Diamond Days with Osho - On Nirvano

Osho with Shunyo (Chetana) and Vivek (Nirvano) in energy darshan

These are quotes from Ma Prem Shunyo, written in Diamond Days with Osho, about Nirvano, whom she worked closely with during her work in Lao Tzu (a.o. to do Osho's laundry).

p.23

Vivek had been Osho’s caretaker for about seven years at this time (editor: so this must be around 1980). Her relationship with Osho goes back through past lives, as He has talked about in discourses - and she can remember. She was a mysterious child/woman, Pisces, with all its qualities of Neptune, with large blue eyes. She had never been away from Osho for even a day, so when she announced that she was going to England for a couple of weeks and would I take care of Osho....

I spun dizzily in a confused state until, in an effort to stay in the moment I said to myself that, “Nothing is really happening, nothing is really happening. Just stay cool.”

How could I possibly be clean enough to go into Osho’s room?

pp.53 -- 55

Sheela was getting a taste of stardom. She was asked to go on many TV programs, I think because her gross behavior, such as giving the finger as an answer to a question, helped the ratings.

There were, by now, many new sannyasins from Europe who had never seen Osho. To them Sheela was The Pope. At her meetings held in Rajneeshpuram for the whole commune, she was always surrounded by young people with adoring faces, fresh from the communes in Europe, eager to clap their hands at anything she said. These meetings used to frighten me. I used to think how they must have been like Hitler’s youth movement.

I retreated more into the mountains.

As Sheela increased her fight with the “outside world,” so a battle began within. Vivek and Sheela gave a meeting together in Magdalena cafeteria one night to assure commune members that there was no rift between them. :Although the meeting seemed genuine and was touching, it did in fact confirm everyone’s suspicions that there was indeed conflict between the two of them. Otherwise, why the meeting?

Vivek didn’t trust Sheela one inch, and she was not allowed a key to Osho’s house. When she came to see Osho, Sheela first had to telephone Vivek, then the door would be unlocked for her at the exact right time and locked behind her. Sheela was also forbidden to walk through our house to get to Osho’s trailer, she had to use a side door. This was because she always caused trouble when she walked through our trailer, but of course, it pissed her off because she felt insulted. It was a matter of who had the power.

Sheela would never have told Osho about these seemingly small squabbles, because she had enough sense to know that His solution would diminish her power. I never told Him, because in comparison with how Rajneeshpuram was growing it seemed petty. I was under the illusion that at least if Sheela was angry and nasty to us (meaning the people who lived in His house), then we would be her outlet for anger and she would behave well with the rest of the commune. I was being naive.

I can’t remember suffering at Rajneeshpuram, even though I was working twelve hours a day and the rules about what we could and could not do were increasing. I know once when Osho asked me if I was tired, I replied that I couldn’t even remember what it was like to feel tired. I thought everybody was blissed out. Excuse me, but I never had the feeling that it was a difficult time. In our sleepiness we were allowing ourselves to be ruled by a group of people who were undermining our intelligence and in some instances creating fear in order to control, but that took time to surface and in the meantime, we were enjoying ourselves. If you put a group of sannyasins together, the common denominator will be laughter.

Vivek suffered a lot though. It was the beginning of a hormonal and chemical imbalance that manifested in bouts of depression. I also think that she was so sensitive that her intuition about Sheela and her gang was driving her crazy. She was prone to depression and would sometimes be in a black hole for two or three weeks. We tried every way we could to help her and nothing helped, except to leave her alone, which is what she was asking for in the first place.

She decided to leave the commune. John, a friend, and one of the “Hollywood Set” - a small group of sannyasins who had been with Osho in Poona, and had now given up their luxurious lives in Beverly Hills to join this great experiment - was asked if he would drive her to Salem about two hundred and fifty miles away so that she might take a direct flight to London. They drove for eighteen hours through a snow blizzard, visibility nil, and roads slippery with ice. She caught the plane though.

John made his treacherous trip back to the commune, and before he arrived Vivek had called from England where she had visited her mother for a few hours and decided she wanted to come back to the commune. Osho said, yes of course, and John was to meet her at the airport, as he had been the one to see her off. John arrived back at Rajneeshpuram, just in time to turn around and do the trip again. The snow was so thick by now that many roads were closed down and the snow was still falling. They made it, and Vivek was welcomed back with open arms. As usual she carried no guilt or embarrassment and walked back into her life, head held high as though nothing had happened.

