by Karen Jonson
I was not the first person the cult had attempted to shut up. While the journalist from the Austin American-Statesman was researching the in-depth report after Prakash’s arrest, the organization sent a group of people from the ashram to meet with the paper’s editor. In a futile attempt at damage control, they tried to squash the story. It didn’t work.
When writer, Jeannie Ralston, was researching the article on Prakash for Texas Monthly in the early 1990s, she later told me that the ashram had harassed her all through her investigation in an attempt to either quash the story or control the message. “I felt a lot of bad energy from him. Him and his preachers really freaked me out. He is so obviously a fake,” she said. “They were all about intimidation. He told me that I had great potential as a devotee, but not as a journalist. I’ve written for major New York publications and he’s telling me I’m not a journalist!
“When I told them that I was going to write a story with or without their cooperation, they decided to play ball. They arranged for me to him to interview him. Then when he had that fake seizure and fell down, I was thinking, ‘Don’t you realize this is going to be the lead to my story.’ I hadn’t even asked him a hardball question yet! When I left, I told them I’d send them the rest of the questions. When they got my hardball questions, they realized they had misjudged me. That’s when they FedExed me a certified letter at my home saying they were going to file a lawsuit againt me. They were trying to say that I was persecuting them because of their beliefs, which could not have been further from the truth. I have great respect for all religions. I was scared and seriously thought about dropping the story, which Texas Monthly had assigned me. But then I realized I didn’t want to be pushed around by them. So I just did the rest of my research without them—and wrote the story.”
In early 2015, CNN began working on an episode of John Walsh’s The Hunt about the status of the criminal felon. Not surprising, the cult went into damage control, attempting to get the show squashed by stating anyone who would listen that the show could cause “Hindus to become violent in the streets.” No one was listening.
Much to the cult’s chagrin, I’m sure, in the midst of my fight to tell the world the truth about my former cult, I experienced some major wins. In early 2013, a journalist from the biggest and most prestigious magazine in Delhi, called Outlook (the equivalent of Time magazine in the U.S.) contacted me. He was doing a report on how and why people blindly follow cults. He had just found my book and wanted to ask me some questions. He ended up putting my answers in a short article that accompanied his report.
Soon after I received an email from him saying one of his best friends was one of the best literary agents in India and he wanted to represent my book on the Indian subcontinent. The agent and I struck a deal and he pitched my book to several book publishers. HarperCollins India bought the rights for the India subcontinent—and launched a version of my book there in early 2014. Also, in 2014, a news reporter from an Austin TV station, KXAN, contacted me to do a follow up report on the missing guru. The spot that appeared on the news prominently featured my book. This video now resides on my book’s website—completely free of any trademark infringement.
Soon after my book was published in February 2012, the journalist Eric Dexheimer wrote an article about it. A professor at the University of Texas added my book to his course curriculum and invited me to speak to his graduate students, which I did for three years in a row. A local Rotary Club group also invited me to speak at one of its breakfast meetings at the Texas State Capitol. On a fluke, one of my supporters found out that the International Association of Religion Journalists was holding its annual conference in Austin and that one of their events was a field trip to the temple. I contacted the group to inform them about the truth behind the façade. As a result, they asked me to come and speak to them at their event.
These major wins bolstered my confidence and my resolve. The harder the cult worked to shut me up, the more determined I become to spread the word about their secrets. To that end, I will not give up. I have many new plans for exposing their secrets—while exercising my right to freedom of speech. To stay tuned, find me in these locations:
Website:
www.sexliesandtwohindugurus.com
Blogs:
www.theinnerwisdomproject.com
www.rishikaxcult.com
On Facebook:
www.facebook.com/theinnerwisdomproject
www.facebook.com/rishikaxcult
On Twitter:
@InnerWisdomDevi
PART SEVEN
In Hindsight
Deconstructing the Gurus’ Con Game
“No lie can live forever.”
— Martin Luther King Jr.
“I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.”
— John Newton (1725-1807)
122
Cult-Proof?
Resisting the Irresistible Lure
IN THE FIRST JKP LECTURE I ever attended, Prabhakari told the audience that a person needs three things to find God: the desire, a human body, and a God-realized saint.
In hindsight, I now know that people need at least three things to be lured into a cult: a sense of meaninglessness in their lives, a deep desire for something specific like God, and the introduction of a charismatic leader who claims to have all the answers.
However, joining a cult gives a person three main things: a feeling of purpose, a feeling of superiority, and an “all-powerful” leader who purports to know all the answers.
In actuality, having a distorted and excessive relationship with a “guru” is a way to abdicate the responsibility of your life. In the cultic relationship, the person regresses and becomes like an infant, doing exactly what the leader (the “all-knowing adult”) tells them to do. Strangely, this path can be very seductive, even for accomplished grown ups, for it feeds some primal need to be taken care of and to not have to work for what you want, because you believe your leader will give it to you—eventually.
