had quickly given way to a pleasant weightlessness, a sense of blissful detachment. She’d imagined herself six years old again, playing in the front room of her grandfather’s big house in Kathmandu with her old Kumari doll.
Up on the stage, the circle of lights behind Maharaj Swa-mi’s head had begun to spin around faster and faster, until they seemed almost liquid. She’d felt suddenly overcome with emotion, unable to control the tears that had streamed down her face or the impulse to laugh out loud.
But gradually the effects of the hallucinogen had started to wear off. And as Facecream had regained control of her faculties, she’d had the presence of mind to turn events to her advantage.
Her dramatic exclamations and subsequent fainting had fooled even Puri, who had given her a couple of stinging slaps and called for a glass of water.
A crowd had gathered, straining, peering, and then Facecream had started babbling excitedly about how ‘a kind of awesome celestial light’ had ‘like, flooded out of Swami-ji’ and filled her with ‘such warmth and belonging’.
“I could feel this energy pulsing through me. It was like I was actually part of the cosmos.”
Maharaj Swami had invited her up onstage, where he had ‘interpreted’ her vision for his congregation.
“Queenie has been given a taste of the Universal Nectar,” he’d announced. “Through this experience she will come to understand her true potential and comprehend the ultimate reality. Her purpose, like all of your purposes, is to achieve moshka, unity with God.
“God is like the ocean,” he’d continued. “But like raindrops taken up by clouds, you have become separated from Him. For so long you have drifted through the sky. Sometimes feeling light, other times dark and angry. But always aimless, with no purpose. Never happy. Now it is time to complete your journey. It is a long, difficult one with many obstacles. You must be prepared to go through transitions and purify yourself like water falling on the mountain and passing through rock. Those who are lazy and become distracted by worldly things will get trapped in stagnant pools deep beneath the earth. Those who overcome their own egos will join tributaries and eventually great rivers. This way leads back to the all-embracing Ocean where you will experience everlasting love.”
“I had, like, no idea, Swami-ji!” Facecream had gushed. “Thank you! Thank you so much. You’ve opened my eyes!”
The devotional singing and chanting had struck up again. And then Maharaj Swami had made a final pronouncement before bringing the darshan to an end.
“From this day forth,” he’d declared, “you will be known as Mukti. It means ‘salvation’.”
Queenie had been reborn.
Facecream took a shower and changed into the white kurta and sarong that were now an integral part of her new identity as a dedicated, impressionable disciple. She forwent makeup, applied a red bindi to her forehead and pulled her long hair back into a discreet ponytail. The only reminder of the old Queenie – iPods, mobile phones and Jimmy Choos being banned in the ashram – was her Raspberry Rapture nail varnish.
She knew from the induction briefing she had been given yesterday evening that her roommates – all young Indian women – were attending the yoga and meditation sessions held every morning. Facecream decided to go and walk around the grounds in order to get a better lay of the land. But she had forgotten that silence was observed throughout the ashram until ten o’clock. And as she greeted some of her fellow devotees on the stairs with a ‘namashkar’, they all put their index fingers to their lips and frowned.
Making her way out through the front doors of the residence hall, stunned momentarily by the bright sunshine and the sticky heat, she came face-to-face with one of her roommates. A bossy young woman, she gave Facecream a disapproving look, took her by the hand and led her over to the gazebo.
There, amidst pin-drop silence, some two hundred devotees sat meditating.
Facecream found a place at the back, seated herself on one of the rush mats and closed her eyes.
Thirty minutes of meditation was part of her usual daily constitution, and after all the clamor of yesterday, she welcomed the opportunity to declutter and refresh her mind.
She could not help but wonder, though, whether Bossy had been standing outside the residence hall waiting for her.
After the session was over, the devotees all made their way to the food hall, which was actually a big tent, and Facecream joined her roommates for a midmorning snack of curd mixed with chopped papaya, apple, pomegranate and a little spicy masala.
Conversation now being permitted, they all chatted away, introducing one another and telling their individual stories, and the mechanics of the group soon became clear.
By far the most assertive personality was Bossy, who was from Mumbai and had been living at the ashram for more than a year. Anorexic and neurotic, she spoke about Maharaj Swami as if no one else understood him as well as she did.
“You’re not the only one to have been given a vision,” she told Facecream. “Others have been chosen, including myself and Damayanti.” She was referring to another member of the group, a nervous, pretty twenty- five-year-old. “Swami-ji moves in mysterious ways. At times he will provoke a change in someone by giving them a tiny glimpse of the ultimate reality so that others can observe their reaction and behavior and witness the all- dominating ego at work. Not everything is always as it seems.”
Facecream thought it wise to listen attentively to what she had to say, at least for now, and occasionally mouthed platitudes like “Wow, that’s so interesting!”
But no one else could get a word in edgewise and everyone seemed relieved when Bossy stood to go. As the spokesperson for Maharaj Swami’s Committee for Poverty Reduction, she had important work to attend to.
“Come,” Bossy told another of the roommates, a twenty-two-year-old. “You’ve got yoga in ten minutes. You shouldn’t be late.”
The younger woman hadn’t finished her breakfast but obediently put down her bowl and said: “You’re right, didi, I should get going,” and the two left together.
The three remaining girls were Priyanka, Meghna and Damayanti.
Although not as assertive as Bossy, they, too, spoke of little else but Maharaj Swami and his teachings and their own spiritual journeys.
“I searched for so long for a true master,” said Meghna, a southerner from Mangalore. “I tried them all: Sai, Sadhguru, Amma, Sri Sri. So many. Unlike the others, Swami-ji wasn’t so distant or boring. When I met him for the first time it was like I got an electric shock. I swear my hair stood on end. I felt totally inconsequential, this tiny speck in the universe, and yet I knew that God had brought me to his true representative.”
Priyanka claimed that as a child her father had often beat her. “Then a kindly man started appearing in my dreams,” she said. “I didn’t know it was Swami-ji because I didn’t recognize him. He told me that he would protect me and that my father was in pain and that I should forgive him. Then one day I saw a picture of Swami-ji in a magazine and I recognized him and so I came here. Later on, I persuaded my father to join me, and Swami-ji agreed to see him. He had a private audience. Apparently before Swami-ji said one word, Papa broke down in tears. Swami-ji helped him get rid of all of his negative energy and anger. Nowadays he’s a completely changed person.”
“Some people are saying, like, Swami-ji called on the goddess Kali to kill that guy, you know that old man in Delhi who was preaching against him. You think that’s true?” asked Facecream.
“Nothing would surprise me. He’s very powerful,” answered Priyanka.
“No way! Swami-ji would never hurt anyone,” said Meghna.
Damayanti, whose parents were also both devotees and along with their daughter often stayed in the ashram for weeks on end, had said little thus far. But now in a quiet voice she asked Facecream what had brought her to the ashram.
“It wasn’t my choice,” she answered. “This is, like, the last place I thought I wanted to be. My pa made me come. But now I’m really glad he did. I mean, I’ve never experienced anything like it. It’s so awesome. It makes me feel so, like, in touch with myself, you know?”
“There is a shloka in the Bhagavad Gita that says, ‘The guru appears when the disciple is ready’,” said Priyanka.
“You’re very lucky. Few are blessed with so much attention as Swami-ji bestowed upon you,” said Meghna
