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Chapter 4 - Transcendence brings buddhahood
Love should be deep caring. One should not think in terms of food, things, of eating, biting
-- these are ugly expressions.
But India lives in all kinds of needs. Hence, sex also becomes only a need, at the most, a release, a tranquilizer -- the same kind of release that you feel when you have a good sneeze: some burden, some tension is gone. But there is no fulfillment in it, there is no rejoicing in it.
Indians make love as if they are thieves, as if they are doing something wrong. They make love as if they are going against God, as if they are committing some sin.
Of course they have to make love because that is a need. And it can only be a need unless their other needs are fulfilled. When all the needs are fulfilled, love starts having a totally different dimension to it -- the dimension of fun, the dimension of dance and music. Then you are not using it as a relaxation, as a tranquilizer, as a sneeze; you start sharing. Love becomes more prominent, sex becomes secondary. When it is a need, love is just a word, sex is the only thing, the reproductive activity is the only thing.
And you know it -- it is a well-known fact scientifically observed all over the world -- that poor people produce more children. Why? They don't have any other possibilities of entertaining themselves. They don't have the idiot box, the TV -- they cannot sit glued in their chair for six hours. They don't have a chair, in fact! They don't have the money to go to a hotel to participate in some celebration, to go to a movie, to drink alcohol, to dance, sing... All the possibilities are closed. The whole tiredness of the day, the routine work, the continuity of the same rut... The only possibility, a free amusement available to them, is sex. That becomes their last act in the day. So before going to sleep, they religiously devote, one, two minutes to it, and then they fall asleep like logs.
The newly-married couple were entertaining a bachelor in the den of their
suburban home, when the conversation turned to sexual morality.
"Since you claim to be so liberal," the Indian bachelor challenged the husband, "would you let me kiss your wife's breasts for a thousand rupees?"
Not wishing to seem prudish, and needing the extra money, the couple agreed, and the wife removed her blouse and bra. Then pressing his face between her breasts the chap nestled there for several minutes, until the husband grew impatient to complete the deal. "Go ahead and kiss them," he urged the bachelor.
"I would love to," the fellow sighed, "but I really can't afford it."
The question is whether you can afford anything else... Hence, to the Indian mind, sex remains an animal act. It never rises to the realms of poetic beauty, it never becomes love. So whenever you talk to the Indian about love, he immediately understands you to be talking about sex. "Love" is immediately, automatically translated as "sex." It is impossible to talk to the Indian about love. This is my experience of talking to millions of Indians all over the country. Talk about love, and by the time the word reaches them it is no longer love, it becomes sex.
They know only sex. Love has no other connotation for them. It is such a misunderstanding -- one feels almost helpless. Talking to Indians is really troublesome.
Osho - The Goose is Out 49
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