by Karen Jonson
Krishna explains to Arjuna why he must fight. “It’s your dharma (fate).”
A few months after I discovered the truth about the gurus, I watched a documentary called I’m Your Man about Leonard Cohen, a well-known Canadian writer of songs and stories. He was very spiritual, and had even lived for several years in a monastery in California. During the film, he shared some of his spiritual insights. I was particularly intrigued by a comment he made about the Bhagavad Gita:
“There is a great moment in the Bhagavad Gita - Arjuna, the general, the great general, he’s standing in his chariot. All the chariots are ready for war. Across the battlefield he sees his opponents. He sees not only aunts and uncles and cousins, he sees gurus, teachers that have taught him. And you know how Indians revere that relationship. He sees them.
“And Krishna, one of the expressions of the deity, says to him: ‘You will never untangle the circumstances that brought you to this moment. You are a warrior. Arise now mighty warrior with a full understanding that they’ve already been killed and so have you. This is just a play. This is my will. You are caught up in the circumstances that I determined for you. That you did not determine for yourself. So arise. You are a noble warrior. Embrace your destiny, your fate. And stand up and do your duty.’”
Later that day I went for a walk around the ashram property, I was angry with God for bringing me to this place. As I walked down a narrow dirt road through the trees, I said out loud: “Okay Krishna, you brought me to this ashram and had me live this renounced life. I came here to find you and instead found two wicked conmen, performing the most vilest of acts on innocent spiritual seekers and children. This is all your doing. Now tell me what you want me to do next. Tell me my destiny and I will do my duty to you.”
For the first time in all my years there, I felt Krishna right in front of me. He was taller than the trees, standing straight and strong, and dressed in full warrior regalia. He was dazzlingly beautiful: a pale blue, with thick black wavy hair down to his shoulders. He had human features, but he wasn’t human. His ornaments shined despite the lack of sunlight. I lost the sense of my surroundings, and only felt the fullness of his presence.
Leonard Cohen’s words reverberated in my brain: “Embrace your destiny, your fate. And stand up and do your duty.” I felt as if Krishna were imparting this message to me directly. Then he was gone. But a new feeling of strength, of shakti, settled in my mind.
That evening I sat for satsang and looked up at the life-sized deity of Radha in the shrine, sitting regally on her thrown. I’d seen her thousands of times as a pretty stone statue, always dressed in the most beautiful saris and ornaments. But when I looked up at her this time, she was glowing from every side. The more I stared at her, the more she shimmered. She seemed to be looking right at me. At one point, I thought I saw her smile. A feeling of peace and contentment washed over me.
Just before arti, Prakash entered the hall and took his seat on the stage. I knew I was going to have to offer him prashad at the end of the ceremony, and I braced myself for the moment of proximity with him—an experience I used to cherish, but that now repelled me.
As I offered the bowl of nuts and fruit to Radha, I felt deeply connected to her. As I offered the bowl to Prakash, he picked up a nut and reached to put it in my mouth as he’d done dozens of times before. I opened my mouth, but the nut fell to his couch. I picked it up and walked away. The experience felt like a metaphor for my permanently broken link to him.
My connection and duty now was to God alone—with no guru middleman any more.
76
Escaping the Cult
Break on Through to the Other Side
BY EARLY 2008, I was wondering when exactly I should move out of the ashram.
I knew it was just a matter of time before Prakash was arrested, and I wondered which would be better: Stay and witness the aftermath or get out before all hell broke loose?
Jane gave me the perfect answer. She had come to Austin in February for business. I picked her up at the airport and we spent the day together. On the way home, we stopped for dinner in a small cafe in Dripping Springs.
“When do you think I should leave the ashram? Before or after his arrest?” I asked her.
She didn’t hesitate. “You should get out of there before his arrest. There is no telling what will happen. Law enforcement might raid the place. Maybe the media will be camped outside. People might retaliate. It could become dangerous and even difficult to leave.”
That was all I needed to hear. I knew she was right. I would definitely clear out before he was arrested. Our best guess for his arrest was the next time he returned to the U.S. from India. Jane had been informed by someone in the Hays Sheriff’s office that he would not be arrested in Austin. We knew it would occur in whichever city he flew into on his return to the U.S. from India. Prakash had too many faithful followers in Austin, and the authorities could not predict how they might react.
Finally, his return date was announced—April 24th. I put my plans into high gear, found an apartment, sold my portable office building, scheduled the movers, and started packing—all without anyone knowing about my plans.
After viewing several apartments, I found a lovely place in a safe neighborhood. It would be available on Wednesday April 16th. I started moving carloads of my possessions from the ashram to my new home on that day. I marveled at the fact that, after so many years, I would finally have my own bathroom, kitchen, and living room. The apartment felt downright luxurious after life in the ashram.
I worried most about selling the portable office building I’d purchased two years earlier. After all, how does a person sell such an odd item? But I advertised it on Craigslist, and found a buyer who lived only about five miles away. It was truly a miracle.
