Deferred Enlightenment: One man's wild journey from Ithaca to the ashrams of India

Nick Reynolds
Ithaca.com
March 9, 2018

“God was shorter than I thought he’d be. Even though it was quite a warm day for the end of March, he was bundled up as if he were on a visit to the North Pole. Over his orange silks he wore a bulky, bright red down jacket. His head was covered by a knitted orange woolen ski hat, and around his neck was a matching scarf. He was followed out of the limo by the siblings, Suresh and Anjali.

The chant reached a crescendo. Baba Rudrananda entered the building, flanked by his two young Indian disciples. With a wave of his hand, he motioned for the musicians to stop playing. Within a few seconds, the chanting ended. Rudrananda greeted the devotees with folded hands and the call, “Jai Gurudev!”

“Jai Gurudev!” cheered the crowd. Then there was silence, as if everyone in the lobby were holding their breath in anticipation of what the guru might do next.”

–Robert Schneider, ‘The Guru’s Touch’

Decades after leaving the Indian village of Ganeshpuri and his life behind the thick walls of the ashram at its center, Robert Schneider is still coming to grips with the events that led him two oceans away from Ithaca as a young man in search of enlightenment, only to find a trauma that would shape his life forever.

His parents deceased at critical junctures in his life – his father, in a car crash at the age of seven and his mother, of cancer, one decade later – Schneider admitted himself to be in a vulnerable place in 1982, depressed, depleted and in search of something to fill the newly dug hole in his life. A child of Bayside, Queens, Schneider was left in limbo in Ithaca – his home of about ten years – in melancholy and seeking purpose. It was around that time he started listening to his brother.

Some time in the late-’70s, his older brother had dropped out of Cornell University, spending his days on his sister’s farm on Etna Road in a haze of pot smoke and a mystic’s vision of the world painted by philosopher Alan Watts, the polarizing author some credit with raising recognition of eastern religions in the west in the ‘50s and ‘60s. There, he met a young woman who, in her time in the Catskills, had studied under thelegendary guru Muktananda – considered the chief envoy of thethe Siddha Yoga Dham Movement in America – and imparted in him the principles of meditation and the path to enlightenment, which inspired him to pursue his own path toward unlocking his spiritual energy and transcendence of self.

“At first I thought my brother had joined a cult,” Schneider recalls. “We all did, and kind of laughed about it.”

In his vulnerability and longing, however, his brother’s words begun to offer something Schneider felt he was lacking. And one day, Schneider made his first trip up Buffalo Street and into the City Yoga Center, looking to begin his path toward a higher state of being: whatever that might have been.

“I think I was really looking for some kind of father figure, because I had lost my own father and then, my mother,” Schneider said. “I was just desperately miserable, and this gave me this kind of hope that if I followed this path, I could attain a transcendent state of consciousness behind this small presence of Bobby Schneider. That was the appeal – to follow this guru and attain this exalted state of consciousness.”

Seeking more and with some inheritance to spend, he left the city and college for the Catskills – the start of a four-year journey that would take him a world away to  a small river town in India and theBhagwan Nityanand Samadhi Mandir, where in search of transcendence he, instead, found trauma.

***

In both Hinduism and Buddhism, the guru, or spiritual teacher, has existed as long as disciples of the faith have practiced. But the greater idea of the guru – as a phenomenon – first begun to gain momentum in the 1960s, spurred into popular culture by academics like Watts and embracement by popular figures such as The Beatles, whose guitarist, George Harrison, drew heavily from Indian influences following the band’s 1966 U.S. tour, where he and then-wife Pattie Boyd went on a pilgrimage to Mumbai where Harrison studied sitar and met several gurus, including Maharishi – the most holy and enlightened of the gurus.

It was around that time, The Pluralism Project at Harvard University notes, that the termguru, or spiritual teacher, became a household word. However, in some sense the word did not carry a similar weight to what it did overseas, where merit and a pre-established hierarchy determined legitimacy.

“In India, it is taken for granted that some gurus are more genuine representatives of their traditions of learning than others,” they write, describing a phenomenon known as the “rush of gurus” into the United States. “In America, all had a chance to attract a following. Some came and went quickly, sometimes amidst controversy. Others came and settled into the American landscape, where their influence is still felt today.”

Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, the founder of transcendental meditation and the eventual guru of the Beatles, was among the first to arrive in 1965. That same year, Swami A.C. Bhaktivedanta Prabhupada – the founder of the Hare Krishnas, arrived in New York City, spreading his message to passersby in Tompkins Square Park. There were others whose impressions were short-lived, like that of Guru Maharaj-ji (best known for hisembarrassingly sparse rally at the Houston Astrodome in 1973, which was supposed to set forth a millenium of ceaseless peace) and Swami Satchidananda, best known for his appearance at Woodstock in 1969.

And then there was Swami Muktananda, whose founding of the Siddha Yoga Dham Movement in 1970 inspired thousands of followers and numerous ashrams throughout the country, including the center of the faith in New York State with his facility in Walden, New York, which would influence dozens of practitioners across the state eventually serve as a home to none other than Robert G. Schneider, an impressionable teen from Ithaca, New York.

***

Where many modern gurus of the era dealt their message with flash and awe, Schneider’s first steps on the road to enlightenment – seva – were spent in the kitchen and dishroom of the ashram, where, he befriended another young man who grew up in the ashram. His parents were devotees of the guru there – Swami Rudrananda – and given his background, Schneider assumed he would be extremely spiritual; assuming that someone who was born into the group must’ve been in this evolved state of consciousness. Instead, Schneider was offered a window into a world he had previously not been aware of.

Over the McDonalds they would steal away to eat, Schneider learned of the guru of one ashram embezzling money, or the story of a disciple of another ashram in Oakland, California being kicked out for the statutory rape of a 16-year-old girl only to return elsewhere in a similarly influential role. But wanting to believe in the path, Schneider denied it all – despite the inner conflict over his faith.

“ And I thought to myself these gurus, who were supposed to be omniscient, would’ve known that these were bad people... So I started to have these doubts,” Schneider said. “But I  would look for ways to justify it, or rationalize things. I thought the gurus were so compassionate, that they would let these people stay despite them being really bad, in order to keep them close to keep them from doing what they’re doing. I constantly knew that there was something wrong, but kept finding new ways to rationalize it.”

Still empty in his search, he looked toward the source, to India, and the promise of eventually finding something greater and, just 18-years-old, he booked a flight to Mumbai, bent on starting a new life. But it didn’t offer what he expected, and he said he never obtained any sort of elevated sense of consciousness while he was there. And then, one day, the illusion he’d believed in for so long vanished, and the news came out that the guru he had invested years of his youth following was molesting a lot of the young girls and older women in the ashram, a similar story to so many gurus of the era.

“He preached celibacy, so in order to attain this state of enlightenment, he said we should be celibate and conserve our sexual energy – our spiritual energy,” said Schneider. “To find out he wasn’t keeping his vows, wasn’t doing what he was teaching… that was very devastating.”

For many, our modern understanding of eastern religion comes from a place of warmth and romantic intrigue. In the popular memoir-turned major motion picture, ‘Eat, Pray, Love,’ we learn of the protagonist’s journey into the exotic depths of her own soul, “getting her groove back” via that “South Indian old lion” to find her inner self. Charming a story as it was, the truth, often buried behind the colorful spectacles and intrigue of the gurus’ public personas, was much uglier: the ‘old lion,’ like many religious leaders, was accused of hypocrisy, shadowed by allegations of child molestation and other detailed episodes of exploitation. Any combination of words in a search engine will give you a similar result – Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh,Bikram Choudhury, Asaram Bapu and even the great Muktananda himself – accused of similar crimes, their teachings mired in hypocrisy and scandal. Even Schneider himself – beaten for perceived incompetence or other motivations – said he saw a level of corruption to make him doubt his own beliefs to the point where he – now a Buddhist – left the way and the goal which once, had been his life’s work.

“I no longer have this goal of enlightenment,” he said. “I don’t even think I really believe in it anymore. For me, the most important aspect of Buddhism is ethical conduct and I certainly didn’t learn that in the first group. We were asked to do all these illegal things like smuggling, and there was a lot of exploitation going on, so I never learned ethics or kindness or compassion in the group.”

***

It wasn’t until 1989 and his application to New York University’s Film School – a continuation from his work as a cameraman in the ashram – that Schneider first thought to put his story to paper. First imagined as a screenplay, his pitch eventually gained him admission and was forgotten about, as he set to make a life for himself as a commercial filmmaker. Then something unique, that could only happen in the era of social media, happened: he reconnected with an old friend from his Ithacan adolescence, Manette Pottel, married her, and left Belgium, New York City and his previous pursuits behind to live with her, in Maine.

