Is there hope for me as a Marwari?

Osho, I am also a Marwari. Is there any hope for me?

Harikrishna! Even God lost to a Marwari. For you there is only hope. Don’t worry. Wherever you go, you will succeed. Whatever you do, you will succeed. If anyone wants to learn the secret of success, let them learn it from you. A Marwari doesn’t know how to lose. A Marwari doesn’t know how to be disheartened. Why do you worry? A prisoner asked another Marwari prisoner, “How did you land up here?” The Marwari said, “I was in a stubborn standoff with the government.” The first asked, “What do you mean?” The Marwari replied, “I, too, used to print notes—just like the government.” A standoff with the government! A Marwari’s stubbornness goes even with God—and God has to give in. So don’t you worry at all. There was a man who printed counterfeit notes. Once, by mistake, he printed a fifteen-rupee note. He thought, In the city no one…

Question: Second question: Osho, I am a Marwari—can I also attain moksha? Prakash! It’s a bit difficult, but not impossible. You’ll have to be free of the Marwari first. You cannot attain moksha while remaining a Marwari—that much is certain. But there’s nothing to worry about in that. No one attains moksha by remaining a Hindu, or a Jain, or a Muslim. All these boundaries have to be dropped. One has to go beyond every limit. And “Marwari” is a rather rigid boundary. The very worry that has arisen in you shows you, too, must be wondering whether moksha and “mhaaro desh Marwar” will go together or not! Two stingy Marwaris lived next door. One morning they met; the first looked very dejected. The other asked why. The first said, “It’s a very inauspicious day for me. A tooth of my comb broke this morning.

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!…

Question: Final question: Osho! Is there nothing at all praiseworthy in Marwaris? That is why Jain monks are honored in Marwar. Marwar is a base for Jain monks. And the reason is: a Marwari is impressed only by the Jain monk. He says, “Ah! What an astonishing renunciation!” Because he himself cannot leave ten paise, and these have left everything. Naturally a great respect arises in his heart for them. It is surprising that in this world, the greedier people are, the more they honor renouncers. In that sense, there is some Marwari-ness throughout this whole country. The degree of honor for renunciates in this country is proof that our craving for wealth is great, our greed is great. Because of that very greed, the one who becomes capable of dropping it, we say: he has done something extraordinary! A miracle! A magic!

Osho, first let me make it clear that I am utterly ignorant. Ever since I began reading your literature, the feeling to become a sannyasin has arisen, and I came here. But I have not yet formally taken sannyas. However, since coming here I experience a strange peace. I want to leave all work for a year and plunge into solitary practice. Please tell me if this would be appropriate. And finally, let me also tell you that I belong to the clan of your dear Chandu Lal—in short, I am a Marwari.

Mulla Nasruddin heard that in an ashram there was a fruit that makes one young again. First he searched for it himself, but there were many trees and he couldn’t figure it out, so he asked the saint. The saint plucked a fruit and gave it to him. He took it home. He had thought to eat it himself since he was old—but the moment he showed it to his wife, she snatched it and ate it—before he could say a word. She instantly became young. He remained an old man; she became young. She grabbed his hand and said, “Come on, let’s go to Blue Diamond!” Mulla tried hard to avoid it—“What will people say?”—but now the wife was not only strong as wives are, she was also young. She dragged him along. The next day he came and grabbed the saint’s collar. “I feel like wringing your neck.…