His whole life he had been a sinner so she had come to give her thanks that he had finally converted her husband — which was impossible as he had been a sinner his whole life.

But now he was turning so she was very thankful to Baal Shem. She had always been a pious lady, never wavered, never went wrong, always had been on the right track and always thinking that heaven was just waiting to welcome her, and always knowing well that this husband of hers was going to hell.

So she said to Baal Shem, “There can be hope now- even my husband may reach heaven.”Baal Shem laughed and said, “The greater the sinner, the greater the saint.”

The woman became sad and said, “Then why didn’t you tell me before? You should have told me forty years before.”

The greater the sinner, the greater the saint. This woman will be in such hell if she finds her husband in heaven. These so-called virtuous people have created hell; otherwise, out of divine abundance, hell cannot exist. Saints will receive for they come in the morning; sinners will receive and they may have come in the evening. Everyone is going to receive. It is a gift.

I am here, not as a business but as a gift. But you are so afraid and fearful. You can understand business; you know the terms; you cannot understand a gift, you don’t know the terms. You can understand if you have to fulfill some condition. If nothing is required of you, you are simply at a loss.

All expectations belong to the mind, all disciplines belong to the mind, all so-called saintliness and so-called sin belong to the mind. When there is no mind, there is no sinner and no saint, and the gift simply showers on you.

Osho – “A Bird on the Wing”

If you liked this story, you'll love this! We've compiled a list of the top 10 spiritual stories that our readers love. You can read them here.

What Is the Spiritual Meaning & Moral of “The Greater the Sinner, The Greater the Saint” Story?

At its core, the parable of “The Greater The Sinner, The Greater the Saint” e speaks volumes about the enigmatic dance between sin and redemption, between darkness and light. The woman, steadfast in her devotion, had journeyed alongside her husband, tethered by love yet divided by his perceived transgressions. She, the unwavering beacon of righteousness, saw his path veiled in shadows, resigned to the belief that his soul was destined for damnation.

Enter Baal Shem, the sage whose laughter resonates with cosmic truths. His laughter isn't one of mockery but of profound recognition—the kind that transcends the limitations of human perception. He understands the intricacies of the human spirit, recognizing that within the depths of one's darkness lies the potential for the most radiant transformation.

“The greater the sinner, the greater the saint,” he proclaims, unraveling the threads of conventional wisdom. This seemingly paradoxical statement is a revelation—a whisper from the divine. It speaks not of condemnation but of the boundless capacity for growth and spiritual evolution. It invites us to behold the magnificence of the human journey, where the depths of one's struggles hold the promise of the loftiest ascension.

The woman's sorrow at Baal Shem's words is palpable. She wonders why this wisdom hadn't graced her ears earlier, why the revelation of her husband's potential transformation wasn't unveiled sooner. Yet, within her lament lies a treasure trove of insight—a realization that the timing of divine revelations aligns with the sacred rhythms of life.

Consider for a moment the profundity of this truth. Often, we yearn for foresight, longing for a roadmap to navigate the twists and turns of existence. But therein lies the beauty of our journey—the revelation unfolds precisely when it is meant to, weaving its tapestry of wisdom into the fabric of our lives. The timing isn't a cruel twist of fate; it's the divine orchestrating the symphony of our awakening in perfect synchronicity.

The “Greater the Sinner, the Greater the Saint” story isn't solely about the husband's redemption or the wife's lamentation. It's a mirror reflecting the grandeur of the human experience. It beckons us to embrace the paradoxes of life—the interplay between light and shadow, between sorrow and joy, between sin and sanctity.

Within the whispers of this narrative lies an invitation—an invitation to transcend our limited perceptions, to embrace the duality within ourselves and others, and to recognize the sacred potential for transformation that resides in every soul.

In essence, the story of “Greater the Sinner, Greater the Saint” is a spiritual compass, guiding us to perceive beyond the veil of judgment, to witness the unfolding of the divine plan within the tapestry of our lives. It's a reminder that within the darkest corridors of our existence lies the radiant spark of redemption, awaiting its moment to ignite and illuminate our path toward spiritual awakening.

May we, like the woman who sought solace, find the grace to embrace the divine timing of revelations. May we, like Baal Shem, laugh with the profound wisdom that sees beyond the surface and recognizes the sanctity hidden within the depths of our souls. And may we, through this parable, awaken to the eternal truth—that in the dance between sin and saintliness, lies the sacred alchemy of our spiritual evolution.

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There is a beautiful story of a man, who by some accident stumbled into heaven. He had no idea where he had reached. He was sitting under a kalpavriksha. He was feeling very hungry. He had been traveling a lot and that is how he had stumbled somehow by accident into heaven.

