Oliver Benjamin
just for the fun of it. The difference was that these people believed the
nonsense.
Checking out the local English-language paper I discovered that
the surrounding community seemed to have much to say about the
Omniraja, and not all of it was good. One letter to the editor
suggested that the Omniraja’s closest confidants were, in fact,
dentists and that this wasn’t to maintain his pearly whites, but rather
that they had the access he needed to supply his nitrous oxide habit.
A young British man with long hair and glasses sat down at the
table and struck up conversation with me. He was clearly very high
on the ashram concept.
“This is the most beautiful place on earth—everybody is free to
do what they want to do, to reach the potential heights of existence.
We are unified in our consciousness and joyous in our bond. Yet we
are all sovereign and peacefully on our own feet. It’s really beautiful,
man.”
“Beautiful,” I agreed.
“Say, listen, do you think you could loan me a couple thousand
rupees so that I can take this past lives therapy session?”
“Sorry?”
“I was supposed to get some money from my folks, but you
know how parents can be—always asking questions and demanding
to know where their money’s going. They just wouldn’t understand
the way you would. So what do you say? I could pay you back
sometime next month.”
“Uh, I don’t generally loan money to people I don’t know.”
He looked surprised. “Don’t you trust me?”
“How can I trust you? I don’t even know you.”
“But we’re sanyassis, man. We’ve got a bond,” he insisted.
“Just because we’re wearing the same color dress doesn’t mean
we’ve got a bond.”
“That’s fine man, I understand. You’re just full of civilization
paranoia. How about just a few hundred to tide me over until next
week?”
“How about I pay for your coffee and you drop it?”
“Cool, bro. See, I think you’re on the right track.” He turned to
face a small, very dirty Indian boy who had been pulling on his robe
and holding out a dirty Styrofoam cup for change. “Piss off you little
rugrat! Can’t you see I’m eating?” yelled the British guy, who then
turned to me and added: “Little bastard got my robe dirty!
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