Osho reading his daily paper near his curtained window (click on picture to zoom)
The curtains
I was now to work full time as a tailor. As no one had been sewing for quite some time there was a lot of catching up to do. My first task was to make more robes, and my first problem was that there was no more of the material he liked.
Many people asked me why Osho preferred synthetic fabric to natural fibres. Just past the hippie era, we were, at that time, into all things natural. He never really said but I assume two things. He always liked to look immaculate. This was very much part of his Zen character. Natural fibres crease and in hot humid Indian weather any garment made from them looks like a limp rag in no time at all. The second reason is very much my idea. I noticed when I was handling anything that came out of his room that it would be filled with his energy. I don’t think this was imagination; many people felt the same. But it seemed to me that anything made of a synthetic fabric retained the energy more than something made from a natural fibre. The white robes, after being worn a few times, felt INCREDIBLE to the touch - so soft, so silky, so LIGHT, it was almost as if you were holding nothing at all. And they seemed to transmit a glowing, blissful energy, which was passed on to the person holding them. This is hard to put into words.
In a discourse he mentioned once that Zen masters traditionally gave their garments to their disciples as a means of passing on something of their very being. Osho certainly went down this road, as many sannyasins who received robes and hats as gifts know very well. As fast as we made the robes, he gave them away! This kept me, and later the other sannyasins who joined the sewing room, in full time employment!
Perhaps this, then is the answer to the ‘synthetic fabric’ question.
Things were not, however, that simple, as I was soon to find out. There were only special kinds of synthetic fabric that suited him. And they were not easy to get. He explained, through Nirvano, that the fabric he liked had to have a very loose weave which thus allowed the body to ‘breathe’. Holding a piece of fabric up to the light, I could see how tightly or loosely woven it was. I always bought the latter one but even that wasn’t always successful. And the only way to know was to make the robe up and for him to wear it on a test run. As soon as I found one that suited I went out and bought every piece of that fabric in the shop! We often had sannyasins in other parts of India tracking down the same cloth in other fabric shops when I couldn’t get it any more in Poona or Bombay! Well, it meant that lots of people got gifts!
From the very beginning I wasn’t happy with the cut of the sleeves but, as Nirvano had said to make the robe EXACTLY like the sample one, I did. Soon, however, I carefully suggested that I could make improvements. The sleeve had too much fabric near the shoulder and it almost looked like he had little girl ‘puff’ sleeves. I wanted to make things more streamlined. Nirvano became very fierce - she could be a very tough Zen Master especially when Osho was concerned. She adamantly said no. I think she was afraid that he would lose some freedom of movement if the sleeves were too tight. I didn’t think so. If they were well cut, they would be fine. And one thing I did know how to do was to cut.
So, one day, against all orders, I secretly made up a new robe with sleeves in this new, improved style. Task accomplished, and risking Nirvano’s wrath, I showed it to her. She could see that it looked better but she was predictably annoyed that I had taken it upon myself to make changes. At my urging, however, she did reluctantly take it in to be tried on. I waited anxiously! Finally I heard the door open and close, braced myself for whatever - and a dozen robes descended on top of me! I mentioned before that the robes seemed full of energy and to be deluged with a dozen of them was to receive quite a blast! Both exasperated and laughing, Nirvano said I was to take the sleeves out of all the current robes, re-cut them and re-insert them - by the end of tomorrow! Damn, why I couldn’t I ever leave well enough alone. I worked right through the night, through discourse the next morning and didn’t stop till late in the evening, but I got them all done. AND he wore the new improved version immediately for that morning discourse - ironed but not washed!
A few days later he sent me the most beautiful of gifts. A Japanese sannyasin had some time previously brought him an exquisitely crafted Japanese tea ceremony kit. I think he still liked his English-style cup of tea, so he gave me the box filled with the beautiful bowls and things for a Japanese tea ceremony. With my love for Zen and all things Japanese, this was a really special gift.
One late afternoon Priya, who usually helped in the kitchen, appeared silently next to my sewing table and told me to go home, have a shower and be ready in the library in fifteen minutes, and to bring a tape measure with me. Wow! This was a new one. A little nervous, I did as instructed and finally Nirvano appeared in the door of the library and beckoned me to come with her. I followed her to the doors leading to Osho’s and her rooms. Osho and Nirvano each had a room, balcony and bathroom connected by a passage, the door of which was guarded 24 hours around the clock by a ‘samurai’ (sannyasins whose training in martial arts was part of their path).