He said, “I am feeling hungry but I don’t see any hotel anywhere, any restaurant, nothing. I don’t see even a single man. But I am feeling very hungry, if I could get some good food… Immediately beautiful women appeared from nowhere with all kinds of sweets and delicious foods. He was so hungry that he did not pay attention to where all these things were coming from.

He started eating, feeling perfectly well. He was tired. He went to sleep. Before going to sleep, he thought that sleeping on the ground, uneven with stones, if someone could arrange just a mattress, and suddenly — he could not believe — again beautiful women appeared with a beautiful bed and they put him on the bed. But he was so tired that he still did not think what was going on.

When refreshed, he awoke. He thought, my God, there is nobody here who has brought the food, and I have not said to anybody; I just thought about it! And he looked at the beautiful bed, “Who has brought this? I had simply thought about lying down on the ground. It seems there must be ghosts around.” That was the natural conclusion, because he was not aware that he was in heaven, under a kalpavriksha.

“There must be ghosts all around, my God” — and immediately ghosts appeared, because whatever you would say…

ThThe moment he saw the skeletons of ghosts dancing all around, he said, “My god, they are going to kill me” — and they killed him. The man never came back.

As told by Osho in “The Invitation”

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“My son,” replied the mother, “I don’t know. In my youth when I went about a great deal as a maidservant I conceived you. I do not know who is your father. I am Jabala and you are Satyakam, so call yourself Satyakam Jabal.”

Then the boy went to Gautama, a great seer of those days, and asked to be accepted as a student. “Of what family are you, my dear?” inquired the sage.

Satyakam replied, “I asked my mother what my family name was, and she answered, ‘I don’t know. In my youth when I went about a great deal as a maidservant I conceived you. I do not know who is your father. I am Jabala and you are Satyakam, so call yourself Satyakam Jabal.’ Sir, I am therefore Satyakam Jabal.”

The sage then said to him, “None but a true brahmin, a true seeker of truth, would have spoken thus. You have not swerved from the truth, my dear. I will teach you that supreme knowledge.”

Osho – Yoga: The Alpha and the Omega

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“Chant Rama a thousand times a day,” advised the great teacher. The sinner went to a solitary mountain and chanted and chanted, but in spite of his good will, he made a mistake and chanted

Mara instead of Rama. It happens that if you chant Rama Rama Rama fast, you can get messed up; it can become Mara Mara Mara. That’s how it happened: he was chanting so fast, and he had never heard this name. It was almost an unknown language to him. He tried hard to remember, but somehow he forgot, and for years he chanted Mara, Mara, Mara.

After years of chanting he went back to the great teacher who immediately realized that the man was now pure — not only pure, he was enlightened. “Did you sing the sacred name?” the teacher asked. “Yes, great one,” the ex-sinner answered, “for ten years every single day, thousands of times I have chanted Mara, Mara, Mara.” The teacher burst into a laughter that shook the mountains. As his laughter, like a pebble in the lake, vibrated farther and wider into the cosmos, the great teacher took the ex-sinner into his arms. “Your will to good, to do good, has saved you,” he said, “even though you chanted Mara, Mara, Mara, millions of times: the name of the devil.” Rama is the name of God; Mara is the name of the devil — but if the desire is there, the thirst is there, then everything is okay. Even the name of the devil will do.

Just his intention, just his tremendous passion for God, to purify himself, for ten years, day in and day out, thousands of times he was continuously chanting Mara, Mara, Mara. Even a wrong technique will help if the desire is intense, and even a right technique will not be of much help if the desire is impotent.

Osho – “The Beloved”

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One day, just gossiping with his vice-councillors, he said, “Last night I was discussing with my wife. She is very insistent that every husband is henpecked. I tried hard, but she says, `I know many families, but I have never found any husband who is not henpecked.’ What do you think?” he asked the councillors. One of the councillors, Birbal said, “Perhaps she is right, because you could not prove it.

You yourself are a henpecked husband; otherwise, you could have given her a good beating, then and there proving that, `Look, here is a husband!'”

He said, “That I cannot do, because I have to live with her. It is easy to advise somebody else to beat his wife. Can you beat your wife?”

Birbal said, “No, I cannot. I simply accept that I am a henpecked husband, and your wife is right.” But Akbar said, “It has to be found…. In the capital there must be at least one husband who is not henpecked. There is no rule in the world which has no exception, and this is not a rule at all.” So he said to Birbal,

“You take my two beautiful Arabian horses” — one was black, one was white — “and go around the capital. And if you can find a man who is not henpecked, you can give him the choice: whichever horse he wants is a present from me.” They were valuable. In those days horses were very valuable, and those were the most beautiful horses.

Birbal said, “It is useless, but if you say, I will go.” He went, and everybody was found to be henpecked. It was very ordinary: He would just call the person and call his wife, and ask, “Are you henpecked or not?”

