I am waiting at a platform at V.T. station to receive Osho who is to arrive from Jabalpur. To my surprise there is no other friend within sight and I start wondering if I have the wrong information about His coming. Still I decide to wait until the train arrives. My eyes are wandering all around for some familiar face, but it is all in vain. I start perspiring--it is very hot. The train will be arriving soon, still no one else has come to receive Him. I doubt that all the friends have decided together to abandon Osho, though there is always controversy around him; He is saying the naked truth, which most people find difficult to swallow. He is mercilessly uprooting everything traditional in India.
I am lost in my thoughts and am shaken by the noise of the train reaching the platform. My heart starts throbbing and my eyes are glued to the air conditioned carriage. One by one passengers start getting down. A few minutes feel like eternity. And there He is! Finally, coming out of the train. I rush toward Him and He gets down from the train. I touch His feet and He blesses me with His hand on my head. I am overjoyed with His presence, and feel as if I am wrapped in an invisible fragrance that is around Him.
He asks, "Where are the other friends?"
I tell Him, "I don’t know why they haven’t come, but I know where you are to stay."I ask Him if He would like to go by taxi.
He simply says, " Let us wait--friends will be coming soon."
I look at His face: there is no sign of any anxiety or hurry. Almost everyone has left the platform except the two of us. Seeing that I look a little worried, He starts telling me jokes and makes me laugh. One part of me is very happy to be alone with Him, and the other part is worrying about Him--having travelled twenty-four hours by train and standing on the platform in such heat. I feel helpless.
Finally, after about half an hour, Ishwarbhai, Lahrubhai and few other friends come running to receive Him. They are also shocked by the whole scene because they were told by railway authorities that the train was half an hour late.
Osho’s great art is to never allow anyone to feel guilty. He greets everyone with such love that no one is serious about what has happened. Laughing and talking with friends He starts walking and I follow Him in wonder, and my heart whispers, "He does not belong to this world."
Chapter 9. One Hundred Tales for Ten Thousand Buddhas
Ma Dharm Jyoti