According to Osho, the “fruit” is a metaphor for inner ripeness—the maturity of your consciousness, love, and understanding. When this ripeness happens through meditation and awareness, ego drops and surrender to truth occurs effortlessly, like a ripe fruit falling from a tree. No pushing, no striving—just natural gravitation toward awakening.
He meant your inner readiness; when you truly mature inside, letting go and awakening happen by themselves.
From the Discourses
Passages where Osho speaks to this question — each links to the complete discourse.
Question: The fourth question: Osho, it seems to me that I am an unripe fruit...? There is no question of “seems”—you certainly are! Otherwise you would have fallen long ago. Ripe fruits don’t hang on trees; ripe fruits fall. Falling is the only proof that the fruit has ripened—no other proof. Don’t think that turning yellow means ripeness; falling does. The Upanishads say: “tena tyaktena bhunjithah.” They alone have truly enjoyed who have renounced—because renunciation shows they have fully tasted and understood that enjoyment is futile. The day enjoyment ripens, renunciation happens by itself. The day the fruit ripens, it falls. “‘It seems…’” Drop this talk of seeming; know for certain: I am an unripe fruit. Take this perception as truth, and the race to ripen will begin; the athato moment—the “now, therefore”—will soon come near. Only when a person ripens is he a whole person.
Osho, when sex ripens, one’s interest in it begins to wane. What happens when love ripens?
In this country this mishap has happened often. The reason it happened is the good fortune of this land—that many saints arose here. We turned that good fortune into our misfortune. We heard the ambrosial words of the saints. Their words appealed to us. Not only was their reasoning powerful, the weight of their presence was powerful too. In their presence we felt that what they said must be right. “Must be right.” But “must be right” is not the same as our own experience bearing witness that it is right. The dignity of their being, their luminous aura, their stream of consciousness moved us, influenced us: we followed behind, and our mind kept wandering in the world. From this a great deterioration has occurred here. People call themselves religious, yet inside they are so worldly as you will hardly find anywhere. Here people abuse money, and yet the grip…
Osho! In the discourse, about the fruit you said that I fell silent and said nothing. Osho, for so many years you have fed us so many fruits that now there is nothing left to say and nothing left to ask. Everything has been received. Now only your grace remains. My gratitude, your blessing and benevolence, hundreds of thousands, millions, billions of times over!
One of the West’s great philosophers, Wittgenstein, wrote in his astonishing book—this century’s most astonishing—Tractatus: “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.” About that which cannot be said, don’t, by mistake, say anything either. Because whatever you say will be wrong; whatever you say will spread misunderstandings; whatever you say will cause harm. Say only what can be said; remain silent about what cannot. Those who can understand will understand your silence; those who cannot will be driven into deeper confusions by your words. Therefore the real thing is never said. I, too, am not saying it. What I am saying to you is only to take you to that place where you can understand my silence. I am busy preparing for silence. If you are ready, I will become silent. It’s only a matter of your readiness. If you all become like Fali Bhai, I will fall…
As a sculptor carves a statue, his chisel keeps striking until the form is complete. The stone must feel pain. The chisel must seem an enemy. The desire must arise to escape, to throw off the chisel. But then the stone would remain unhewn. Then that majestic image would never be born—worthy to be enshrined in temples, capable of bending a thousand heads in reverence. To ripen in life’s sun—this is the completion of the path. As a fruit ripens and then falls, so the one who has completed life’s path becomes free of life. When a fruit ripens, it separates from the very tree that nourished it. You see this miracle every day yet do not recognize it. When the fruit ripens, from the very tree that ripened it, it is released; ripening, it is freed. Only the unripe needs bondage. The unripe requires support.
Osho! I am in dire need of that fruit which yesterday you were asking Mother Lakshmi to give to Sita Maiya and Phali Bhai. Revered Sadguru, why did you forget me?
Sant Maharaj! How was I to know that you too have now entered the stage of old age? Good that you told me. Sita Maiya has written a letter saying, “Bhagwan, before you even mentioned it, I had already eaten that fruit. And ever since I ate it, outwardly I may look old, but inside I’ve become like a child.” And that’s true. She keeps dancing and skipping about. If you see Sita Maiya, you’ll agree she’s dancing and skipping about. And Phali Bhai too has eaten it—whether he admits it or not! These are private matters; it’s not necessary to announce them. Sita Maiya couldn’t hold back—she told. Nothing stays hidden with women. That’s why it’s said, if you want something to spread through the whole village, just tell one woman. Then stop worrying—within twenty-four hours it will spread on its own. No need to publish it in the…