Rajneesh is a great leader and a good man who was never really understood in his own country. In India he was a philosophy professor whose real name was Mohan Chandra. Rajneesh was a nickname he acquired in his childhood. He began lecturing in 1957 at colleges and universities. In 1971, he changed his name to Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh.

Reading his discourses made me realize that Rajneesh was a sad loss. He had an extraordinary range of knowledge and a vision of how life should be lived, but he proved incapable of following his own precepts.

In his India days, Rajneesh was a voracious reader, and he is known to have devoured all of Gurdjieff’s and Ouspensky’s books. In fact, Gurdjieff seems to have served him as a kind of role model in his interaction with devotees.

In order for the Moral Majority and the mobs to understand Rajneesh, they will have to leave their mob mentality and their morality and become amoral. Right now they are living in the 16th century; it is about time that they grow up and move with the science. And become sophisticated as Rajneesh are.

He did not practise law and so whatever money I earned, I just placed before him. He invested in business--trucks, cars--but lost everything. I could not bear to see him unhappy. Often he would disappear from home for months on end. The bank people would come and harass me, ask for my property as I was unable to repay the loans. This happened several times. I had to sell everything I had. I will never forget or forgive myself for not being by his bedside before he died. I had a programme in Bombay, but I did not want to go. He insisted because we needed the money. While I was performing, he died.

Indians may recall that such death sentences against people who have insulted the Prophet, have been carried out earlier this century: against Arya Samaj propagandists Swami Shraddhananda and Pandit Lekh Ram, and against Rajpal, the writer of the Rangila Rasool (more or less Playboy Mohammed). This was a book on the sex life of the Prophet and his wives, certainly insulting, and as a criticism of Islam rather beside the point, but understandable as a reaction against a similar vilifying Muslim pamphlet about Sita. These murders had the desired effect, for the Arya Samaj became less straightforward in its criticism of the Prophet.

A Hindu named Arjun lived in Govindwal on the bank of river Beas in the garb of a saint and in ostentation. From all sides cowboys and idiots became his fast followers. The business had flourished for three or four generations. For a long time it had been in my mind to put a stop to this dukan-e-batil (mart of falsehood) or to bring him into the fold of Islam. ...I ordered that he should be summoned His residences, camps and sons were given over to Murtaza Khan His property and cash were confiscated. I issued instructions that he should be put to death by torture.

After the ceremony, Nehru and other Congress leaders addressed a mass meeting on the river bank. As the meeting ended, Ran Ahmed Kidwai whispered to me: "Jawaharlal has performed the last rites not only of Gandhi but of Gandhiism as well. Now that the master has gone, there will be no one to discipline the crowd. The High Command is dead."

After the ceremony, Nehru and other Congress leaders addressed a mass meeting on the river bank. As the meeting ended, Ran Ahmed Kidwai whispered to me: "Jawaharlal has performed the last rites not only of Gandhi but of Gandhiism as well. Now that the master has gone, there will be no one to discipline the crowd. The High Command is dead."

[When asked if "rumours that he had been a psychopath, practised necrophilia and was into young girls might turn out to be true" in 2001.] Bollocks to my legacy [...[ If I'm gone that's that . . . Whatever is said after I'm gone is irrelevant.

When Maharaja Jaswant Singh of Jodhpur was informed about the death of Mirza Raja Jai Singh, he is said to have expressed his feeling through the following couplet:
GhanÔa na bÁje DevarÁn, sank na mÁne SÁh,
Ye karsÁn phir Ávjyo, MÁhÚrÁ JaisÁh.
As Raja Maha Ringh’s son Wai Ringh is no more, Aurangzeb has no fear – he has stopped arti, puja and blowing of conch in the temples. Had he been alive today, he would not have allowed such a thing to happen.‛

He—an addict for 20 years—undoubtedly writes from close experience about that sordid world of pimps and prostitutes, drug addiction and sexual deviance, grotesque crime and heinous punishment. It fascinates as much as it shocks—even as you recoil in horror, knowing you’ll probably never set foot in Mumbai’s innards, you’re dying to know more about them.

It's hard to understand;
There was love in this man.
I'm sure all would agree
That his misery
Was his woman and things.
Now Freddie's dead;
That's what I said.<p>Everybody's misused him;
Ripped him off and abused him.
Another junkie playin';
Pushin' dope for the man.
A terrible blow, but that's how it go.
Freddie's on the corner now.
If you wanna be a junkie, wow;
Remember, Freddie's dead.

He [Kirsha] was a narcotics peddler and accustomed to doing his business under a veil of darkness. Normal life had eluded him and he had become a prey to perversions.