Osho’s early love of books

I really did not attend primary school much, because the river was so attractive and its call was irresistible. So I was always at the river--not alone of course, but with many other students. Then there was the forest beyond the river. And there was so much real geography to explore--who bothered about the dirty map that they had in the school? I was not concerned where Constantinople was, I was exploring on my own: the jungle, the river--there were so many other things to do. For example, as my grandmother had slowly taught me to read, I started reading books. I don't think anybody before or after me had ever been so involved in the library of that town. Now they show everybody the place where I used to sit, and the place where I used to read and write notes. But in fact they should show people that this was the place from where they wanted to throw me out. They threatened me again and again. But once I started reading, a new dimension opened. I swallowed the whole library, and I started reading the books that I love most to my grandmother at night. You will not believe it, but the first book I read to her was The Book of Mirdad. That began a long series. Of course once in a while, she used to ask, in the middle of a book, the meaning of a certain sentence, or passage, or a whole chapter--just the gist of it. I would say to her, "Nani, I have been reading it to you, and you have not heard it?" She said, "You know, when you read I become so interested in your voice that I completely forget what you are reading. To me, you are my Mirdad. Unless you explain it to me, Mirdad will remain absolutely unknown as far as I am concerned." So I had to explain to her, but that was a great discipline to me. To explain, to help the other person who is willing to go a little deeper than he could go on his own, to hold him by the hand, slowly slowly, that became my whole life. I have not chosen it. . I am an unplanned man, that is why I stay still wild. Sometimes I wonder what I am doing here, teaching people to be enlightened. And once they become enlightened, I immediately start teaching them how to become unenlightened again. What am I doing? glimps26 I have loved many books, thousands of books, but none like Turgenev's Fathers and Sons. I used to force my poor father to read it. He is dead, otherwise I would have asked him to forgive me. Why did I force him to read the book? That was the only way for him to understand the gap between himself and me. But he was really a wonderful man, he used to read the book again and again, just because I said. It wasn't once he read it, but many times. And not only did he read the book, but at least between him and me the gap was bridged. We were no longer father and son. That ugly relationship of father and son, mother and daughter, and so on.. at least with me my father dropped it, we became friends. It is difficult to be friends with your own father, or your own son; the whole credit goes to him, not to me. Books13 Leo Tolstoy's Resurrection: for his whole life, Leo Tolstoy was concerned, immensely concerned with Jesus, hence the title, Resurrection. And Leo Tolstoy has really created a tremendous work of art. It has been a bible to me. I can still see myself, when I was young, continuously carrying Tolstoy's Resurrection with me. Even my father became worried. "It is okay to read a book," he said to me one day, "but why do you go on carrying this book the whole day? You have read it." I said, "Yes, I have read it, not only once but many times. But I am going to carry it with me." My whole village knew about it, that I was continuously carrying a certain book called Resurrection. They all thought I was mad and a madman can do anything. But why was I carrying Resurrection the whole day?--and not only during the day, but during the night too. The book was with me by my bed. I loved it. .the way Leo Tolstoy reflects the whole message of Jesus. He succeeds far more than any of the apostles, except Thomas.. books13 I don't like Gorky. He is a communist, and I hate communists. When I hate I simply hate, but the book The Mother, even though written by Maxim Gorky, I love it. I have loved it my whole life. I had so many copies of that book that my father used to say, "Are you mad? One copy of a book is enough, and you go on ordering more! Again and again I see a postal package and it is nothing but another copy of The Mother by Maxim Gorky. Are you mad or something?" I said to him, "Yes, as far as Gorky's The Mother is concerned, I am mad, utterly mad." When I see my own mother I remember Gork