The Buddha had some wise insights into the means for getting to know another thoroughly. While the text that inspired this blog entry is more of a chapter in general wisdom of life, the principles certainly apply in examining a prospective guru — which has been the subject of many a discussion (also ongoing at Vilasa Kunja).

One should, he says, over a long period of time, attentively and with discernment, assess another's virtues by living together with him, assess his purity by dealing with him, assess his endurance at times of adversity, and assess his discernment through discussions. Then, there are four means of verification for four virtues.

Through living together for a long time, one will learn of the consistency or lack thereof of a person's nature. It is only too easy to put up a pleasant facade on a temporary basis. Time proves one's nature, as hardly anyone will want to spend extended periods of time upholding a facade unless the gains attainable are truly remarkable; for effort put into upholding a show must stay in proportion to the gains it aims for.

Through various interactions over a period of time, one will come to learn whether a person has different faces for different occasions. For example, one may observe that the person speaks in one way to one disciple and in another to a second, and yet in a different way to different kinds of groups of people to suit his purposes. For he is saintly whose thoughts, words and deeds are in unison in all circumstances.

Through observing behavior in adversity, one comes to see the base nature of a person. In absence of disturbances, anyone may put on a peaceful and saintly character. However, struck by aversity the inner, hidden desires of the person surface, just as a parrot will forget the human language in the claws of a cat. It is only in such times that concealed anger, envy, hatred and delusion come to rear their ugly heads.

Through alertness to the course of discussion, one comes to understand the wisdom expression capacity of a person. A person may be saintly indeed in conduct, but if he is unable to resolve doubts satisfactorily, to handle issues in peaceful dispassion, and to make the subject matter clearly and conclusively understood, he will not be very useful in the capacity of a teacher.

Discussed in Thana Sutta of Anguttara-nikaya.

My earlier note on misleading in the Knocking on the Cocoon entry led some to wonder what exactly I meant with that. Let's let that be clarified.

There is no doubt that the vast majority of things I've ever said in public fall within the proper framework of orthodox Gaudiya Vaisnavism. In fact, leaving the work I've done in this regard as one of my legacies is something I am quite content about, even if there would undoubtedly be room for improvement in many ways. What's in the books is in the books, and what the tradition here teaches is what they teach, and I have my level best represented the same. As such, my note on misleading was not tied with my being able to make accurate presentations on the different facets of Gaudiya Vaisnavism.

The problem comes when we enter the realm of applied Gaudiya Vaisnavism. The moment when people come and ask, "Okay, now what does this mean for me?". Having people place their faith in your advice, and thereby your assuming a degree of personal responsibility over it, is a lot more serious business than theoretical presentations can ever be. And it is in this very realm that I feel the dire presence of my shortcomings.

Some would opine that the former is still valuable, and that I could do much in that realm if I wanted to. In my experience, the first quite inevitably leads eventually to the second, and my nature makes it hard for me to refuse from helping people when help is called for. With this quirk of nature, I have often over-extended myself, and at times perhaps beyond the permissible limit, in attempts to facilitate others.

And I am decidedly not comfortable doing just half the job with something like this! This attitude isn't something I can thoroughly explain, nor is it something I would be inclined to debate about or enter into dialog over. The heart is the heart, and it feels as it does, and very few are those who would be able to adjust its fundamentals, especially if done with a pragmatic objective. It's only so long one can go against the current of one's heart.

This should give the statement on misleading a bit more of a context.

As a postscriptum to the entry on siksa-gurus, if it wasn't evident, then let me note that I am not talking "from the book" in, for example, listing different reasons why the diksa-guru might not be able to teach as much as desired. I am talking about experiences, observations and real life.

After speaking doctrine for many years, and before eventually withdrawing to solitude, I wish to make this one last contribution, namely my observations on how doctrine translates into practical reality. With that, I am not suggesting that anyone should follow my example, insights or anything else depending on my estimations. Process the information, make of it what you will, take the bits that would help you steer on a good course.

And should the inevitable happen, that is, someone writing and asking, "Now, given all that, what should I do?", please be aware that I will have no specific answer for you. My answer is this: Study everything carefully and be ever observant, know the principles and demand coherence from practical application, be thoroughly honest with yourself, and don't shy away from making moves that seem right or necessary for you, even if it means going against the mainstream. In your integrity lies your salvation, not in ritual confessions or obligatory conformance.

