OSHO's 10 Commandments

The Ten OSHO Commandments:

And you want to know if somebody asks you about my philosophical standpoint.... It is not going to be that easy, because I see man as a multi-dimensional being. You will be able to state it standing on one foot, there is no need for sentences, but you will have to state ten non-commandments.

The first: freedom.

The second: uniqueness of individuality.

The third: love.

The fourth: meditation.

The fifth: non-seriousness.

The sixth: playfulness.

The seventh: creativity.

The eighth: sensitivity.

The ninth: gratefulness.

Tenth: a feeling of the mysterious.

These ten non-commandments constitute my basic attitude towards reality, towards man's freedom from all kinds of spiritual slavery.

OSHO
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…..OSHO the Beloved

Why Slum India!!?

The most logical and intelligent explAnation thus far of the controversy... Must read!!! 

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Religion, Marxism and Slumdog

François Gautier
Source: Express buzz

First Published : 16 Mar 2009 02:09:00 AM IST
Last Updated : 16 Mar 2009 09:35:52 AM IST

WHY did a film like Slumdog Millionaire, which conveys an utterly negative image of India — slums, exploitation, poverty, corruption, anti Muslim pogroms — create so many waves in the West, pre and post Oscars? And why does not the Indian government protest, as the Chinese would indeed have, for a twisted and perverted portrayal of its own reality? There are several answers: When the missionaries began to evangelise India, they quickly realised that Hinduism was not only practised by a huge majority, but that it was so deeply rooted that it stood as the only barrier to their subjugating the entire subcontinent.

They therefore decided to demonise the religion, by multiplying what they perceived as its faults, by one hundred: caste, poverty, child marriage, superstition, widows, sati … Today, these exaggerations, which at best are based on quarter-truths, have come down to us and have been embedded not only in the minds of many Westerners, but also unfortunately, of much of India’s intelligentsia.

We Westerners continue to suffer from a superiority complex over the socalled Third World in general and India in particular. Sitting in front of our television sets during prime time news, with a hefty steak on our table, we love to feel sorry for the misery of others, it secretly flatters our ego and makes us proud of our so-called ‘achievements’.

That is why books such as The City of Joy by Dominique Lapierre, which gives the impression that India is a vast slum, or a film like Slumdog Millionaire, have such an impact.

In this film, India’s foes have joined hands. Today, billions of dollars that innocent Westerners give to charity are used to convert the poorest of India with the help of enticements such as free medical aid, schooling and loans.

If you see the Tamil Nadu coast posttsunami, there is a church every 500 metres. Once converted, these new Christians are taught that it is a sin to enter a temple, do puja, or even put tilak on one’s head, thus creating an imbalance in the Indian psyche (In an interview to a British newspaper, Danny Boyle confessed he wanted to be a Christian missionary when he was young and that he is still very much guided by these ideals — so much for his impartiality).

Islamic fundamentalism also ruthlessly hounds India, as demonstrated by the 26/11 attacks on Mumbai, which are reminiscent of the brutality and savagery of a Timur, who killed 1,00,000 Hindus in a single act of savagery.

Indian communists, in power in three states, are also hard at work to dismantle India’s cultural and spiritual inheritance. And finally, the Americanisation of India is creating havoc in the social and cultural fabric with its superficial glitter, even though it has proved a failure in the West. Slumdog plays cleverly with all these elements.

Many of the West’s India-specialists are staunchly anti-Hindu, both because of their Christian upbringing and also as they perpetuate the tradition of Max Mueller, the first ‘Sankritist’ who said: “The Vedas is full of childish, silly, even monstrous conceptions. It is tedious, low, commonplace, it represents human nature on a low level of selfishness and worldliness and only here and there are a few rare sentiments that come from the depths of the soul”.

This tradition is carried over by Indologists such as Witzel or Wendy Doniger in the US, and in France where scholars of the state-sponsored CNRS, and its affiliates such as EHESS, are always putting across in their books and articles detrimental images of India: caste, poverty, slums — and more than anything — their pet theories about ‘Hindu fundamentalism’.

