by Ma Prem Sangeet
Thursday, May 2, 2013
The Vatican and Osho: A Study in Hypocrisy
by Ma Prem Sangeet
Friday, July 6, 2012
July/August Viha Connection magazine
The Mailbag section contains very moving letters from prisoners who have found Osho. Here is an excerpt from one of those letters:
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Meetings with the Master
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Darshan Diaries


Osho arrived in the ashram in Pune in 1974 and left in 1981.
During these “Pune One days,” Osho would talk intimately to individuals and small groups of disciples in “darshan” – the evening meetings. During these meetings Osho would initiate seekers into sannyas, giving them the mala (wooden necklace with the locket) and a new name and explaining this new name to the seeker.
During these darshans sannyasins could also ask Osho all kinds of questions: about their relationships and love lives, their meditation, their participations in therapy groups, going back to the West, etc.
If you ever wanted to get an up-close and personal look at how a modern Zen Master works with his disciples, these darshan diaries present a beautiful opportunity.
They are a wealth of wisdom and a mystic’s clear-sightedness, colored with compassion and lit up with an unstoppable sense of the humorous.
Sourced from Viha Connection magazine.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Writers wanted for two new columns in the Viha Connection!

The Viha Connection would like to preserve stories about people’s personal experiences with Osho. As more and more of the people attracted to Osho and His work are people who never met Him in life, these stories become ever more precious.
We aren’t getting any younger, as the cliché goes, so we’d like to gather these while many of us who knew Him or sat with Him are still in the body.
We invite anyone with a good story to tell to send us articles of around 1,200 words or less in length. We will keep these to run in an ongoing column on the history of Osho and the community. We will be glad to get any fun and interesting stories. Some ideas are stories about:
· Meeting Osho when He was younger, when He was a teacher or traveling around the country
· People who had Osho stay at their houses or at their parents’ houses
· People who had tea with Him and corresponded with Him
· The meditation camps held around India in the early 1970s
· The big gatherings where Osho spoke in the early days
· Meeting Osho at Woodlands apartments in Mumbai
· The Kailash community Osho had a few people set up in the 1970s
· Setting up the early ashram in Pune in 1974
· Darshans and energy darshans
· Meeting Osho as a child in the community
· Other meetings with Osho during His life
If you know of anyone who might have a good story, particularly a story of the earliest days of Osho’s work, please pass this invitation along.
If you have photos from the time period you write about, please include them. Again, electronically is best; we need high resolution (300 dpi).
We are also looking for a new kind of article for its Skillful Means column. In the past we’ve run articles about practitioners and the modalities they use. Now we would like to invite people to write short articles (around 500 words) that provide our readers with information on specific techniques the readers can use.
These can be physical techniques, meditation techniques, healing techniques, and so on. We, of course, don’t give medical advice to people, but if you have useful techniques readers can use we would like to facilitate that sharing.
If you have a wonderful meditation technique you picked up from a Tibetan lama in the Himalayas or a great exercise to reduce back pain or the perfect solution to insomnia or the recipe for a heavenly homemade massage oil that you are willing to share, we would like to hear from you.
Writers of these skillful means articles don’t need to purchase advertisements in the magazine, as writers of more promotional articles need to do. If you have a service or product people in the community might be interested in, we encourage you to advertise anyway and support the Viha Connection.
For both kinds of articles we ask for electronic submissions in Microsoft Word. Please send them to oshoviha (at) oshoviha.org
Love from the Editorial Board of the Viha Connection
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
New books by an Osho sannyasin



A Spellbinding Journey of the Heart
The Ashoka Chronicles by Premesh Alan Bassett
Reviewed by Swami Budhuram
I knew Premesh in Pune in the 1980s and was intrigued when I recently saw his photo on Facebook connected with an advertisement for “esoteric novels.” His books had received some great reviews on Amazon from sannyasins, so I got curious and ordered the first book in the series, The Buddha Conspiracy.
I was hooked from the first page until I finished the second book, The Last Turn of the Wheel. I had to wait a month before The Great Debacle, the third and final book of the series, came out in print. Milarepa had read it when it was still in manuscript form, and he described it as “sensational.” When I completed the book, I had to agree. I won’t give away the thrilling conclusion about whether the Buddha Conspirators save a self-destructive humanity from annihilation in the holocaust, but I will say that the final chapters blew away all of my ideas about how the story would end and surpassed my wildest imagination and greatest expectations.
This is the only series of novels I have seen that is based on the theme of the transformation of human consciousness, both individual and collective, and that integrates a variety of meditations and Masters into the story line. As another reviewer described it, “It is an epic adventure of the human soul, a tale of international intrigue worthy of the best James Bond thriller, set against the backdrop of the world's great religions and man's quest for spiritual freedom.”