Some readers have wondered as to why one might accept a siksa-guru while the diksa-guru is still present. There are also a number of other considerations that are in place on the under-explored theme of the siksa-guru.

Among the first five limbs of bhakti we find kRSNa-dIkSAdi-zikSaNam, "Initiation in Krishna-mantra and so on, and teaching." While the giving of the mantra is certainly also a kind of teaching, a dual necessity is indicated; otherwise, the mere mentioning of diksa would have sufficed. From that, one may understand that subsequent teaching is a necessity.

Sometimes the diksa-guru may fulfill two roles, that of the initiator and that of the teacher. Sometimes the diksa-guru may fulfill the task of the teaching in a more general manner, such as through public discourses not given specifically for any particular individual disciple. Sometimes the diksa-guru may not teach much at all.

There may be many reasons for why a diksa-guru may not assume a substantial and practical responsibility for individual follow-up with the initiate, tutoring him in his day-to-day bhajana, observing his progress and his shortcomings, holding him by the hand if you will in teaching the systematic methods of devotional activity. For example:

• The guru may have a great quantity of disciples, in which case following up on each individual will turn into a practical impossibility in terms of the guru's time and mental capacity.
• The guru may be old and fatiqued, and as such no longer possess the stamina to tend to the task.
• The disciple may, observing either or both of the above two reasons, feel that he does not wish to add to the burden of the guru by detailed inquiries.
• The guru and the disciple may be living far apart, or there may be a language barrier that makes communication difficult.
• The guru may have departed before an adequate amount of teaching was given.
• The guru may be so immersed in the ecstacy of his own bhajana as to be removed from the practical realities of life, and may assume that bhajana is as "free-flowing" for the disciple as it is for him.
• The guru and the disciple may have differing mindsets, leading to cumbersome and even strenuous communications owing to the difference in temperament or cultural background.
• The disciple may run into conflict with the senior disciples or the ashram management of the guru, and hence also end up with a distant relationship with him.
• The guru may think of the disciple as unfit for detailed instruction, initiating with a view that the disciple may at least make some pious merit and continue in a future life.

Whatever the reasons be, if someone feels the need for further and more detailed personal teaching, and if he has concluded after persistent endeavors that it is not available from the diksa-guru to the desired capacity, the only logical option is to find a supplementary teacher for further guidance. If a student doesn't learn well enough in the public school for one reason or another, a private tutor needs to be hired. Each individual must assess his and her own personal need and act accordingly. Making judgments on others' decisions is not a skillful thing to do, as we generally lack the means to look into others' hearts, not understanding their stage of development and corresponding inner necessities.

In this vein, I'd also like to note that I am not too inclined to discuss in a public text my own reasons for having accepted siksa-gurus in the past. First of all, since the reasons are particular to me, knowing them wouldn't be of much use for others; it would only perhaps make for some good spiritual voyeurism. Second, there are many gurubhais who may have diverging experiences or opinions, and making any statements on this could easily lead to misunderstandings.

The relationship with the siksa-guru should be understood as being complementary to the relationship with the diksa-guru. In some cases this relationship may, in contrast to the diksa-relationship, become more dominent in its spiritual impact; if not for differing levels of the gurus' realization (which isn't something one ought to venture into guessing, anyway), just owing to the sheer volume of time and teaching available from the siksa-guru, which may be dozen-fold in comparison. One may also feel that the special attention of the siksa-guru, his commitment to one's progress, is a powerful aid and inspiration in devotional life.

The fourth among the five initial limbs of bhakti is vizrambhena guroH sevA, "intimate service of the guru", the rendering of various personal services that draw the special goodwill of the guru for the blessing of the disciple. Where spending more time in the personal company of the guru is a reality, evidently this limb of devotion is also more practicable.

Unfortunately in practice it is sometimes seen that an immature siksa-guru will turn to (often subtly) denigrating the diksa-guru to "be the king of the hill", to grab the whole pie of the disciple's devotion to enjoy the natural benefits that follow. Conversely, it may also happen that an immature diksa-guru may be jealous of another senior practitioner qualified to act as a siksa-guru. These are troubling matters that tend to raise their heads in communities where even many elders are yet to see the farther shore of devotional maturity.

