Is there a difference between touching a prime minister's feet with a motive and touching a saint's feet with a motive?

You have asked, “Is there really no difference between touching the feet of a Prime Minister with a motive and touching the feet of a saint with a motive?”

Therefore real prayers listen to God; they do not speak to God. Have you ever gone to a temple, ever gone to a mosque, and simply sat? Give God a chance to speak. There too you keep chattering! There too you open your ledgers! There too you bring your motives and your world! There at least fall silent—deeply still. Listen! If God speaks, listen; if God remains silent, then listen to His silence. And do with a saint exactly what you do with God. Because what else is a saint? The saint has vanished; on his own side, he is finished; from his side, nothing remains. That is what a saint means: one who has erased himself and only Truth remains. Sat alone remains—that is the saint. This word “saint” is very lovely; it is formed from sat—being, truth. One who has come to the end of himself, who has…

Another friend has asked something related. He says, Osho, when you get up—someone folds their hands to you, someone touches your feet—I feel very puzzled. He has written that he feels very surprised. Why should anyone touch someone’s feet? Why should anyone fold their hands to someone?

And then it is worth asking: someone else is bowing, and some third person is getting upset! If they were bowing and they themselves were troubled, it would be understandable. But one person bows at someone’s feet and another person gets disturbed. What a strange disturbance! Why are you disturbed? Why should I be disturbed? Two people are loving—and I become disturbed! I grow restless: why are two people loving? What does my restlessness reveal? One person is giving another respect, reverence, thanks—and I get upset. Why am I disturbed? There can be two or three reasons. One: seeing others bow, my inner ego, which never knows how to bow, gets badly hurt. If no one bows, it relaxes. If someone bows, it feels wounded. Like this: three men are walking and a beggar stands before them. One of the three takes out money and gives it, and the other…

A friend has asked: Osho, I forbid people to touch my feet! But why do I forbid it?

But behind whom? Defeated by whom? Bowed to whom? Bowed to the Infinite—such people are raised up, lifted. Defeated by the Infinite—such people have won; now there is no possibility of defeat. So of course I say: do not bow at my feet. Because this “mine-and-thine,” this “my feet” feeling, is itself the obstacle to bowing. Where mine and thine disappear, bowing begins—bowing arrives. So do not be upset. Some friends said to me, “Whatever you say… we will still touch your feet!” In our land, habits are strange. If someone says, “Don’t touch my feet,” it becomes a clever device for getting one’s feet touched. Tell people, “Keep your distance,” and they come closer. Abuse them, and they will think, “This man is a Paramahansa.” This is our centuries-old wrong habit, and clever people exploit it. It seems that the one who says, “Do not touch my feet,” must…

Osho, what should I call you—Prabhu, Vibhu, or Shambhu? I ask this so that I may bow at your feet continuously. Only there do I wish to bow for all three times. Now please hear my prayer!

So absorbed in worship that one forgets even to raise the hands. You don’t remember to bow—you are bowed. So immersed in devotion! “Now, for prayer, my hands no longer rise; the heart seems lost in surrender and consent.” The temperament is so drowned in worship, in prayer: who remembers when to raise hands, when to offer flowers, when to mark the forehead? Bowed is bowed. Bowing is not an outer affair. It is inner—an inward mood. You ask to bow for three times. You will be in trouble, and you’ll put me in trouble too. If you must bow, bow—just spare me! “Because I may bow at your feet continuously.” What is the fear? Why make it “continuous”? Is this moment not enough? Settle this moment within itself. The next moment will care for itself. Why keep accounts of tomorrow? Surely your today is poor. Talk of tomorrow arises…

Osho, I am a Brahmin, and perhaps that very identity is becoming a barrier to surrender. I am not accustomed to bowing, and now even when I wish to, the old habit obstructs me. Please help.

So being a Brahmin is not something bad. It is good fortune—you were born in a house where there was talk of God; even if only in words, there was some hint of the divine, a far-off echo of God’s voice. There was the hum of the rishis, the Vedas and Upanishads. It has become very old, covered in dust, but behind it truth still lies. However deep the embers lie under ash, they are not extinguished. Even if only the ash is being worshiped, remove a little and you will find the coal aglow. Consider it a blessing. When I say consider it a blessing, do not misunderstand me. Do not think I imply that one born in a Shudra’s house is not blessed. I say to him as well: you too are blessed—blessed that you escaped the pundits’ nuisance, escaped the nets of doctrines and scriptures; you are…