My first guru experience was awful.
I never met a guru before, so when people we met said there is a very nice guru in town, we wanted to give a try to see if we can also find the truth of our souls. So Marie, me and Zoli decided to go to Brazilian Prem Baba’s Hindu ashram in Rishikesh, to listen him talking.
When we arrive, there was an Indian guru talking next to him. Prem Baba who has shoulder-length curly hair and grey beard was sitting on a throne silently, staring at the floor, and avoiding the crowd.
The Indian guru talked 1 hour but his accent was so heavy here is the summary what I get:
“you and your body should be clean”
“you must say this mantra 24.000 times”
“there are 10 times more mango inIndiathis year”
So after the Indian finished, Prem Baba started to play with his cell phone and left the room.
After he left, his devotees played nice, soft Portuguese songs, and people with closed eyes, started to meditate.
I must say the crowd was more interesting than Prem Baba. Shaved headed women, long bearded strange looking men, Hindu-Indian looking westerners from all ages.
After half hour he came back and sat on the throne again. Again played with the cell phone and ignored the crowd looking at him with excitement and waiting him to talk.
So he talked finally, veeeeery slowly and veeeery emotionless. Puff! I really thought I will feel some love or ecstasy in his presence. He said “don’t talk unless you really want to talk”. 5 min. later “avoid unnecessary words”. 5 min later “practice this for 2 days”. So that’s it. The first time I went to hear a guru’s talk and he’s chosen not to talk! Disappointed in everyway…
But people were happy, some played devotional songs with guitars, people sing with them, danced. Zoli, me and Marie unfortunately failed to see Prem Baba’s inspiration.
Then some westerners gave him some offerings and touched his feet. Prem Baba touched their heads and blessed them. Finally we saw his sweet smile.
But suffering hasn’t come to an end…
Some westerners said ashram gives nice communal lunch. We were hungry so we wanted to try.
So this is how a proper dungeon looks like! The food court was on the dark basement without furnitures. Westerners and Indian people squatted on the floor, eating. I didn’t want to eat there! Such a dark feeling but to not to be snobbish, I followed my friends.
I am in concentration camp and Nazis are giving food to me. Some Indians with food buckets and big ladles, they throw the food to your plate. If you are lucky, the food falls down to your plate. No fork or spoon. So I pushed the dal and rice through my throat. When the torture was finished I went to wash my plate. There was an Indian guy waiting to check if our plates are clean. I couldn’t pass the exam L and he sent me back saying “no good”.
Now I am 5 years old in the kinder garden. I obeyed the man and washed my dish again. This time he let me go.
So I was the only one laughing while leaving the food court which we learnt later that this food was for beggars.
Our westerner ego was so shattered we decided to go to the fancy Germany Bakery and have a cake/coffee to recover. So the story ended happily but do I want to have guru? No, but thanks…