One question is whether one should seek the approval of the diksa-guru for accepting a siksa-guru. There is no one size fits all answer to this, given that there are a myriad of factors that may weigh in. I'll not elaborate further on that in this context. When one ponders on one's own situation, it will be wise to consult other senior saints aside the siksa-guru who are acquainted with the situation, if any are available. A siksa-guru may be of the opinion that it isn't necessary (I've had this happen twice); adamance on this may be taken as a red flag. In general, beware people who are too eager to become your siksa-gurus (and be in awe of the myriads of subtle ways in which attempts are made).

Someone may ask, "Is it necessary to call someone a siksa-guru? Can't I just be in his company otherwise?". The Sanskrit word "siksa" means "instruction", and the word "guru" means "teacher". If you spent time in the company of someone who taught you, giving you varieties of instructions, wouldn't you call him "an instructing teacher"? "Well of course I would, that's what he does." Does it then make a difference if you say the same using a Sanskrit word? If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck... It's probably — a duckbilled platypus?

Of course one may also have many levels of commitment to the siksa-guru. It may be more casual "we dig this sadhu" relationship, in which the usage of the term siksa-guru isn't really completely justified, or it may be a relationship where mutual internal commitments and a relationship of guidance and following is established.

Many are the factors one needs to weigh with this delicate issue. For those practitioners who are happy with little and for whom progressive spiritual life isn't the most overwhelming urge of everyday life, and where the mindset is more about "I'm happy to have these bits of devotion integrated into my everyday life" rather than "I need to optimize my sadhana and reach to advanced levels of spiritual experience", it may never become an issue to worry about.

I've certainly had my fair share of siksa-gurus for now, and perhaps for many years to come. In my sorry case, both serious siksa-relationships have ended up in somewhat of a disaster. Great and grand lessons learned, and I wouldn't change them for anything, but it's very unlikely that those are the lessons the teachers wanted to teach! For the time, with due respects to all, I think I'll be tackling issues on my own just fine. At least I can then hold myself and myself alone responsible for decisions that have substantial ramifications in my life.

Please don't let my occasional cynicism discourage you in your pursuit, no commentary is intended on the validity of the principles and the ideals — but be mindful of your steps!

With themes such as have been brought up in the last two blogs, the age-old issue of aparadha again raises its hoods. Let me clarify my position on this. First, I would like to acknowledge that I have read all the scriptural references on Vaisnava-aparadha as well as most, and have given due thought to them. When I write as I write, I write with knowledge of the said principles, making the choices that I believe are proper, truthful and righteous. I realize that not everyone may agree with my judgment calls.

You'll note that I have refrained from naming people. The one person I have named, a former teacher of mine, Sanatana Das Babaji, has nothing to do with the gross misdeeds mentioned in the previous blog. He is as dismayed and disillusioned as anyone, and therefore also generally avoids associating with the broader samaja. And should it not be clear from the earlier blog, even if I did try to indicate it, there is a class of good, law-abiding renunciates who are engaged in their bhajana. But alas, a minority they are.

There are times where none of the available options are particularly good. The knowledge I have gained over my time here is a cause for one such dilemma. If I am to present the unvarnished truth, as I have now been doing, I inevitably incur the displeasure of some sections of the society — evidently the section where the shoe fits — and there may be some aparadha there. On the other hand, if I remain silent, how many are the seekers who will have to be dismayed and disillusioned, and what will their destinies be? With my silence, I would incur the fault of being a co-effector of their grief, and I would consider that much graver an aparadha. Whether taking place now or in the future, a wrong is a wrong and will bear its results. Refraining from a small wrong (if that is indeed what it is) now while being instrumental in a greater future wrong betrays no sense of discrimination at all.

Weighing the two evils, the negative and positive effects of both courses of action and the potentials they have for causing grief for one or the other party, I cannot but deem that those guilty of the misdeeds are the more deserving recipients of possible repercussions. I cannot fathom the workings of the cosmic machinery of retributive justice since time beginningless, and to that I am certain many would refer in proposing that all is just in the end, no matter how bad it may seem. I do however have an ability to observe right and wrong, guilt and innocence, in the boundaries of this lifetime. On what other a standard could I base my ethics? Let those who demonstrate sincerity with their acts be the ones with the advantage.

There is yet one premise I wish to make clear. I do not believe in the law of the jungle, in a law where power and position define rights and justice, making for a world where the victors are right. Much like in the famous Indian traffic law where the bigger vehicle has the right of way, and the smaller becomes an offender for not moving out of the way. Might makes right. If there is a universal system of justice where people are not equal before the law, but where the "big" can revel as they please and where the "small" are convicted for objecting to the the same, then that system is fundamentally flawed.

