Osho says the most beautiful word in the inglis lengvage is ‘fuck’ – it is a verb, it is a noun, it is an objective (he means; adjective). He rants on that way for 10 minutes; there is canned laughter in the audio I listened to.
What is the west up to? They know he is a buffoon. Why do they make him out to be a ‘guru’ (if only of sex)? What is the big conspiracy here? This is what it is all about: the west wants to showcase Osho as the greatest Indian thinker of the modern times; and prove that he is a clown; and ergo, all Indian philosophy is nonsense. Sounds like a good plan? Well, it sure worked. Then on, there are a whole lot of other jokers who made it big in the American landscape.
The sad part is that, young people in India find that Osho is a great thinker. It is sad and it is bad. Sex and love have to go together; didn’t Rekha, the movie star say that? “If two people say they are in love with each other,” she said, “and don’t go to bed together – I don’t call it love”. Elementary, my dear Whatson? Osho goes on for a half hour talking about love of the mind (romantic love), of the body (sexuality) and love (which is really sex). Ho hum! Did he ever do it? Did he produce children? Why should you have sex if not to produce children?
Osho is a sham that the west picked up to prove that Indian philosophy is all balls. It is like picking on Any Rand to show how apologists of capitalism are shallow. You must talk to the best of the breed; as I said – Dr S Radhakrishnan; we will return to him in a bit. In the meantime, just look at some ugly things Osho was involved in: fraud, biological terrorism, and false prophecy. Read on…
“In 1981 the increased tension around the Pune ashram, along with criticism of its activities and threatened punitive action by the Indian authorities, provided an impetus for the ashram to relocate to America. On 1 June Osho travelled to the United States on a tourist visa, ostensibly for medical purposes…
“According to Susan J. Palmer the move to the United States "appears to have been a unilateral decision on the part of Sheela." Gordon (1987) notes that Sheela and Osho had discussed the idea of establishing a new commune in the U.S. in late 1980, although he did not agree to travel there until May 1981…. Osho never sought outside medical treatment during his time in America, leading the Immigration and Naturalization Service to believe that he had a preconceived intent to remain there. Osho later pleaded guilty to immigration fraud, including making false statements on his initial visa application.”
This gets really ugly, as you can see:
“The salmonella attack was noted as the first confirmed instance of chemical or biological terrorism to have occurred in the United States. Osho stated that because he was in silence and isolation, meeting only with Sheela, he was unaware of the crimes committed by the Rajneeshpuram leadership until Sheela and her "gang" left and sannyasins came forward to inform him. A number of commentators have stated that in their view Sheela was being used as a convenient scapegoat. Others have pointed to the fact that although Sheela had bugged Osho's living quarters and made her tapes available to the U.S. authorities as part of her own plea bargain, no evidence has ever come to light that Osho had any part in her crimes. Nevertheless Gordon (1987) reports that Charles Turner, David Frohnmayer and other law enforcement officials, who had surveyed affidavits never released publicly and who listened to hundreds of hours of tape recordings, insinuated to him that Osho was guilty of more crimes than those for which he was eventually prosecuted. Frohnmayer asserted that Osho's philosophy was not "disapproving of poisoning" and that he felt he and Sheela had been "genuinely evil".
Osho's imprisonment and transfer across the country took the form of a public spectacle – he was displayed in chains, held first in North Carolina then Oklahoma and finally in Portland. Officials took the full ten days legally available to them to transfer him from North Carolina to Portland for arraignment. After initially pleading "not guilty" to all charges and being released on bail Osho, on the advice of his lawyers, entered an "Alford plea" – a type of guilty plea through which a suspect does not admit guilt, but does concede there is enough evidence to convict him – to one count of having a concealed intent to remain permanently in the U.S. at the time of his original visa application in 1981 and one count of having conspired to have sannyasins enter into sham marriages to acquire U.S. residency. Under the deal his lawyers made with the U.S. Attorney's office he was given a 10-year suspended sentence, five years' probation and a $400,000 penalty in fines and prosecution costs and agreed to leave the United States, not returning for at least five years without the permission of the United States Attorney General.”
What do we have here? Visa fraud, sham marriages, bioterrorism. And Osho International Meditation Resort – strictly for the rich and famous.
Has anyone heard of Dr Sarvepalli Radhakrishan?
