There’s a good chance that when you open this book you will not be able to put it down until you’ve read to the last page. In his sharp and witty way, Subhuti has filled a slim volume with the spell-binding experiences of ten massive years of his search for meaning in life, his initiation as a disciple, intense ashram living, and peak personal moments with Osho.
Before traveling to India to meet Osho, Subhuti worked for several years as a political journalist in the British Houses of Parliament, writing news stories for The Birmingham Post. During this time, he was able to study the nature of the political mind at close quarters and this has paid off handsomely in the way he writes his book.

The global context of Osho’s work, the trouble that Osho created for political and religious leaders wherever he went, the disturbing presence of an enlightened being who is trying to awaken others from their spiritual sleep, is all beautifully portrayed in My Dance with a Madman.
However, this book is not a philosophical or political treatise. Subhuti’s insights are always nailed to vivid experiences in daily life. For example, the image of Osho as a trouble maker is conveyed in a delightful little story from darshan – those personal meetings between Osho and ashram visitors that were held each evening in Pune during the 1970’s.

Osho is listening compassionately to a young mother who tells him she is exhausted by her six year-old son’s chronic habit of disobedience. Osho spends a long time guiding her in the art of child-raising, then suddenly looks at her son, leans close to him, smiles like a fellow conspirator and says, “And you… you make sure you cause your mother as much trouble as possible? Hmm?”
Intimate tales like this are inter-woven with some impressive big-stage moments such Subhuti’s meeting with President Ronald Reagan in the White House and chatting with Mrs. Indira Gandhi when she was Prime Minister of India. British Prime Ministers such as Margaret Thatcher also make an appearance in the book, as does Prince Charles.

Subhuti has a knack of conveying complex spiritual ideas in simple ways and nowhere is this more apparent than in his analysis of our approach to morality – the way we tend to categorize people as ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys.’

As an example, he refers to J.K. Rowling’s seven-volume masterpiece about Harry Potter. Rowling, the world’s most successful novelist, discovered an original formula, combining English boarding schools with magicians and wizards, but Subhuti points out that the driving force behind her story is as old as time. It is known as ‘conflict dualism,’ the struggle between good and evil.

Harry Potter versus the evil Lord Voldemort is really a replica of every Western movie produced in Hollywood. These movies, in turn, have their roots in our collective religious attitudes: the universal struggle between good and evil, God and the Devil. In other words, there always has to be a good buy and a bad guy.

It is this fundamental concept that Subhuti brushes aside, explaining that Osho operated on an entirely different level. But when the US Government decided to label Osho a ‘bad guy,’ with the full support of the American public, then all the politicians in Washington DC and Oregon felt justified in training their heavy guns on the mystic.

Osho’s reputation as the ‘free sex guru’ is also dealt with in this book, including aspects that journalists often mentioned when visiting Pune. Special mention is made of the ‘orgasmic hug’ that occurred daily between sannyasins inside the ashram, and which attracted a great deal of media attention.

Intriguingly, Subhuti also highlights aspects of Osho’s work that journalists never understood, such as his effort to help people accept sex naturally as a way of giving it less importance. It is sexual repression that creates our obsession with the subject, he explains, adding “We are sexualized by our lack of sex.”

The esoteric side of the master-disciple relationship is conveyed in a playful and humorous way, particularly in an anecdote titled Guru Voodoo. Here, Subhuti relates how, when he periodically slipped into his old habit of cynical thinking – so very familiar to him as a journalist – he would often bump his head on some hard object.
This happened so regularly that eventually he became suspicious that Osho was somehow giving him a Zen stick. It was particularly common when traveling in rickshaws, where he would find himself bumping his head against the steel bars that held up the rickshaw’s plastic roof.

One day, while traveling in a rickshaw, Subhuti realized he was in a sarcastic mood and quickly slid down in his seat so that his head couldn’t be bumped. He thought he’d gained the upper hand on Osho. But, at that very moment, the rickshaw became involved in an accident and overturned!

Subhuti’s years in the Oregon commune at Rajneeshpuram – where he created The Rajneesh Times newspaper and also drove trucks – are brought to life with excellent knowledge about the outer and inner events that brought about the demise of the community.

His intriguing skill in describing both Pune and Oregon will also attract readers who don’t know much about Osho and sannyas. Subhuti nimbly refers to global events while keeping a fine balance between being in a mystery school and at the same time relating to the ‘normal’ world.

He also refers to Osho’s immense compassion:
“And still, sometimes, when I look back at everything that happened, I shake my head in wonder at the way Bhagwan carried out his self-appointed mission to awaken those around him. Knowing all the trouble it would cause, knowing he would be misunderstood, knowing that he would be dismissed as a charlatan and a fraud… he did it anyway, and he did it with humour, style and a scattering of four-letter words.
“I’m glad I was around. It’s been a privilege to ride the tiger, to have my eyes opened, to dance with a madman.”