"Only the guru can lead the sincere follower to God."
"The guru is that point on earth where God manifests."
"To attain God is to surrender to the guru."
"The guru has no ego."
"When you find the guru, serve him with total devotion."
"To love the guru is to experience true freedom."
"Only the guru has attained God, so it is only through him that God can be encountered."
The young sannyasin had already cast aside what had defined him. How long had it been? He had already forgotten. He had cast aside himself; he no longer knew who he once was. So much renunciation for someone so young; he didn't even remember how old he was. Even his name, he had forgotten. The only vestige of his past was his pair of glasses. These, he could not discard because their absence would hamper his eyesight.
Since the guru decreed that even keeping a diary was forbidden because living in the moment was more important that dwelling in the past, the sannyasin had already forgotten how long he had been in the ashram.
And as he surrendered his very identity, he experienced inexplicable bliss. His days were spent laboring in the most menial of tasks, swooning in happiness and bliss in his meditations and sitting as close as possible to the guru during the latter's satsangs. He even endured harsh words and treatment from the guru and the senior sannyasins.
Later, he graduated to collecting the donations from members who were not sannyasins, scolding errant members and even, treating those beneath him harshly in an effort to make them grow in love for the guru. As he progressed, he became one of the guru's trusted enforcers. He expelled those who fell short as those who were suspected of disloyalty. The guru could not be criticized. And even comments about his private life were dealt with harshly.
The sannyasin later, on the guru's orders or his own initiative, beat roughed up members -including other sannyasins further down the pecking order to help the grow, instill discipline and absolute obedience.
"If the guru tells you to steal, you must steal."
"If the guru tells you to kill, you must kill."
"The guru's morality is different from, and higher than, that of an ordinary human."
Yes, the guru was absolute. Swamiji, as he was called, made an announcement that Taijiquan was the property of the holy ashram. Therefore, those who wanted to learn in were prohibited from approaching any wushu instructor and required to come only to the ashramas.
Swamiji is absolute because he is God.
Because Swamiji is God, he can do whatever he wants.
If God is angry, Swamiji can save you.
If Swamiji is angry, not even God can save you.
Swamiji holds the key to liberation; you must trust only him.
A knock was heard on the door of the sannyasin's room. He stopped meditating and opened it. It was Pinkie, another sannyasin. That was a nickname that stuck.
"Chela," said Pinkie, "Swamiji wants to see you."
The sannyasin obediently stepped out, closed the door and followed Pinkie down the hall and up a flight of stairs to a room with a large door. Standing guard were two other sannyasins. Inside, one could make out the sounds of loud breathing, panting and moaning. One voice was a man's, the other, a woman's.
"Swamiji," said Pinkie in a subdued, somewhat pleading tone. "Chela Mahananda is here, as you requested."
Chela Mahananda... That was the new name Swamiji had given him. His old name had been cast aside for an unknown period of time.
The breathing and panting stopped. "Bring him in," said a raspy voice.
The door was opened and the sannyasin stepped into a large room that had a great canopied bed. Bottles of beer and gin lay on the floor; most were full while others still had their contents in them in varying degrees. Several pictures depicting Indian gurus with halos surrounding their heads. The room smelled of alcohol and highly pungent incense.
Chela Mahananda beheld a female sannyasin naked and lying face down on the bed. Like him, her head was shaved. Next to her, also naked and all covered in sweat, was seated the overweight figure of the master. He held a newly-lighted cigarette in his left hand while his right hand stroked the female sannyasi's bottom.
Chela Mahananda approached the bed, paid obeisance by putting his hands together as if in prayer and bowing his head and then sat on the floor
"Chela," said the master in a voice that reminded one of a duck's quacking. "You have proven yourself well. I remember how you helped that errant follower Padrino make his transition to a better life."
'Transition' was the ashram's way of saying 'death,' Indeed, Mahananda had helped several followers make transit already.
"Thank you, swamiji."
"Now, I have a new duty for you," the master continued. "You will go to Cagayan. There is someone outside our holy order whose transition must be made."
Cagayan. That place sounded familiar.