In the context given, if the big Vaisnava of many years or of social power can be guilty of abuses of many degrees and enjoy near-perfect diplomatic immunity in the eyes of God, and if the small and insignificant Vaisnava is at fault and shall fall into his peril for daring to propose the presence of abuse, that system I consider fundamentally flawed. Come God, come two Gods, come a legion of Gods and endorse the same, in the world where I live the concept is fundamentally flawed. If by breaking against such a farce of a justice system I am to become an offender and to fall away from this God and his system, then I shall only consider it a fortunate happening.

On this basis, I have chosen to write as I am writing, and I sincerely believe it to be in the best interest of people seeking to perfect their lives via a spiritual quest. I believe in every man's right for a possibility of making well-informed choices. It should not be denied from anyone, and if one man is to become a casualty in the cause of truth, that price I consider small. Who sees my heart will know how to judge me for my acts and words, and no further solace do I need.

I had initially thought of being much more reserved in over the depth in which I'd be writing of all this. However, as I realize there is nothing for me to lose in being more open, let's hear the full story. It'll certainly help people get an idea of where I'm at, and also learn of the route I've had to take. Writing is also a good form of processing the experience to ensure the removal of repressions from the subconscious. These entries seem to be becoming a bit elongated; I write as it comes. Read if you will, don't if you won't.

Let's travel back in time to last spring and my falling out with Sanatana Das Babaji, my former mentor. Having spent most of the last three years with him, and as such having molded my practice and life almost entirely around his guidelines, the break obviously initiated a massive process of introspection and reflection. My disappointment with him was deep enough to merit questioning each and every bit of advice I had received. After a brief period of gloom I recolleted my inner assets and set myself to the path with renewed determination. Reviewing the entire period of the past three years and recompiling my routines and values anew was no mean task by any measure, but it was something that had to be done if things were to go on.

I would at times do my Giriraja parikrama with Balarama Dasji, a tyagi-mahatma with a capital T. He was the one who first inspired me to collect madhukari. At times we would do two parikramas daily; he was fierce in his determination, pain and agony of the flesh were no strangers to him. I am also not a timid person; yet our temperaments were different, with I being more of a studious fellow and he a hands-on tapasvi with little philosophical sophism or sympathy for silent meditations. It was all about active engagement in devotional austerity for him. My company with him overlapped with the falling out with Sanatana Dasji for two to three weeks, and was no doubt instrumental in developing the perspective that forced me to move on.

Our diverging temperaments aside, the eyes of the community also fell upon us. Ah, the ever-prying eyes of the so-called Vaisnava-samaja, filled with people who would rather live others' lives than their own, and who would project their every lust and greed unto others and gossip on the potentials of what such-and-such might be doing or thinking. We decided to walk our separate ways for the time being to let the minds of people settle once again. He gave me a sound advice I was to hear again on several occasions. "The times are bad. Do not mix with people. Keep to yourself and do your own bhajana." And indeed, we had also largely kept to ourselves during our years with Sanatana Baba.

With mastering Bengali language, I had grown more aware of the lives and natures of people, householders and renunciates alike. I would be lying if I'd say I wouldn't have grown cynical of human nature over my years here. While the phenomena I witnessed are universal beyond a doubt, malice, duplicity, lies, scheming, gossiping and hypocrisy seemed to be more vividly present here among the Bengalis than anywhere I'd ever seen before. I could speculate about the reasons for this, but this is neither the time nor the place for it. It is no exaggeration to say that nine out of ten who approached me with an aim of establishing a relationship were out to take advantage of me in one way or another. It was a bitter realization.

They say not to find fault with others, and I've certainly tried my level best to make it a point to not go out of my way to find fault with anyone or delve on anyone's evils. Yet sometimes the evils of the world enforce themselves into your horizon with such force and vigor that facing them is inevitable, if only as a matter of protecting oneself from exploitation. I knew only too well, having seen people go down under the weight of negative thought, the burden that'd befall if one were to let the mind loose and allow it to freely delve on and discuss the situation and condition of the contemporary samaja.

A word or two must be said, however, as a matter of giving a sense of direction to our readers. Most of the lay community, the Bengali householders that is, live their lives preoccupied with family and income. Far be it from me to criticize them for that, as no formal standard of expectation has been laid. Even if, as a matter of curiosity, one may observe that the spiritual standards of the average ISKCON householder are far above the average Bengali householder even at Radhakund, what to say of Bengal where fish often features as a part of meals so common it even hardly draws any attention. Of course, having people try to make friends with you with concealed (more often than not financial) motivations is a nuisance, but that's what life in the world seems to be all about.

