What is the significance of mischief in childhood?

Question: OSHO, WHY WERE YOU SO MISCHIEVOUS IN YOUR CHILDHOOD? Now, do you call that mischief? It can be called mischief, and it was mischief in the eyes of my principal. He reported to my father that I had misbehaved. I told my father, "You have to come with me. He has misbehaved. He should have answered me, told me that I was wrong. He should have convinced me that the song is right. Instead of that, he brought his cane to beat me. Is that an argument? Is that right behavior? Who has done the mischief, he or I? And then he had no guts even to beat me. I gave him the challenge; my hands were before him.

Osho, it seems you must have been very troublesome in your childhood. So much troublemaking—good grief!

When I graduated and stood first in my M.A., my teachers, professors, the head of my department, the vice-chancellor—they were all very proud. Then came convocation. Naturally, I was placed first. I didn’t miss the occasion. I stood and said, “Before you give me your blessings, I want to ask a few things—because I’m taking leave; this is my last day in this university. Why have you draped me in this black gown? And all you deans and the chancellor and the vice-chancellor and the honored guests who have been invited and are to receive D.Litt.—why are all of you wearing black gowns? Black is the color of mourning. Are you declaring that we are dead?” They were startled. For a moment, a hush fell across the hall—a disturbance, they thought: he has done something again. But I wasn’t creating a disturbance; I was only asking: black is always worn…

Beloved Osho, many times sitting in your presence I am overwhelmed by a very childlike feeling. It seems so familiar, yet from a long time ago. In these moments there feels no gap of you and me. I am like a child playing in your beautiful garden. Beloved Osho, is this significant or am I already moving into my second childhood at the ripe old age of thirty-five? P.s. You can scare me any time.

"Don't be so hard on him," says Mrs. Jones, "all children of his age do that!" "Maybe they do," says Mrs. Meyer, "but not from the diving board." Childhood has its beauties, because it does not know the etiquette, the manners, and all kinds of crap. It is so simple and so innocent and so spontaneous. A man walked into a bar and was amazed to see a dog sitting at a table with three men playing poker. The man went over and asked, "Can that dog really read his cards?" "Sure he can," said one of the men. "But he's not much of a player. Whenever he draws a good hand he wags his tail!" That is absolutely innocent... the poor dog cannot contain his joy. Two cockroaches were munching delicacies on top of a garbage pile when one of them began telling of some new tenants in the…

Question: OSHO, WERE YOU NOT PUNISHED FOR YOUR MISCHIEVOUS ACTS IN CHILDHOOD? I told him, "But I did not bother about the prostitutes or the monks or the drugs. You know me: if I am interested in drugs, then in this very city...." Just by the side of my house there was a shop where all drugs were available: "and the man is so friendly to me that he will not take any money if I want any drug. So there is no problem. Prostitutes are available in the town; if I am interested in seeing their dances I can go there. Who can prevent me? Monks come continually in the city. But I was interested in the magicians." And my interest in magic is related to my interest in miracles.

Beloved Osho, what I find really amazing about your childhood is that, unlike most of us as children, you seem to have an intrinsic and undeniable understanding that your parents' interpretation of reality and your experience of reality were often two different things. You insist that you are no different from us, yet this facet of your childhood alone is more than enough evidence that you house the most unique sort of intelligence. I would be grateful for your comment.

I said, "Don't be worried, I am not going to be a Mohammedan. You just remember, if my father asks you, you say to him, `Yes, he has come, and if he wants to become a Mohammedan we cannot refuse.' I am not going to come, but this much you have to tell him." And my father asked him, "Has he come to you?" He said, "He has come, and he is very insistent." My father said, "It is better to leave him alone! They had a meeting of the whole family, "Leave him alone; he is really dangerous. If he becomes a Mohammedan we will be condemned by the whole city. And he really has gone, and he is insisting, `If anything happens again to force me, then I am going to change my religion.'" That was the last...! They remained silent; they never told me to come to…