The man would look at the wife and say, “You should have asked when I was alone. This is not right. You will create unnecessary trouble. Just for a horse I am not going to destroy my life. You take your horses, I don’t want any.”

But one man was sitting in front of his house and two persons were massaging him. He was a wrestler, a champion wrestler, a very strong man. Birbal thought, “Perhaps this man… he can kill anybody without any weapons. If he can hold your neck, you are finished!”

Birbal said, “Can I ask you a question?”

He said, “Question? What question?” Birbal said, ”

Are you henpecked?”

That man said, “First, let us greet each other, a handshake.” And he crushed Birbal’s hand and said, “Unless you start crying and tears start coming from your eyes, I will not leave your hand.

Your hand is finished. You dared to ask me such a question?” And Birbal was dying — he was almost a man of steel — and tears started coming, and he said,

“Just leave me. You are not henpecked. I have just come to a wrong place. But where is your wife?” He said, “Look, she is there, cooking my breakfast.” A very small woman was cooking his breakfast. The woman was so small and the man was so big that Birbal said, “There is a possibility that perhaps this man is not henpecked. He will kill this woman.”

So he said, “Now there is no need to go further into investigation. You can choose either horse from these two, black and white, a reward from the king for the one who is not henpecked. And at that time that small woman said,

“Don’t choose the black! Otherwise I will make your life a hell!”

The man said, “No, no, I will choose the white. You just keep quiet.”

Birbal said, “You don’t get either, neither white nor black. It is all finished, you lost the game. You are a henpecked husband.”

Osho – “Beyond Enlightenment”

Osho's Explanation of This Story

You will be surprised to know that the English word `love’ comes from a very ugly root in Sanskrit. It comes from lobh. Lobh means greed. And as far as ordinary love is concerned, it is a kind of greed.

That’s why there are people who love money, there are people who love houses, there are people who love this, who love that. Even if they love a woman or a man, it is simply their greed; they want to possess everything beautiful.

It is a power trip. Hence, you will find lovers continuously fighting, fighting about such trivia that they both feel ashamed, “About what things we go on fighting!” In their silent moments when they are alone, they feel, “Do I become possessed by some evil spirit? — such trivia, so meaningless.

But it is not a question of trivia; it is a question of who has power, who is more dominant, whose voice is heard. Love cannot exist in such circumstances.

What Is the Spiritual Moral / Message of Osho's “Henpecked Husband ” Story?

This story reveals the complexity of relationships and the dynamics of power within them. Through Akbar's search for a husband not under the influence of his wife, it subtly touches upon the intricacies of partnerships. It hints at the idea that power doesn't always rest in physical strength or dominance but resides in the delicate balances of communication, respect, and understanding. It invites reflection on the interplay of power and humility within relationships, suggesting that true strength lies in the ability to navigate these dynamics with wisdom and grace.

Moreover, it echoes the theme of societal norms and individual choices. The quest to find a husband who isn't henpecked mirrors the societal expectations and stereotypes imposed on relationships. Yet, as the story unfolds, it unveils the power of personal agency and individual choices. It speaks to the idea that one's commitment to personal integrity and values can override societal norms, illustrating the importance of authentic living despite external pressures. It encourages individuals to follow their convictions, even if it means diverging from societal expectations, fostering a deeper sense of self-empowerment and authenticity in relationships.

Additionally, the tale touches upon the essence of ego and its role in human interactions. The interactions between Birbal and the wrestler depict the ego's vulnerability in the face of perceived challenges. It reveals how ego, whether in defending oneself or establishing dominance, can obscure rational judgment and lead to conflict. It prompts reflection on the destructive potential of unchecked ego, advocating for humility and understanding as essential elements in fostering harmonious relationships. It underscores the significance of humility in interpersonal dynamics, reminding us of the potential harm of unchecked pride in human interactions.

Furthermore, the story subtly highlights the aspects of gender roles and societal expectations within relationships. The portrayal of henpecked husbands and the notion of a wife controlling her partner reflect traditional gender stereotypes prevalent in historical narratives. It indirectly challenges these stereotypes by showcasing the diversity and complexity of relationships. It nudges us to transcend traditional gender roles and expectations, emphasizing the need for equality, mutual respect, and understanding in relationships. It calls for a reevaluation of stereotypical notions that confine individuals to specific roles based on societal norms.

Moreover, it subtly addresses the theme of power struggles within relationships. The wrestler's physical strength juxtaposed with the seemingly meek stature of his wife illustrates the multifaceted nature of power dynamics. It highlights that power isn't solely determined by physical dominance but encompasses emotional, psychological, and social dimensions. The story prompts reflection on the complexities of power dynamics within relationships, inviting individuals to recognize and navigate these complexities with compassion and understanding.