It is the renunciates that are the cardialgia, the grating pain in a heart full of ideals. Of course there are good people, but the good are a handful while the essentially fallen are the masses. It was Pandit Baba who said the proverbial words almost a century back, warning of the bad times ahead. Times, when renunciates would be amassing money in their bank accounts, leading their lives in the way of householders. Pandit Baba's possessions were largely limited to his earthen pitcher and the kaupina he was wearing, he was a blameless man with the power to speak. In the seven decades that followed, the weeds that were in bud at his time have almost overgrown the garden.

Nowadays, it is not at all uncommon for a babaji to have a large sum of money, often several hundreds of thousands of rupees, sitting on a high interest bank account. Dealing in land and commodities is all too accepted in the community's eyes; for only a fool wouldn't seize a good opportunity. Wine is the only factor amiss from the famous trinity of wealth, women and wine. (Even if amply supplemented by ganja.) Even people in the highest ranks of the renunciate community are known to maintain illicit relationships with women. I will not narrate specific examples here, as I am not interested in having people refer to me as a source of gossip; they are common and undisputed knowledge, open secrets of the community if you will. Affairs with married women with the approval of the husband, aborted children of seva-dasis, swindling of funds to support illegitimate children. And none can do a thing about it. Even if someone had the will, he wouldn't have the means.

Among the handful of renunciates committed to their sadhana — and they have my greatest admiration for that! — few are well versed in the scripture. This lack of education leads to obvious problems as far as avenues of teaching are concerned. Just as a person devoid of grammatical understanding may fare well when it comes to speaking, and yet be unfit for the task of systematic and thorough teaching, so it is with the uneducated yet staunch mahatmas. Even with their best endeavors to formulate a conceptual framework to serve as a basis of teaching, drawing from their experiences and the occasional classes they've attended, the output can be incompatible in terms of the strict ideological setting of the acaryas' writings, and for someone even with a mediocre familiarity with our canon, it takes heaps of patience and essence-seeking to accommodate such teaching in a sustainable manner.

The good and the bad aside, there are of course the luke-warm. Renunciates who go about living their easy-going lives day in and day out, opening their mornings with tea and biscuits, doing a bit of kirtan or any other service to get pocket money, colleting their daily meals from the charity booth, prattling about village affairs and other trivialities by the road-sides, and gathering near the video stores to watch the latest kitchy Purana-movie or the ongoing cricket tournament. TVs and VCD players are becoming more popular now, a careful observer can even spot a dish antenna atop a kutir or two on the banks of Syama-kunda. Many, having failed in their material pursuits back in Bengal or Bangladesh, come and take bhekh for an easy lifestyle mixed with pious habits. It isn't about fervent pursuit for the other-worldly, it's about cultural conditioning and a way of life.

There, the building blocks of my misantrophy, a gloss on some factors that have contributed to my wish for solitude. In my withdrawn life, the meaning was to be found from within. Through a contemplative life of devotion. Yet peace is at times naught! Now, the famous saying is that wherever you go, your mind will follow. True enough, the mind will follow, but the stimuli that create disturbance may well stay behind, just as a man moving from hot to a temperate climate will find peace with the change of the circumstances.

Back in the days, Vraja was largely a jungle. There was no paved road around Giriraja with vehicles racing to and fro and video stores blasting out their latest movies; it was through jungle paths that Sanatana Goswami would roam, the chirping of the birds and the humming of the wind in the trees as his background music. There were no three-story buildings decorating the banks of the kundas, no masses of people with a flock of greedy pandas at their tail; it was in solitude that Raghunatha Das Goswami sat, trees and creepers his walls, honeybees and deer as his company. It was this ideal environment that nourished their inner life, giving them a uniquely conducive arena for practice.