Can there be a more blatant lie? Hinduism has given refuge throughout the ages to those who were persecuted at home: the Christians of Syria, the Parsees, Armenians, the Jews of Jerusalem, and today the Tibetans, allowing them all to practise their religion freely.

And finally, it is true that Indians, because they have been colonised for so long (unlike the Chinese) lack nationalism.

Today much of the intellectual elite of India has lost touch with its cultural roots and looks to the West to solve its problems, ignoring its own tools, such as pranayama, hata-yoga or meditation, which are very old and possess infinite wisdom.

Slumdog literally defecates on India from the first frame. Some scenes exist only in the perverted imagery of director Danny Boyle, because they are not in the book of Vikas Swarup, an Indian diplomat, on which the film is based. In the book, the hero of the film (who is not Muslim, but belongs to many religions: Ram Mohammad Thomas) does not spend his childhood in Bombay, but in a Catholic orphanage in Delhi. Jamal’s mother is not killed by “Hindu fanatics’, but she abandons her baby, of unknown religion, in a church. Jamal’s torture is not an idea of the television presenter, but of an American who is after the Russian who bought the television rights of the game. The tearful scene of the three children abandoned in the rain is also not in the book: Jamal and his heroine only meet when they are teenagers and they live in an apartment and not in a slum.

And finally, yes, there still exists in India a lot of poverty and glaring gaps between the very rich and the extremely poor, but there is also immense wealth, both physical, spiritual and cultural — much more than in the West as a matter of fact.

When will the West learn to look with less prejudice at India, a country that will supplant China in this century as the main Asian power? But this will require a new generation of Indologists, more sincere, less attached to their outdated Christian values, and Indians more proud of their own culture and less subservient to the West.

fgautier26@gmail.com

Direct Link

Quote: March 28, 2009

Life should give us something we can have blind faith in! 

Our soul should be brave enough to deal with it when that faith is broken...

-jm 

A word with Hanif Kureishi

'Most religious leaders are fools'

The author and playwright Hanif Kureishi was born in London in 1954. He is the author of The Buddha of Suburbia, Intimacy and Something to Tell You. His first play, Soaking the Heat, was staged in 1976, and My Beautiful Laundrette , for which he wrote the screenplay, was released in 1985.

He was appointed to the Order of CBE in 2007, for services to literature and drama. Here he briefly tells BBC News his thoughts about religion.

Would you describe yourself as religious?

I've always been fascinated by religion. For me it's the deepest form of human expression, along with culture.

God is mankind's finest creation. Has there been a better idea than that of God?

Do you believe in God, and if so, what sort of god?

I believe in the need to understand what the idea of God, or gods, do for us.

What do you think happens after you die?

You dissolve into the minds of others, and you haunt them until they are tired of you, and even after.

Does it change your view of someone when you find out that they are religious and how?

You have to think about whether they are merely following the values of those around them, or whether they are delusional psychotics!

Is religion a good thing?

That's an impossible question.

Most people in most societies during human history have lived in what could be described as 'religious' communities.

Religions, like novels and myths, describe the world and help make it safer.

What impact has religion had on your life?

It's made me think about the important questions: sexuality, childhood, authority, death, power.

Have you ever had a religious experience and can you describe it?

I was thrown out of the East London mosque for being a dissident writer and critic of radical Islam.

What is your favourite religious song?

Sympathy for the Devil, by the Rolling Stones.

What religious leader, if any, most inspires you?

Most religious leaders are ignorant fools.

It's a shame so few of them are intelligent or even interesting.

It makes you wonder why the dullest people hang around religions. Gives the whole thing a bad name.

What is your favourite religious book?

The most interesting work about the use of religion as a form of organisation of the resentful and envious is Nietzsche's "On The Genealogy of Morals".

Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/uk_news/7895604.stm

Published: 2009/03/28 09:56:45 GMT

© BBC MMIX

Quote: March 21, 2009

Blaming your faults on your nature 

does not change the nature of your faults. 

-Proverb 

chaley bhi aao ki . . .

I was multitasking today ... reading Osho as well as absorbing sound bytes from the television.  I was distracted when I saw one of my favorite lyricist/poet, Prasoon Joshi come up to talk about his latest works for Sikandar (which I beleive would be one of the do-not-miss movies).  