This story illuminates the intricate layers within relationships, including power dynamics, societal expectations, ego, and gender roles. It encourages contemplation on the complexities of human interactions, inviting individuals to navigate relationships with humility, understanding, and authenticity. Ultimately, it hints at the importance of mutual respect, equality, and individual agency in fostering harmonious and fulfilling relationships.

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I also wanted to hear that music. Therefore, I went in search of that sea. After several years of wandering, at last I did reach that sea-shore. But, behold what was there was the loud tumult of the sea. The strokes waves, after striking on the rocks, were resounding manifold in that lonely place. Neither was there any music nor were the ringing bells of the temples. I kept listening intently on the But there on the shore was nothing, the sound of breaking waves.

Even so I waited there. In fact, I had forgotten the way back. Now that unknown, uninhabited sea-shore itself was going to be my grave.

And then, even the thought of listening to the bells gradually disappeared. I settled down on the shore of that sea.

Then one night, suddenly I found the bells of submerged temples ringing; and their sweet music started filling my life with joy.

On hearing that music I got out of my sleep and since then I have not been able to sleep again. Now somebody is constantly awake within me. Sleep has vanished for ever.

And life has been filled with light; because where there is no sleep, there is no darkness.

And I am happy. Nay, I have myself become the happiness incarnate; because how could sadness exist where there was the music of God’s temple?

Do you also want to go near that sea shore? Do you also want to hear the music of the submerged temples of God?

Let us then go. Let us move within ourselves. One’s heart itself is that sea; and in its depth is the town of the submerged temples of God.

But only those who are, in all respects, calm and concentrated are able to hear the music of those temples.

How could this music be heard where there is the loud conflict of thought and desire? Even the desire to find it becomes an obstacle in finding.

Osho – “The Earthen Lamps”

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One day it happened that one beautiful saint, Narda, who was always carrying his ektara — a simple musical instrument, with only one string, that had become his symbol — singing and playing on his ektara he was passing, and Balmik caught hold of him. But he was still singing and playing on his ektara.

Balmik said, “Are you mad or something? Can’t you see me, can’t you see my sword? Give me everything that you have!”

Narda said, “You have caught a beggar; I have only this ektara. And that too I am not going to give easily, because what will you do with this? But if you want it, I can give it to you. If you want my life I can give that too. But before I give you anything, I want to ask one question to you.”

Balmik said, “Question? What question?”

Narda said, “You go home, ask your wife: you have been killing people, robbing people — is she ready to share the responsibility of it. Ask your father, your mother, your son, your daughter. Are they willing to share the responsibility of what you are doing?”

Balmik had never thought about such a thing; he was an uneducated man. He said, “I have never thought about it. They must share the responsibility. I am doing it for them.”

Narda said, “I will be here. Don’t be worried, you can just tie me to the tree so I cannot escape.” He was tied to the tree and Balmik rushed to his home and asked his wife. His wife said, “I have nothing to do with your responsibilities. It is your responsibility to feed your wife; how you do it I have no concern for.” And the same was the response of everybody.

Even the mother said, “It is your responsibility to take care of your old father and mother. Now how you are doing it — that you have to work out. We have not told you to kill people and rob people; you are doing it on your own. We are simply not responsible for any of your acts.”

Not a single man in his house was ready to share responsibility. He was shocked! He went back, untied Narda, touched his feet and said, “I have been my whole life a wrong person. Is there any possibility for me to get rid of all that I have done?”

Narda said, “There is no problem. You stop doing it, because the people you are doing it for are not even ready to take responsibility for it! And I will teach you my song. My song is very simple; I simply repeat the name of Rama. It is so simple, no education is needed. You sit under the tree and repeat, `Rama, Rama…’ as long as you can, and you will be transformed — because intrinsically your innermost core always remains pure. It is only the layers on it which can be dropped.”

After a few months Narda came back and he was surprised: Balmik was sitting there under the tree. Narda had been his whole life repeating the name of Rama, the Hindu God, but nothing like this had happened to him. Balmik was surrounded by an aura of light. Just going close to him you felt a tremendous silence, a great rejoicing.

Osho – “Beyond Psychology”

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For three days he was not able to sleep; he was sitting awake on some tree, afraid he may be attacked. There were snakes, there were lions, there were wild animals.

After the third day, the fourth day early in the morning, he saw a man sitting under a tree. You can imagine his joy. He rushed, he hugged the man, and he said, “What joy!”

And the other man hugged him, and both were immensely happy. Then they asked each other, “Why are you so ecstatic?”

The first said, “I was lost and I was waiting to meet somebody.”