The modern day environment of the dhama is very different. Radically different! One has to walk with eyes fixed looking down to keep the focus straight while walking cross the village. Masses of people flow, jeeps drive down the crammed parikrama path blowing their horns, and every ashram has big loudspeakers set up on their roofs, assuming their particular kirtan or class to be the cream of all spiritual sound worthy of being blasted out loud enough to reach the outskirts of the village. Nor can one find a solitary grove undefiled by agriculture or human habitation anywhere in the surroundings; one day, a certain Ekadasi a year and a half back, I roamed for some fifty odd kilometers in search of idyllic settings for bhajana, and found but a single spot some thirty kilometers away, in the areas somewhere behind Surya-kunda, that invoked a parcel of the spirit of the ages bygone. Let the nature be or not be; even if all that noise were to just shut up, it would be a small heaven already!

On this side of the kunda, in the Bhagavat Bhajanashram where the widows sing for food, loudspeakers are now in place; the good ladies start their monotonic chants at the early moments of dawn and go on until seven or eight in the evening with a few hours of siesta after the mid-day. On the other side of the pond, Sita-Ram Mandir has traditionally been very loud with their off-key chanting of Ramayana. Going further outward, the Nitai-Gaura-Radhe-Shyam headquarters keep up the spirit on the side of the tempo stand, and the Vishnupriya Sampradaya folks at the big Puri-styled Mahaprabhu Mandir keep playin' their ol' tape day in and day out. Then there are the dozen or so video stores with their crazy locally produced pop blasting out at random times, some more and some less devotional. God, how much one rejoices at times of a timely electric outage! It wasn't without a reason that kirtan — in other words, the production of sound — was declared the most powerful of methods; it penetrates into consciousness and drags your attention mercilessly to itself. It's good when it's invited, but alas if you're trying to do silent japa or any other such contemplational practice...

Enough of the descriptions now, the above ought to suffice. All of the above was gradually accumulating towards a critical mass. I really just wanted to have my peace and do my bhajan, and I had come here with hopes of an ideal environment for the task. The peaceful land of pastimes and the company of the saintly to carry me seamlessly onward in my quest for the devotional perfection. My idealistic expectations have since then largely vanished, as may go without saying; there are good sides to life here, yes, but the flipside of the coin can also be very imposing at times.

I'll conclude here for today. The next blog entry will touch on the conclusions to which all of the above led, a peek into my brain to shed light on why I was vulnerable to the kind of exploitation that took place. As someone noted in a comment, "it is surprising for me that you let yourself dupe in this way". (Thanks to everyone for the comments!) Coming up in the next episode: "TBI - Part 3 - How the Grand Dupe began".

Some were wondering about the details of my abruptly concluded stay with the babaji during Niyama-seva and a bit beyond. I was more than brief in my note after moving back to my own precious peace, after all. As I noted, the experience left me with many lessons in life. I have edited the earlier blog entry to remove references that would identify him by name to give me space to write more freely of the experiences, of which many may find something to learn. This is the first write-up in what I surmise will be an interesting series.

Let me give you an overall gloss on why things went south. Money, money, money — as it turns, that's what it boiled down to in the end. The whole drama — and a damn well performed one at that! — had to do with first of all getting me to become his primary source of above the average income, both directly and through solicitation, and second, to his gaining an avenue for the disciple-making business among the foreign devotees. In other words, I was to be the instrument for his American Dream.

I know that the standards of acceptable treatment in Indian education and guru-disciple dynamics differ radically from the politically correct standards of the West, and I also understand that a student can't really start giving the teacher recommendations on methodology of teaching, not in this part of the world anyway. There are, however, limits to everything! First of all, there's a limit to how much a being with some vestiges of emotion in the psyche can take, and second, there's also a limit to how far unreasonable and unjust can be rationalized and tolerated.

Looking at the extreme, and I mean literally extreme, beyond anything I could have even imagined in my wildest dreams as to its harshness and bluntness, treatment I was subjected to, it boiled down to driving one lesson home: I was to become a mindless pawn, my ability for independent evaluation was to be shut off, including any discrimination as to what is right and wrong, moral and immoral. "Whatever I say, keep this well in mind, is sure, sure. There's no second thought needed." We'll return to this theme, a theme of substantial interest, in a future entry.

I overlooked a whole lot more than I ordinarily would ever have, owing to the special circumstances (in terms of my inner state) in which our meeting took place. (Read the earlier blog.) Owing to this inspiration, I was willing to extend my faith and hope far beyond a rational limit — and this was also fueled with the babaji's repeatedly telling me how the guru puts the disciple through many tests and ordeals to see what he's made of.

I was initially the ideal disciple under the god-sent siksa-guru, a disciple who had given his all — entirely by the book — in the guru's service. All of his time, all of his belongings, complete atma-samarpana or self-surrender. "Let me give it a go", I thought — "let's do it properly once and for all, come what may." Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, they say, and indeed to hell the whole thing went in grand style.

