The conjunctivitis scam

In June of 1984, there was an apparent major outbreak of conjunctivitis (pinkeye) on the Ranch. In the end, it became clear that nobody really had this somewhat contagious disease, but the occasion had been used by Sheela and her cronies to evacuate certain people and allow the surreptitious installation of bugging devices in Lao Tzu (Osho's house) and elsewhere.

An overview / timeline of some events before and after can be found in ch 7 of Shunyo's book Diamond Days with Osho:

It was in June l984 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 medical 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.

The next entry is from Rajesh's unpublished memoir The Day We Got Guns. He tells the story from the point of view of a rank-and-file worker hauled in and quarantined. An unfortunate lacuna in this account is that Rajesh must have known, at least later, that this hauling in and quarantining of so many ranch residents, especially in sensitive positions, was used as a pretext to get these individuals out of the way so that their rooms could be bugged. And he worked in the department that did the bugging, under Julian. For more details on all that, see The great bugging affair.

The porch of the medical center is crammed with people.

The crowd spills out under the eaves and onto the porches of adjoining trailers, everyone huddled against the downpour. I make my way inside, finding every available inch occupied by more hordes, sitting, standing, waiting, all damp, muddy, and bedraggled.

I discover we're being tested for conjunctivitis.

There's an epidemic on the Ranch.

It must be serious.

Even the privileged inhabitants of Bhagwan's house are here.

I'm told that one can test positive for conjunctivitis, and be carrying the germ, without exhibiting any symptoms. I overhear Devaraj, Bhagwan's personal physician, complaining that these diagnoses don't make sense.

I test positive myself, and along with scores of other people, am quarantined and forced to stay overnight.

The rain slows to a steady drizzle.

My sinuses swell.

My head throbs.

Like inmates, we pass the time gossiping, telling jokes. We receive meals on paper plates, and sleep packed like sardines in bunk beds and strewn across the floor.

Morning dawns, grey, and the rain won't stop.

Hours of waiting, as everyone is re-tested, and released.

I trudge back to Zarathustra, wondering what that strange interlude was about.

Chalk it up as another mysterious event at the feet of the master.

And move on to the next mission.

To be continued . . .