But he couldn’t leave the ashram behind. And, the story burning in his mind, Robert G. Schneider set to write a book.

He thought briefly to write a memoir and even, after the first draft of his novel, considered the thought further. But he had so much more to tell – Schneider wanted to capture it all, from the opulent hypocrisy of the worst of the mystics to bringing closure to his own trauma, reconciling his past with some sort of spiritual equilibrium that had proved elusive for so long. Most importantly, Schneider was in pursuit of a sort of deferred justice, an airing of wrongdoing and exploitation that, especially in the wake of events like the #MeToo Movement, seems all too timely. The final product is something remarkable.

Spanning more than 700 pages, Schneider’s book, ‘The Guru’s Touch,’ is a journey spanning from Ithaca and the campus of Cornell University to the deepest recesses of the far-east in a rollicking story that molds the best of bleeding heart memoirists with the hard-hitting social commentary most without first hand insight behind the scenes could ever hope to grasp at. Schneider’s book brings you as close as one can get to the purest image of the truth that can be distilled from a side of the Far East few of us ever have the opportunity to see, built largely on a caricature of the outsized illusions cast by the exploitative methods of the most shallow of the movement’s religious leaders. The process of writing the book – entailing five years since the couple’s 2012 marriage –  even took him back to India, to give Schneider the time to interview locals in Ganeshpuri, India, where the ashram was located.

But as thorough as the book is factually, the virtue of fiction actually allows Schneider to reach a more powerful of the truth: By casting a hybrid of himself and his brother as the protagonist and the antagonist – the fictional guru – as a mash-up of all the corrupt leaders to come before, Schneider sought to create the most accurate image of the phenomenon that was: a facade, appropriating a greater truth for selfish gains.

“What I found in so many religious groups, especially eastern religious groups, was the leader – the guru – tends to have these narcissistic, sociopathic tendencies,” said Schneider. “A lot of them are guilty of sex abuse and exploiting their devotees, and I wanted to write a whole indictment of this ‘institution of the guru,’ which I couldn’t have done with a memoir… since I was dealing with the successors, they weren’t guilty of the same crimes. They were guilty of others, though.”

In real-life, Schneider never got his revenge and for years, was left without closure. With this book, he said he sought not only reconciliation for his own confused past – the untimely death of his parents, his denied salvation, his missed chance for self enlightenment – and instead, wrote his story to share with the world, in the hope to not just reclaim lost opportunities of justice for himself, but others as well.

“Even though it’s a story that took place during the 1980s and even though Indian gurus may not be as popular in the west as they used to be,” Pottel said. “This book is really about men abusing their power and taking advantage of women in the ashram. It’s an indictment of rape culture, of a culture that privileged the powerful.”

http://www.ithaca.com/news/deferred-enlightenment-one-man-s-wild-journey-from-ithaca-to/article_fabb8644-2303-11e8-954d-672e2bc91aa5.html

Forget Charles Manson: Why Indian Gurus are a Cult Above the West

India’s godmen make billions, sway political fortunes, and hold entire cities to ransom – as the aftermath of Ram Rahim’s jailing shows. So what’s behind their unholy hold on the public imagination?

scmp.com
September 2, 2017

MORE THAN 250 people were injured and 38 died when violence broke out in parts of North India a week ago after a court found a popular guru called Gurmeet Ram Rahim guilty of rape. The guru’s followers ran amok, the local administration failed to control the violence (which had been widely predicted) and three days later,when Ram Rahim was sentenced to 20 years in prison, the verdict was not delivered in any court.

Instead, the judge and his entourage flew to Rohtak jail to announce the sentence. It was considered too dangerous to have any more proceedings in a courtroom because the threat of violence from Ram Rahim’s supporters was so great.

Why should a convicted rapist who claims to be a guru command such fanatical loyalty from his followers that they are willing to run riot in his name? Well, partly, it is the age-old global phenomenon of cults and their leaders. The followers of Charles Manson, Jim Jones and many other Western cult leaders have done much worse. All over the United States, violent cults dedicated to hatred (which they often cloak in the language of peace) have mushroomed over the past two decades.