A few days before the building movers were scheduled, I realized I needed to make sure the ashram service gates would be open so that they could move the building off the property. I wanted to leave without telling anyone, like everyone else did. But I need to get permission to open the gates, so I wrote a simple letter to Prabhakari. I told her that I was moving and asked her permission to open the gates on a Saturday. I made up the excuse that I could no longer abide by the rules of Barsana Dham, and so I was moving into town. It was my last act of pretending like she had any authority over my life.
I ran into her later that day and she feigned friendliness, but I could tell she was happy I was going. She said, “Of course, we’ll open the service gates for you.” Then she added insincerely, “I’m sorry you are leaving. You should talk to Swamiji before you go.”
Faking humility, I said, “I have already spoken to him.”
She faked concern and said, “I know,” nodding her head.
“I have one request,” she added. “Will you tell the devotees you are leaving at the Saturday morning meeting?”
My first thought was hell no! But instead, “I’m not good at public speaking.”
“Think about it and if you feel up to it, I think it would be very nice.”
Of course, she thought it would be nice—she viewed it as a public relations move for her. No one who had ever left the ashram during the entire fifteen years I’d lived there had ever announced in a public forum that they were leaving, including former preachers. Typically, most people just disappeared in the middle of the night, and that was the last we saw of them. I didn’t want to be the first to make a public announcement because I didn’t want anyone to know my true feelings.
But when I woke up the next day, the perfect words for a short departure speech were fully formed in my mind. I quickly wrote them down. I realized I could say the truth—but with a double meaning. This was apt, I thought, considering that for years I’d listened to the fake gurus talk in secret code, telling us one thing while meaning another.
As we did every Saturday morning after satsang, we all congregated in Prakash’s sitting room for the weekly meeting where we discussed ashram issues. Every person who had
an announcement put his or her name on the meeting manager’s list. Jaresha called me first.
I cleared my throat and began reading my short message. But before I got through the first sentence, I burst into tears—not of sorrow at leaving, but out of frustration and anger that I’d been conned by such wicked men.
Lois came over and put her arm around me. Then Pam sat on my other side and held my hand. I could hear others in the room crying as well. Several devotees were in tears as I spoke the following words:
“As many of you have probably already heard, I am moving out this weekend after having lived in Barsana Dham for over one and a half decades. While I am physically leaving the ashram, I am in no way leaving the path of Radha-Krishna devotion. Everything I’ve gained devotionally is staying with me forever—and hopefully continuing to grow. But Barsana Dham has grown and changed since I moved here in April 1993, and, for me personally, things recently reached a tipping point in my ability to participate as required. You’ll still see me, as I plan to continue in my devotions and seva to Radha-Krishna for the rest of my life.”
In the end, saying one thing and meaning another was about the only thing I had actually learned from the two fake gurus.
After all the planning and worrying over the past few months, my move was executed with military-style precision. The furniture movers came on Friday, the building movers came on Saturday, and I finished cleaning up the last of my stuff from my one bedroom on Sunday. I was finally done at 8:45 p.m—just before everyone got out of satsang at 9:00 p.m. I drove off the property for the last time, waving goodbye to Jack, who was on guard duty near the front gate that night.
As I drove out of Barsana Dham for the last time and into the real world, I felt the most profound sense of freedom. I rolled down the windows, turned up the music, and sang all the way to my new home.
Exactly four days later, when he landed in Washington D.C., on his way back from India to Austin, my former guru was arrested by U.S. Marshals on twenty counts of “indecency with children by sexual contact.”
PART FIVE
In the World
Divine Intervention
“All that is necessary for the triumph of
Evil is for good men to do nothing.”
— Edmund Burke, British statesman,
1729-1797 AD
“You must fight. It’s your dharma.”
— Lord Krishna, Bhagavad Gita, 18:59
77
Swamiji is Arrested
All Hell Breaks Loose
ON 24 APRIL 2008, JUST FOUR DAYS after I moved out of the ashram, all hell broke loose in Barsana Dham.
That Thursday afternoon, U.S. Marshals arrested Prakash as he debarked from an international flight in Washington, D.C., while en route to Austin from India. I learned about it that evening in a to-the-point email from Jane: “It’s done.”
The U.S. Department of Justice issued the following press release:
Hindu Leader Charged with Groping Underage Girls
Austin, TX - Swami Prakashanand Saraswati, 79, known to his followers as Shree Swamiji, was arrested Thursday afternoon at Washington Dulles International Airport by the Capital Area Regional Fugitive Task Force as he arrived aboard a flight from Europe.
Saraswati was indicted by a Hays County, Texas Grand Jury in April 2008 after a criminal investigation conducted by the Hays County Sheriff’s Office resulted in a 20 count indictment alleging Saraswati committed indecent acts with two children from 1993 thru 1996.
Saraswati was remanded to the custody of the Alexandria Sheriff’s Office in Alexandria, Virginia pending extradition to Hays County, San Marcos, Texas.
LaFayette Collins, United States Marshal for the Western District of Texas, states, “The Lone Star Fugitive Task Force is committed to pursuing criminals who victimize our children and we will not stop in our effort to make our communities safer.”
