Reverse Racism and Me: Why I Hate The Osho Ashram In Pune

I had read about Rajneesh years ago in Bombay. Though, as a teenager, I couldn't get through to much of his teachings, the only ones I reached were the ones full of sexual innuendo. That guy was entertaining enough to tell Indians to have a common school for boys and girls, where the uniform would be birthday suits - how quaint.

However, I did not pay much attention to him, just read about his death or whatever it was when everyone else did, and quietly went on with my life. Of course, as a conspiracy theory enthusiast, his life and times and more importantly his death was a matter of curiosity to me, just like Lee Harvey Oswald, Kurt Cobain and his wife were.

So, basically, I knew about this man as much as any twenty first century Indian professional would know. It was only when I came to Pune for work, and lived and worked bang opposite his ashram that I had another interaction with the concept that is Osho here.

Now, for those who do not know much about Pune or India, allow me to elaborate, since writers are the best people to do so, basically because they have so much time on their hands.

Pune, is around a two hundred kilometers stretch from the commercial capital of India, financial spine of India, Hub of India, essence of secular living in India, entertainment capital of India, Bollywood home of India, ok, ok, you get the drift - Bombay.

Now, many armchair critics spend their afternoon cuppas speculating when Pune and Bombay will come under the same banner, jurisdiction, or whatever it is that separates one kilometer stretch from another. Fact of the matter is - it never will. Zimply (that's a new word I coined, it's to be pronounced Zh-imply, why? Because I can) because of one single fact of life in Pune and Bombay:

The afternoon nap never starts in Bombay, and the afternoon nap never ends in Pune.

Pune is the rural heaven for all those corporate honchos who still want to water their plants after shutting off their Sony Vaios (of course, people who got it with the latest Windows Vista will need some more time, because of the device driver problems). This place is full and full of stretches of real land, lush greenery, pure air... (hey, if you add landscaped gardens to the last three concepts, I can sell the copy to a real estate guy, anyway, been that, done that, got that t-shirt and it's two sizes too small).

Anyway, back to Osho, Koregaon Park and me. Yeah, pretty lil me, its me this article is all about, righto?

So, for anyone thinking of Pune as a rural heaven, they'll consider Koregaon Park as an eyesore. Why? Zimply because Levis and Spykar don't tussle for space in a rural heaven. Zimply because a nailcutter is not bought for a thousand rupees (one dollar - 45 rupees, you do the math) in a rural heaven. So, basically, Koregaon Park, once known as Koragaon Park (a gaon, pronounced gaa-oo-n actually means a village, and as far as my Sanskrit and Hindi tell me, kora means barren) is the place for highway robbers and blackguards in the rural heaven known as Pune.

I have been what can be called a 'global professional'. My first job thrust me into the US, UK and Dubai market, with spouses watching those crawling subtitles to make sense of what their wives or husbands found in seeing a fully clothed woman dancing in a garden which seemed had a US approved budget to be looked after, with a man wearing white shoes. Yeah, I was a subtitlist.

Second, I worked for a company which sold software to radio stations. So, I basically wrote news, reviews, previews of music and movies for radio stations. Yeah baby, some of the videos we got were of listeners who wished to have their clip on the radio station websites were raunchy and risque, eat your heart out.

So, I have dealt with people from the US, people from the UK, Australia, Dubai, New Zealand... both on a professional as well as a personal level. I was/am a roleplayer, duh uh.

Now, get into my shoes, don't worry, I washed them, and think about how I'd feel if an Indian hawker runs behind a foreigner, begging him to buy a bloody drum for a thousand rupees, finally selling that to him for three hundred, which is still much more than the real cost. Think about how I'd feel about a con man selling some two penny ruby to a foreigner and telling her that this ruby is blessed by some Baba Yaga from the Himalayas and will soon make her meet her man in shining credit card? - And the woman buys, and the man strums on the drum.

Now, wouldn't these videos make a good effect on the tourism of India? We'll not go into the reasons why people do such kind of blood curdling antics. I just want to inform people about why this is possible. Zimply because there's that nuclear bomb remnant bang in the middle of Pune - The Osho Ashram, where foreigners come for a peace of mind, eventually getting a piece of everyone's mind.

Such antics shame me, shame all Indians who wish to get away from the image that they'd do anything for money. Such antics shame Infosys, shame Wipro, shame TATA, all those major companies buying out foreign companies left right and center.

And it only gets worse. For example, in Osho Country in Pune, (read as Koregaon Park), if an Indian gets out to get change for a hundred rupees, he won't get it. If a foreigner gets into a shop for a change, he/she will have an army of broken English, enthusiastic to help, and store helps.

Why does this happen? Does this happen because of the Osho Ashram? Does this happen because of the stupid Indians around? You think about it. I have done that for long.

I call this reverse racism.

And I have seen a few examples of it myself. Years ago, when I was at the International Film Festival of India in Goa, me and my group decided to go to a disco. Now, Goa was what Pune is a few years ago, though it's much cleared out now. However, we were at the entrance of this disco and asked the guy what the cost was for an entry, he told us 300 bucks. A bit at that time. We were just discussing whether it was good to go, when we saw a foreigner came in and asked the same, and asked whether he could have a look-in and see if the crowd's good.

He was allowed.

Since we thought that we were Indians and the place was in India, and the help was Indian, we would be allowed too.

We weren't allowed.

If this isn't a case of reverse racism, what is? How long will this go on? I don't know. I really don't know.