But there is something specifically Indian about Ram Rahim and the phenomenon he has engendered. For a start, there’s the man himself. Loud, hairy and bombastic, he favours a blingy wardrobe that would make even the most flamboyant rapper blush. Nor is he an ascetic of any sort. He has produced movies starring himself in which he beats up villains and jiggles his mighty hips to Bollywood-type music. He chose the names of his movies himself. His most famous picture was modestly titled Messenger of God.

For most of India, Ram Rahim is a bizarre joke. And yet nobody can deny his influence or the loyalty he evokes in his followers. It was said a single directive from Ram Rahim could make his followers vote en masse to defeat a hostile candidate. So politicians have always flocked to him, seeking his blessing.

Even as the rape case was in court, regional ministers were reluctant to act against Ram Rahim’s supporters. This was one reason the violence that followed the judgment was so devastating: politicians had been too frightened to take preventive action against the thousands of Ram Rahim’s followers who had camped near the courthouse. And now the guru is in jail, each political party is busy leaking photos of its rivals supplicating before Ram Rahim in happier days.

There are few other countries where cult leaders command the same kind of influence as India’s gurus. Some of this can be attributed to the global cult phenomenon. But it also has its roots in the Indian tradition of the guru-shishya relationship. Unlike many religions, Hinduism has no clergy, no Vatican-like centre and no pope figure. Instead, the religion requires its followers only to look inward to find peace.

But there is also a tradition that gurus, or men (and it is nearly always men) who have reached advanced stages of consciousness or intellectual evolution can take disciples to whom they impart wisdom. And these disciples are required to blindly and obediently follow whatever the guru says.

The modern Indian guru phenomenon takes the most unpleasant elements of the Western cultist mentality and the Hindu tradition of total supplication before the teacher and gives it a pseudo-religious sanction. Though Hinduism makes it clear that no man can be a prophet, let alone a god, many of these gurus pervert that tradition and pass themselves off as semi-divine figures.

Some perform conjuring tricks, claim these are miracles and encourage their followers to believe they have god-like supernatural powers. This has led to the popularity of a peculiarly Indian term – the godman – to describe a guru whose followers believe he has divine powers.

The idea of a guru regarded as a saint by his followers is not new. But, as the author Arun Shourie points out in his recent book Two Saints, gurus who were venerated in an earlier era were respected for their goodness and simplicity. Most were ascetics who had turned their backs on material possessions and dedicated themselves to charity or social service.

By the 1960s however, a new kind of guru emerged: the sort of godman who, far from abjuring material possessions, actually used them to impress his followers. The late Sathya Sai Baba, the most influential godman of the 20th century would conjure up Omega watches out of thin air. His followers regarded this as a miracle.

While Sai Baba was a controversial figure, his followers included top scientists, intellectuals and even presidents of India. And whatever one thought of his miracles, he did encourage his followers to donate generously to the hospitals, colleges and other charitable ventures he established.

But the world of godmen can be competitive. In 1966, when Sai Baba first came to prominence, he was denounced as a fake by Hatha Yogi, another guru/yogi. Hatha Yogi declared only he was the real deal. He could even walk on water, he boasted. A large tank was constructed by public subscription and television crews from all over the world arrived to watch the Yogi match Jesus’ water-walk. Sadly, he sunk to the bottom of the tank with his very first step. Later, Hatha Yogi said Sai Baba had cursed him.

Another of Sai Baba’s contemporaries, Muktananda, attracted celebrity followers from the West and the Indian film industry. But when he died, having chosen a brother and sister as his joint successors, a fierce row broke out at the ashram. The sister’s camp accused the brother of sleeping with American devotees. The brother said his sister’s followers had abducted and assaulted him. Eventually the sister won. She is the guru referred to in the memoir of American author Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love.

The Muktanandas and Sai Babas eventually made way for another kind of guru: the political wheeler-dealer.

The trend was started by then-prime minister Indira Gandhi in the 1970s when she promoted Dhirendra Brahmchari, who was, apparently, her yoga teacher. The state-run TV network (at the time, the only one in India) broadcast the yogi’s lessons every week (from all accounts, he knew his yoga) and the Brahmchari (a term which also implies celibacy, which may have been a bit of a stretch in this case) became India’s most famous yogi. He was such an important figure in Gandhi’s court he was nicknamed the “Rasputin of Delhi” and became a fully fledged political fixer, making use of his proximity to the prime minister.

