According to Osho, bhajan is the heart’s spontaneous offering of feeling—an inner aarti, a song of thirst and remembrance—expressed as tears, song, silence, dance, or simple waiting. It is gratitude for what is and prayer for what may be, rooted in surrender: by my doing nothing happens; when You do, it is. Not routine, but alive.
Bhajan means loving and remembering the Divine from your heart, not by rules—just thanking, asking, and waiting with trust.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
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, is the happening that occurs immediately after darshan what is called bhajan? Please explain.
Greed will whisper, “Pick a little from Narada’s aphorisms—so lovely! Pick a little from Mahavira—so profound!” But the chooser will be “you,” and you will pick what suits you. You will drop what doesn’t suit you. Yet what you drop may be exactly what could transform you. What you assemble will be artificial. Remember the word “organic.” A living form is organic—like a tree, like your body. Cut off a hand—it cannot live by itself; its life was in the organic unity. Pluck out the eye—it won’t see. One of Mulla Nasruddin’s eyes was glass. He used to oversee laborers, standing there; if he was present, they worked; if he left, they idled. One day he had to go and performed a “miracle.” He popped out his glass eye, put it on the table, and said, “This eye will keep watching—don’t try to fool me.” The workers were stunned; they…
It is not called bhajan. Yajan means: exertion, endeavor, effort. Bhajan means: grace, gift, praise. Yajan is snatching and grabbing—you are going to snatch from God. You have made arrangements. You say: Let’s see how You escape me now! You say: We have acquired wealth, we have acquired status; now we will acquire You as well. If you are trying to clutch God in your fist, that is yajan. Yajan is not a beautiful word. Bhajan is a wondrous word. Yajan is the exact opposite of bhajan. Yajan means methods, techniques, procedures by which we will get God into our fist. Bhajan means rest; by which we will find ourselves in God’s fist. Understand this distinction well, because the whole journey depends on it. Shandilya says it rightly: “Without worship of God, all else is yajan.” If you want heaven, whatever you are doing is yajan.
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…