analiser when criminal involvement was suspected in death.
- Secret service. Probably not. He did have contacts.
He used to like me. Took me to numerous House Parties, with other gang-members. He had somekind of passeport. He used to drive in a second world war American truck, without any lights on, in the middle of the night, on the highway. Not a worry in the world. The higway was his. If policeman would stop him, just a couple of words, and every thing was solved. He was a XTC-dealer as well. He even offered me a job in the drug-industry. I mean with such protection, I could be the next one in line, without any execution, at the end. These highshots never end up in Jail. Maybe it was a setup. He wanted me to end up in Jail. I Never found out.
- I don't think he wanted me to end up in jail. He was just mad.
I mean everything was tolerated in sannyas-world. I refused. I was only fifteen after all, and had no idea of the implications. I never really trusted that person. Today he lives peacefully, with wife and children,lots of money, retired in some boring house, next to Amsterdam.
Besides this drug-bizz was not really my thing, took a couple of those pills, but felt sick at the slyminess of them. I even went to see Pink Floyd in concert, without Roger Waters, but the trully great best electric guitarist in the world David Gilmour of his time on a LSD trip, not in the Army truck this time, just a Volkswagen van. I never forget that concert. It was Magical and those Buddha chemicals, they just increased the "Shine On Your Crazy Diamonds" Feeling. We were with a couple of Celts, the Gangster, and One English Viking.
- Unintersesting crap. Never even crossed my mind. To go in the drug-industry.
It is thought that when the Safe in the Mystery School, that strange Commune in Amsterdam, was robbed it was the Viking together with the Gangster that did it. That's the kind of charachters I grew up with at least on the rascal side of sannyas. I mean that was easy after all. Sannyas and security, except in Oregon, were not very strong points, and even in Oregon, I mean do you remember when that journalist turned out, in front of Bhagwan on his throne with a gun(?) and Good Old Fascistic Sheila, cried to Bhagwan:"There's a man with a gun, who wants to kill you".
He was the biggest Gangster of them all. He didn't need no security. Just a blink of the eyes and the man fell to his knees. Especially in those days. Maybe that was also some kind of set up. I never found out.
- Just some things that puzzled me. Nothing interesting.
He didn't even need a passeport. I even remember when some Indians tried to assasinate Bhagwan, a long long time ago. I even talked to them when the Police finally arrived to arrest them, handcuffed in Indian jeep. I just had had my breakfast in Nanu's house, some spicy Indian food. His Mother likes me. But Indians are Indians. It did cost me one Ruppee. Later Nanu compensated it. He made me believe I was some kind of succesful businessman, selling cigarettes. I am sure it cost him more than he got out of it. I used just to give everything away for free, and he would all buy it for me.
- Just memories. To be honest. These knifethrowers. Didn't look that bad at all. They were very clean. Seemed quite honest. They had these bigs pictures in the banned picture albums, of these knifethrowers, I swear they looked quite humble. not sneaky or anything, well educated. After all Bhagwan was quite provocative at times.
I always seem to be at the right place in the right moment.
- Dumb vain sentence.
Those assassinators were in the jeep laughing, chitchatting with Police. One of them even patted my head. They were kind of interesting. Asked how I was doing. I didn't really know what to answer. Just looking at them. Curious. Also at the jeep.
The whole ashram was in turmoil and those Knifethrowers seemed to have a good time. They also had somekind of passeport.
- They didn't have any kind of passeport. They were pissed at Bhagwan when he said something against Hindu's, or some other religion. I don't remember.
One of those "chosen one" kids part of American maffia, (they couldn't stand me), said to me later: "That's nothing MY MOTHER, was sitting and the knife landed almost on her knees". That was the kind of competition going on between me and those "chosen ones" who always rejected me. Anyway I was always richer than them even then.
I used to beg in the Ashram. "Do you have a thousand ruppee for me?". That was a lot of money in those days. I was already then a greedy monster. So someguy started asking me:"But, what do you need that money for, and where is your mother?". Probably some German Grundlich type, I didn't need no mother in those days,and definitelly not complicated talks. So I ask the guy who was sitting next to him the same question.
He immediately handed over a thousand ruppees, and my day was done. I went to the toy-shops in MG road and bought guns, bow and arrows and straight back in the peaceful hippie meditating Ashram. I am sure some felt disturbed, but nobody ever dared say something to me. After all I also had somekind of passeport.
I was always a pain in the ass for peace-seekers, maybe that was my passeport.
- I never had anykind of passeport. I was hyper-active due to disturbance in my life.
They even banned me from the Ashram for one week. Took my picture. I was already then a Criminal.
- Criminal me? Never. Some women, highshotguard, try to teach me some authority. I was always in the only resident part of the Ashram, which was forbidden. After at least a hundred warnings they banned me.
For one week no money. Then my caretaker an English Ma, bought me a bycicle. She used to go to Japan for Striptease Act, and earn a lot of money, the most expensive one. Three days later I traded it for plastic Walkie Talkies. She never forgot that.
The whole Ashram was laughing. It even made somehow popular. A little revenge to those American maffia kids. It was always war.
She continued to take care of me after that. She also became popular. Without her I'd probably have died.
- Popular is not the right word, just that she was a very nice person, a little disturbed, like me. Nobody was laughing, it just made the headlines that day.
