Was it the Godman’s grace or a cult? The spiritual theatrics of my childhood — The Not-so-Good (Part II of II)
Aren’t you grateful to have shared the same womb as your sibling? The sister of Sri Sri Ravishankar is. To each their own. But to me, this was plain weird.
Guruji is formally addressed as HH Sri Sri Ravishankar. I never understood why the Sri was used twice. And the HH stood for His Holiness. It wasn’t until Prince William & Kate’s wedding; did I realise His Holiness was a derivative of the royal His/Her Highness. Who knew Page 3 news can also be informative? (Something I touch upon in The suitability of an influence)
On a rainy day, Guruji held his hands like in the image below. Can you guess why?
Take a minute. What can the gesture mean?
Alright, here you go:
“Guruji held the clouds for us. He made sure we reach the dining hall for lunch. On our return, he released his hands. It started raining again!” his followers explained.
And mind you, his followers are urban educated with adequate worldly exposure. Yet they appeared to be unaware of a little invention called umbrella, or how rains work in general. I ask — Where are Guruji’s magic hands in the current climate crisis?!
I get it. The charming Guruji is just another victim of hagiography — a biography exaggerated due to (blind) admiration. But these narratives were only half the problem. The real problem was the social force to accept them as the gospel truth. Enter cultish behaviour.
“You will feel his power!”
“His touch gave me an electric shock, literally.”
“During Guru Pooja, you will feel his strength by you!”
I never experienced these physics concepts during my time with the foundation.
“If Guruji never came to you (in thoughts), you didn’t revere him enough” I was told.
My solution? Keeping Guruji’s photo at home. My agnostic parents were firmly against the idea (in retrospect, it was a great decision). The environment just created a desperate urge to experience this greater-than-life quality of Guruji. So, when I had a chance to cook for him, I did so in full spirit.
Guruji was to visit my school. We were each instructed to bring a little extra lunch, so we could personally offer it to him. I made palak paratha. It was my first attempt at cooking, and the unfortunate paratha shape reflected it. Come lunchtime. It was a bright sunny afternoon, but beloved Guruji did not show up.
Instead, as eagerly awaiting children, we were tendered a message.
“Guruji cannot make it. If you eat it, it means he ate it!” Even as a child, that logic sounded like total bullshit.
Perhaps, this critical thinking was a consequence of my holistic schooling (read more in my part I). Guruji not showing up to eat my palak paratha was a turning point for me. The divine man could control rain, but not do the simple human task of showing up?
That incident sowed a seed of scepticism in me. In due course of time, I encountered many ridiculous yet typically cultish stories. Guruji as Kalki avatar. Guruji cooking like Chef Sanjeev Kapoor. Guruji this, Guruji that. Thru them, my scepticism only grew.
You will find people who frequently meditate, looking down on other (read rival) spiritual organisations. Folks, are you even meditating properly ?
The holier-than-thou complex, clubbed with my inability to feel attached to Guruji made me draw my distance with the foundation. Fortunately, there was no sex scandal or anything newsworthy to make a Netflix documentary on the art of living foundation. Sure, the old neutral “not everyone is like that” stance is valid. And I still appreciate their work but from afar.
In hindsight, my time with the foundation has sensitised me to atheism like nothing ever will. Affiliating to a faith comes with a questionable fan club and a pressure to conform to them.
While I believe in God, I have acquired an internal filter. I try to ensure my faith does not get the better of me. Perhaps this was the real art of living all along?