Many people think they cannot be lured into the clutches of a cult. I know I thought that. In fact, at seventeen, I believed I was cult-proof. I grew up in the age of cults. My first cult-related memory was of the Charles Manson family back in the 1960s. I was eleven years old when the news broke about a group of people dancing to the music of a freaky lunatic in Southern California. The well-publicized crimes and the control Manson wielded over normal-looking people gave me nightmares.
Next came the Patricia Hearst case—when she was kidnapped and then reportedly recruited by the Symbionese Liberation Army in 1974. At their command, she helped carry out several nefarious acts. At the time, I found it unbelievable that a sane woman from a good family could be made to believe in the ideals of a radical group of thugs.
When I was in 12th grade the Moonies came to town. There was a rumor going around my high school that they were hanging around a pizza parlor downtown that was frequented by teenagers. They would cozy up to the kids by playing on their typical teenage angst. Once they gained a kid’s confidence, they would invite him or her to meetings where they would attempt to recruit them into their “religion.” Out of curiosity, I went downtown one day to investigate. As I walked down Main Street across from the pizza parlor, I saw two women scoping me out. I lingered in front of a shoe store, acting like I was engrossed in the shoes behind the large display window. Predictably, the two women—who were in their early twenties—approached me and began schmoozing me, acting like they were my best friends.
“Hi. How is school going?” they asked me.
It’s a good opening line, because no high school kid is going to say, “Great, thanks for asking.” Of course school is horrible and, along with your parents and siblings, it is the bane of your existence at that age. But I was consciously playing their game just to toy with them and see how they worked their scam.
“Horrible, I can’t wait until I graduate next year.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,
” said one. “Then you can leave your parents, too. I’ll bet they get on your nerves.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait to move out of the house.”
“Parents don’t understand us. We all deserve more control over our lives. After all, we’re adults and they want to keep us like children. You know, until you move out next year you are welcome to come visit our group. People there will understand you. We meet in a house over on Third Street.” The women were clearly no longer in their teens, but they were trying to pretend they were my age.
“Sounds good. I’ll think about it.”
The more I talked to them, the more I noticed their eyes. They had the darkest, most dead looking gaze I’d ever seen. They seemed hesitant to end the conversation. Perhaps they were waiting for a firm commitment. But they were wasting their time. I would never go to their freak-shop house.
“Bye,” I said, as I walked away.
I walked home with the smug confidence of someone who knew she would never be lured into a scam by a glassy-eyed, brainwashed recruiter. I was extremely proud of myself for being smarter than these cult members. I moved on with my life, confident that I was cult-proof. But, of course, I was not.
My problem was that I was searching for something outside myself that I could only find inside myself.
123
God or Psychopath?
An Accumulation of Evidence
AFTER LEARNING THE TRUTH ABOUT JKP, I started to wonder about Kripalu Maharaj—who was he, really?
Among his devotees, he is considered the incarnation of Radha-Krishna, the reincarnation of Lord Chaitanya Mahaprabhu, and the fifth Jagadguru—all with some extraordinary mythology surrounding his birth and growing-up years. But, of course, it’s all a fairytale.
So who is Kripalu really? My first clue came when I began learning about a personality disorder called psychopathy or sociopathy. According to Wikipedia:
“Psychopathy is a mental disorder characterized primarily by a lack of empathy and remorse, shallow emotions, egocentricity, and deceptiveness. Psychopaths are highly prone to antisocial behavior and abusive treatment of others. Though lacking empathy and emotional depth, they often manage to pass themselves off as average individuals by feigning emotions and lying about their past.”
My studies led me to what is widely considered to be the seminal book for laypeople on the subject: Without Conscience: The Disturbing World of the Psychopaths Among Us, by Robert D. Hare, PhD, the world’s leading expert on psychopathology. Dr. Hare created a list of characteristics used today by trained experts in law enforcement, prisons, and psychiatrists to identify psychopaths. In it, Dr. Hare identified the twelve most common characteristics. I am not a trained psychologist and cannot provide a definite diagnosis of Kripalu, but based on my years as a devotee, I can say with complete confidence that he exhibits all twelve characteristics, from being “egocentric and grandiose” to showing “poor behavior control” to displaying “adult antisocial behavior.”
What’s more, I learned something curious—and unsettling—about Kripalu in an article that talked about his arrest for the rapes in India. While he claimed to be the incarnation of Radha-Krishna, he had actually practiced under a tantric yogi in his youth. Here is part of the article’s translation from Hindi:
“Kripalu’s primary education was in Chitrakoot and further in Indore. At that time he met a swami and got to know him. He was impressed with him. He left his home and moved to his ashram. The swami knew tantric yoga. Kripalu did seva to the swami and learned tantric knowledge. Then he left and went to Vrindaban and started his own ashram (using his tantric knowledge).
“He gave eloquent speeches. Because of that people became impressed, and many went to his lectures and slowly his devotees grew. Word got out that if someone happened to get something that they wanted, they would credit him. For example, if a woman wanted a baby or a man wanted a job and they got what they wanted (by chance) after seeing Kripalu, they believed he caused it. Many started relying on him for their desires. Slowly people started believing he was a descended form of god and started doing puja to him. Whoever had blind faith on him, those people joined him. With the people’s money he made a big ashram in Mangarh.