All gurus have one major advantage: because they are supposed to be holy men, people are reluctant to treat them with obvious disrespect. The pushier ones use this “holy” status to gain access to the mighty and the wealthy. For two decades, India’s most notorious godman/guru was a racketeer with no real mass following, who did not even pretend to understand Hindu philosophy.

Born Nemi Chand Jain and arrested on fraud charges, he quickly changed his name to Chandra Swami, began wearing saffron and gained access to some of the world’s richest people. For many years, he was close to the Muslim Sultan of Brunei, one of the world’s richest men, and the centre of a dispute between two billionaires, Tiny Rowland and Mohamed al-Fayed, for control of Harrods, the famous London store. Chandra Swami later went into business with Adnan Khashoggi, a Saudi arms dealer, and mingled with US congressmen.

When his global ambitions faded, he returned to India, becoming extremely close to two successive Indian prime ministers: Chandra Shekhar and Narasimha Rao. Through it all, he was regularly denounced and exposed in the press across three continents. Yet it made no difference to his hold on political leaders. Eventually though, his luck ran out and he was arrested by the Indian police.

Less global in scope but no less extraordinary is the saga of Asaram Bapu, a millionaire godman with a dedicated (not to say, fanatical) following. Such was Asaram’s importance and wealth at his peak that he could film himself dancing with an Indian prime minister and grant audiences to top politicians. But the law caught up with him. He is now in jail on rape charges. His wealth may be intact, though. His followers routinely organise expensive social media blitzes during which they allege his arrest is part of a “campaign against Hindu saints”.

Most extraordinary of all is the saga of Baba Ramdev. He first came to prominence on a cable TV channel dedicated to “devotional content”. Like Dhirendra Brahmachari before him, he knew his yoga and within a few years became a national figure, rubbing shoulders with top politicians.

His first instincts were to go into politics himself. But when his attempts to run an anti-corruption campaign did not go as planned, Ramdev decided to go into business instead. He had already sold a successful line of organic and yoga-related products. But he was daring enough to enter the fast-moving consumer goods sector, taking on such a global giants as Unilever, Colgate and Nestle.

At first, when he talked big (“they will wet their pants,” he declared, in his usual not-very-holy rhetorical style) the multinational corporations laughed. But to their horror, Ramdev’s products became hugely successful, seriously threatening their market shares. His revenues seem to double every year and although Ramdev says he is much too holy to hold any assets in his own name, his partner/companion/friend Balkrishna (who owns everything, at least on paper) is worth US$3.8 billion, making him one of India’s richest businessmen.

So forget about Jim Jones and Charles Manson. India’s gurus are no mere cult leaders. They sway the electoral fortunes of political parties. They hold entire cities to ransom. And they can become billionaires in a few short years. None of it has anything to do with Hinduism, one of the world’s greatest religions, its traditions abused by these men. It’s just business. And, by God, it works!

http://www.scmp.com/week-asia/society/article/2109392/forget-charles-manson-why-indian-gurus-are-cult-above-west

Response to SYDA's letter denouncing the Salon.com article about Eat Pray Love and Siddha Yoga

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Deniers

I personally knew many of the people who have commented on this letter, and who were and are trustees. I personally know that they know the facts about Siddha Yoga. I know that they know the following:

• that Swami Muktananda was a sexual predator who molested scores of women, including minor girls, lied about it, and threatened those who told the truth with violence;
• that Gurumayi, Muktananda's successor after his death, encouraged and enjoyed a campaign of harassment and violence against her brother when she wanted to remove him from power within the organization;
• that Gurumayi routinely lied to her followers, had her followers spied upon, and publicly humiliated followers by revealing information they had shared with her privately;
• that Gurumayi blamed young women in the ashram for what happened to them when they were seduced and molested by male leaders there, and protected and defended the molesters.

These are just a few of the more concrete abuses that can be cited. More difficult to describe is the environment of intimidation, the belligerence, the control over every aspect of the followers lives, the exploitation of workers who are expected to work endless hours without pay or benefits and yet made to feel guilty and ashamed for never giving enough.

Additionally, the premise that there is a human being, in this case Gurumayi, who is self-proclaimed to be a "fully realized master" means what? that everyone else who is not a "realized master" is inferior to her? Such a premise is simply a means by which Gurumayi profits through the subjugation of others who have come to believe that they too can have a little piece of that superior status. All you have to do is follow the leader, no matter where she leads.

