Maharishi & Me

by Susan Shumsky

  From the late 1970s to early 1980s, Doug Henning appeared in three Broadway shows and eight television specials. A sparkling, bubbly genius with shoulder-length dark shaggy hair, droopy hippy mustache, and gopher grin, Doug’s bigger-than-life personality exuded warmth, magnetism, and joy. He wore jeans, glitzy Elvis-like jumpsuits, and tie-dyed T-shirts.

  Doug staged a stunning magic show before Maharishi on a Teacher Training course in Europe in the 1970s, aided by his assistant, TM teacher Barbara DeAngelis. They married in 1977 and divorced in 1981. Doug was her second husband. Barbara’s third husband, John Gray, was Maharishi’s skin-boy in La Antilla in 1973. Unlike skin-boys who lied incessantly and hoarded Maharishi jealously as though he were Tolkien’s “precious” One Ring of Mordor, Johnny actually let us into the room.

  Barbara DeAngelis and John Gray taught seminars titled “Making Love Work”—perhaps the most ironic double-entendre ever. They got blacklisted from the TM Movement for teaching something—anything other than TM. After divorcing, they made love work elsewhere. Barbara is now married to her fifth husband and John, to his second wife. They both became the biggest best-selling relationship authors. John, author of Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus, sold about 50 million books and counting.

  August 11, 1998: John Gray at American Heart Association benefit. © Globe Photos/ZUMAPRESS.com.

  After John Gray donated $50,000 to the Natural Law Party, he was invited to Vlodrop to visit Maharishi. However, an argument ensued. One TM leader warned Maharishi about John’s “inappropriate books.” Another claimed John’s books helped people. John ended up speaking with Maharishi, who attempted to recruit him for various projects. John declined, saying he was happy with his life and just wanted to visit.

  It was love at first sight when Doug Henning met MIU student Debby Douillard. They engaged within one week and wed on December 6, 1981, during the lavish women’s dome inauguration, attended by two thousand Fairfieldians. The couple built a spectacular mansion near campus.

  Debby and Doug Henning wedding at the Golden Dome, where the magician conjures a dove from a book used in the ceremony. Associated Press

  At his height of stardom, Doug hung up his magic wand to trade up for real magic—levitation and other supernormal powers. “The moment I saw Maharishi, I knew that he knew the truth of life,” he said. So in 1986, off Doug and Debby flew to Switzerland to live with Maharishi.

  As Doug sank slowly into Maharishi-Land, then Never-Never Land, and Never-to-Surface-Again-Land, magic fans asked, “Whatever happened to Doug Henning?” The charismatic magician and his brilliant career vanished in Maharishi smoke. Poof.

  Maharishi and Doug’s brainstorm was a theme park, Veda Land, set against a Himalayan backdrop, where a building would levitate over water, a winged chariot would dive into the atomic structure of a rose, riders would visit seven states of consciousness, and flying robots would perform magic tricks.

  In 1992 Doug announced plans for the $1.5 billion park on 1499 acres, two miles from Niagara Falls, Ontario. But Maharishi scrapped it due to the existence of a gambling casino in the same town. Property was acquired near Disney World Resort in Florida, but that scheme vanished into thin air.

  Then abracadabra! Doug reappeared as stalwart TM drone, spouting the party line in robotic monotone, donning the TM uniform: business suit, white shirt, gold tie. Doug’s adorable personality evaporated as he sold off illusions to David Copperfield. In 1993 Doug ran as unlikely candidate in Canada for Maharishi’s “Natural Law Party.”

  Shortly after receiving a liver cancer diagnosis in 1999, Doug was sent to Canada, where he tragically died in 2000 at age fifty-two.

  Though Deepak Chopra was born in Delhi, he took his medical training in the USA and served as endocrinologist and Chief of Staff at New England Memorial. He learned TM in 1980. Within a week he stopped drinking. Two weeks later he stopped smoking. He declared TM “Real Meditation,” and described, “I was feeling healthier physically. I was more productive, I was more creative, and I was at peace.”236

  Deepak and wife Rita met Maharishi in 1985 in Washington, DC, at an Ayurveda conference. They stole out of the lecture hall early to catch a plane. Suddenly everyone else spilled out of the hall and Maharishi made a beeline toward them, handed them roses, and persuaded them to meet him upstairs.