It reminds me of a Gurdjieffian device. It wasn’t a device though.

pp.59 -- 61

This was the beginning of Sheela’s revenge on us, for existing. Her jealousy was to grow beyond all sane proportions, because we were close to Osho.

We, in turn, were to ensure that there was no way Sheela could get into the house without our knowing. She would send her workmen up to the house to change a lock on a door, and Vivek would send Asheesh off to the tool shop to steal (no other way) a bolt and fix it to the other side of the door with the changed lock. This was to save Vivek’s life when Sheela sent four of her gang to Vivek’s room with chloroform and a syringe of poison. Rafia, Vivek’s boyfriend, was sent away from the Ranch “on business,” for the night and the murder attempt was foiled only because they couldn’t get into the house. We did not find out about this plot until after Sheela had left, and some of her gang were questioned by the FBI.

It was in June 1984 I received a telephone call from Sheela. She sounded very excited, like someone who had just won a lottery and she was screaming so loud I had to hold the receiver two feet from my ear.

“We’ve hit the jackpot. We’ve hit the jackpot!” she screeched.

Thinking something great had happened, I asked what, and she replied that Devaraj, Devageet and Ashu, who was Osho’s dental nurse, had been found to have the infectious eye disease, conjunctivitis.

“And that proves,” she said, “that they are dirty, filthy pigs and shouldn’t be allowed to take care of Osho.”

I put down the telephone, thinking, “Oh, my God, the woman has lost it.”

Next step was that she wanted Puja to come and test Osho’s eyes. Puja, lovingly known as ( Nurse Mengele, was not liked or trusted by anyone. Something about her swarthy, puffy face and the way her eyes - mere slits - were always hidden behind tinted glasses. I told Osho that Sheela wanted to send Puja to examine Him and He said that as the disease had no cure and patients were simply isolated, what was the point?

Sheela insisted that everyone in the house go to get their eyes tested, so, except Nirupa who stayed to take care of Osho, we all went to the medicài center. And, would you believe it, we all had the disease. Vivek, Devaraj, Devageet and I were put into a room together and were then joined by about twelve of Sheela’s people, including Savita, the woman I had met in England and who was in charge of the accounts. The inquisition that followed was so ugly that I resolved on that day that should Osho die before me then I would surely commit suicide. Everyone in the room had something nasty to say, as though they had been brewing vile thoughts for a long time and now was their opportunity to unload on us. Savita kept repeating that love is hard and not always nice, and we were attacked for our inability to take care of Osho properly. They spoke of Osho as though He didn’t really know what He was doing and He needed someone to think for Him.

Although we had no symptoms of a disease, we didn’t feel we could argue with the doctors’ findings.

The next day Osho developed a toothache and asked for Raj, Geet and Ashu to attend Him. Sheela tried to send her own doctor and dentist but Osho refused, He said He wanted His own people, irrespective of the risk. So the trio went back to Osho’s house, where they were duly disinfected, and allowed to treat Osho.

The whole commune was then tested for the “bogus disease,” as Osho called it, and everyone was found to have it. The medical center was overflowing with people, and there was no one left to take care of the commune. Finally, a doctor spoke with an eye specialist and learnt that what had actually been seen under examination were small dots on the' cornea that were common to anyone living in a dry, dusty climate such as ours.

We were allowed back to our house after three days. On walking up the driveway, I was appalled to see our belongings strewn all over the lawn and pathway. A team of cleaners under Sheela’s orders had gone through the house and thrown everything out as contaminated. We were sprayed with alcohol and were then greeted by another inquisition, and this time there was a tape recorder set up so Sheela could get an accurate report of what was said. This was too much, and Vivek went to Osho’s room to tell Him what was happening. When she returned with the message from Him that they should stop all this nonsense and go home, nobody believed her. It was like trying to call off the hunting dogs once they had the smell of the lair. They said Vivek was lying, so we all got up and walked away, leaving everyone sitting there, and Patipada, who was one of Sheela’s team, was on her hands and knees screaming abuse into the tape recorder, because she had no one else to shout at.

The next day Osho had a meeting in His room for a few of us, including Savita, Sheela, and some of her followers. He said that if we could not learn to live in harmony then He would leave His body on July 6th. There was enough fighting going on outside the commune without internal fighting. He talked about the abuse of power.

