Storytelling

Osho, yesterday you told the story of Saint Peter and the three women. Please tell us what happened after that?

Saint Maharaj! Do use a little of your own intelligence. No story is ever told in full, because some trust must also be placed in your imagination—that you, too, can think a bit. You could have figured out for yourself what would happen next. The matter was so clear. My friend, what else could happen! What had to happen is exactly what happened. Saint Peter had barely dealt with those three women when three goddesses arrived. One had a white mouth-cloth tied over her face—she was a Jain nun. The second was a beautiful French model, and the third a Rajneesh sannyasin. Saint Peter first pointed toward the part below the French girl’s waist and asked, “What did you use this for?” Preening, the beauty replied, “I used it to revel with my eight wedded husbands and about a hundred and fifty lovers. I also used it to earn money…

Osho, yesterday you told that lovely Lucknowi story. I'm curious to know what happened next to those two brothers who were each all of six inches tall and sixty years old?

Dinesh, brother, You shouldn’t ask such difficult questions. A story is a story. Of course something did happen afterward, but you’ll land me in a fix. The two brothers were named Changu and Mangu. Changu-Mangu they already were. To spend sixty years entangled in “After you, after you”—they were accomplished fools! Their father’s name was Lallu, so it’s better to say: they were Lallu’s sons! And when Changu and Mangu have studied such a lesson in civility for sixty years, they’re bound to leave their mark on the world. Both became prime ministers of India. Changu became Charan Singh; Mangu became Morarji Desai. The story ended in real tragedy. But don’t ask such difficult questions. With questions like this I get into trouble. I have to answer. Now Charan Singh will be annoyed and Morarji will be annoyed. Though their annoyance makes no difference; even when they were in power…

Osho, why are you not getting bored while you are telling the same stories and the same jokes?

THE FIRST thing to be understood is that Divakar Bharti is an Indian, and Indians are absolutely unable to understand jokes! They don't have any jokes in India. I have not come across a single Indian joke. Indians are serious people -- spiritual people, religious people! They talk only of great things: God, heaven, hell, the theory of karma and rebirth. When you tell a joke to an Indian he feels offended... you see? He feels offended, insulted! You look at his face -- he feels embarrassed. Talk about something esoteric -- bullshit him! -- and then he is perfectly happy. He never laughs, he cannot; laughter is beyond him. He has forgotten laughter. That's why, Divakar, the question has arisen in you. Otherwise each joke, in a different context, is different. The joke in itself may be an old one -- and in fact, there are no new jokes…

Question: OSHO, WHAT IS BOREDOM? ARE YOU NEVER BORED WITH LIFE? This story was given to the students of a class to prepare for the next day; and that was the day, by accident, that my friend happened to visit the school. When he entered this class, the teacher was just asking the students, "Tell me, who broke Shiva's bow?" A boy, very afraid and nervous, raised his hand. The teacher was surprised -- this was the last boy he would have imagined would answer. He had never answered anything, but now he was raising his hand. The principal was there, and the inspector of schools was there, so he said, "Okay," but he was afraid that the boy would mess up the whole thing. The boy stood up and said, "Sir, I have not broken it. And moreover, yesterday I did not even come to school.