  During their two-hour meeting, Maharishi told Deepak to study Ayurvedic medicine: “Sickness is interrupted intelligence, but we can bring it back into line. That’s all we do from our side. Nature takes care of it.”237

  When the couple finally arrived at the airport, they found all planes on the Eastern seaboard delayed. Such happy “coincidences” were staple in Maharishi’s magical world.

  Deepak left New England Memorial to become founding president of the American Association of Ayurvedic Medicine and medical director of Maharishi Ayurveda Health Center in Lancaster, Massachusetts.

  The MD from India with movie-star looks, silky voice, and magnetic personality became the perfect TM and Ayurveda spokesperson. Under Maharishi’s direct guidance and support, Deepak, his “golden boy,” traveled worldwide as his emissary.

  Maharishi’s message à la Deepak proved advantageous. Westerners who feared Indian gurus weren’t afraid of the relatable Deepak. He didn’t wear robes or sit cross-legged on deerskins. His hair was short; he was clean-shaven; his accent didn’t invoke blank, perplexed stares. A gifted, articulate speaker, he brought his unique charm to the timeless message of Sanatana Dharma.

  March 29, 1988, The Hague. Deepak Chopra speaks about “The Physiology of Peace” at International Law and Peace Conference. Associated Press photo/Albert Overbeek

  Deepak was lauded a genius—original and innovative. The public assumed his Indian birthright had bestowed his profound grasp of Vedic wisdom. Yet before meeting Maharishi, Deepak knew practically nothing about Vedic anything. Under Maharishi’s training, employing his guru’s phrases, delivery method, and expressions, Deepak became a hip, slick, Westernized Maharishi clone (no offense intended—au contraire, considering how powerful Maharishi was, this is a great recognition of Deepak’s talent).

  Maharishi assigned two Purusha course men to ghostwrite Deepak’s books. When asked how he authored eighty-five books, Deepak claimed he wrote them on plane flights. In 2017 in The Atlantic, Deepak’s new response to that same question: “I have eternity. I don’t believe in the concept of time”238 (evidently those “plane flights”).

  Before Perfect Health came out in 1990, PR professionals from Purusha arranged millions of TM meditators to preorder the first printing, making it a New York Times bestseller. This pattern continued for his first three books. In this way Maharishi propelled Deepak to stardom.

  Deepak, who considered himself just a “regular guy,”239 suddenly found himself in the position of being an official TM spokesperson. His patients at the Ayurvedic clinic included Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Jackson, and Donna Karan. He said the pomp and ceremony that TM meditators accorded him wherever he traveled made him uncomfortable because it bordered on veneration: “I wondered why Maharishi, the first ‘modern’ guru, allowed and encouraged it. It seemed inconsistent with Vedanta’s central theme that the material world is illusion, not to mention the freedom from materialism that is expected of one who is enlightened.”240

  After a while Deepak began to feel he was being used: “You know how the Movement is. They were always taking my credentials and putting them in front. I did feel exploited. I did feel used. But I was uncomfortable articulating that. Particularly in Maharishi’s presence.”241 Then in 1991 Deepak got stuck in the crossfire of conflict-of-interest controversies over an article about Ayurveda published in JAMA.

  That same year, Deepak Chopra’s father, a cardiologist in Delhi, saved Maharishi’s life when he collapsed with acute pancreatitis, kidney failure, septicemia, and heart attack. Poison orange juice from a “foreign disciple” was suspected. Maharishi flew to England for kidney dialysis. Upon arrival he suffered car
diac arrest, on life support with a pacemaker, then miraculously revived. Deepak nursed Maharishi back to health for a year, while followers believed he was “in silence.” After recovering, Maharishi flew to Vlodrop, Holland, where he remained until his death.