And the other said, “I am also lost and I am waiting to meet somebody. But if we are both lost then the ecstasy is just foolish. So now we will be lost together!”

That’s what happens: you are lonely, the other is lonely — now you meet. First the honeymoon: that ecstasy that you have met the other, now you will not be lonely any more. But within three days, or if you are intelligent enough, then within three hours… it depends on how intelligent you are. If you are stupid, then it will take a longer time because one does not learn; otherwise the intelligent person can immediately see after three minutes…”What are we trying to do? It is not going to happen. The other is as lonely as I am. Now we will be living together — two lonelinesses together. Two wounds together cannot help each other to be healed. Two blind people leading each other…” Kabir says, both are bound to fall in a well sooner or later, and more possibly sooner than later .

Osho – “Guida Spirituale”

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So he tried to catch hold of the river with his one thousand hands. But to destroy the virginity of a woman, according to Hindus, is the greatest sin possible. Christians would have rewarded him, given him some place in their trinity: another holy ghost. But Hindus have punished him — at least in the story it is so; he turned into a stone. And really the whole mountain does look as if the Narmada is falling through one thousand hands.

So Mandala has been an ancient place of pilgrimage and has always been a seat of great Hindu scholars. One Hindu scholar had in his youth moved around just like Shankara; Mandan Mishra was his name. Mandala was called after his name, Mandan, because he lived there. He was so famous that the name of the place was changed and called after him.

When he was young he had moved all around the country and defeated all the scholars and philosophers. He was old when Shankara was young, just thirty years of age — he died when Shankara was thirty-three. After defeating everybody Shankara was a little reluctant to go and challenge Mandan Mishra because Mandan was so old. But without defeating Mandan he could not declare that he had conquered the whole country and convinced everybody that what he was saying was true. Reluctantly he went.

Outside the town, at the we]l, a few women were drawing water. Shankara asked them, “can you tell me where the house of Mandan Mishra is?”

And all those women giggled and laughed, and they said, “You need not ask. You just go into the town and you will find it, because even the parrots in front of his house recite the VEDAS. You need not ask anybody, you just go. The very atmosphere around his house will tell you that you have come close to Mandan Mishra.”

Shankara was a little afraid — he had never heard of parrots reciting the whole of the VEDAS. And in the end he went and he saw with his own eyes a row of parrots in the mango trees reciting the VEDAS in perfect Sanskrit. He thought, “this man seems to be difficult. But there is no way to avoid it.” He went in, touched the feet of the old man with respect, and challenged him.

Mandan said, “I am too old, but if you feel that it is necessary, then I am ready. But I feel a little reluctant myself arguing with a young man. You are too young, and I am too old, too experienced and I have won all over the country. You should think twice. Right now you have not been defeated by anybody, but those are the people I defeated in my youth, myself; so think twice.”

Shankara said, “I never think twice. I first take the jump and then think. Are you ready or not? If you are not ready then you will have to become my follower.’

Mandan said, “There is no problem for me; I enjoy a dialogue, I enjoy discussing — and with a man like you it is really joyful. Even to be defeated is a great blessing. To have found someone who has more intelligence than you is not a disgrace. But,” Mandan said, “one thing has to be decided. You will have to find somebody who can preside; otherwise the decision will be very difficult.”

Shankara had heard that Mandan’s wife was as great an intellectual as Mandan himself In fact, in Mandan’s youth they had a six-month-long discussion, and only then was Mandan able to defeat the woman. But the woman had, from the very beginning, put this condition: “If I am defeated then you will have to marry me. If you are defeated then certainly I am going to marry you because….” Mandan saw that he was in a dilemma in every way; he was caught. And he could not refuse a woman, that would be too unmannerly; you cannot refuse a woman. So he fought.

And the woman was really a giant; it took six months, and I suspect she got defeated by her own doing. And I have reasons to suspect it, because anyway she was going to marry him. It would look ugly to be victorious and then to marry a man who has been defeated — that would not be nice — and to have a defeated husband…. So my feeling has always been that Bharti — her name was Bharti — must have arranged it. Six months was enough to prove her mettle. All over the country, for even six days nobody had been able to withstand Mandan. If she could withstand six months, she must have turned the whole of Mandan’s blood to perspiration.

And she must have got herself defeated. Why I suspect it is because of this second debate between Shankara and Mandan. Shankara said, “I would like your wife to preside.”

Bharti said, “I have no problem, if you choose me knowing perfectly well that I am the wife of Mandan Mishra.”

Shankara said, “That I know, but I know also that you are a great intellectual, that you were the only one who almost defeated Mandan. And I cannot conceive of you — being Mandan’s wife, and yourself an independent intellectual in your own right — as being unfair I accept you. Whatsoever you decide will be, without complaint, accepted.”

