I genuinely enjoy – writing and strategic thinking, inspired by Chuang Tzu and The Art of War.

Today I work mainly with contracts and corporate culture focused on preventing litigation. I feel I have a particular talent for negotiating settlements in difficult cases.

But of course my career was interrupted by sannyas. Still early in my professional life, in 1988, I left a partnership in a large law firm in São Paulo, the largest city in Brazil, in order to go to India to meet Osho. This created a certain stigma among my colleagues, who came to see me as “a madman who dressed differently and could drop everything at any moment”.

But I always acted responsibly, with my father’s words in mind. Even when I went to India and only returned four years later, I left everything meticulously organised, out of respect for my colleagues and clients.

Meeting Osho

This story begins on a beautiful day in Porto Alegre, in 1982. I walked into a restaurant and saw someone I knew, dressed entirely in red, with a shaved head and a necklace bearing the photo of a bearded man. With him were others wearing the same colour and the same necklace.

I thought the man had gone mad and gave him a wide berth.

At that time, at 23 years old, my life was full of inner and outer conflicts. I was torn between the expectations of a Brazilian middle-class family and my rebellious spirit, longing to challenge the status quo, expand its horizons and explore places and cultures beyond my small world.

What was normally expected of me was to finish university, establish myself professionally, get married, have children and so on – following a script that, deep down, I felt was not mine, at least not at that moment.

I felt suffocated, as if my soul were screaming silently, believing I would never have a voice within a life script that had already been written without my consent. I had already experienced intense conflict earlier, when my father wanted to send me to military school – a proposal I answered with tears of horror and revolt – to the point that he eventually gave up that stupid idea.

After finishing university, I left my parents’ house, as I already had a job and could pay my own rent. I moved into a flat near the Federal University, sharing it with a close childhood friend.

The atmosphere was infused with remnants of the hippie movement and left-wing student activism, all within a broader countercultural context. A new world opened up around me: bar-room bohemia, organic food cooperatives, music, poetry and a group of people full of dreams and fantasies.

The cultural ferment was immense, unfolding during the final years of the military dictatorship in the country. In a way, oppression united those once-silenced cries, which were now emerging more and more fearlessly. Rebellion and revolt pulsed within the flower power universe. Everything felt new and challenging.

After graduating, I went on a 9,000-kilometre road trip to Bahia, where I once again encountered someone dressed in red, wearing the same necklace with the bearded man I had seen before. This time, the people in red neither frightened nor attracted me.

After the trip came a kind of awakening – music, an interest in bioenergetics, the Age of Aquarius, Wilhelm Reich. Everything felt new, everything acted as a propelling force. New friends appeared – people from music and theatre – and ideals of freedom and of a new world permeated my life.

Then, by chance, in Porto Alegre, I met a former university classmate, and a brief, 30-day romance followed. I later learned that she had been part of the “necklace group”, although she was no longer wearing red or the necklace, having argued with someone and left the guru’s group. She gave me a book called The Orange Book, which taught meditation techniques. It wasn’t something I was looking for, and I leafed through it without much interest, but the book cover stayed with me. That bearded man from the necklace began appearing more and more frequently in my life.

It was still 1983 when I walked into a macrobiotic restaurant and saw a poster announcing:

“Bioenergetics – Free Lecture”

Wow.

Without a second thought, I went to the talk with a friend.

To my surprise, everyone there was dressed in red and wearing the same necklace with the bearded man’s photo. I almost turned back, but resisted the impulse and my prejudice, and stayed.

It was a very wise decision – one that would definitively change my life.

I enjoyed the lecture and decided to join the group, which was due to start that Friday evening and continue over the weekend. What I experienced over those days was like an opening into a new world unfolding before me.

The facilitator, now a dearly missed friend, was Swami Prem Satbodhi, a highly experienced therapist and one of the most important teachers of my life. He had an extraordinary ability to transmit knowledge with intelligence and humour. The master’s bell had begun to ring in my ears – though still amid much noise and inner chaos.

Nothing made sense anymore. I began questioning my profession, my habits, expectations, friendships and relationships. Everything seemed empty and meaningless. There was no contentment, no answers – only more and more questions.

I had finished university, was newly qualified in law, and found it extremely difficult to adapt to that world, having felt like a “fish out of water” throughout my studies.

One day, when I arrived home, I found a note from a friend saying he was expecting me that evening at a given address and that I would like the event. There, among a group of people, I met Satbodhi again. A self-awareness group was beginning, called Campo Vital. We met twice a week in Porto Alegre and once a month in the mountains, in Nova Petrópolis.

