Panch Mahavrat or The Perennial Path The Art of Living

Author(s): Osho Rajnish
Publisher: Osho Rajnish

Page 45

CHAPTER 5. PROCESS OF PROGRESS
I have heard that a man went to see the French Novelist Balzac. He began to talk with Balzac about the characters in his novels. While discussing the characters in the novels, the talk shifted to the topics of political leaders and politics. Balzac kept on talking for some time and then said, 'Excuse me, let us come back to reality again.' And he began again to talk about the characters of his novels. To Balzac, characters of his novels were a reality, and the living characters on the stage of life were unreal. He said, 'leave alone these unreal talks, we should come back to our talk of realities.'
Balzac is a novelist, to him characters in his novels are lore true to life. We are unable to see any other untruth except this samsar, in which we stand so deeply immersed. Howsoever the samsar becomes an unreal thing to those who, having raised their eyes, have seen it. The eyes directed in search of 'that' is called sannyas.
Being fed up, the sannyas is on the verge of disappearing from the world. It has not been able to stand the shocks of samsar and now stands alienated. The societies institutions and the order which had kept it alive and nurtured it are also in the process of disappearing. If the sannyas cannot accept or adjust to the new circumstances, too will not be spared. If we fail to give a new dimension - a new meaning to sannyas. This century will be perhaps the last one for the sannyasis, so it is very important in my view to save the sannyasis. It is the deepest fragrance of life - the greatest truth of life. It has become necessary to link it with the samsar. Now sannyasis cannot rive outside the samsar. Now it shall have to live in he midst of samsar, in the market-place, in the shop, in the office. Only then will it be spared
Now he cannot live as an unproductive member of the society. He has to be an integral part of life around him. He cannot leave or run away from the samsar to attain sannyas. Sannyas is where there is full fragrance of life. It is a joy to be amidst the deep struggles of life. The fragrance of sannyas is only tested when its flowers bloom amidst the foul smell of life. Once we get to understand and know exactly what sannyas is, then there is no need to leave or escape from home, family, wife, children, work etc. The sannyasi who does this is always weak. He has to transform himself where he is. It is not the circumstances that matter but the mental attitude. Transformation comes from within and not outside. It is related to his personal individuality.
Artegaveyasti has narrated a small incident. It is said that a certain individual was on the point of death in his house. The wife is beating her breast and weeping aloud. A doctor is standing near the bed. That man is a respectable and a famous person. A press reporter is standing there - ready to send the news of his death to the paper. Along with the reporter a painter is also there. He wants to see a person dying. He wants to draw a painting of death. The wife is weeping aloud. The doctor is standing dejected, crestfallen. For him, it is a professional defeat. He could not save this man. The reporter is ready with his pen and diary, to note down the time of death and then to hasten to the Press-Office. The painter is standing and thinking and observing.
Only one thing is happening in that room. One man is about to die, but it is not the same thing for the wife, the doctor, the reporter and the painter. Four different things are taking place. To the wife, it is not simply the dying of somebody - she herself is dying, for the wife this is not any scene which is happening outside. It is pertaining to her very life. Now she can never be the same again. Something of hers will die - perish, forever, in which no new sprouts will perhaps ever come out. She is completely in-one-with this scene. To the doctor, there is no death - feeling within to him somebody is dying. But he is sorry because he could not succeed in saving him. To the wife,
The Perennial Path: The Art of Living
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Osho