The debate again lasted six months. Finally Mandan was defeated. Shankara asked Bharti’s opinion.

Bharti said, “Mandan is defeated but you are not victorious yet.” This was the climate of intelligence. She said, “Mandan is defeated but you are not victorious yet because 1, being his wife, according to Hindu scriptures am half of his being. So you have only done with one half of Mandan Mishra. The other half is still here. Now you will have to discuss with me.”

Shankara was tired enough. Six months with Mandan had been such a difficult job that many times he had thought that he was going to lose. And then immediately to begin another debate…. And he knew the woman had kept this Mandan in debate for six months; now what was going to happen? But that woman was really intelligent. She said, “I am not interested in theology — I am a woman — so forget all about your BRAHMASUTRAS of Badarayana; SHRIMAD BHAGAVADGITA, VEDAS; I am not interested in them, my interest is in Vatsyayana’s KAMASUTRAS” — the first book on sexology in the whole world.

Now, Shankara was a bachelor, thirty years old. He said, “Vatsyayana? — but I have not even read him.”

Bharti said, “You can ask for time to study.”

But he said, “Just study won’t help, because I don’t have any practical knowledge.”

Bharti said, “I can give you as much time as you want. You can get married, you can have practical knowledge. But till you defeat me in sexology, on matters concerning sex and its subtleties, you have no right to declare yourself victorious. Mandan is defeated, Mandan has to be your follower; he can help you. He is old, he is my husband and he knows everything about sex. He can help you now he is your follower. But half of his being still has to be conquered.”

Now, Shankara’s disciples must have invented the rest of the story because it seems contrived. Up to then it was perfectly right, historical. Shankara asked for six months’ leave, and in those six months he entered the body of a king who had just died — because he could not have experience of sex through his own body, he was a celibate monk. And the woman had put him in such a spot — either he had to accept defeat and become a follower of Bharti…. That would be stupid: Mandan, his follower, and he himself, Bharti’s follower.

I don’t think it is true — Shankara must have experienced sex through his own body. Now let Hindus and their religious feelings be hurt; what can I do? I cannot believe any nonsense that he entered a just — dead king and used the king’s body and left his own body in a cave — I have been to the cave also — with his disciples. They had to protect the body till he returned, so continuously, twenty-four hours a day, they were guarding the body, taking care of the body. And for six months he lived in the king’s body having all kinds of sexual experiences with his many queens.

And after six months he entered his own body; the king died. Shankara went back to Mandan for the debate — and Bharti simply laughed. She said, “I was just joking. When my husband is defeated, I am defeated. His life is my life, his death is my death, his pleasure is my pleasure, and his pain is my pain. His defeat is my defeat — you need not argue.”

Shankara said, “My God! Then why did you put me to such trouble?”

Osho – “From Personality to Individuality”

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He continuously looked from side to side.

I always think that is the way all cowards behave. Generalizations are not absolute truths, including this one, but they certainly contain some truth. Otherwise what is the need to look from side to side when there is only one child sitting there in front of you? Yet he was looking everywhere except at me: the door, the window, and yet talking to me. It was so hilarious and so pitiable that I told him, “You listen too. You are saying that you are not a coward; do you believe in ghosts?”

He said, “What?” — and he looked all around, even behind his chair. He said, “Ghosts! Where did ghosts come into this? I am introducing myself to you, and you introduce ghosts.”

I said, “I am not introducing them yet. Tonight I will see you with a ghost.”

He said, “Really?” And he looked so afraid, he started perspiring. It was a hot summer morning, and he was so tied up, even more than I am right now.

I told him, “You simply start teaching. Don’t waste time, because I have many things to do.”

He looked at me absolutely unable to believe what I was saying — that I have many things to do…? But he was not concerned with me, or the things I had to do or not do. He said, “Yes, I will start teaching, but what about the ghosts?”

I said, “Forget about them. Tonight I will introduce you.”

He now realized that I was serious. He started trembling so much I could not hear what he was saying, I could only see his long pants shaking. After one hour of teaching me nonsense, I said,

“Sir, something is wrong with your long pants.”

He said, “What is wrong?” Then he looked down and saw that they were shaking, and then they started shaking even more.

I said, “I feel that there is something inside them. I cannot see from my side, but you must know. But why are you shaking? And it is not just your long pants, it is you.”

He left without finishing the lesson he had begun, saying, “I have another appointment. I will finish the lesson tomorrow.”

I said, “Tomorrow, please come in shorts because then we can be certain whether it is the pants shaking or you. It will be in the service of truth, because right now it is a mystery. I am also wondering what kind of pants these are.”

He had a beautiful pair of pants, at least it looked as if they were his, but I don’t know whether they were his or not, because that night finished everything; he never came again. That’s how my private tutor, as he was called, left. I had told my grandmother, “Do you think anybody, at any salary you are ready to give, will be able to stand me?”

