The Abode of Yoga

Since December 2001, when I first read Sevika's allegations of sexual misconduct by Guru, I assumed the allegations were true. Perhaps it was my young legal mind at work, but I knew that if I could come to grips with the possibility that Guru had been having sex -- with his disciples no less -- then I would be better able to conduct the kind of sober, long-term analysis that I had thought would eventually be necessary. It's that process -- the way in which I tried to reach an accommodation in my own mind between the Guru I had known and experienced and the very different Guru described by a handful of female disciples -- that I had originally wanted to explore with this memoir. The little discussion there is online about Guru seemed (and still seems) so partisan. Nothing I had read expressed the more nuanced, more complicated, understanding of Guru that I (and perhaps a few others) had come to. Everything was black and white -- I was looking for the more realistic shades of gr

The most remarkable disciple I've ever met is -- without question -- Databir. Nobody else comes close. In my early days as a disciple, when I was still living in California and only dreaming of life with my guru in New York, silent meditation was my forte. It was the one thing that I was extremely good at right from the start, and if you'll pardon the conceit, I thought I was better at it than most of the other disciples I observed. You might fairly ask, how could I know that I was "better" at it than the others I observed? I don't have a good answer for that question. I didn't understand it myself -- I just knew. It was part of the gift, I suppose. Like Sri Ramakrishna was fond of saying, it was like one hemp smoker always being able to recognize another hemp smoker, even across a crowded room. In any event, that psychic communion time was precious to me. As I moved to New York, however, I began to worry that, unless I was careful, I'd lose myself in the

Emotions -- whether justified or not -- are the biggest hurdle to thinking objectively. I've found this to be true in my law practice. Sometimes, parties to a lawsuit hate each other so much that they'd prefer to pay their lawyers to continue the lawsuit rather than pay one another to settle the case. In such circumstances, I often find myself playing two roles. On the one hand, I must show my client support. The last thing he wants to hear -- while paying me lots of his hard earned money -- is any sympathy from me for his opponent. In this regard, I sometimes need to do a little hand holding, to give my client a shoulder to cry on, to let my client know that I'm in his corner no matter what. On the other hand, however, I'm not being paid to be a yes man. I'm being paid for my best professional advice, which in turn requires me to be objective. I'm not being paid to tell my client what he wants to hear, but rather what he needs to hear. This is true particular

I got an email the other day that reminded me of a story I had forgotten about. The email came from the brother of a longtime disciple who is still in the Center. Apparently, their mother's health is declining. Having lost touch with his sister, the brother wrote me hoping that perhaps I could help him get the message to his sister. His sister is Akuli. When I first met Akuli, her name was "Mirriam." She was a mousy girl who worked seemingly endless hours at Annam Brahma for little money. Then one day, she disappeared. It turned out that -- like my old friend Pulin -- "Mirriam's" family had her kidnapped by deprogrammers . Unlike Pulin, however, there was never any concerted effort made to find "Mirriam" and get her back, that I had been aware of anyway. I suspect this was because almost as soon as she was discovered missing, she was back among us. As it turned out, "Mirriam" had taken a different approach with her captors than Pulin ha

A knock against Ranjana -- never loudly voiced -- had always been her seemingly ever growing circle of assistants. At least that was true when I was living in New York ('85-'90). Even then, she commanded the allegiance of a large segment of the local female disciples and was making inroads amongst some of the men as well. Her influence began at Divine Robe Supreme, a clothing and sari shop that she managed (and perhaps owned), which was dedicated to outfitting the local women disciples. (Guys could also buy their whites there.) Women, it was said, could expect some bad juju if they were found to be wearing saris not purchased at Divine Robe. Ranjana's more direct influence over many of the more dedicated women disciples came with her stewardship of the "Jharna-Kala girls." Guru called his art " Jharna-Kala " or fountain-art in Bengali. The Jharna-Kala girls were basically in charge of managing Guru's art and exploiting it for commercial purposes: m