A few days after this Osho gave a list of twenty-one people, living in the commune, who were enlightened. This really caused a stir!

And, if that stir was not enough, next came three committees (sansads), composed of Sambuddhas, Mahasattvas and Bodhisattvas. These people were to take care of the commune, should anything happen to Him. Sheela was not on any of the lists, nor were any of her cronies.

By doing this, Osho took away all possibility of Sheela becoming His successor. She no longer had any power.

(...)

Vivek went to Jesus Grove for a meeting with Sheela. After drinking a cup of tea she became sick and Sheela brought her home. I saw them from my laundry room window; Sheela was supporting Vivek as though she could hardly walk. Devaraj examined her and her pulse beat was between one hundred and sixty and one hundred and seventy, and her heart was abnormal.

A few days later Osho broke His silence, and started giving discourses in His sitting room. There was room for about fifty people, so we attended on a rota system, and the video of the discourse was shown to the whole commune the next evening in Rajneesh Mandir. He spoke on rebellion, as against obedience, freedom and responsibility, and He even said that He would not leave us in the hands of a fascist regime.

p.155

When I was looking after Osho I was always very quiet with Him, in awe. “Silent,” said Osho. I very rarely had any news or gossip to tell Him, and when He asked me: “What is happening in the world?” I would not have much to say because my world consisted of which trees had new leaves and whether or not the paradise flycatcher was visiting the garden.

Anando was down to earth and playful with Him. She told Him of all the news happening inside and outside the ashram. I listened to her one day talking to Osho about politics; her understanding of Indian politics was impressive; and she knew all the names, all the parties. She and Osho chatted away like two old friends with a mutual knowledge of friends and foes. I think Anando and I made a good balance between us.

Vivek was both; she seemed to encompass both our personalities, and her relationship with Osho was always a mystery to me, because it felt so ancient. She went away many times during these three years, but each time she returned Osho welcomed her back and immediately gave her the choice of whether she wanted to be His caretaker, or whether she wanted to just relax and do nothing. There was never a question about her freedom to do anything whatsoever she liked in the ashram. It was an exception He made for her that applied to no one else. There are no rules without exceptions, and no two people are ever treated the same by Osho. The same question asked by two people will likely get two totally opposite answers.

p.160

When Vivek returned from Thailand she changed her name to Nirvano - for a fresh start - and brought Osho a tray filled with imitation gold and diamond watches. He liked these very much and for the next year He continued to receive and then give away watches. We asked everyone going to Bangkok to bring back a watch for Osho, so that He could give it away. Osho loves to give gifts and no matter what He gave, whether it was something very expensive or something small, it was given with the same love.

p.169

Four days before Osho’s birthday celebration on December 11th 1988, He became very sick. Nirvano and Amrito were taking care of Him and I was doing His laundry in a room just outside His. The house felt deathly quiet and dark. I knew He was very sick, but I did not know why, or what was wrong. Then came a week when I received no laundry from Him at all and I knew that He must not be moving from the bed, not taking a bath, and not changing His clothes. Osho never wanted people to know when He was very sick, because then people worry and get depressed and the whole energy in the ashram goes down and it does not help anybody. He almost died during these few weeks.

p.179

Nirvano had been working with Jayesh and Chitten for about eighteen months and traveling to Bombay each week for a couple of days. She told me that she enjoyed the work a lot, that it was intense and exciting. Sometimes she would come to the evening meditation and her celebration made anyone else look pale, and sometimes she wouldn’t come at all. She was depressed for a few weeks, but then one night she went out dancing with Milarepa and Rafia and made a date for the following week.

On December 9th, I was in the laundry room when Anando came and told me that Nirvano had died from an accidental overdose of sleeping pills.

pp.187 -- 190

Nirvano’s death was sudden, unexpected and shocking. I had the feeling that a part of myself had gone, and I had a feeling of urgency that I had to live more fully from now on. Her death gave me the gift of urgency. If Osho could have got anyone enlightened, if He could have done it for someone, then He would have done it for her. But we have to walk The Path alone, He can only point the way. So many things that Osho said I received as poetry, I did not realize He was giving us the Truth.