“Kripalu is a different kind of sadhu. He was a married man with children. But he didn’t care for that. When he was young he married a very beautiful lady and honeymooned in Mangarh (note: not the woman, Ama, who was his wife in later years). Then he left and went back to Vrindaban. He kept going to Mangarh on and off to see her. But then she became fat and he didn’t like her anymore, and quit going to see her. He married a second time. Even though he married a second time, devotees still had faith in him. Time went on and he became more famous and he got many devotees in several places. Through donations he became a millionaire.”
Further, I learned several unsettling things about the real Kripalu from a distant member of the family. Through my connection to this person, I was told that Kripalu was what can only be described as a very disturbed person from a very young age. He allegedly had sex with “every female member of his family” and raped every female in the tiny Mangarh village. I had also heard rumors that he had sex with his own three daughters. Knowing what I do about him now, I believe these rumors are likely true. This is probably why the three women, although educated, never left their father to be married. And, in fact, they became significant figures in his con game over the years—as well as the primary beneficiaries of his kingdom.
Also, I had the opportunity to speak with Dr. Gordon Warme, the psychologist who visited him in the 1990s. I asked him how he would classify Kripalu. He said: “I believe we should make a moral judgement about people like him. He’s evil. Judging him morally is the right thing to do. We should call evil, evil.”
He also shared a few more insights. “He was a very smart guy. Very much in control. The men were all passive. He didn’t want any competition. There was a fever among everyone for his attention, especially among the women. He owned the whole village, where people lived in utter poverty. I went there because my secretary’s mother was a staunch devotee. In fact, she left her daughter there at 18. I sent her a plane ticket, because she didn’t want to be there.”
It’s no surprise that Kripalu’s official backstory is a complete fabrication, because being an accomplished liar goes hand-in-hand with being a textbook psychopath.
124
Liar, Liar
Who is Prakashanand Saraswati?
PRAKASHANAND SARASWATI was not just your average, everyday guru—at least according to him.
His “official” bio claims that at the age of twenty-three he was offered the prestigious religious position of Jagadguru Shankaracharya of Joshimath, previously held by Brahmananda Saraswati (aka, Guru Dev), considered one of the four principle religious positions in India. There is only one problem with his lofty claim to fame: It’s completely bogus.
In fact, most of Prakash’s professed history is a lie. He was not born into a “respected Brahmin” family (meaning preachers), he did not wander in forests and live in caves for eighteeen years, nor was he asked to be the successor of Guru Dev.
We may never know the whole truth about him, but the facts we do know reveal much about the man behind the mask. For starters, Mary, the former Sureshwari, told me that Prakash was “just some village boy.” This explains why no one from his past ever visited him in his role as guru, and why he never said exactly who or where his family members were.
His claim to have wandered in forests and lived in caves is equally false. For many years as a young sadhu he lived in a small building atop a hill near Barsana, India, where the footprints of Krishna are said to be imprinted into a rock. I’ve seen the place. It was a tiny room, but it was definitely not a cave. And he did not have to worry about food, because the villagers surrounding the area brought daily meals to the sadhus who lived there. They even brought food to the group of devotees I was with when we visited the location.
There is als
o no evidence to support the claim that Guru Dev wanted Prakash to be next in line for his title. In fact, I found long dissertations online that examined the complexities of successorship that arose after Guru Dev’s death in 1952, because there were several potential candidates—many of whom had been Guru Dev’s long-time disciples. Prakash’s name only shows up as a footnote, as someone who “claims to have been offered the seat of Shankaracharya of Joshimath.” In reality, sometime in his late twenties, Prakash met Kripalu and hitched his wagon to his traveling circus.
Glaringly absent from Prakash’s bio is the tremendous future influence that Guru Dev’s personal secretary, a man named Mahesh Prasad Varma, would have on him. Three years after Guru Dev’s death, Varma assumed a new name—Maharishi Mahesh Yogi—and introduced a path of yoga called Transcendental Meditation© TM, which was supposedly based on the teachings of Guru Dev. Starting in the 1960s, the Maharishi found an eager audience in the growing numbers of Westerners seeking Eastern mysticism. The TM program became famous worldwide when The Beatles spent some time with the Maharishi in India—before becoming disillusioned and leaving. The Maharishi became one of the most successful Hindu gurus to ever land on U.S. shores, and this did not go unnoticed by Prakash. In fact, Prakash’s travels to the U.S. show a man interested in emulating the Maharishi’s success.
Prakash’s bio also claims that when he was about forty-five, “the Divine Will of Shree Radha inspired him to come back into the world, help the souls looking for God realization, and rejuvenate and spread the path of raganuga bhakti (divine-love-consciousness) in the world.” Since Prakash claimed that Kripalu was Radha in an earthly form, it follows that he left India to go out preaching at Kripalu’s bidding. In fact, it wasn’t until the 1970s that Prakash started traveling abroad and working in earnest to gather a following of devotees. He started in Fiji, Singapore, and New Zealand, ultimately visiting the U.S. for the first time in the late 1970s.