No one I am sure reads his works, but has anyone even heard the name? If you cannot approach Adi Sankara and other great thinkers of India – take a look at the work of Dr S Radhakrishnan.
“Dr. Radhakrishnan stated that Western philosophers, despite all claims to objectivity, were influenced by theological influences of their own culture. He wrote books on Indian philosophy according to Western academic standards, and made all efforts for the West to give serious consideration to Indian philosophy. In his book "Idealist View of Life", he made a powerful case for the importance of intuitive thinking as opposed to purely intellectual forms of thought. He is well known for his commentaries on the Prasthana Trayi namely, the Bhagavadgita, the Upanishads and the Brahma Sutra.”
The west chooses to go gaga over the buffoon Osho. And debunks him and sends him to prison. And they have no clue that the real giant of Indian philosophy is Dr Radhakrishnan.
Osho probably never managed to get up his member and kept talking about the F word, just to show that he was in the game. Come on, it happens to the best of men; with or without a fleet of Rolls Royces. No amount of talking is going to put fire in the loins. May his soul rust in piss.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Wardrobe Failure In The Empire Of Prada
A Grim Fairytale: The Empress’ New Clothes
Many years ago there lived an Empress who was so fond of new clothes that she spent all her money on them in order to be beautifully dressed. She did not care about the arts or the theatre; she only liked to go out walking to show off her new clothes. As it is often said of an Empress, “She is in the boudoir,” they always said here, 'The Empress is in the wardrobe.' All this, by the way, happened in the great Empire of Prada.
One day two excellent weavers arrived from the land of China; they said that they knew how to manufacture the most beautiful cloth imaginable. Not only were the texture and pattern uncommonly beautiful, but the clothes which were made of the stuff possessed this wonderful property that they were invisible to anyone who was out of sync with contemporary fashion. I mean, folk who don’t subscibe to the Vogue…
The Empress thought: I could distinguish the fashionable and trendy from the stolid and dull, if I wore those clothes! And she gave both the weavers much money, so that they might begin their work.
The weavers placed two weaving-looms, and began to do their work; they also obtained the finest silk and the best gold, and worked at the looms till late into the night. And beyond: they slept in the midnight rooms.
After a while, the Empress thought: 'I will send my old and honoured girlfriend to the weavers. She can judge best what the cloth is like, for she knows fashion and edits Vogue.'
The Empress’ girlfriend went to see what was cooking (or being woven) and thought: 'Dear me! I can see nothing!' But she did not say so. As a matter of fact, the weavers put nothing on the looms. [It is said that they could fit all of the nine yard in a match box, but that is another tale – another day.]
'Dear, dear!' thought she, 'Can I be so unfashionable? I have never thought that, and nobody must know it! Can I be not fit for my job? No, I must certainly not say that I cannot see the cloth!'
'Have you nothing to say about it?' asked one of the men who was weaving.
'Oh, it is lovely, most lovely!' answered the chick who appeared on Vogue in her youth and edited it later in life [and wrote Sultry De’s]. 'What a texture! What colours! [So earthy… and so forth.] Yes, I will tell the Empress that it pleases me very much.'
'Now we are delighted at that,' said both the weavers, and thereupon they named the colours and explained the make of the texture.
The weavers now wanted more money, more silk, and more gold to use in their weaving. Sure enough, they got all that...
The Empress soon sent a worthy gay designer [let us call him Rohit Balls] to see how the weaving was getting on, and whether the cloth would soon be finished. It was the same with him as with the girlfriend [let us call her Ms De]; he looked and looked, but because there was nothing on the empty loom he could see nothing.
'Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?' asked the two weavers, and they pointed to and described the splendid material which was not there.
Under peer pressure, the high priest of fashion and gaity praised the cloth which he did not see, and expressed to them his delight at the beautiful colours and the splendid texture. He said the texture was full-bodied.
Now we have something ‘earthy’ [according to the girlfriend] and ‘full-bodied’ [according to the gay high priest of fashion!] Full-bodied, indeed, as you will see soon.
Soon, everybody in the town was talking of the magnificent cloth.