Nirvano and I had sat at Osho’s feet about ten years ago. We sat in meditation together in His room. He sat in His chair and we both sat on the floor for about an hour. Within the first couple of minutes, I experienced an explosion, and I was lost for a while in colors and light. After a few moments, Osho said, “Okay, come back now.” He had a smile on His face and He said that it had been far more than He had expected, and that now we (Nirvano and I) were “twins - energy twins.”

Nirvano and I had been living together very intensely for twelve years; at times loving each other and at times “arch enemies” as Osho put it once, “who couldn’t be in the same room together.” It was a strong relationship. I felt closest to her when we were in Bombay at the end of the World Lour. Osho’s laundry room was also her bedroom, and the weather temperature was above 120 degrees. We were right on top of each other, and although the situation was extremely difficult because of space, there was a love between us that I cherished. In her British way she was always a little cool with people, but being in the same room all day together, it dropped. I liked to do her hair for her, to pile it up on top of her head with pins, although it always fell down, it was too silky and heavy.

The last time I saw her alive she was leaving Buddha Hall and I was sitting by the doorway. We looked at each other and smiled. That was my small farewell.

When she died I didn’t feel there was anything left over that I had wanted to say to her. In fact, every one of her friends felt a completion with her. She lived totally, and I had learnt already that I have to be aware with everyone I know that nothing is to be left unsaid. I don’t want to behave with a friend unconsciously, because it is a fact that they may never be seen again and what is left unsaid leaves a hole, a wound that cannot heal.

In life Nirvano was the greatest mystery to me, the way she lived, the way she was. One moment she was a child, innocent, and in the next moment a mother Kali brandishing a sword. And her death was as mysterious as her life. I don’t know why she died. I know she was desperately unhappy and had talked of wanting to die since I knew her. But I always thought a “click” would happen, a change would happen and one day she would suddenly be enlightened. I think she was close to enlightenment, very close. She was a wise woman, and she was in tune with Osho like nobody else. Many times when He was sick she would intuitively know what the problem was and He said many times how lovingly she cared for Him. She had a clarity and sharpness, and great perception and understanding of people, especially their negative points. Yet, she would swing into a depression so overwhelming that she would be completely helpless and would make it impossible for anyone to help her also. She closed the doors and suffered alone.

As a child her parents took her to Switzerland to hospitals, because she refused to eat. In the last few years that I knew her she had a hormonal or chemical imbalance and was treated with medicine for this. Nothing worked though. Earlier in 1989 she visited a psychiatric hospital in England for treatment, but did not stay for more than two days. She said that the doctors were more insane than her and it made her realize that she could overcome her depression on her own.

The last few months I didn’t see her because whenever I went to visit her she would ask me to come back later - and then she would not answer the door. So, I got the message that she didn’t want to see me.

It was better for me to stay away from her, because I used to pick up her unhappiness very easily. On the last few occasions that I did visit her she would tell me about the anxiety and incredible pain she felt in her “hara” or lower stomach. For years she would wake each morning with a feeling of nausea in the pit of her stomach. After talking to her about it, the very next morning I would wake up with the same pain in my stomach. I would open my eyes and the first thing to flood me would be, “Oh no! Not another day!” I was accepting her wounds as my own.

The last time I went to visit her we were just gossiping for fun. I was ragging on my boyfriend, because he was with another woman and I was saying a few mean things about him; making him look a bit silly in front of the girls. Afterwards I thought to myself that it wasn’t really fair that I talk about someone like that. After all I don’t really know his situation, and basically I felt bad about it. I saw Nirvano in the morning and I said to her, please forget what was said, I don’t have any right to bad mouth someone when I don’t really know what’s happening for him.

She said to me, “Oh, for goodness sake. Just a little gossip with the girls. There’s no harm in that. Otherwise you’ll be walking around half-enlightened. And you can’t be half-enlightened around here. You’re either totally enlightened, or totally unenlightened.”

I think its bloody brilliant to say something like that. For me, she was a wise woman. When I close my eyes to remember her I can only see her laughing. When she was happy, she was the most ecstatic, alive person I have ever met.

In Buddha Hall, the last time I sat next to her for the meditation with Osho, in the silent period, I could hear a sound coming from inside her. I recognized that sound as one that I make when I am feeling very content, very centered and warm inside. I heard that coming from her. So I had some understanding of the space she was in. That’s why, when just one week later she died, I was very shocked, because for me, knowing that space, I don’t think I could reach such depths of depression. Although she knew that same meditative feeling, her depression must have been so strong, so overpowering, that nothing could help her.

