So there I was, all of 18 years old, fresh out of boarding school, stuck in a college in a place called Poona. I was bored out of my mind, surrounded by oh, so predictable people – all very sweet, of course, but so boring, so society.

I had no clear idea of what I wanted, but all I knew was that I would not last very long in such surroundings and that there had to be more to life than going to school, hanging out with people from a similar background, getting a job, brats, marriage, etc.

I had heard vaguely about Bhagwan Rajneesh and his ashram in Koregaon Park, but had no interest whatsoever as I used to laugh at people who had a guru, especially one with a funny accent!

One rainy day, bored out of my skull, I noticed this girl with a very different and alive energy, different in a way I couldn’t put my finger on. I went up to her, introduced myself, and we got talking.

She finally told me that she lived in this ashram and would I like to come and visit. Since it was just another uninspiring day at college, I thought, why not? Let’s go check it out; I have nothing better to do.

Well, the first thing that struck me when I arrived there was the incredible amount of light that these people seemed to be radiating, an atmosphere of love and lightness; it reminded me of the international schools I’d spent my life in, full of people of all kinds of races and cultures. Still, I was very skeptical about the whole “guru” thing. I didn’t need one; I was happy! Ha!

After maybe a month after that visit, I was finally persuaded to go to a discourse, much against my will, in fact. It was so bizarre, sitting in this great big hall, surrounded by people who all seemed focused, but on what? Anyway, after some amazing music, silence, and then mad babbling by the audience, there appeared the star attraction: this enormous pillar of light floating into the hall.

I was blown away, and I did not know why. I felt tears course down my face without any reason; I do not remember anything about what He said or what was happening; all I knew was that I was touched in a way that was totally alien yet familiar to me.

I remember later thinking that “this is too weird for me, mass hypnotism or something,” and “I’m never going back there.” Famous last words! I found myself, much against my conscious mind, coming to the ashram daily just before discourse started, and ending up in Buddha Hall basking in Bhagwan’s presence.

It took me almost a year to officially ‘take sannyas’ but this was just the formality to ‘belong’, to satisfy the requirements of that ‘society’, but the true initiation had already happened that first night. The rest was all about conforming to the situation, unimportant.

Many years later, someone told me you don’t choose the guru; he chooses you. For me, this is perfectly true; I was never ‘seeking’, it just happened. For me, He is the finger pointing to the moon; the issue was never looking at Him but looking at the moon. This, for me, is a constant unfolding and His biggest gift.

The moon has many faces but is still the moon; the fingers, too, come in many forms and all point at the same moon. For me, His biggest gift is to enable me to look at the moon and not at the finger.

“Hence, always remember, truth cannot be said, it can be shown. It is a finger pointing to the moon. All words are just fingers pointing to the moon, but don’t accept the fingers as the moon. The moment you start clinging to the fingers – that’s where doctrines, cults, creeds, dogmas, are born – then you have missed the whole point. The fingers were not the point; the point was the moon.

That’s why I say, don’t get lost in words, don’t get lost in doctrines. Rather, find a living master whose very being is a finger pointing to the moon. In his presence maybe something transpires in you. Not in his words, but perhaps in his silence. Not in his theories, but perhaps in his eyes. There you may find a certain inspiration, a glimpse, a door opening into the mysteries of life.”

Osho, The Sword and The Lotus, Ch 3, Q 2

From the book, Past the Point of No Return by Ma Anand Bhagawati