Members of the Lone Star Fugitive Task Force in Austin are the Austin Police Department - Intelligence Unit, Hays County Sheriff’s Office, Texas Rangers, and the U.S. Marshals Service.
I was excited, relaxed, and happy knowing that Prakash was finally going to be held accountable for some of the crimes he had committed over several decades. The next forty-eight hours, knowing he was behind bars, were among the most satisfying in my life up until then.
The same cannot be said for the Barsana Dham residents. That day, they were deep into preparations for that year’s annual mela Indian fair. Prakash was supposed to preside over the event and give a speech. From what I heard from devotees present inside the ashram, I pieced together the following chain of events.
On Thursday, Prakash was supposed to arrive in Barsana Dham 9:00 p.m. After satsang, it was announced that he would not be returning that night because he was “held up in customs.”
Then the next morning the local media showed up—five trucks with media towers. They began filming immediately, conducting interviews with Prabhakari and random visitors. A couple of devotees were recruited to take snacks and beverages to the media. However, even with a media circus underway, for several hours the devotees were not told what was going on. They continued working, believing the media was there to cover the event.
By late afternoon, word spread throughout the ashram that Prabhakari would be holding a meeting at 4:30 p.m. My informants described the craziness for me. They said she walked into the sitting room with a big fake grin on her face, acting like everything was under control. Someone said she was even laughing. Yet, they made the children leave the room. Then she rambled on about how Prakash was innocent, without ever saying what exactly it was that he was supposedly innocent of. She then ended the meeting with a surprise announcement: “If you want to see me on TV, watch the news tonight.”
Jack called me right after the meeting. “It’s a shit storm from hell here. Five news trucks and their towers have been here all day.”
Just before 5:00 p.m., I gathered my four small portable televisions into my new living room and tuned them all to different channels. Prakash’s arrest was the lead news story on every local station. In her interviews, Prabhakari looked suspicious and insincere.
In her most ridiculous, logical-fallacy-laden statement she stated: “No one who knows him would ever believe he could have done this.”
78
Extradited
Free on $1 Million Cash Bail
ON SATURDAY, PRAKASH WAS EXTRADITED from Washington D.C. to Texas under armed guard.
U.S. marshals escorted him to the Hays County Sheriff’s Office, where he was booked on twenty counts of “indecency with children by sexual contact,” fingerprinted, and photographed. His bail was set at one million dollars. They also confiscated his passport and limited his access to Barsana Dham, the scene of his alleged crimes.
That afternoon, a few of his wealthier followers coughed up the cash for his release. Someone wired the whole one million to Hays County. Within hours, Prakash was released. He even made it back to the ashram in time to make a grand appearance at the temple and give a short speech.
A reporter from Channel 7 news was given “exclusive” access to film Prakash’s return at the doors of the temple, where he was greeted by adoring devotees, a few of whom placed fresh flower garlands around his neck. I learned later that Barsana Dham thought it would get special treatment from Channel 7 because the station employed an Indian reporter.
Although Prakash made an appearance at the ashram, one of the terms of his bail was that he could not live on the Barsana Dham property, since it was a public place frequented by children, and he was an accused pedophile. The ashram launched a full-scale media battle to simultaneously bury the bad press, and spin any new stories that were developing. They hired two public relations firms—a local agency called Hahn, Texas, and a high-priced firm in California.
Multiple new websites began popping up, spouting the organization’s propaganda. In just a few hours of searching, I found several small cookie-cutter websites with the same
launch date. There were also blogs for the preachers, and pages on multiple online forums. At one point, I counted over three dozen websites, pages, and blogs. The ashram was clearly hoping to bury the bad news—a common PR strategy in the Internet age.
What the powers-that-be never imagined was one former wallflower devotee becoming a warrior—and an informant for a tenacious investigative newspaper reporter.
79
Becoming an Informant
The $10 Million Dollar Article
ON 19 MAY 2008, ALMOST A MONTH after Prakash’s arrest, three opportune bits of information came my way.
First, I received an email from a former housemate, Madelane, asking me to call the Barsana Dham office to let them know where to forward my mail. When I called, Mary told me that Prakash was due to leave Austin for India the next day.
“You should come and see him tonight,” Mary said in an upbeat tone.
“I will, thanks,” I lied.
Then Kate called me about Prakash’s recent hearing, which we assumed was going to be a pre-trial hearing. But instead, Prakash’s lawyers had requested a hearing so they could ask for his passport to be returned and to get the terms of his bond changed so he could freely enter Barsana Dham.
“Do you want to know what happened at the hearing last Wednesday?” she asked.
“Of course,” I replied, excited to get the scoop.
Someone who was at the hearing had told Kate it was basically nothing more than a dog-and-pony show. Prakash’s lawyers trotted out some professor of religion from St. Edwards University to say that Hinduism was “a real religion.” His lawyers also presented several letters from government and religious people, mostly from India, who wrote glowing recommendations of Prakash. Then Peter S., Prakash’s main man and the owner of several infomercial businesses, took the stand to testify to Prakash’s sincerity and spirituality.