I know that Osho tried everything possible. He gave her everything she wanted. He wanted to keep her here, but she was also free to go anywhere in the world she liked. Many times she went to England; she would stay for one or two days and then return. She went to Australia earlier that year to start a new life, but after a couple of days she returned. Spain, Switzerland, Thailand, many places she visited but after a few days she returned. I think that if she could have stayed until Osho left His body, that would have been the “click,” the turning point for her. He said that her death was untimely.

Nirvano’s body was taken that night to the burning ghats by the river and, at Osho’s request, only a few of her friends attended. I had only seen the open-spaced burning ghats overflowing with sannyasins before, and now there were only about forty of us standing solemnly awaiting the ambulance to arrive with her body.

I namasted her as she was carried to the funeral pyre. My friend, Amiyo, on seeing the body said “That body is not Nirvano - she has gone.”

The body was laid on the funeral pyre in the centre of the ghats and covered with wooden logs. I moved around the fire as it blazed up and found myself standing at Nirvano’s right side. “Strange,” I thought, “that Nirvano’s is the first body I see burning. She is my closest encounter with death.”

The logs had been stacked, or had slipped, in such a way that a “window” was created through which I could see her face, like a pure white mask floating and dissolving in the pale smoke. Her lips were swollen and dark red and in the dance of the flames appeared to be whispering.

: : : : :♦ “Nirvano” ♦

I looked up at the waxing moon - not even full.

Slowly I backed away from the fire, and fainted. When I opened my eyes I didn’t know where I was and thought that maybe I had died.

Later that night I thought, “She would have been proud of me - fainting at her funeral.” It’s the kind of dramatic thing that she would do, and she had always said of me that I was wishy-washy.

I could never really know, but I have an idea, just how much He loved her. There was a magic between them that was never disturbed from His side by her moods and temperament. Whenever she returned from a trip that was supposedly for good, she was welcomed back without question. On her return from Australia, after three days, where she had gone “to start a new life,” she said to me, “Let’s see what my crazy mind can think up next.” Although I have had no experience of past lives I always had the impression that their relationship was ancient. He said in a discourse in 1978 that she had been His girlfriend in her past life (just forty years ago) and she had died at the age of seventeen of typhoid and had promised to come back and take care of Him.

I have heard Osho say never judge a person by his deeds, his actions, by what he does. With Nirvano this was so clear to see how on the one hand she was a beautiful “soul,” or energy, and on the other hand a very difficult person. Osho said that she never meditated and she had always disturbed His work. He said that she had always made it difficult for whoever was doing secretarial work for Him. Maybe she lacked an understanding of what Osho’s work is? He has thousands of disciples and is working on everyone. This is a fact that can be proved by observing the people who have been open to the changes that come through Osho’s meditation techniques.

It is not easy to understand what unconditional love is. A love that asks nothing in return is so rare in a world where we know only love that includes possession and domination. Osho’s love and compassion were unchanging and always there for Nirvano. He is love and His love is there waiting to be received. Sometimes she wasn’t able to receive, but that is true of all of us. There is so much that will always remain unfathomable, a mystery. It seems that the very nature of things is to not be understood. The more I try to understand what has happened in the last few years, the more I am brought back to the present moment - breath touching my nose, moving through my body; I see the trunk of a tree from my window - solid, there; sunlight, and wind blows through the leaves, moving them like long fingers; the gurgle of water running, birds singing, and I stare into silence.

What is there, really? Maybe it will always be impossible to understand.

“Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.” ...Osho

p.194

The last time I had eye contact with Osho, without fear in my being -I had fear because I could see He was disappearing - the last time I really met Him was the night that Nirvano died.

Nirvano died just before we all went to our meditation in Buddha Hall at 7.00 p.m. That night I was waiting for Osho’s car to arrive at Buddha Hall and I opened the door for Him. There were six of us who did this in rotation, and it happened to be my turn. As He stepped out of the car He gave me a penetrating look, knowing that I knew. I can only presume that He was looking to see how I was with it. I remember looking back at Him and inside saying, “Yes, Osho,” and I think I had a small understanding of the pain He must have felt, and I could never really know - but I have an idea - just how much He loved her. I wanted to say to Him that I will be strong.