Now the Empress went see for herself while it was still on the loom. The weavers were now weaving with all their might, but without fibre or thread on the loom. The girlfriend and the gay designer started praising the colour and texture of the cloth; and started pretty much a chorus: earthy, full-bodied, subtle, sublime, sunburnt, and blah…
'What!' thought the Empress: 'I can see nothing! This is indeed horrible! Am I not trendy? [And quickly figured out that the two fashionistas could see something that she could not.] And said: “Oh, it is very beautiful.” And then she nodded pleasantly, and examined the empty loom, for she would not say that she could see nothing.
The following day, the Empress plans a procession in which she would display the new acquisition to her wardrobe: the weavers were up and were working by the light of over sixteen candles. The people could see that they were very busy making the Empress’ new clothes ready.
The weavers (who were also tailors and fashion designers really) cut the cloth with huge scissors in the air, sewed with needles without thread, and then said at last:
“Now the clothes are finished!”
Everyone said: “Spun clothes are so comfortable that one would imagine one had nothing on at all; but that is the beauty of it!”
“Will it please your Highness graciously to take off your clothes,” said the weavers, “then we will put on the new clothes, here before the mirror.”
And so they dressed the Empress in empty clothes.
'Yes,' said all the courtiers, but they could see nothing, for there was nothing there. [Let us not talk about what they _could_ see.]
You know the old yarn, right: The Empress went along in the procession under the splendid canopy, and all the people in the streets and at the windows said, “How matchless are the Empress’ new clothes! How beautifully the dress hangs!”
A thirteen year old girl in the crowd chimed in: “Mom, I want those fine clothes, can I please?” And the whole teen crowd in the city wails: “Mom/dad/honey/dear, I want those clothes and appear on the cover of Vogue. Please…”
[With apologies to the Grimm brothers, to excellent weavers of East Bengal and China, and teenagers who don’t know the difference between the Naked and the Dead. Check out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Naked_and_the_Dead_(film)]
Many years ago there lived an Empress who was so fond of new clothes that she spent all her money on them in order to be beautifully dressed. She did not care about the arts or the theatre; she only liked to go out walking to show off her new clothes. As it is often said of an Empress, “She is in the boudoir,” they always said here, 'The Empress is in the wardrobe.' All this, by the way, happened in the great Empire of Prada.
One day two excellent weavers arrived from the land of China; they said that they knew how to manufacture the most beautiful cloth imaginable. Not only were the texture and pattern uncommonly beautiful, but the clothes which were made of the stuff possessed this wonderful property that they were invisible to anyone who was out of sync with contemporary fashion. I mean, folk who don’t subscibe to the Vogue…
The Empress thought: I could distinguish the fashionable and trendy from the stolid and dull, if I wore those clothes! And she gave both the weavers much money, so that they might begin their work.
The weavers placed two weaving-looms, and began to do their work; they also obtained the finest silk and the best gold, and worked at the looms till late into the night. And beyond: they slept in the midnight rooms.
After a while, the Empress thought: 'I will send my old and honoured girlfriend to the weavers. She can judge best what the cloth is like, for she knows fashion and edits Vogue.'
The Empress’ girlfriend went to see what was cooking (or being woven) and thought: 'Dear me! I can see nothing!' But she did not say so. As a matter of fact, the weavers put nothing on the looms. [It is said that they could fit all of the nine yard in a match box, but that is another tale – another day.]
'Dear, dear!' thought she, 'Can I be so unfashionable? I have never thought that, and nobody must know it! Can I be not fit for my job? No, I must certainly not say that I cannot see the cloth!'
'Have you nothing to say about it?' asked one of the men who was weaving.
'Oh, it is lovely, most lovely!' answered the chick who appeared on Vogue in her youth and edited it later in life [and wrote Sultry De’s]. 'What a texture! What colours! [So earthy… and so forth.] Yes, I will tell the Empress that it pleases me very much.'
'Now we are delighted at that,' said both the weavers, and thereupon they named the colours and explained the make of the texture.
The weavers now wanted more money, more silk, and more gold to use in their weaving. Sure enough, they got all that...
The Empress soon sent a worthy gay designer [let us call him Rohit Balls] to see how the weaving was getting on, and whether the cloth would soon be finished. It was the same with him as with the girlfriend [let us call her Ms De]; he looked and looked, but because there was nothing on the empty loom he could see nothing.
'Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?' asked the two weavers, and they pointed to and described the splendid material which was not there.