When I was a lucky one and got sannyas in front of Bhagwan, one of those tiny mala's even Bhagwan was confused. I seem to bring confusion everywhere I go. "But where is the mother, and where is the father?" He asked. I mean he was maybe a Gangster but to give sannyas to a kid just like that without any parental consent that was almost going beyond his crazyness. Anyway Bhagwan was Bhagwan and I was now a sannyasin with one of those little mala's. My mother had diarreha. So some friend of her took me there.
That's also why my picture never appeared in Darshan Diaries. Those office Maffia, didn't dare to print it. Especially with Bhagwan's confusion in it.
- I was always pissed that my picture didn't appear nowhere.
Three days later I went to the office, and traded it for a Bigger mala. Those fat ones. Again some revenge to American maffia kids. It was Laxmi who gave it to me. She understood the problem. Everybody said :"You traded the mala Bhagwan gave you.You'r really crazy." He was some kind of God after all, and everything he touched was Holly. I mean for the dumb sannyasins only. The SS-type.
I didn't want no small mala, that was for children who went to school and little girls.
- Laxmi died of somekind of disease in Bombay. I was really sad that day. I don't want to end up like that, though.
I even fought with those kids. Hard battles. Me against five of them. Of course I would lose, but the next day I would try to figure out how to get them back. They had skate boards, and I only had a board on wheels made by some handy man in the Ashram, who was my friend. he was also American, but not maffia. I still carry scares from that board on wheels. In fifteen days they had to stitch my chin three times. They didn't yet have marbled alleys in those days.
- Exageration, many of thos kids were not that mean. The American ones were quite mean, though. There Parents had positions. They were extremely arrogant, nothing compared to me.
They even had to open the holly gates, during Black Out, when Bhagwan was giving Darshan. I had knocked my head on an electricity poll, Some doctor had to be taken away, from in front of Bhagwan, to stitch me. I brought every where confusion.
I always was a pain in the ass for peace-seekers.
- That story just makes me laugh.I was just hyper-active due to disturbance in my life. Excuser-moi.
The girls the same. They didn't like me much. I was not part of the gang. Besides I always was dirty. Mud over the face, no haircut, cheap cloth, mixing with wrong charachters. My only friends were the ones who came temporary to visit the Ashram from all over the world. They didn't stand a chance in sannyas hierarchy, not part of school, any of that crap.
After one and half year, Arup (Top Retarded Maffia), asked me and my mother who I rarely saw, to go the office. She asked us to leave the Ashram. I was always finding other caretakers. Anything but her. Even used to sleep in the moonlight, once in a while. Some Indian beggar would then take care of me. put blankets on me. I mean After all what did we have to bring, especially me, although I was working in the kitchen.
- Slight exageration. Learned it from Bhagwan. Rebuild the past to your own liking. Only happened twice. One German Cave Man, who was banned from the Ashram. took care of me. Never exchanged a word. I don't think he spoke, and an Indian visiting his familly in Pune, found me int the street. He slept outside.
She said:"Bhagwan advices his followers to go back to the West, after a while blablabla..." , that was the beginning of Sheila time.I Never forgot that day. She had a packet of American Bubble Gums, on her desk. My eyes were fixed on them, American Chewing Gum. Top Luxury in India. She new I wanted one. She deliberately didn't give me one. I never forgave her. It was some revenge of her part.
- That Chewing Gum story , just personal vendetta. It was the beginning of Sheila Time, though. From there on, never again things were the same. The Dark Side of Sannyas had started.
Of course, we didn't go. We would not let ourselves be intimidated by any of that. Besides how to go? No passeport, lost in the monsoon, no money, no nothing. She was really pissed after that. She's still Top Maffia.
If I can nail her down I will. Although she's a probably quite old now. It's a little pittiful.
- What do I care. She'll probably not even die of Alzeimher. You need some kind of Brain for that.
We stayed untill five months after Bhagwan had left for America, with some medical excuse.
- Lies had started seriously appearing, in Sannyas-world. I never really digested that. If your so-called "enlightened", why should all those lies have been invented.
The day I heard Bhagwan left for America. (It was kept top secret untill he was gone). I cried and screamed for three hours. Sannyas was dead, for me that day. I never completely recovered. He betrayed everything.
My youth, my trust, my life.
- I just mean that meant I had again to move around the world, when I was finally getting a bit older, and had got used to some stability in my life. I also knew things would never be the same again. Took me thirty years to accept that. Landed in Belgium, in the autumn. grey skies all of that. I was not really used to it, in some Christian school, where I learned about Jesus and the Bible ,once again, for one year, wearing red cloth and mala. That was real torture from both sides. I can almost laugh about it today. Completely absurd. At least Bhagwan made those stories less terrifying. I was scared to death, with those Biblical stories, crucifixion, the school teacher, very strict.
Conclusion: Highly romantised story. Just childish stuff. Rebuilding your past, as the great lier all times did.
Bhagwan was simply crazy, full of lies, esoteric paranoic bullshit, locked up in his room all day, inventing all kind of stories, to cover up previous lies untill the day he died, driving people mad, and I just digested it for thirty years. Nothing to be proud of. Thinking it's all between the lines. I really believed it. I swear. He was very unusual after all. He made you go against your natural instincts. Pure SM.
That's how I experienced it.
Benoit