He was talking about a song he has penned:

dhoop ke sikkey utha kar gun gunane do usey

bainganee kanche hatheylee par sajane do usey

bholi bhaali boli bhaali rehne do

zindagi ko zindagi ko behne do

(listen to the song here)

Joshi explained the dhoop ke sikkey (coins of sunlight) phrase; he grew up in the hilly region and in the mornings sunlight would fall through the sieves of tree leaves and look like little golden coins ... the imagery is brilliant!  One has to carry so much of good and bad memories to be able to write like that... I had not heard the complete song but it took me to my childhood which I spent in Simla - yes! I remember the dhoop ke sikkey and right about now, they seem vivid enough for me to pick one up and hide it in my pocket! And I also remember those baingnee kanche which I would trade for the blue ones ...  

-----------------------------------------------------

As I looked for the song online, I came across yet another masterpiece from the same soundtrack - gulon mein rang bharey... Lyricist Nilesh Mishra borrowed the first four lines from Faiz Ahmed Faiz and built a mesmerizing song around it. 

Here is Nilesh Mishra's work: 

Part 1 - Sung fabulously by Mohit Chauhan

gulon mein rang bharey 

baad-e-naubahaar chaley

chale bhi aao 

ki gulshan ka karobaar chaley

khwaabon ke din hain

dekho hawaein suna rahi hain 

khushiyon ki daastaan 

mein choom loonga 

baahein utha kar khwahishon ka

neela neela aasmaan

jaaney kahaan yeh baadal chaley hain 

kis or boondon ki mehfilein hain

bheegi hai rooh meri 

kaisa yeh khoomaar chaley

chaley bhi aao ki . . . 

humne suna chotey se haathon mein 

chahein to samaye sara jahan

hathelion mein thamey hai

humarey buzurgon ki nayee duaa

hum hain sikandar, hum shehzade 

chotey kadam hain, bade hain irade

buri nazar se kaho, hum nazar utaar chaley

chale bhi aao ki . . . 

Part 2 - sung by K.K. 

tum kho na jana 

kaheen bhooli hui yaadon ke sheher mein

hum tum milenge 

milenge rangon aur phoolon ke safar mein 

ik kahani meri kho gayi 

mulaqatein phir se ho gayi 

jaan mushqilon se kaho

humsafar guzaar chale 

chale bhi aao ki . . . 

tumne dikhaye 

dikhaye naye naye suraj naye chaman 

chaye andhere 

to thodi chaandni chura ke laya gulshan

aise guzari amavas ghar se 

roshni ko chaand bhi tarse

mere sheher hawaa

kaash baar baar chaley 

chaley bhi aao . . . 

& Faiz Ahmed Faiz's version: 

GuloN maiN rang bharay, baad-e-naubahaar chalay
Chalay bhi aao keh gulshan ka karobaar chalay
Qaffas udaas hai yaro, saba say kuch to kaho
KaheeN to behr-e-KHuda aaj zikr-e-yaar chalay
Kabhi to subh teray kunj-e-lab say ho aaghaaz
Kabhi to shab sar-e-kaakul say mushkbaar chalay
BaRaa hai dard ka rishta, yeh dil ghareeb sahee
Tumhaaray naam pay aaeN gay GHamgusaar chalay
Hooa jo teer-e-nazar neemkash to kya hasil
Maza to jab hai keh seenay kay aar paar chalay

Jo hum pay guzri so guzri magar shab-e-hijraaN
Humaray ashk teri aaqibat sanwaar chalay
Huzoor-e-yaar hui daftar-e-junooN ka talab
Giraah maiN lay kay garaybaaN ka taar taar chalay
Maqaam 'Faiz' koi raah maiN jacha hee nahiN
Jo koo-e-yaar say niklay to soo-e-daar chalay 

(Link to Mehndi Hassan performing) 

More on Sikandar, the movie, here.

Quote: March 14, 2009

All the windows of my heart,

 I open to the day.

-John Greenleaf Whittier

Baby Halder

Some lives should be talked about for a long time ...