Under peer pressure, the high priest of fashion and gaity praised the cloth which he did not see, and expressed to them his delight at the beautiful colours and the splendid texture. He said the texture was full-bodied.
Now we have something ‘earthy’ [according to the girlfriend] and ‘full-bodied’ [according to the gay high priest of fashion!] Full-bodied, indeed, as you will see soon.
Soon, everybody in the town was talking of the magnificent cloth.
Now the Empress went see for herself while it was still on the loom. The weavers were now weaving with all their might, but without fibre or thread on the loom. The girlfriend and the gay designer started praising the colour and texture of the cloth; and started pretty much a chorus: earthy, full-bodied, subtle, sublime, sunburnt, and blah…
'What!' thought the Empress: 'I can see nothing! This is indeed horrible! Am I not trendy? [And quickly figured out that the two fashionistas could see something that she could not.] And said: “Oh, it is very beautiful.” And then she nodded pleasantly, and examined the empty loom, for she would not say that she could see nothing.
The following day, the Empress plans a procession in which she would display the new acquisition to her wardrobe: the weavers were up and were working by the light of over sixteen candles. The people could see that they were very busy making the Empress’ new clothes ready.
The weavers (who were also tailors and fashion designers really) cut the cloth with huge scissors in the air, sewed with needles without thread, and then said at last:
“Now the clothes are finished!”
Everyone said: “Spun clothes are so comfortable that one would imagine one had nothing on at all; but that is the beauty of it!”
“Will it please your Highness graciously to take off your clothes,” said the weavers, “then we will put on the new clothes, here before the mirror.”
And so they dressed the Empress in empty clothes.
'Yes,' said all the courtiers, but they could see nothing, for there was nothing there. [Let us not talk about what they _could_ see.]
You know the old yarn, right: The Empress went along in the procession under the splendid canopy, and all the people in the streets and at the windows said, “How matchless are the Empress’ new clothes! How beautifully the dress hangs!”
A thirteen year old girl in the crowd chimed in: “Mom, I want those fine clothes, can I please?” And the whole teen crowd in the city wails: “Mom/dad/honey/dear, I want those clothes and appear on the cover of Vogue. Please…”
[With apologies to the Grimm brothers, to excellent weavers of East Bengal and China, and teenagers who don’t know the difference between the Naked and the Dead. Check out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Naked_and_the_Dead_(film)]
Saturday, April 9, 2011
How Kaavya Got Pilloried and Was Frustrated....
Revisiting Opal Mehta: Legally Blonde
In 2006 Ian McEwan was accused of plagiarism; specifically that a passage in Atonement (2001) closely echoed a passage from a memoir, No Time for Romance, published in 1977 by Lucilla Andrews. McEwan acknowledged using the book as a source for his work.[21][22] McEwan had included a brief note at the end of Atonement, referring to Andrews’s autobiography, among several other works.[23] Writing in The Guardian in November 2006, a month after Andrews' death, McEwan professed innocence of plagiarism while acknowledging his debt to the author.[24][25][26] Several authors defended him, including John Updike, Martin Amis, Margaret Atwood, Thomas Keneally, Zadie Smith, and Thomas Pynchon.
Around the same time, a young Indian-Amreican writer, Kaavya Viswanathan was being pilloried for plagiarism:
How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life is a young adult novel by Kaavya Viswanathan, an Indian-American woman who wrote it just after she graduated from high school. Its 2006 debut was highly publicized, but the book was withdrawn after allegations that portions had been plagiarized from several sources. Viswanathan apologized and said any similarities were "completely unintentional and unconscious." All shelf copies of Opal Mehta were ultimately recalled and destroyed by the publisher, and Viswanathan's contract for a second book was canceled.
Because she is an Indian-American? Because she is young and because it is her first book? Or, god(dess) forbid, because she was a ‘girrl’?
One of the initial responses to the book was (http://www.usatoday.com/life/books/reviews/2006-03-29-how-opal-mehta_x.htm):
“How Opal Mehta Got Kissed is a hysterically funny train wreck of a story littered with mean girls, drunken parties, bad boys and enough chandelier earrings to light up the Harvard lawn.
I'll bet you a copy of Laguna Beach: The Complete First Season and a gold lamé Miu Miu bag that you won't read a sweeter, funnier, more charming book this year.”