The adventure takes the reader on a rollicking world tour from London and Paris to Srinagar and Mumbai, from Seattle to Luang Prabang, from Varanasi and Bodhgaya to Lhasa and Goa, from Thailand to Bhutan, not to mention a side trip to the Heart of the World and to some of the world’s oldest Buddhist temples at Angkor Wat and Anuradhapura. Oh, there is more: a magical, unforgettable, and harrowing journey along the Silk Road that transports the reader to the ancient cities of Samarkand and Kashgar and leads up the dizzying heights of the Karakorum Mountains as the hero makes his way to Kashmir. As Devananda, one of the main characters, advises, “Get ready for Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.”
The main characters are portrayed with depth and sensitivity as they face their worst fears and greatest challenges along the path to the unknown, and yet they exhibit lightness and humor in the midst of the dark political and religious conflicts in which they get embroiled. The author provides a rich historical background for the plot that often propelled me into a dream world where it was difficult to separate fact from fiction. As such, he has created a worthy allegory of the perilous predicaments facing our contemporary world. I had the mysterious feeling I was taking the whole journey with Osho sitting by my side.
The Ashoka Chronicles are available from Viha
Monday, August 29, 2011
Swami Anand Ashubodha

We are sharing with you the special edition of Rama Prem’s newsletter, August 2011.
Swami Anand Ashubodha
December 31, 1950 – August 23, 2011 6:05 PM
How is it that I know the time of Ashubodha’s death?
Well, there’s a story there.
Many years ago, Ashu asked my opinion about something. He wanted to move into one of two new areas: fast cars or fast women. Since–at the time–the only car that I had ever owned was a Volkswagen Beetle, I wasn’t terribly helpful in the car department. But fast women? I had been into them for many years, and I could highly recommend them.
Ashu, however–as was his wont–chose the path less-traveled. On the night of September 20, 2000, he and his fast car had an accident on an autobahn (no speed limit) outside Munich–where he had been living and working for some years. There were no other cars involved; Ashu’s car spun out on a slick portion of road, and crashed. The speed was great enough to crumple his car; he had to be cut out by the fire brigade.
He spent days in surgery, and in a coma. He spent nine months in the hospital. He came out paralyzed from the chest down, and confined to a wheelchair. It was how he was to live for his remaining years. And he made the most and best of them. He was able to maintain a very pleasant apartment on the outskirts of Munich. He required 24-hour-a-day care, and it was his job–and his alone–to manage/schedule that care. It was very difficult to do this; he needed someone with him at all times–not being able to do anything for himself. He had to find someone for every hour of every day; he had to manage days off, vacations (every care-giver wanted a summer vacation), illness… And this he did for ten years.
When Sneh and I visited with him two years ago, he told us that he would never go into a “home” or other institution. His experience of them, after the accident, left no doubt in his mind about what he wanted–and what he didn’t want. He recounted to us, in detail, the way people were treated in such institutions. If only some of what he told us was true, it was a horror story. He made it clear that–should the time come when he could no longer schedule full-time care-givers–he would choose suicide.
We got a telephone call from Ashu a couple of months ago. It began with, “I’ve made a decision.” He was doing the enormous amount of paperwork needed to be a client of an “assisted-suicide” facility in Switzerland. It is legal there, but its very legality makes jumping hurdles and through hoops necessary. On top of that, he was an American, living in Germany.
For almost all of the time since that conversation, this has been a closely guarded secret; Germany, to say the least, frowns upon suicide–assisted or otherwise. It was very important that people in the health professions not know of this. Had they found out, he would have been confined to an institution, drugged, and lived out his life under those conditions. That represented all that he wished to avoid–no matter what.
And his condition had worsened. He now had “bed-sores”, and was in constant pain. It was time “to be freed of this ailing body. It’s time to hang up my coat and return it to the physical world.” With his inability to schedule care-givers for the entire month of August, the date of his suicide was set for August 23rd. Sneh and I traveled to Munich ten days earlier, and spent two days with him. We had a wonderful time. He was really alive (again). If he had had a step, there would have been a spring back in it. We laughed, joked, spoke of “serious” and important matters; none of it mattered. He had made a decision–the right decision–and was enjoying it and his last days.
His BIG passion was pottery. In Pune Two, he started the pottery studio; he was its Mom. He loved it; he did beautiful work. Graceful pieces that put a smile on a bookshelf or dining room table. Two-piece works that had a lid that fit perfectly on the base.
A few days before our visit (yes, only days before his departure!), he had arranged that the last of his work from before his accident get glazed (his own unique glazes) and fired. They arrived while we were with him.
He was fully alive, present; living in the moment. He had his care-giver make lunch for us, which included noodles without any sauce–which I left on my plate, uneaten. He apologized profusely, and I, of course, said, “Hey man, not to worry.” (In my mind, I’m going, “Jesus, Ashu, you’ll be dead in a few days; don’t sweat the small stuff . It’s only noodles, for Christ’s sake. In the grand/cosmic scheme of things, it won’t amount to a hill of beans.”)