I started to tremble as she lead the way to Osho’s room and opened the door and gestured to me to enter, again one of those devilish grins flitting lightly across her face.
The shock was enormous. Firstly I was almost knocked flat by the wave of energy hitting me - I know my knees buckled. I had already had many experiences of the energy field surrounding an enlightened master, but never as concentrated as this. With nowhere to be dissipated, the energy just builds up inside the room and to someone not used to such a force, the impact is enormous.
Once I had pulled myself together and could take a breath I registered that Osho was not in the room and that the room itself was a nightmare! The walls were made of sections of patterned pink marble (I hate pink as decor) with the slabs separated by bilious green strips of tile which culminated in a kind of Islamic arch over each slab. The remaining wall and ceiling was patterned with pink and yellow stucco - the colour of vomit, if you have just eaten or drunk something red. Two imitation chandeliers completed the Liberace effect. Knowing my interior design sensibilities, Nirvano giggled and gestured to me to sit down near the window.
‘Awful, isn’t it?’ she said and went on to whisper that her biggest freak-out ever had been when she had been shown the room which Osho was to occupy - one hundred percent Bollywood decor! Neither she nor he had had any say in the decoration - it had been prepared for him while he was still in Bombay.
I knew enough of Osho’s routine to know this was his bath-time before eating and the evening darshan, and I could hear him splashing about in the bath. Astha was doing a quick clean and Nirvano, while talking to me, was idly picking up and folding the newspaper which was scattered all over the floor. Some pens and some paper were on a little table next to his chair and all of a sudden I was flooded with an existential experience of enormous ordinariness. In his discourses Osho had often said he was just an ordinary man, but there was no way I could conceive of this. To me he was the most extraordinary being on the planet, how could he be ordinary. Yet, here I was experiencing just such a state. I felt almost faint with the impact.
Nirvano sat waiting patiently, understanding, I knew, exactly what I was going through. She must have been through experiences like this many times. She gestured to me to sit down with her on the marble floor and, when I again managed to pull myself together, she pointed to the window behind me and asked me to take a look. I turned and saw a beautiful big picture window strung with some shabby beige curtains, hems uneven, seams frayed. Because Osho was allergic to such a huge amount of material the curtains were set between two layers of glass, the inner layer in the form of sliding windows so someone could reach in and close and open the curtains. It wasn’t that easy to replace them.
‘Would you be able to make some new curtains?’ she asked. The familiar itch possessed my fingers. This had to change! I of course said yes, although I had never had to curtain a window with such a large expanse before. She was happy at my reply and asked me to take some measurements and do it as soon as possible. Robe-making was to be suspended until the project was finished.
When I left the room I was so out of it that I knew I would not be able to work anymore so I went back to my room and just lay on my bed. Waves of energy flooded over and through me and all the time I was experiencing this sense of ‘ordinariness’. I think this was one of the most transforming experiences of my life as a sannyasin and somehow I then knew what he meant by ‘ordinariness’ and how a person is never ordinary until the ego goes, because the ego strives perpetually to be extraordinary. It thus was easier to recognise the many times my ego reared its indefatigable head when I felt proud of something I had done or offended at criticisms. Each infinitesimal growth of awareness meant a consequent infinitesimal disappearance of the ego - one further tiny step along the way.
The next day Nirvano and I discussed the kind of fabric we could use. I suggested a neutral, off-white colour to try to counteract the ghastly pink and green of the rest of the room, and asked about using raw silk. We couldn’t wash raw silk but if we hung it outside for a few days (one of our common practices) the smell of new fabric would go and the glass would in any case stop any smell still lingering from affecting Osho. Off I went to Bombay to one of the glorious silk Emporiums and found a beautifully sumptuous piece of fabric which I thought would be perfect. I bought a small piece as a sample and took it back to Poona to show Osho and Nirvano. They both liked it, the fabric was bought and I set about making the curtains. In Poona 2 we had a big sewing table for tasks such as this, but in the early days I had to use the library floor which involved huge cleaning routines. The curtains did look good and improved the room enormously.
Chapter 5 from "A Seam for the Master" – copyright © Veena – 2005-2008 – published with permission
Read part 1
Read part 2
Read part 4