In India, a Maid Becomes an Unlikely Literary Star

NEW DELHI, Aug. 1 — Abandoned by her mother at 4, married off at 12 to an abusive husband, mother herself at 13 — there is little in Baby Halder’s traumatic childhood to suggest that she would become an emerging star on India’s literary horizon.

A single parent at 25, struggling to feed her three children by working as a maid for a series of exploitative employers, Ms. Halder had no time to devote to reading or to contemplating the harsh reality of her existence until she started work in the home of a sympathetic retired academic, who caught her browsing through his books when she was meant to be dusting the shelves. He discovered a latent interest in literature, gave her a notebook and pen, and encouraged her to start writing. “A Life Less Ordinary,” this season’s publishing sensation in India, is the result of her nighttime writing sessions, squeezed in after her housework duties were finished, when she poured raw memories of her early life into the lined exercise books.

Continue reading ... here

Quote: March 10, 2009

Professor Marvel never guesses. He knows!

-From "The Wizard of Oz" 

Quote: March 7, 2009

Poetry: the best words in the best order.

-Samuel Taylor Coleridge

... in the time of stress

This exchange occured in the waiting room of an ICU about a month back under extremely stressful circumstances... it reiterated the value of having good friends around during the times of crisis; only people you feel so close to have the capacity to make you smile when things seem too bleak ... 

Setting: Three women who have known each other for at least two decades sitting in an ICU waiting room observing visitors coming in and out.  A visitor along with a young child who belongs to their circle but they have not seen for a long time bring about small talk: 

Woman 1: Who's that kid with him; is that his child?

Woman 2: No, I think that's Sunny's kid!

Woman 1: Sunny's kid - is he windy or cloudy? 

Woman 3: No - it's a kid;  he would be partly-windy or partly-cloudy! 

All three crack up - a much needed laugh ... I suppose you just had to be there ... 

Meera Bai

Several years back, while browsing books at the local Borders, I found a compilation of Meera Bai’s poetry. I have been mesmerized by Meera Bai for a long time – I can’t remember how and when the fascination began. Back to the book (can’t remember any details of the book itself) – the preface narrated a story which I had previously heard from my grandfather as well. After Meera Bai, a princess by birth and married into a Rajput royal family, was subjected to drink poison in the presence of all her family members and courtiers, the legend says she walked away unharmed. It is said that only her foot prints were found and nobody knew where she went. Some believe she went to the heavens to be with her beloved Krishna. However, there are stories which place her traveling and visiting the saints and religious places in India. As per this story, Saint Kabir, who may have been about 126 years old at the time, was holding a meeting where several religious men and poets had gathered. But to everyone’s annoyance, he would not commence the meeting. His eyes fixated on the door, it was apparent he was waiting for someone. Almost three days later, Meera Bai walked in and they met like they had known each others for ages. This was apparently her first stop after she drank the “vish ka pyala”.

If I were ever to define love, it would be Meera Bai!

Meera Bai, one of the earliest recorded Poetesses in the world, was born in a Rajput royal family in 1498. She was a little girl of about four or five when a sadhu left her a doll of Krishna. Several stories revolve around how the divine relationship of Krishna and Meera began but who cares about the hows and whys – these are mere details. She took Lord Krishna as her husband and thus started her journey of fighting dissension with a world which was entirely incapable of seeing the divinity of which they had the good fortune to be in presence of.

Meera Bai’s father found her a suitable match in the Prince of Chittor, Bhoj Raj. Although married as per worldly rituals, she refused to accept any other but Krishna as her husband. She would spend her evenings singing to Lord Krishna. After several warnings by the family, she had to drink poison as a punishment for being deceitful towards the Prince. (this is a very abbreviated narration– follow the link above and do some more research because this is a life worth learning about)

For her it was all about her Girdhar Gopal:

Mere to Girdhar Gopal

Doosro na koi

Ja ke sir mor-mukut

Mero pati soi – prabhu . . .

I did my second and third grade in Kota, Rajasthan, where Meera Bai’s poetry is a significant part of the curriculum. For the life of me, I could not understand the poems to write a summary. But today, I have a large collection of the poems/bhajans and the pure form. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to even pretend to study her work even if I was an imbecile to appreciate it। The stay in Kota was my family’s second time in the state of Rajasthan; the first time was when I was two – in Jodhpur. My mother tells me that the school teachers from the school near by would take me to play the baby Krishna during Janamashtmi given my complexion, curls, and comfortably-healthy physical disposition.

