Marwaris

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!…

Osho, why are you not saying anything about the Marwaris this time? And I’ve come from the heart of Marwar for just this!

Subhash Kothari! Bless you too! To be in Marwar and still be an enemy of the Marwaris—what a thing! Well then, since you’ve come from so far, I must honor your request; otherwise this time I was going to spare the Marwaris. Now and then I let them off and the Marwaris relax. Then they start coming. Then I roast them, and they run away. After I stay quiet for a month or two, they come again. Sometimes it’s the Punjabis’ turn, sometimes the Bengalis’. The point is, I have to do the thrashing—someone or other will get it. Seth Chandulal, a Marwari, was telling his friend Mulla Nasruddin, “My boy has done wonders! I told him to go up and down two steps at a time so the shoes would wear less. But that good-for-nothing went down six steps in a single leap yesterday!” Nasruddin said, “Then the shoes…

Question: Final question: Osho! Is there nothing at all praiseworthy in Marwaris? A little further on, Chandulal looked at his watch to check the time—to see how long this wretch would sit there. What time was it, and how long would he sit, wearing down the seat? Not only was he wearing down the seat, he was also reading Chandulal’s newspaper. That too was causing him great distress. In his heart he kept saying, “If you’re such a big reader, buy your own newspaper!” But he couldn’t say it aloud. “Now that I’ve been this generous, why show stinginess over such a small thing? Let him read! I’m done reading it anyway—what do I lose?” He felt for the watch on his wrist, but there was no watch on his wrist. Chandulal suddenly stiffened—he was already seething—and barked, shouted, “Come on, hand over the watch! You bastard!

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…