Osho going to Prostitute and Smoking

Once, I wanted to go to visit a prostitute. I was only fifteen years old and had heard that a prostitute had come to the village. My grandmother asked me, "Do you know what a prostitute means?"

I said, "I don't know exactly."

Then she said, "You must go and see, but first only go to see her sing and dance."

In India prostitutes sing and dance first, but the singing and the dancing was so third rate and the woman was so ugly that I vomited! I returned home in the middle, before the dancing and singing had finished, and before the prostituting had begun. My Nani asked, "Why have you come home so early?"

I replied, "It was nauseating."

Only later when I read Jean-Paul Sartre's book, NAUSEA, did I understand what had happened to me that night. But my grandmother even allowed me to go to a prostitute. I don't remember her ever saying no to me. I wanted to smoke; she said, "Remember one thing: smoking is okay, but always smoke in the house."

I said, "Why?"

She said, "Others may object, so you can smoke in the house. I will provide you with cigarettes."

She continued to provide me with cigarettes until I said, "Enough! I don't need any more."

Osho 

Glimpse of golden childhood

Chapter 4