A few years back when my brother traveled to India, my cousins tell me, he spotted a Meera Bai statue in one of the shop's window display and just stopped. They said, it was their last piece, they will have a few more arriving the next day but he said, he had to have it. After much convincing and almost doubling the price, he brought that back. Upon his arrival, he tore through the luggage because he was afraid, the fragile peice may not have made if back. He was right. After many experiments with the crazy glue, it sits in my room as one of my most priced possessions.

Off my collection of Meera Bai’s Bhajans, I want to mention three of my absolute favorites:

Ae ri mein toh prem deewani

Mera dard na jaaney koi

(Sung by Lata Mangeshkar for a film soundtrack - Naubahar)

Maharo pranaam baanke bihari ji

(Sung by Kishori Amonkar)

Saanware rang raachi

Raana ji hun to

(Sung by Lata Mangeshkar for a private album – Meera Bhajans)

Horrorscope Shorrorskope

My mother is a huge proponent of Indian Astrology. My brother and I have multiple Janam Patris (Birth Charts) drawn up by all the prominent Pandits my mother could get a hold of much to my chagrin – initially; but some of the incidents in the recent past are making me come around. Am I becoming a believer? Nowhere close to her standards because I don’t like to believe anything blindly.

I go by the philosophy of the old Hindi song from Boot Polish where the an old man sings to young children in an effort to instill confidence in Karma:

nannhey munney bachchey teri mutthi mein kaya hai?

muthi mein taqdeer hamari, humne kismet ko bas mein kiya hai

(lil young angels what’s in your palm?

in my palm is my destiny, I have taken control of my Kismet)

However, during one of my visits to India in 2006, my mother set up an appointment for me to go see a Pandit and get yet another Janam Kundli drawn up. She told me he does not see anyone easily and is in high demand, she had to pull some strings with her old doctor friend, I must not disrespect the doctor or the astrologer and keep the appointment. Slightly embarrassed, I took it up as a task assigned by mommy dearest – might as well indulge her.

Set up in a comfortable posh office in South Delhi, I found an old charming man dressed in a gray Safari suit waiting. As soon as I arrived, he took stalk of me by my outward appearance and asked me, “were you born in the US?” I responded negative. Delighted, he confirmed that if I could communicate in Hindi. I said, with much pride, “yes, fluently! I can also read and write.” The one-way conversation ensued while we waited for his assistant who had already taken my birth details at the reception desk, to bring a computer print out of the chart. He spoke about his American clientele and the “bratty” offspring of the Indian immigrants who visit him. His skewed perception of his American clientele irritated me at first and then amused me. I already had an idea of what to expect in the upcoming reading. Almost wanting to get up and leave, I talked myself into being patient and more adventurous with what this buffoon had to say. His reading was almost like a repatetive speech of … you kids from US and UK … your morals …. loosing the culture … bring Rs 25,000 for this gem and Rs. 15,000 for this puja and we can get God to excuse your sins … I promised him that I will return in a few days and took off highly offended and irritated … called my mother up and vented …

A week later, I ended up in Bangalore to visit with my dad’s best friend and also a friend to me. During a conversation, he told me that he had gotten into astrology after retirement. I related my unpleasant experience to him and immediately he took it upon himself to get my confidence back in Indian astrology. He immediately set up an appointment for me to go see his favorite and a highly acclaimed astrologer (to add to his credentials, he consults for many Politicians and Film Stars and was recently in America on a tour).

Again, caught in the web, I ended up at another appointment after swearing off of astrologers not a week before. He was much different in demeanor; not as chatty, he drew up the chart by hand – frequently conferring with many impressively big books. At the time, I was reading, “Autobiography of a Yogi” by Paramhansa Yogananda. I found a picture of Lahiri Mahasaya hanging in his office – I said, “Lahiri Mahasaya” and he smiled clearing up any apprehension about those “American-Indian brats”.