"He is the reason why Manila is a ghost town, with only a few people living in it. He destroyed many buildings. He has killed many people. He has destroyed the Philippines. He has insulted me, your beloved guru-"
That stung Chela Mahananda. His blood stirred and the thought of exterminating this horrid insignificant worm who dared tarnish his master's name welled up in him.
"And so, I tell you," said the master with his eyes fixed upward and his hands spread out. "You must send this evil man into transition so that in the next life, he shall have to work on the karma he has accumulated."
"I will send him through the cycle of death and rebirth to be reprimanded by the masters," declared Mahananda. "Who is this miserable wretch?"
The masted leaned to his left and picked up a brown envelope and tossed it to the floor.
Mahananda picked up the envelope and opened it. Out came a picture of Eric Ong.
"It shall be done, master."
The sannyasin later, on the guru's orders or his own initiative, beat roughed up members -including other sannyasins further down the pecking order to help the grow, instill discipline and absolute obedience.
"If the guru tells you to steal, you must steal."
"If the guru tells you to kill, you must kill."
"The guru's morality is different from, and higher than, that of an ordinary human."
Yes, the guru was absolute. Swamiji, as he was called, made an announcement that Taijiquan was the property of the holy ashram. Therefore, those who wanted to learn in were prohibited from approaching any wushu instructor and required to come only to the ashramas.
Swamiji is absolute because he is God.
Because Swamiji is God, he can do whatever he wants.
If God is angry, Swamiji can save you.
If Swamiji is angry, not even God can save you.
Swamiji holds the key to liberation; you must trust only him.
A knock was heard on the door of the sannyasin's room. He stopped meditating and opened it. It was Pinkie, another sannyasin. That was a nickname that stuck.
"Chela," said Pinkie, "Swamiji wants to see you."
The sannyasin obediently stepped out, closed the door and followed Pinkie down the hall and up a flight of stairs to a room with a large door. Standing guard were two other sannyasins. Inside, one could make out the sounds of loud breathing, panting and moaning. One voice was a man's, the other, a woman's.
"Swamiji," said Pinkie in a subdued, somewhat pleading tone. "Chela Mahananda is here, as you requested."
Chela Mahananda... That was the new name Swamiji had given him. His old name had been cast aside for an unknown period of time.
The breathing and panting stopped. "Bring him in," said a raspy voice.
The door was opened and the sannyasin stepped into a large room that had a great canopied bed. Bottles of beer and gin lay on the floor; most were full while others still had their contents in them in varying degrees. Several pictures depicting Indian gurus with halos surrounding their heads. The room smelled of alcohol and highly pungent incense.
Chela Mahananda beheld a female sannyasin naked and lying face down on the bed. Like him, her head was shaved. Next to her, also naked and all covered in sweat, was seated the overweight figure of the master. He held a newly-lighted cigarette in his left hand while his right hand stroked the female sannyasi's bottom.
Chela Mahananda approached the bed, paid obeisance by putting his hands together as if in prayer and bowing his head and then sat on the floor
"Chela," said the master in a voice that reminded one of a duck's quacking. "You have proven yourself well. I remember how you helped that errant follower Padrino make his transition to a better life."
'Transition' was the ashram's way of saying 'death,' Indeed, Mahananda had helped several followers make transit already.
"Thank you, swamiji."
"Now, I have a new duty for you," the master continued. "You will go to Cagayan. There is someone outside our holy order whose transition must be made."
Cagayan. That place sounded familiar.
"He is the reason why Manila is a ghost town, with only a few people living in it. He destroyed many buildings. He has killed many people. He has destroyed the Philippines. He has insulted me, your beloved guru-"
That stung Chela Mahananda. His blood stirred and the thought of exterminating this horrid insignificant worm who dared tarnish his master's name welled up in him.
"And so, I tell you," said the master with his eyes fixed upward and his hands spread out. "You must send this evil man into transition so that in the next life, he shall have to work on the karma he has accumulated."
"I will send him through the cycle of death and rebirth to be reprimanded by the masters," declared Mahananda. "Who is this miserable wretch?"
The masted leaned to his left and picked up a brown envelope and tossed it to the floor.
Mahananda picked up the envelope and opened it. Out came a picture of Eric Ong.
"It shall be done, master."
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