  Deepak noticed other TM leaders competing with him for Maharishi’s attention and leadership in the Movement. Maharishi told Deepak to pay no mind to jealous disciples who treated him rudely, but Deepak was sensing some spiritual popularity contest. “I started to be uncomfortable with what I sensed was a cultish atmosphere around Maharishi.”242 “I was never upset with Maharishi. But the people around him. I never had real anger—although I never understood all their gimmicks.”243 What Deepak disliked most was “the self-righteous attitude. That we are the best. What we know no one else knows. It wasn’t true.”244

  In July 1993, Maharishi confronted him: “People are telling me that you are competing with me.” He asked Deepak to stop traveling, stop writing books, and move into the ashram. Maharishi gave him twenty-four hours to decide. Deepak perceived him acting like “an irascible, jealous old man whose pride had been hurt.”245

  With family responsibilities, economic concerns, children in school, and a wife who wouldn’t live in an ashram, Deepak declared he didn’t need twenty-four hours and would leave immediately. He told Maharishi he had no ambitions to be a guru, the idea appalled him, and he was dismayed Maharishi would believe rumors. Deepak took his wife Rita’s hand and walked out.

  When Deepak returned to Boston, Maharishi offered to put him in charge of the whole Movement; he could be a great spiritual leader and everyone would follow him. Deepak replied, “I don’t want to be a spiritual leader. I am a very regular guy—with a wife and kids. I just have the gift of the gab.”246

  Maharishi’s comment to his close disciples: “Apparently the absolute is not big enough for Deepak.” TM spinmeisters then got to work. On July 16, 1993, the “Maharishi National Council of the Age of Enlightenment” officially announced Deepak was “no longer affiliated with the TM Movement.” All meditators were told to “ignore Deepak,” not contact him, or promote his courses, speaking engagements, tapes, or books. “This is extremely important for the purity of the teaching.”247

  Deepak’s response: “I am not really sure what is meant when people ask me if I’ve left the Movement.” “I still practice TM and the Sidhis, and will continue to recommend them and refer people to the Centers and Clinics.”248

  In 1993 Deepak became director at Sharp Institute for Human Potential and Center for Mind/Body Medicine in Del Mar, California, and in 1995 founded the Chopra Center in La Jolla. At some point, Maharishi asked Deepak to send a portion of his proceeds to the TM Movement. He refused.

  “In some people’s eyes I dropped Maharishi in order to launch myself,” Deepak said. “This perception has led to recriminations in the TM Movement. One is faced with the sad spectacle of people striving to gain enlightenment while at the same [time] vilifying anyone who dares to stray from the fold.”249

  In Vlodrop in 1994, Deepak told Maharishi he was leaving permanently. He expressed immeasurable gratitude and said he would love Maharishi forever. “Whatever you do will be the right decision for you,” Maharishi replied. “I will love you, but I will also be indifferent to you from now on.”250

  Deepak described this remark as “hurtful.” Certainly it was—deliberately. A master at both praise and hurt delivered it. Like any guru worth his salt, Maharishi shook his disciples with his cosmic saltshaker. He routinely sent them into a tailspin and brought them to impossible impasses. To what end? I surmise, to remove the veils of ignorance.

  Deepak said he saw an “unfair, jealous, biased, and ultimately manipulative” man. I believe whatever Maharishi said or did was another step in the process of annihilating the false ego, while awakening higher consciousness.

  Deepak himself said, “The role of a disciple isn’t to question a guru, but the exact opposite: Whatever the guru says, however strange, capricious, or unfair, is taken to be truth. The disciple’s role is to accommodate to the truth, and if it takes struggle and ‘ego death’ to do that, the spiritual fruits of obedience are well worth it. In essence the guru is like a superhuman parent who guides our steps until we can walk on our own.”251

  Since Deepak understood this “struggle and ego death” process, I don’t think he could have missed that Maharishi mirrored his own reflection. Just as Krishna broke down Arjuna with a few words in the Bhagavad Gita, so Maharishi, the master psychologist, broke down his disciples with his healing words.

  In a 1997 interview, Deepak declared, “I hold no personal animosity towards anyone in the TM movement and, despite my differences with Maharishi, I have gratitude for his having started me on my journey exploring the field of awareness.”252

  Maharishi’s life was blessed with so many wonders and miracles, they became commonplace. Like Maharishi’s first meeting with Deepak, he often detained disciples past their scheduled departure time, yet they found their plane or train coincidentally and conveniently delayed. Even the train carrying the Beatles to Wales in 1967 was handily suspended for six minutes past its scheduled departure until the three late-arriving Beatles boarded the train.