The reading lasted for about an hour and a half where he gave me good and bad news. Somewhere in the middle, he asked me, “I can’t imagine how you seem so optimistic; you are in your Sade-Sati phase with both your Dasha and Mahadasha running in Rahu.” It’s going to be like this till the end of 2008; how will you survive?” I said, “Ram naam can do wonders.” Impressed, he called my uncle in and prescribed a few Pujas to protect my life as he said there were going to be lot of mishaps like accidents and so forth. Although, the gentleman was nicer to me, I was a bit reluctant about the Pujas. However, my uncle would not have any of it, the reading was quite serious business – over the next few days all arrangements were made. I have to say, the Pujas were a very spiritual experience. The smell of havan kund, the chanting of Sanskrit Mantras by 11 Brahmins for six hours a day for three days was cleansing to say the least.

On the final day, the head Brahmin said, Dec. 2008, when the Rahu moves out, you may experience some kind of a mishap but it would not be too drastic. On Dec. 8, 2008, I got into an accident – although my car was totaled, I came out without a scratch.

Since the accident, I can’t stop thinking about the rest of the reading by the Brahmin… Is this Sade-Sati thing for real!!! I have had many people tell me that they noticed remarkable difference in the way things were working out for them after their Sade-Sati was over. Is that something to look forward to? But I don’t like to wait around for things to get better … I am the architect of my own destiny… But how much can be a coincident???

Quote: March 4, 2009

Found this fabulous line on Amitabh Bachchan Blog:

हम हैं उनके साथ, खड़ी तो सीधी रखते अपनी रीढ़।
-हरिवंश राइ बच्चन

I am with those, who keep their spine straight (upright)
-Harivansh Rai Bachchan

shamelessly yours ...

many who chance upon this blog - delibrately or by mistake, often tell me that all this is too deep!!! 

i hardly believe so; i am just trying to be shamelessly honest in my expression. that is the only depth in what i have to share - everything else are just my insecurities wearing a beautiful pink frock of presumed humor. 

you are capable of being equally shameless - when you do so - please share, cuz misery loves company. . . 

TSM ki yaad mein

बहुत दिन हुए, शायद एक साल तो हो ही गया है, एक कहानी के लिए, male-point-of-view से एक poem लिखी थी। यह fictional शक्स कोई अंजना नही था; किसी अपने की ही परछाई था। किसी टूटे हुए इंसान को इतनी नज़दीक से देखना मिला तो उसके दुःख का scar मैंने अपने memory मैं छुपा लिया। वोह अब नही रहा तो यह scar उसका memorial है मेरी तरफ़ से। कहीं उसे यह न लगे की सभी भूल गए।

मैंने हमेशा से यह विशवास किया है की emotions universal होते हैं - खुशी और उदासी, गुस्सा और नाराज़गी, प्यार और नफरत, बड़े ही honest होते है। इन्हे कोई फरक नही पढता की यह अपना तीर कीसी औरत पर चला रहे है, या किसी आदमी पर; कोई बच्चा है, या कोई बूढा; अमीर है या गरीब। हाँ - reactions ज़रूर individual होते है।

यह poem बहुत ही simplistic है तो सोचा की इन्हे use तो नहीं कर सकती पर यहाँ कहीं internet की दुनिया में एक bird की तरह छोड़ देती हूँ; शायद किसी और के साथ resonate कर जाए ...

सियाही

कुछ ऐसे पन्ने है जो सियाही को ऐसे पी जाते हैं

और जो लिख्ता हूँ वोह नज़र में नहीं आता
क्या जानते हैं यह कागज़ के पुर्जे जो में नहीं जानता

बहुत सी सच्चियां हैं जो सही ना जायें
और जब कहने की हिम्मात्त आए तो कही न जायें

जिंदगी का सननात्ता इन पुर्जों में उत्तर जाए
यही है वोह इशारा है जो सहा नहीं जाए

पर हिम्मत कर के हर सुबह उठ्त्ता हूँ
और फिर से सियाही के छींटे उडाता हूँ
की शायद मेरे वजूद का कोई दाग कहीं रह जाए

कल मेरा ना होना किसी को तो सताए

----------------------------------------

for tochi mamaji . . .