When my river meets the ocean, I am absolutely certain that Sohan and Manik will still be with me.
Seven years ago I took sannyas from you and I found myself totally melted and tuned in with you. But for some time I have felt that something has remained unmelted in me and at times I am overpowered by that, despite myself. I am not able to digest what you say. Osho, I am even guilty of having doubted you. Please forgive me, as I don’t know what to do during these moments.
Krishna Chaitanya, I remember the evening seven years ago when you and your wife became sannyasins.
You say, “Seven years ago I took sannyas from you and I found myself totally melted.” I cannot agree with that, because I remember perfectly: your wife was certainly totally melted, but not you. You were half-hearted, still wondering deep down whether what you are doing is right or wrong. You may have forgotten it…I have not forgotten it – I have a god-damned memory!
This is only your retrospective imagination, that you totally melted and tuned in with me. If it had happened, then the remaining question was not possible. It was a very superficial phenomenon. You are also an intellectual. You took the step into sannyas after long consideration – and you were also afraid of the society around you.
I remember perfectly well: before I came to Pune in 1974, I lived in Bombay for four years, in Woodlands. You were living in the same building, but in four years you never came to see me. And thousands of people were coming and going – it was not that you were not aware; but you were afraid of society…. When I came to Pune, it was easy for you to come to me – because in Pune nobody knew you.
Is it not strange that for four years I was living in the same building and you never came to see me, when hundreds of people were coming every day? And when I left Bombay and came to Pune, soon you appeared here – not only appeared, but you were ready to take sannyas.
Once in a while I saw you and your wife, Krishna Chetana, in great mass gatherings in Bombay, where I was speaking on Shrimad Bhagavadgita. You used to stand in the line, where I would come down from the stage and go towards the car. I touched your hand…your wife’s hand…and many people were standing there – even that I remember: that your hands were always cold; your wife’s hands were always warm. Without that warmth, melting into me is not possible.