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At the Ashram
A cross-legged guru playing Krishna, midnight dancing sessions, genuine social works, and an emaciated child on a fast leave a visitor disoriented.
It was nearing midnight. A large hall crammed with at least a thousand people throbbed with loud, racy music. As part of the crowd, I found it impossible to hold my body still. My feet tapped of their own accord. My body swayed. Later at night, I joined the crowd and wept. As I wept, I wondered why I was crying. It was ridiculous, yet intoxicating. Almost delicious.
At the far end was a raised stage upon which a man, dressed like a religious guru of evidently great importance, sat cross-legged on a chair. He was dressed in simple, white, cotton clothes. Around this man, a circle of women twirled in ecstasy. Their lehengas billowed and flashed intricate patterns in silk, zari and mirrors. Their open hair was wild, their faces contorted in delirious joy.
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