Soon after, author Megan McCafferty accused Kaavya of copying some text from her books – the names of which I forget. And the whole of America started pouring vitriol over the young writer. It is not important to go into the details of all that jealous, bigoted, uninformed criticism; suffice it to make three main points about it:
1. There was no clear copyright infringement; otherwise, Megan McCafferty and her publishers would have definitely sued.
2. As for a broader moral issue of plagiarism, we have seen in the first instance involving Ian McEwan, that it is no big deal. Writers routinely borrow ideas from one another, and all of western literature has origins in Homer!
3. How Opal… is not chick lit. It is an intelligent reversal of the famous Hollywood flick “Legally Blonde”.
Poor Kaavya says in her book that nobody argues with success; ironically, in her own case, her success goaded so much criticism – which was vituperative and mean. It was bigoted. They questioned her morals; just stopped short of calling her a call girl.
Unfortunately, for us and for her, she never attempted a second book. Not so far. But she is apparently doing well in life – studying, more irony here, law. I hope she will one day sue all these critics for damages. And then go on to write another book.
There was one sane voice (Bill Poser), which spoke In Defense of Kaavya Viswanathan:
http://itre.cis.upenn.edu/~myl/languagelog/archives/003068.html
Come on Kaavya, give us more.
In 2006 Ian McEwan was accused of plagiarism; specifically that a passage in Atonement (2001) closely echoed a passage from a memoir, No Time for Romance, published in 1977 by Lucilla Andrews. McEwan acknowledged using the book as a source for his work.[21][22] McEwan had included a brief note at the end of Atonement, referring to Andrews’s autobiography, among several other works.[23] Writing in The Guardian in November 2006, a month after Andrews' death, McEwan professed innocence of plagiarism while acknowledging his debt to the author.[24][25][26] Several authors defended him, including John Updike, Martin Amis, Margaret Atwood, Thomas Keneally, Zadie Smith, and Thomas Pynchon.
Around the same time, a young Indian-Amreican writer, Kaavya Viswanathan was being pilloried for plagiarism:
How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life is a young adult novel by Kaavya Viswanathan, an Indian-American woman who wrote it just after she graduated from high school. Its 2006 debut was highly publicized, but the book was withdrawn after allegations that portions had been plagiarized from several sources. Viswanathan apologized and said any similarities were "completely unintentional and unconscious." All shelf copies of Opal Mehta were ultimately recalled and destroyed by the publisher, and Viswanathan's contract for a second book was canceled.
Because she is an Indian-American? Because she is young and because it is her first book? Or, god(dess) forbid, because she was a ‘girrl’?
One of the initial responses to the book was (http://www.usatoday.com/life/books/reviews/2006-03-29-how-opal-mehta_x.htm):
“How Opal Mehta Got Kissed is a hysterically funny train wreck of a story littered with mean girls, drunken parties, bad boys and enough chandelier earrings to light up the Harvard lawn.
I'll bet you a copy of Laguna Beach: The Complete First Season and a gold lamé Miu Miu bag that you won't read a sweeter, funnier, more charming book this year.”
Soon after, author Megan McCafferty accused Kaavya of copying some text from her books – the names of which I forget. And the whole of America started pouring vitriol over the young writer. It is not important to go into the details of all that jealous, bigoted, uninformed criticism; suffice it to make three main points about it:
1. There was no clear copyright infringement; otherwise, Megan McCafferty and her publishers would have definitely sued.
2. As for a broader moral issue of plagiarism, we have seen in the first instance involving Ian McEwan, that it is no big deal. Writers routinely borrow ideas from one another, and all of western literature has origins in Homer!
3. How Opal… is not chick lit. It is an intelligent reversal of the famous Hollywood flick “Legally Blonde”.
Poor Kaavya says in her book that nobody argues with success; ironically, in her own case, her success goaded so much criticism – which was vituperative and mean. It was bigoted. They questioned her morals; just stopped short of calling her a call girl.
Unfortunately, for us and for her, she never attempted a second book. Not so far. But she is apparently doing well in life – studying, more irony here, law. I hope she will one day sue all these critics for damages. And then go on to write another book.
There was one sane voice (Bill Poser), which spoke In Defense of Kaavya Viswanathan:
http://itre.cis.upenn.edu/~myl/languagelog/archives/003068.html
Come on Kaavya, give us more.
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