My final conclusion over divine coincidences is this: Don't believe in coincidences, no matter how divinely arranged they might seem. Coincidences are easy to set up if one has a sufficiently clever and ruthless a mind. Test everything against the anvil of reason, conscience, trusted friends and sadhus, and scriptures. And yes, on the anvil of God — if he can arrange a divine coincidence, he can certainly also confirm its veracity. But more on this later on.

The final break, following perhaps a week of increased doubt over the direction things were taking, that made me pack my bags came when I gained proof positive of his dishonesty. He had become too confident of my being the credulous idiot he wanted to make of me, and became more daring in his milking for money through what essentially amounts to fraud. It was actually a small, yet a substantial lie that blew the whistle.

The babaji had asked me for money for two cans of Chyawanprash, one for each, of the Gurukul brand which I knew to be the cheapest of the lot. The price was to be 185 Rs. per jar, he told, so 370 Rs. for two, which I promptly gave, even while stating my surprise that I had assumed it would be less — I assumed it to be in the 130-140 Rs. range. "No, the price has increased now." The next morning I saw the cans in his room and looked at the label saying MRP (Maximum Retail Price) 128 Rs. and noted the same. "That's an old price — the new price is 185, but I actually got them for 180 each." A great deal, 10 rupees off! And a hefty mark-up from the old price, too, to the level of actual decent quality products! That evening I checked for the price at a random medical store, and the man quoted me, "For you, sir, I'll give for 100 rupees a kilo."

So that was that, caught lying. It also fueled a number of earlier suspicions of dishonesty (that I had promptly brushed off), such as three incidents of lost funds, of 500, 4500 and 1000 Rs. respectively, attributed to twice "oops" for the smaller amounts, and once theft for the larger amount. A surprising "coincidence" is that after a few days from the last incident, he "borrowed" 6000 Rs. from "someone" to get finances back into balance... The constant circle of borrowing and staying in debt with two to three weeks deadline was there to keep me "generating" more income, and more often than not money didn't exactly go to the purpose it was originally intended for, leaving a further need.

Looking at him and money was like watching a kid enter a candy store. No discrimination whatsoever of priority and necessity. His kutir was filling up with stuff that just sat idle on shelves, the place, his three rooms, was like a junkyard with items both found and purchased. TV and satellite antenna were also on the list of stuff I was supposed to get for him, as he was of the opinion that it was a necessary cover-up to not let people understand the height of internal bhajana that was going on. Yes, you heard it right.

Further investigations after my departure revealed the dishonesty to be a blatant pattern that had gone on since the very beginning. The mridanga that was bought for 1400 retailed for 1000 when I asked. The fixing of a glass fibre mridanga cost 2300, while a new one can be bought for 1600. The huge steel box that was bought for 3300 retailed for 2200 as I asked. And I don't even want to start thinking whether the 3000 he said he owed someone was a fact.

All in all, my 50 days with him came to cost me over 30,000 rupees.A fair price for the education. Of that, a bit over a half I was able to finance from my last savings (which were on the slim side after the house project) and after selling the video camera I no longer used, and 15,000 I had to borrow from a friend (something I still need to pay back). Fortunately my monthly expenses are otherwise very low, were they not I'd be in a bit of a mess. And hey, on the bright side of things, I didn't need to pay rent while I was there!

Among the themes to come in future blogs:

* Cultural conflicts in guru-disciple dynamics
* Carisma and psychological manipulation
* Show-bottle siddhis as a means for augmenting power
* Delusions of omniscience and related grandeur
* Misguided motivations for making disciples
* Things to consider in evaluating a guru
* The difficulty in breaking a relatonship

Maybe I should write a book and break even. Stay tuned — same bat-channel, totally random intervals.

This is a translation of my letter of refusal from military and civil service sent to the Finnish civil service authority, should it be of interest. It was mailed in an appropriate home-made envelope. =)

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1. January 2008


STATEMENT OF REFUSAL FROM CIVIL SERVICE


Respected civil service authority,

I hereby announce my unconditional refusal from civil service, for which I pleaded transfer for by force of circumstances in 2001 at Santahamina after a day of military service. I understand that I am hereby committing a crime, and request that a judgment be given as prescribed in the Finnish law.