From then on, my search intensified and more discoveries unfolded. I found support and companionship. The therapist and the group were like guardian angels, open to listening to my conflicts and helping them dissolve through bodywork, bioenergetics, psychodrama, Gestalt exercises and many meditations from the world of Osho.

A new world was opening up, full of possibilities.

There was now something in my life beyond the old script. Better still, the script was blank – and I was the scriptwriter.

To shorten a long story, at a certain point I decided to leave the law firm and move to Salvador, where I once again encountered sannyasins. They were, however, all preparing to move to large Osho communities in Europe.

On another trip, further north in the country, I once again “by chance” met sannyasins. It did not take long to discover that someone was travelling to Rancho Rajneesh in Oregon and could take my sannyas application form with them. It was later returned to me by post, with my new name, dated 14 December 1984.

As Miten once said in an interview for Histórias com Osho: “Osho not only saved my life – he gave me a new life.” The same happened to me, and that life is full of grace, love and joy.

The change that followed was not only external but deeply internal. There was a moment when my father said that my life was a mistake, making me feel utterly out of place. It looked as if all that remained for me would be drugs or suicide. But at that exact moment, Osho appeared and embraced me, showing me that nothing was wrong with me – and that feeling out of place in a neurotic world was not a bad sign after all.

I learned to love myself more, made new friends and, above all, meditation became my main and best companion.

Life took on new contours and colours. Everything changed from that moment on.

Meeting the man

The first time I saw Osho was in 1986, in Bombay – now Mumbai. I spent almost a month in his physical presence, attending discourse every second day. The venue was a large living room in the villa of one of Osho’s friends, and not everyone could fit in at the same time.

It was difficult. I had high expectations and imagined I would experience some kind of energetic explosion. I spoke very little English and didn’t understand a word of what he said. I felt uncomfortable: the space was small and crowded, and I was unprepared. In the first days I didn’t even have a cushion, and my body ached.

The impact came later, on my return to Brazil, to São Paulo, where I lived in a small commune with ten sannyasin friends. I experienced an inner silence, a peace and tranquillity I had never known before. I could feel the difference of having been in the master’s presence, even though I had already been connected from a distance.

Shortly after coming back from India, a friend gave me a recording of Osho’s answer to a question I had asked him about when he would leave the body. His response became iconic and was later included as excerpts in videos about Osho’s cremation, in Osho Times, in Humaniversity magazine and in the film Ten Thousand Shades of Osho. I have listened to his answer hundreds of times and still do, as if each sentence contained secrets I still need to decipher.

In April 1988, I left my job, sold my belongings and travelled to Pune, where I stayed until April 1990, with a period in Europe in between.

At first I was very shy, but after participating in the Mystic Rose Meditation, everything changed. Everything opened up and I discovered I had arrived in paradise on earth.

I worked in the ashram – in the Bodhidharma Tea Garden, the Rose Garden and the Osho Café. It was a deeply enriching period, when work felt effortless, pure joy and celebration.

Participating in the nightly darshans with Osho was an experience in itself. I learned that everything depended on how open and sensitive I was, in order to absorb that true bath of light and love in his presence. It was wonderful to leave those meetings and see the indescribable sparkle in people’s eyes.

I was present during the period when Osho devoted his discourses to Zen masters and parables, with that immense celebration in Buddha Hall, the profusion of magnificent musicians, culminating in Osho leading the three-stage meditation: Gibberish, Silence and Let-Go. To this day, his words continue to resonate in my mind and heart. I felt he was teaching us the way home, guiding our attention towards the hara – the centre of our being.

I learned that, whatever the situation, that place is always available within me – untouched and protected from anything around me.

It was a long phase, until another began, when Osho left the body. Many of us were unprepared for this, believing we would have him forever, despite all the signs his fragile body was giving. Everything became utterly unpredictable for me, because my life was “to be with my master” – and now he was gone.

About two months after Osho left the body, I went to live in Japan at the invitation of two Japanese sannyasins: Chandree, my girlfriend at the time, and Abhivandan, a musician and a very creative, loving friend.

In Japan I met Tamo-san, an enlightened Buddhist woman who had visited Osho. This encounter had a profound impact on me and triggered a very intense process – one that would require a book to describe. It ranged from ecstasy to agony and included a period of deep depression, with some extreme moments during a final brief visit to Pune between December 1990 and January 1991.

In Japan, missing Osho and the energy of the Buddhafield, I felt deeply welcomed and comforted when I listened to Veeresh in a recording, speaking about Osho with immense love. At that moment, I thought: Osho is still alive – and tears of gratitude overwhelmed me.