  Charlie Lutes was frantically speeding Maharishi to a ferry to Vancouver Island for a lecture. Maharishi told Charlie not to worry but just keep driving fast—over a hundred miles an hour. When they arrived late, the purser said it was their lucky day. The captain, never failing to sail on time in eighteen years, hadn’t cast off yet because he was “standing on the bridge like he was in a trance.”253

  When fog prevented Maharishi’s plane landing in Calgary, an amazing corridor of clear air suddenly appeared. This tunnel led straight to the landing strip. The pilot never saw such a bizarre weather phenomenon.

  On a humid day at a four-week course in the Austrian Alps in the early 1960s, an ancient Sanskrit text was read to Maharishi: “If it is true that this is a yogi, a very happy man, then the heavens will give you a sign.” Suddenly a fierce wind tore at the students’ clothing and hair. Yet strangely, not a hair on Maharishi’s head stirred. Then a heavy downpour fell with lightning and thunder. But the two hundred course participants sitting on the hilltop remained bone dry with Maharishi as he lectured. Right above them, blue sky peeked through a small round hole in the clouds. As soon as Maharishi finished and all were safely in their cars, the sky tore open and flooded the entire area.254

  On a Teacher Training Course in Europe in the early 1970s, Maharishi sat on his dais, holding a droopy flower on its last legs, sad and wilted. As he likened the sap permeating the flower to the infinite consciousness permeating creation, that flower started perking up, as though seeking sunlight. Within a couple of minutes, the flower totally revived and stood up like a little soldier. Hundreds of people witnessed it.

  A man received special instructions from Maharishi after a hernia operation. Upon waking from anesthesia, he repeated the words “body and mind are one,” while focusing on his wound. A powerful current of energy flowed through him. His soreness disappeared. Next day his doctor was stupefied to find the incision completely closed, miraculously.

  One course participant in Europe wanted to return to the USA. Maharishi told her not to leave, but she was insistent. Soon after her arrival in the States, she suffered a terrible car accident that rendered her physically and mentally impaired. It took years for her to recover. Taking Maharishi’s advice might have prevented this.

  When Deepak Chopra phoned Maharishi to say he was flying to India to visit his ailing mother, Maharishi urged him to meet the president, vice president, prime minister, and Speaker of the House, and tell them about Ayurveda.

  Maharishi kept Deepak on the phone so long, he missed his flight. Plus his seat on his connecting flight was taken. The stewardess seated him in the only spot available—first class. An Indian seated next to Deepak drank cognacs continually, all the way from New York to London.

  When he asked D
eepak why he wasn’t drinking cognac, he replied, “I’m making my own,” and shared his experiences of meditation and Ayurveda, all the way from London to Kuwait. When they finally arrived in Delhi, the man asked Deepak whether he would like to meet the president, vice president, prime minister, and Speaker of the House.

  Deepak, in shock, asked, “Who are you? Who sent you?”

  The man said he was bringing a three-million-dollar relief check to India for a gas leak disaster in Bhopal (nearly 4000 deaths and over 550,000 injuries). At a loss for what to say to these government officials, now he knew. He wanted Deepak to tell them about meditation and Ayurveda.

  Afterward, when Deepak tried to tell Maharishi about the meeting with the government officials, Maharishi waved him off. As usual, he wasn’t interested.255

  Millie Hoops, a TM meditator dying of breast cancer, told her friend Nancy Cooke, “Maharishi promised he would be with me when I die, to guide me across to the other side where Guru Dev would be waiting.”256 Maharishi had made an audiotape for Millie, to help her prepare for death.

  A month later, a small group of devotees, including Efrem Zimbalist Jr., Charlie Lutes, and Nancy Cooke, gathered around Maharishi at Helena and Roland Olson’s home. Shortly before 2:00 a.m., amidst an animated conversation, Maharishi stopped abruptly and left the room. Hiking up his robes, he ran upstairs to his bedroom. A few minutes later he returned to the group and continued until 3:00 a.m.

  Next day Nancy discovered Millie Hoops had died at 2:00 a.m. Nurses in attendance reported a bearded man in white robes came down the corridor out of the darkness, carrying a bunch of red roses. His arrival was noted on the nurses’ register.

  Smiling at the nurses, he headed straight for Millie’s room, without asking directions. One nurse, peering through the open door, saw him gesture over Millie’s head. Soon after he left, Millie died. Maharishi was upstairs in the Olsons’ home and, at the same time, in the hospital twenty miles away, fulfilling his promise to Millie. In India it’s called “bilocation.”