Sure, VIPs, or SCs as they are known in the ashram (Special Consideration guests) like Elizabeth Gilbert, wouldn't see any of this or have a clue. They do not have exposure to the hidden world of the inner circles around Gurumayi. The rich and famous get the sanitized Siddha Yoga. Folks without money willing to devote their lives to what they think of as a true religion get a very different experience.

I know that these trustees and many of these followers personally know of all these abuses and so much more deception, corruption and abuse, from the earliest days of Swami Muktananda, to the present. That they continue to choose to deny these facts is tragic, but also despicable. SYDA sells spiritual enlightenment through devotion to the guru, at a very steep price: your integrity, your moral values, and your independent and critical thinking. And after you give all those things up, and delude yourself into thinking you are still aspiring toward enlightenment, your only choices are either to tell the truth and leave Siddha Yoga - or stay and become a denier and defender of abuse, exploitation and corruption.  The facts that SYDA and its apologists want to deny are readily available in media articles and personal testimonies. See the website that I maintain at www.leavingsiddhayoga.net.

Since I left Siddha Yoga, I receive an endless stream of hate mail from the deniers - I'm sure more of that will follow this post. That's what Siddha Yoga spirituality is about - vilify critics, deny abuse, and keep filling those Swiss bank accounts. Caveat Emptor!

Daniel Shaw Nyack, NY

Book Review: Daughters of the Goddess

Book Review: Daughters of the Goddess: The Women Saints of India. Linda Johnsen. Yes International, St. Paul, MN, 1994, 128 pages.

The myths of India are rife with female goddesses both terrifying and placid. From the blood-filled mouth of Durga to the generous beneficence of Lakshmi, the varieties of religious experience are conveyed through graphic images. In Linda Johnsen's naïve treatise on women "saints" in India, we get a true believer's take on a few individuals who have become well known in today's spiritual marketplace. Goddess worship is embraced by many "New Age" Westerners as the cutting edge of millennial spirituality; yet, it often ignores the ancient traditions of the East. Those Westerners, both male and female, who idealize their teacher's status as divine risk getting caught up in a culture they neither understand nor have fully explored. It is often the exotic or eccentric that gets mistaken for the Divine.

Much of what is laid out in the early part of the book are anecdotes and stories handed down by teachers to convey the difficulties that women have had to confront in a culture where roles were, and to a great extent still are, defined by men. Where those individuals triumphed over the disapproval of the society around them, it is a testament to their courage and determination to realize their spiritual goals at all cost. Unfortunately, Johnsen gives credence to some individuals who represent a "tradition" with a controversial history. A case in point is the group led by Gurumayi Chidvilasanada, Sidha Yoga, founded by Swami Muktananda, who reportedly took advantage of young female disciples while acting as guru and spiritual teacher. Muktananda is revered to this day by Gurumayi and her many followers.

In contrast, it was refreshing to read of Anandi Ma's exhortation to test the teacher "a thousand times"; yet, "Once you have accepted no questions to be asked. Then you follow." In the environment around the teacher, it is often difficult, if not impossible, to express one's concern without being ostracized. This leads many to "jump into" a group they hope has all the answers without looking critically at the history and qualifications of the teacher.

Among others whom Johnsen has confidently proclaimed saints is Ammachi, a simple woman who speaks no English, yet has thousands of Western devotees. Her elementary charm and emotional singing at first glimpse seem innocent enough. Yet, controversy has swirled around her in India, where questions about the management of an orphanage she founded raise concern about the integrity of her mission. Also described is Maya Amma, an avadhut, or unconventional sage, whose age is estimated at 80 years, and who "does not bother about any of the material concerns of the rest of us, including clothing." She roams Southern India with a pack of half-wild dogs. To the faithful, this is a sign of her commitment to a life of nonattachment. Unfortunately, such behavior on the part of gurus along with the devotional and unquestioning attitudes of some followers leaves me concerned for those individuals impressed by the "exciting atmosphere" created around these individuals.

Johnsen is a good storyteller who engages the reader in her fascination with the people and culture of India. What I found lacking is a healthy dose of skepticism and balance. Giving oneself over to any "saint"--male or female--carries with it certain risks, and each group should be thoroughly researched. Johnsen's work can be only a part of that research.

Joseph Kelly

Thought Reform Consultant

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

       

Cultic Studies Journal, Vol. 14, No. 1, 1997