I hereby also announce my unconditional refusal from possible labor service and other common duties and events in the jail. I demand to be located somewhere into a distant, isolated corner of the prison, beautified by people with their absence, and left there for the duration of my entire sentence without holidays, visitors or disturbances.

Please note that during my stay in the prison I cannot enjoy the meals you prepare owing to the suddha-ahara principle I follow (“pure diet”, vide Jewish “kosher” and Muslim “halal”). My only possible nutrition aside milk in prison circumstances is raw and whole fruits and vegetables that can be washed prior to eating, and that haven’t been kept in contact with animal products involving slaughter.

A few words on the rationale of my decision.

Living in India, I am a mystic, student and teacher initiated in and committed to an ancient Hindu tradition. I have familiarized myself with military service, briefly also in practice, and concluded that the upholding of the personal vows and principles I observe owing to my religion and ideology is a sheer impossibility. The 395 days of civil service offered as an alternative (in contrast to the 180 day military service) I consider poor humor at best.

I have lived in India permanently since 09/2006 and altogether approximately half of the past decade. I have left behind everything in Finland, having built my future here. I will be seeking for Indian citizenship as it becomes possible — and if necessary, will thereby also renounce Finnish citizenship. (One may become a citizen through naturalization after spending 11 years within 14 years in India.) Regrettably the current Finnish law (constitution 1: 5§, citizenship law 1: 4§ and 5: 35§) does not under the circumstances make it possible for me to renounce the now practically unnecessary Finnish citizenship. Demanding the carrying out of the military service — what to speak of the 395 day civil service offered as an option in my case — is not something I consider reasonable as a mere token of gratitude for the years of the past.

I take it that enough has been said on the constitutional liberty for religious faith and practice (2: 11§) and its contradictions with the compulsory military service law, as well as on the report of the UN human rights committee (04/11/2004) and the statements of the EU human rights commissioner (04-07/06/2001, 29/03/2006) on the rights and treatment of conscientious objectors. I take it that enough has also been said on the proclamations of the EU Social rights committee (2004) and the UN human rights commission (1998) on the Finnish compulsory service practice.

Please do note that I live in rural India, not at the Finnish mailing address noted at the end of the letter. Therefore, receiving registered letters is complicated; if your response must be sent in registered mail, please send it as a letter that can be received by an authorized person at the post office. If possible, please also send a copy of your response either via e-mail to the following e-mail address or to the Netmail box corresponding to my postal address.

Friendly regards

________________________________
Markus Oskari Loponen

Yesterday I wrote a blog, The Bodhisattva's Cocoon, detailing reasons for my withdrawing into solitary practice.

Today's e-mail brought in a comment from Anonymous: "Little late. You already misled many..."

Truth there is in his words, there's no denying that. Blind man sees the truth in a blind man's response, alas the irony of that.

Little late is fortunately much better than a lot late. Of course, some among the blind companions realized the folly on the way and turned back, and again some of them fell into their self-discovered ditches in the route of their return from nowhere to nowhere, and of course for that I am also indirectly responsible.

Fortunately no effort is wholly in vain, and many fellow men and ladies also found good routes to places where they'd one day find eyes to see. It was not that I ever meant to be the sole beacon, only the blindest of the blind would have assumed such.

While some embarked on a journey with the blind man, I know not of a single one who would have walked alongside to where he is now. And I'm not in a ditch yet! People then neither know where I am, nor where my route leads, and may that remain so. Far be it from me to call for anyone to partake of my inner quest.

I cannot say whether the Anonymous of sparse words means to say that I have misled people by not, for example, serving them with the doctrines of ISKCON, Gaudiya Math, or of any other contemporary sect of choice. If that were the case, then I would consider the proposal laughable and preposterous. The principle of my sentiment applies universally to all paths, and blind men remain blind regardless of the route they supposedly lead you onwards on.

Truth is not that which is written, truth is that which is seen and experienced within. The seer of truth will guide the seeker to the oasis of divine gnosis. All aside that are but potential indicators. The truths of the scriptures and the truths of the traditions convey meaning through direct fusion with the experiential core of the consciousness; otherwise, even the best of theories consists of only so many words written.

How many times can a man apologize, and do the incrementing apologies add to their value? Again I extend my heartfelt apologies to everyone adversely affected, and I pray that the clouds of bitter bile will eventually subside from the heart-skies of those harboring ill feeling. May that conclude my reflections and mortifications for now, be there good will and peace for