According to Osho, it’s a humorous exaggeration: Marwaris are so shrewd that even the devil can’t deceive them. He illustrates this with a Nasruddin tale where the would‑be trickster is outsmarted and loses his money. Osho’s point isn’t ethnography but insight: alertness, bargaining savvy, and priority for gain can flip deception back on the deceiver.
Osho jokes that some people are so sharp that any trick aimed at them ends up trapping the trickster instead.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
Osho, is it really true that even the devil cannot deceive the Marwaris?
Sahajanand! After hearing yesterday’s discourse, even Nasruddin got riled. I had said that even the devil cannot deceive a Marwari. So the mulla thought to himself: To hell with the Marwaris! Today I’ll trick a Marwari in such a way that her seven generations will remember it. It was dusk; the sun had set, and because of a power failure the street was dark. Nasruddin saw that the neighbor, the Marwari Seth Dhannalal’s new daughter-in-law, was coming along with a long veil drawn, a beautiful bag dangling from her hand. The mulla thought, A good chance—let me give this Marwari woman a taste today. He quickly got up and fell into step with her. Half past seven in the evening, the darkness, and then that long veil! The woman thought, My husband has come. She said, Listen, dear, I feel like having a Coca-Cola. The mulla understood she was taking…
Osho, are you truly an admirer of the Marwaris’ intelligence? Is being a Marwari really a matter of honor and pride? And can I become a Marwari too?
Chandulal and his wife got off a train. Outside the station he said to her, “See, you’re as forgetful as ever. You left your umbrella right there in the compartment. Good thing I remembered—so I brought not only my umbrella but yours too.” His wife said, “Oh Ram! But neither of us brought an umbrella from home.” Chandulal was taken aback for a moment, then said, “Bless Lord Rama—when He gives, He tears open the thatch and showers it down!” Chandulal’s son Jhummaan came home gleefully and said, “Papa, Papa, today I ran behind the bus all the way home and saved a full fifty paise. Now do you admit I’m truly your son!” Chandulal boxed his ears and said, “You good-for-nothing, you’ll ruin me one day! Idiot—if you’d run behind a taxi you could have saved three rupees, and you ran behind a bus to save only fifty paise!…
Osho, what is the first experience of samadhi like?
You will know only when it happens. It cannot be said; at most a few hints can be given. It is as if, in the dark, a lamp is suddenly lit. Or as if a dying patient, right at the edge of death, suddenly finds a medicine that works; life’s wave, life’s thrill spreads again—so it is. As if a corpse becomes alive—such is the first experience of samadhi. It is the taste of nectar. The experience of the ultimate music. But it will be only when it happens; and only then will you understand. You will not understand by my saying it. It is as with love. How can anyone explain it? To someone who has never loved, never known love, no matter how many explanations you offer—he will hear it all and still ask, “I haven’t understood; please explain a little more.” It is like explaining light to…
Question: Fourth question: Osho, are Marwaris really such remarkable people? Satyapriya! You yourself are a Marwari. One should say—were. Not anymore. Satyapriya is just a little girl. Now she is a sannyasin. In sannyas everything is lost—being a Marwari, being Indian, being Hindu, being Muslim, being Pakistani. But your question is apt. Marwaris are indeed remarkable people. So that it makes sense to you, keep two stories in mind. One— A Marwari went to a nearby village to find a bride for his son and stayed with an acquaintance. Being a Marwari, as is their habit, he was greedy about money. He asked his host to tell him the names of some wealthy men in the village.
Question: Final question: Osho! Is there nothing at all praiseworthy in Marwaris? A little further on, Chandulal looked at his watch to check the time—to see how long this wretch would sit there. What time was it, and how long would he sit, wearing down the seat? Not only was he wearing down the seat, he was also reading Chandulal’s newspaper. That too was causing him great distress. In his heart he kept saying, “If you’re such a big reader, buy your own newspaper!” But he couldn’t say it aloud. “Now that I’ve been this generous, why show stinginess over such a small thing? Let him read! I’m done reading it anyway—what do I lose?” He felt for the watch on his wrist, but there was no watch on his wrist. Chandulal suddenly stiffened—he was already seething—and barked, shouted, “Come on, hand over the watch! You bastard!