She said, “Don’t disturb things. Somehow I have managed to persuade your family, and you agreed. In fact it is only because of you that I succeeded.”

“No,” I said, “I am not going to do anything, but if something happens what can I do? And I ought to tell you this because tonight will decide whether you pay him or not.”

She said, “What? Is he going to die or something? And so soon? He only started this morning, and he has only worked one hour.”

I said, “He provoked me.”

She said, “I warned him not to provoke you.”

In the courtyard of my grandmother’s old house there was a big neem tree. That house still belonged to us after my grandmother’s death. It was really a huge, ancient tree, so big that the whole house was covered by it. When it was in season, when the neem flowers came, the fragrance was everywhere.

I don’t know whether any tree like the neem exists anywhere else because it needs a very hot climate. Its flowers have a very sharp — that’s the only word I can find, “sharp” — edge to their fragrance. I should not call it fragrance because it is bitter. The moment you smell it, it is brisk and crisp, but it leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. It is bound to because neem tea must be the most bitter tea in the whole world. But if you start liking it, it is just like coffee. You have to practice a little, otherwise it is not such that you can like it instantly.

Although instant coffee is available on the market you still have to learn the taste. The same is true about alcohol, and a thousand other things. You have to imbibe the taste slowly. If you have lived in a neem grove, and known the fragrance from your very first breath, then it is not bitter to you, or even if bitter it is sweet too.

In India it is thought to be a religious duty that one should plant as many neem trees as possible. Very strange! — but if you know the neem tree, its crisp freshness, its purifying power, then you will not laugh at it. India is poor and cannot afford many purifying devices, but the neem tree is a natural thing and it grows easily.

This neem tree was behind my house. I used to call my Nani’s house “my” house. The other house was for everybody else, all kinds of creatures; I was not part of it. Once in a while I would go to see my father and my mother, but rush out as quickly as was humanly possible. I mean that just as soon as the formalities were over I was gone. And they knew that I did not want to come to their house. They knew I called it “that house.” So my house, with that big neem tree, was a really beautiful place, but I don’t know who created the world, nor do I know who created this story about the neem tree either.

The story was — and it made the neem tree a real beauty — the story was that the neem tree had the power to catch hold of ghosts. How the neem tree did it I don’t know, nor did my enlightenment help either. In fact the first thing that I wanted to know after enlightenment was how the neem tree did it, but no answer came. Perhaps it did not do anything at all. In India any story becomes a truth, and soon the ultimate truth.

But the story was that if any ghost has taken possession of you, just go to the neem tree, sit under neath it, take a nail with you, the bigger the better; then say to the neem tree, “I am nailing my ghost.” Also take a hammer, or use any large stone lying around, and hit the nail hard. Once the ghost is nailed, you are free of it. There were at least one thousand nails in that tree. I really still feel sorry for it, although it is no more.

Every day people were coming and a small shop had even opened on the other side of the street to sell nails, because they were in such demand. What is more significant is that the ghost almost always disappeared. The natural conclusion was that the ghost had been nailed in the tree. Nobody ever took a nail out, because if you did the ghost would be released, and perhaps finding you close by, would get possession of you.

My family was very worried about me and that tree. They told my Nani that, “It’s good that he sleeps at your place. We have nothing against it; he eats there and it too is perfectly okay. He rarely comes to see his family, that too is okay — we know he is taken care of — but remember that tree, and this boy. If he takes a nail out he will have much misery throughout his whole life.”

And the story goes on to say that once a ghost is released from the tree you can’t nail it again because it knows the trick, and it won’t be deceived twice.

So my Nani was constantly alert that I did not go near the neem tree. But she was not aware that I was removing as many nails as possible, otherwise who was supplying the shopkeeper on the other side of the street? I had a great business going. At first even the shopkeeper was very much afraid; he said to me, “What! You have brought these nails from the tree itself?”

I said, “Yes, and no ghosts. We are friendly, very friendly.” I did not want to get him disturbed because once my grandmother knew there would be trouble. So I told him, “The ghosts love me very much. We are very friendly.”

He said, “That’s very strange. I have never heard that ghosts love small children like you. But business is business….”

I was giving him nails at half the price he could get them from the market. It was a real bargain. He thought that if I could take the nails out, and the ghosts had not disturbed me at all, then they must be very friendly to me, and he thought that it is good not to antagonize the boy. The boy himself is a nuisance, and if the ghosts are helping him, then nobody is safe from him.

He used to give me money, I used to give him nails. I told my grandmother, “To tell you the truth, it’s all hocus-pocus. There are no ghosts. I have been selling nails from that tree for almost one year now.”

