Daya
THE SONGS OF DAYA. She was a contemporary of Meera and Sahajo, but she is far more profound than either of them. She is really beyond numbers. Daya is a little cuckoo -- but don't be worried.... In fact in India the cuckoo is called koyal, and it does not have the meaning of being nuts. Daya is really a cuckoo -- not nuts, but a sweet singer like the Indian koyal. On an Indian summer night, the distant call of the cuckoo; that's what Daya is... a distant call in the hot summer of this world.
I have spoken on her; perhaps someday it will be possible to translate it. But I am afraid it may not be possible, because how can one translate these poets and singers? The East is pure poetry, and the West and all its languages are all prose, pure prose. I have never come across real poetry in English. Sometimes I listen to the great classical Western musicians... the other day I was listening to Beethoven, but I had to stop in the middle. Once you have known Eastern music then there is nothing comparable to it. Once you have heard the Indian bamboo flute then everything else is just ordinary.
So I don't know whether these singers, poets and madmen of whom I have spoken in Hindi will ever be translated, but I cannot resist mentioning their names. Perhaps the very mentioning will create the situation for their being translated.
-Osho, "Books I Have Loved, #12"
Daya has trodden the path and is acquainted with it. She has left no stone unturned on that path. She has died in the dust of the path. Treading on the path, traveling on the path she has become empty in every way. Now just the fragrance of the path is there. That very fragrance has appeared in her small verses.
Daya belongs to those devotees who have left no information about themselves. They drowned so much in singing songs of the divine that no time was left for leaving information. Just the name is known.
Now what is special about a name? Any name would do. But one thing is certain, she has remembered the name of her master -- she has sung songs of the divine and remembered the name of her master. Her master was Charandas; his two disciples -- Sahajo and Daya. Charandas has called them his two eyes.
Both remained in his service their whole life. When you have found the master, service is the discipline; just to be close is enough. Whether they practised anything else is not known. But this is enough. If someone has achieved, it is enough to be with him. When you pass through a garden, your clothes catch the fragrance of the flowers. If you are with the one who has known, your being catches the fragrance. The fragrance flows, spreads. So they must have been massaging his feet, preparing food for the master, fetching water, doing just small errands.
There is not much of a difference between their verses either. The master is the same, so whatever has flown through them cannot be very different. Both drank from the same cup -- the same taste.
And they come from the same village, in the same region that Meera came from. Blessed is that region, because no other region has the prerogative of giving birth to three women mystics together.
-Osho, "Early Talks, #9" (Translated from BIN GHAN PARAT PHUHAR)