Dynamic Meditation

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This was the moment.

The morning was still, the air heavy with anticipation.

?It is 6 a.m. The Dynamic Meditation session is about to begin. There are 13 of us in the large, spacious hall. The music system is on, and curtains are drawn to prevent strong light from filtering in. The all-too-familiar Rajneesh’s maroon robes, which remind one of being a Rajneesh follower (one who takes Sannyasa), are available, and we wear them over our clothes. We are about to start our session.

?I am at Zorba the Buddha. It is one of the largest open-faith spiritual centres in the world, hosting several hundred programmes and events in a year, fostering creative and spiritual growth. It attracts teachers and international participants, making this an ever-evolving eco-village.?It?is a living piece of art where seekers of spirituality, creativity, and social welfare flourish in synchronicity.

?My mind flashes back….

?It was 1995, nearly 30 years ago, when I heard about the Bhagwan in Pune Ashram, in Koregaon Park. I lived on Boat Club Road, a few blocks away, and many of his followers were living around the area and could be seen at the favourite vegetarian restaurants. They mostly mingled by themselves, for they were new to each other and keen to explore and share what brought them to Osho Rajneesh Puram – to the Bhagwan. I was young then, and the streets all around were filled with his followers, always draped in those same maroon robes, their eyes alight with something I could only describe as hunger—a hunger for more, for understanding, for liberation. And there I was, just on the edge of it all, wondering what it was like inside that mysterious world. I never ventured in. Not then.

?Early each morning during our short stay at Zorba the Buddha, I saw a few international tourists practising their yoga exercises on their mats; some of the others were participants in programs being run at the venue. The irony was not lost on me. As Indians, we have lost our own ‘inheritance’ of spiritual wisdom.

?I discovered two other programs running alongside ours: a Coaching Program and a ‘Past Life Regression’ workshop. A staffer told me that the venue was almost full all year round. The place was clean, and the housekeeping was excellent and quietly efficient. Alcohol and the use of drugs are prohibited, with smoking areas clearly delineated. The food was savoury and all vegetarian. It was very good. Later, my co-facilitator (we were running a workshop for Women Entrepreneurs) shared that she had heard the kitchen staff singing. Surely, she said, food made by Happy people will turn out tasty. I agreed.

?The Osho-taught dynamic meditation begins, and it has five parts of ten minutes, each segment followed by appropriate music, except for the 4th Phase, where there is no sound:?

1.??? The first phase involves rapid breathing out and breathing erratically and chaotically. The hands are placed on the shoulder, and the breath is forced out with movements. One is told not to breathe out in a rhythm but to encourage long and short bursts and that the in-breath will happen automatically, so one need not be concerned with that.

2.??? The second phase involves making movements that release all the tensions and repressions within. This can include talking gibberish, cursing out loud, venting anger, and so on. Movement can also include walking around the area nearby.

3.??? The third phase involves reaching your hands above your head, jumping, and, upon landing, shouting out, ‘Hoo’. This is supposed to cleanse the chakra around the navel area.

4.??? In the penultimate stage, someone shouts stop, the music ceases, and you are supposed to stay still in whatever posture you are in and become aware of your thoughts. Be aware of your thoughts and sensations.

5.??? In the final stage, the music changes within this pace: it starts slow and easy, then changes its rhythm and pace, and you are encouraged to dance.

?We stayed in the hall for over an hour, and by the time we finished, we were tired and spent. We were asked to lie down and stretch. After that, the meditation session was declared complete.

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My Reflections

?I imagined how this would have been when Osho was alive at the Ashram. It would have had over a hundred people, mostly expatriates. The folks would be spiritual seekers drawn from across the world, with the cynosure being Osho. He attributed himself to being the next living Buddha in his last phase. The music would have been a live cohort of singers and musicians, the participants all residents of the commune for either a short or a long stay that would continue to be there for years, all living in their maroon outfits. Folks who went back started small ashrams, taught Dynamic Meditation, and talked about Osho. These new folks were the new waves of followers who visited Pune. Osho then was internationally known, and his aura attracted many. The whole energy field would have been different.

?Life starts with a bang; the world is your oyster when you are young. Osho himself said a religion dies once the prophet dies. Once the prophet dies, the religion becomes stagnant, even like a graveyard. For Religion to be alive, the prophet needs to be alive. Religion is a living movement, not something dead.

?The Narrative of Christ and the long growth of Christians over many centuries is due to powerful storytelling, asserts Yuval Harari in his new book, Nexus. I wonder if the story of Osho Rajneesh is the making of a powerful story. The airport bookstores are filled with his books, so are his books found on audible, and there are so many habitats that offer Osho meditation, like Zorba the Buddha, for which tourists have to pay a minimal fee to enter the venue, a beautiful place with old trees, man-made ponds, that immediately makes you say, ‘Wow’ as you step inside the place. The essence of Osho Rajneesh continues to live on.

?For me, this exposure was a tick off my bucket list. It seemed, though, like something was missing. The steps and instructions were all there and rigorously followed. The ambience differed (though care was taken to reproduce a ‘look alike’). The place reproduced the ideas, but the originality had slipped away. But here, now, that magic was lost. Yes, there were the robes, the music, and the meticulously followed movements. But it felt…scripted, like we were actors in a play that had lost meaning long ago.

?I was acutely aware that I would have been just around 30 when I heard of him. Today, I am twice that age. As we lay on the floor, stretching out at the end of the session, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of time pressing down on me. Was it the place that tried so hard, but times had moved past the living Master, or was it me, older, somewhat more battle-worn, less innocent?

?Perhaps it wasn’t the place that had changed. Perhaps it was me. I was no longer that curious 30-year-old standing on the sidelines, wondering what it would be like to dive in. I was older now, twice that age, and more sceptical. Was it that I had outgrown the longing, the yearning for something more? Or had the place lost its spark and soul when Osho passed? Also, I have become more aware of what is missing. Osho is gone, with him, the pulse, the essence of what this was supposed to be.

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