She could not believe it. For a moment she could not breathe, then she said, “What! Selling the nails! You are not even supposed to come close to that tree. If your mother and father find out they will take you away.”

I said, “Don’t be worried, I am friendly with the ghosts.”
She said, “Tell me the truth. What is really happening?” She was a simple woman in that way. She was utterly innocent.

I said, “The whole thing is true, and that is what is happening. But don’t be against the poor shopkeeper, because it’s a question of business. My whole business will be finished if he escapes or becomes afraid. If you really want to protect my small business you could just mention to him, just by the way, something like, ` It is strange how these ghosts somehow love this boy. I have never seen them be friendly to anybody else. Even I cannot go near the tree.’ Just tell him when you pass by.”

In India they make a small platform of bricks around a tree, just to sit on. This tree had a big platform. It was a big tree; at least one hundred people could easily manage to sit underneath it on the platform, and at least one thousand under the shade of the whole tree. It was huge.

I said to my Nani, “Don’t disturb that poor shopkeeper, he is my only source of income.”

She said, “Income? What income? What kind of thing is happening? And I am not even told about it!”

I said, “I was afraid that you would get worried, but now I can assure you that there are no ghosts. Come with me and I will take a nail out and show you.”

She said, “No. I believe you.” That’s how people believe.

I said, “No, Nani, that is not right. Come with me. I will take the nail out. If anything wrong happens it will happen to me, and I am going to take the nails out anyway, whether you come or not. I have taken out hundreds of nails already.”

She thought for a moment and then said, “Right, I will come. I would have preferred not to, but then you will always think of me as a coward, and I could not accept that association in your mind. I am coming.”

She came. Of course in the beginning she watched from a little distance. It was a big courtyard. The house had once belonged to a small estate. It had really beautiful statues beneath the neem tree, and a few in the house too. The doors were old but beautifully carved. Asheesh would have loved those doors. They made a great noise — but that is another matter. Some ancient architect must have planned the house. The reason we could get it very cheap for my grandmother was because of the ghosts. Who wanted to live in the house with so many ghosts already living there, in the tree? We got it almost free of cost, for almost nothing, just token money. The owner was happy to get rid of it.

My father had told my Nani, “You will be alone there with, at the most, this small boy who is more trouble than any ghost. With so many ghosts and this boy too, you will be in trouble. But I know you love the river, the view, and the silence of the place.”

It was almost a temple. Nobody had lived there for years except the ghosts. I told my Nani, “Don’t be worried. Come with me but remember not to disturb the poor shopkeeper. He lives off it, I live off it; in fact many poor boys in my school are supported by me because of these ghosts, so please don’t disturb it.”

But she still stood a little way away. I told her, “Come on….” That’s what I have been doing since then, telling everybody to, “Come on, come a little closer. Don’t be worried, don’t be afraid.”

Somehow she came and saw that the whole thing was all invention. She then asked, “But how does it work? — because I have seen thousands of people, not just one. They come from faraway places and their ghosts disappear. When they come they are mad; when they go, after the nail has been stuck into the poor tree, they are perfectly sane. How does it work?”

I said, “Right now I don’t know how it works, but I will find out. I’m on the way to finding out. I cannot leave the ghosts alone.”

That tree was between my house and the rest of the neighborhood, overlooking a small street. During the night, of course, nobody passed along that street. It was very good for me; there was no disturbance at night at all. In fact, just before sunset people started rushing back to their houses before it got dark. Who knows, with so many ghosts….

The poor tutor lived just a few houses behind my Nani’s house. He had to pass along that street; there was no other way for him. I arranged it that night. It was difficult because during the day everybody passed along the street, and in the daytime it was difficult for me to persuade the ghosts to do something, but at night I could arrange it.

I just sent a boy to the tutor’s house. The boy had to go because in my neighborhood, any boy who was not ready to follow my advice, or whatsoever, was going to be in constant trouble, twenty-four hours a day, day in, day out. So whatsoever I said, they did it, knowing perfectly well that it was dangerous — because they too believed in the ghosts.

I told him, “You go to the tutor’s house and tell him that his father” — who lived in another street — “is very seriously ill, and perhaps may not survive. And say it really seriously.”

Naturally, when your father is dying who thinks of ghosts? The tutor immediately rushed out; and I had made every arrangement. I was sitting in the tree. It was my tree, nobody could object.

The tutor came past with his kerosene lamp — of course he must have thought he should at least take a kerosene lamp so that the ghosts won’t come too near, or if they do he would see them and escape in time.

I simply jumped out of the tree, over the tutor! What happened next was really great, just great! Something I never expected…. His pants gave way! He ran away without his pants! I can still see him….

Osho – Glimpses of Golden Childhood

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