But he was fully alive, present; living in the moment. And noodles were happening in the moment. I suspect that being Jewish had something to do with it, but–hey–what do I know? It was a bit difficult to leave, and we all knew it. We stood at the door, trying to leave, while Ashu told jokes in order to keep us there.
We knew that the next time that we would see him would be the last: August 23rd, outside Zurich, Switzerland.
On the Ranch, Ashu had the job of garbage-truck driver. Being Jewish, his parents never felt that this was the chosen profession for their boy. A doctor, a lawyer? Yes. But a garbage-truck driver?
Ashu:
My mother visited me once and asked while I was picking up some trash if there was anything that I was learning that was preparing me to make a living outside the commune, as I guess mothers will. I answered that I’d become able to enjoy any work I was doing, no matter what it was, and that’s the truth.
From a message sent not long ago to high school friends:
Through meditation, I’ve found a space within myself where my happiness, for lack of a better word, or “feeling of well-being” doesn’t depend on what happens on the outside… (The hospitalization) was the most difficult time of my life, and I easily could’ve gone insane–lost in completely–if I hadn’t been able to relax, breathe and stay centered and enjoy the moment.
A message sent to friends on August 19th:
beloveds, this is going to be much shorter than i had planned it to be, because time is running short. as you must know I had a car accident almost eleven years ago that left me paralyzed from the chest down and in a wheelchair. I’ve been keeping things going here successfully all these years at great effort, and now my health has taken a turn for the worse. there is so much pain and I’ve become so weak, that I’ve decided to be freed of this ailing body on tuesday, august 23rd. I’ll make the transition at the dignitas apartment in switzerland at 4 pm local time. it’s time to hang up my coat and return it to the physical world. i’ve been dancing so close to the edge these past months, risking being placed in a hospital, where I’d probably end up drugged and on life support until I expire. living wills (patientenverfügungen) are not respected here. I’d rather go in a relaxed and joyous way, as osho says.
from the moment I got everything arranged with the loving, beautiful people at dignitas, so much light has entered my life. I’ve found a way out, and as my lovers around me know, my humor and lovingness have broken through the surface again as nothing stands in the way from me jumping out of the frying pan and into the holy fire. what a relief. the lightness has returned, and I can enjoy life again.
carina, my partner, sneh and ramaprem, miten, garimo and swiss ma viramano will all be there to give me a good send-off . (the lengths I have to go to to get my friends all together in one place!) I don’t feel as though i’m really going anywhere, that nothing dies, and I feel we’ll continue to be together, you and i. I’ve been so blessed to have spent so many years in osho’s physical presence, and to have learned to still be feeling his presence.
this will not change. you too, remain in my heart and that will continue to be. I go in love and gratefulness.
i’m joyfully jumping into the holy fire, and choosing to do so among some who have a healthy attitude towards death and dying.
nothing more to say.
love
swami anand ashubodha
August 23rd:
It was very much an A-list group that was present: Carina (his partner); Garimo; Viramano; Miten; Sneh and I. Ashu wanted it small, intimate.
We arrived hours “in advance”, in order to spend some quality time with Ashu.
Well, there wasn’t much that we didn’t do: we took care of some last-minute business (he distributed Osho marble to each of us; I got his computer’s hard disk that I was lusting after…); we laughed a lot; we cried; we sang a lot of songs; we played children’s games; we played adult games; we had rehearsals for the Big Moment; we had Big Moments for rehearsals.
And, we impressed the hell out of the people at the facility. They told us that they never had a departure like ours. Tell me about it!
Ashu finally tired, and it was…time.
We took him from his wheelchair, and placed him in bed. We made him comfortable, and exchanged some last words. With us sitting around him, we listened to a question-and-answer from The Razor’s Edge.
At the conclusion of the discourse, Ashubodha called for the medicine that would quickly put him to sleep and eventually stop his heart. He looked joyful, years younger, and at peace. With total trust, in serenity, with dignity, with bravery that made me weep – he took the drug.
As he lay there, watching his breath, we sang softly songs that have carried us high and higher for many years. Perhaps “Fly High” was the last he heard.
His being took on a lightness; he was finally free.
And the seasons, they go ’round and ’round,
And the painted ponies go up and down.
We’re captive on the carousel of time.
We can’t return, we can only look behind from where we came,
And go ‘round and ‘round and ‘round in the circle game.
Perhaps Ashubodha is no longer a captive of the circle game.
I hope so.
Where you have come from and where you are going is the same place. – Osho
(There are, perhaps, events in my account that did not actually happen. No matter.
They should have.)
You can contact Rama Prem at ramaprem.rp (at) gmail.com and visit him at: http://picasaweb.google.com/ramaprem.rp