Bhajan isn’t just saying thank you; prayer says thank you quietly, while bhajan is joy so full it bursts into singing and dancing—both can take you to the Divine, so pick what feels right.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
It is asked: Is bhajan, like prayer, merely an act of thanksgiving?
And always choose what truly resonates with you; what puts you in a swing of joy, what suits your nature—choose only that. Always keep attention on yourself. It can happen that something looks good on another and yet does not fit you; then do not fall into that delusion, not even by mistake. What is auspicious for another is not necessarily auspicious for you. Another’s medicine may be poison for you; your medicine may be poison for another. No medicine is medicine in itself, no poison poison in itself. What harmonizes, even if poison, becomes medicine; what does not harmonize, even if medicine, becomes poison. Always keep weighing within; keep tuning your own music, setting your own rhythm; keep testing against yourself. Then choose whatever fits. If for you it is to sit silently like Buddha, to drown in silence so that not even a limb moves… We made the…
Beloved Osho, is singing the song of the divine, like prayer, also an expression of thanks?
Prayer is the seed, bhajan, singing the song of the divine, is the tree. Prayer is hidden -- not expressed, bhajan is the expression. Bhajan is the dancing prayer, the singing prayer. Bhajan is the expression of prayer. If you want to see prayer, you will have to look at it in Mahavira and Buddha. If you want to see bhajan then you had better look at Meera and Chaitanya. Bhajan is the prayer expressed. What remains within Mahavira and Buddha flows out of Meera and Chaitanya. What is static within Buddha and Mahavira has started dancing in Meera and Chaitanya. Bhajan is the expression of prayer. You can understand it like this. Suppose you are in love with someone. You can just keep it to yourself, there is no need to say anything about it. It does not matter even if you do not say, "I love you." You…
Osho, the bhakta saints have sung greatly of bhajan’s glory. What is bhajan?
He asked again, Look, I will forget; tell me once more. Then, as Moses, having taught him the second time, was leaving, the man ran after him and said, Just once—once more. Because I will forget; these are difficult words. And if I make a mistake—then great harm will be done. Till now I was ignorant; whatever I did, I did. But now, now mistakes will not be tolerated. Now I shall be in trouble. Where will I find you? That prayer was mine—there was no hindrance in it. Every day I would make it up afresh; I would do whatever needed to be done. But now I must proceed by a rule. When Moses, very pleased at having taught him the third time, went on his way, he heard from the sky a great, solemn thunder. God was very angry. And God said, Listen! I sent you into the…
If another can hear it, it is not bhajan. What kind of bhajan is that which others can hear? Then you are doing it to be heard by others. Either your innermost knows, or the Divine knows; it is between the two. A third cannot hear—cannot. It is so subtle—it is a state of feeling. Bhajan is a feeling—anubhava—not an arrangement of words and sounds. Bhajan is grace. You are so brimming that even your walking has a dance in it, a fragrance, a glow. Full, you walk. Have you seen someone walking who has fallen in love? Yesterday he walked the same road to the same office with the same legs—but now something has changed. There is some new energy in the feet, some dance has entered. No ankle-bells tied, yet they tinkle within. He walks—he seems to fly; the pull of the earth does not touch him.
Osho, what is the fundamental anguish of human life?
There is only one anguish: that a human being cannot become what he was born to be. There is only one anguish: that the seed remains a seed and does not bloom like a flower; that it cannot scatter its fragrance to the infinite winds; cannot converse with the moon and stars; cannot offer its colors to the sky; cannot be expressed. If the poem within the poet cannot be revealed—anguish. If the painter cannot paint—anguish. If the dancer cannot dance—if chains lie on his feet—anguish. Anguish means only this: that what we are meant to be—our innate nature and destiny—does not come to fruition, and we are forced to be something else. Then anguish is born. Then melancholy gathers over life. And all those countless people you see burdened with sorrow, living in a kind of hell—the reason is only this: each has come carrying the seed of becoming…