After that, I spent years living and trying to keep the flame alive in meditation centres, back in Brazil. My heart found peace some years later, when I connected with the beautiful master Vasant Swaha, a former bodyguard of Osho’s and now an enlightened master.

Music

My passion for music dates back to early childhood, when I listened to my sisters’ Beatles records and my father’s classical music albums. I loved putting on carnival music from Rio de Janeiro – especially records by Banda do Canecão – and dancing alone, even out of season. I also fell in love with the theme song from the film Zorba the Greek and successfully blackmailed my sister into giving me the record.

As a teenager, I developed another passion that has stayed with me to this day: DJing at parties.

Or “DJing for myself”, when I create playlists to listen to and dance to.

I am surrounded by music. My beloved partner of 21 years, Parita, is an actress, a singer and musician, as well as a vocal coach, audio technician and music producer. She is the main audio and video editor of Histórias com Osho.

In 2023, quite by chance, I discovered a track recorded in Pune called Mere Hamdam. The song touched me deeply, and I began to research it. I spoke with Ma Dharm Jyoti, who sent me a video in which it is sung to Osho in Buddha Hall. Shailendra, Osho’s brother, sent me the discourse that I believe inspired the composition. Osho addresses his sannyasins with the words Mere Hamdam (my heart) and Mere Hamsafar (my fellow travellers), explaining the meaning behind these Urdu words – an ancient, poetic language – and even mentioning the prophecy of a Japanese seer, Katsuo Ishida, about the return of Maitreya in the form of Osho.

With great sensitivity, Parita put together the arrangements and brought together the voices of fellow sannyasins within four days, with a beautiful piano base played by our friend Anand Taza. The recording can be found on YouTube (youtu.be).

I have many ideas and projects involving singing, especially the beautiful two-voice canon compositions by Anubhava (Peter Makena). Let’s see if we can make this dream come true.

Histórias com Osho

The YouTube channel Histórias com Osho (youtube.com), which I set up together with Divya Aminah, has now been running for five years. More than 200 episodes have been produced, and we are likely to continue for quite some time – perhaps entering a new phase in 2026. My focus at the moment is to create a business plan, as we need to purchase new equipment and hire another video editor.

At the moment, we manage to produce one video per month. This is made possible through small donations, and from time to time I – and occasionally Aminah as well – contribute from our own pockets.

When it comes to preparing interviews, having lived in many places and met many people over more than 40 years with Osho, I already carry many references within the sangha. Divya Aminah and I follow our sense of affinity when approaching potential guests.

Sometimes it is difficult to make contact, and some people don’t reply to our invitations. Still, I am persistent and don’t give up easily. I often joke that I can read the “yes” hidden behind a “no”, so I invite them again. Other times the “no” is clear and direct, and of course I don’t insist. But I still hope to be able to connect with Turiya, Deuter and Devakant, as well as some other people on my list.

People sometimes ask how I can fit that amount of work into my law practice. The answer is simple: it is a challenge. We usually work at weekends and in our free hours. The work involves everything from sending invitations and negotiations to recordings, video editing, subtitles and reviews, all the way to the broadcast itself.

We take great care to preserve the loving energy and the image of our beloved master, aware of how much has been done to destroy Osho’s work through lies, slander and the misdeeds of sannyasins. For this reason, we always make it clear to our guests that our focus is on love, devotion, learning and transformation – all touched by this beautiful, contagious flame.

It is purely devotional work, filled with joy and deep satisfaction. Over time, we have managed to reach people in many parts of the world, on almost every continent.

More than that, Histórias com Osho led us to meet our wonderful teacher Swaha, with whom we have been connected since we first interviewed him in 2021. Swaha became my master in March 2024, through a decision that did not arise from a mental process. It was more like something that carried me beyond reasoning and understanding, allowing me to experience once again the joy and great love I knew with Osho.

Swaha and Osho are one and the same to me today, and it makes me immensely happy to know that I can be in his presence very often, as at certain times of the year he is only five hours away from my home. I plan to participate in the next retreat with Vasant Swaha in March, in Santa Catarina, in southern Brazil.

We also receive many invitations to visit interviewees in different places – perhaps one day we will manage to go.

Interview translated from Portuguese by Osho News

Related article

• Histórias com Osho – Histories with Osho – Two Brazilian sannyasins create an oral history of life with Osho, Histórias com Osho – by Subhuti (June 2025)
• Mere Hamdam, Mere Dost – Abheeru introduces a video of this song, recorded by friends in Brazil (July 2023)