Cartwheels in a Sari by Jayanti Tamm - Excerpt

Ca rtwheels in a Sari Sa ri A Memoir of Growing Up Cult

J a y a n t i T a m m

Harmony Books New York

Copyright © 2009 by Jayanti Tamm All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Harmony Harmony Books, an imprint of the Crown Publishi Publishing ng Group, Group, a division division of Random Random House, House, Inc., New York. York. www.crownpublishing.com www.crownpublishing.com Harmony Books is a registered trademark and the Harmony Books

colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Tamm, Jayanti. Jayanti. Cartwheels in a sari / Jayanti Tamm.—1st ed. 1. Ch Chin inmo moy y, Sri, Sri, 1931 1931–2 –200 007— 7—Cu Cult lt.. 2. Tamm, amm, Jayan ayanti ti.. 3. Spir Spirit itua uall biog biogra raph phy y. I. Title itle.. BP610.C552T36 2009 294.5092—dc22 [B] 2008036450 ISBN 978-0-307-39392-0 Printed in the United States of America Design by Lauren Dong

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 First Edition

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A u t h o r ’s N o t e

arrival in America America in 1964, thousince sri chinmoy’s arrival sands of sincere seekers and curious onlookers sought his presence. Some remained only for a few hours, hours, others for decades. No doubt that all those who encountered Sri Sri Chinmoy Chinmoy have their their own experien experiences, ces, their own understanding of him. This memoir isn’t the definitive account of Sri Chinmoy; it is my own remembrance. Although all the events within these pages are true, the names and identifying characteristics of most people mentioned in the book have been altered in an effort to honor the privacy of those involved.


Contents

Prologue 1 1 .The Myth Begins 3 2. Because Guru Says So, That’s Why 3 3 5 7 3. The Divine Cage 57

4. The Supreme Is Your Boyfriend Boyfr iend 9 3 5. Miracles of Faith 1 2 5 6. Amore at the Un ited ited Nations 1 4 7 7. Exiled to France 1 7 9 8. Born Again, Again 2 0 5 9. This Is Heresy 2 3 5 10. Cartwheel Cartwheel s in a Sa ri 2 6 1


Cartwheels in a Sari


Prologue

he last time time i received received a message message from from guru, the

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self-proclaimed spiritual spiritual master Sri Chinmoy Chinmoy,, six years had passed since his personal envoy called to inform me that my discipleship was officially and permanently terminated and all contact and association with his headquarters ters in Queens Queens,, New York, ork, was was forbid forbidden. den. Now Now,, after after years years of struggling struggling to shed shed all outer remnants remnants of my former former life, life, I listened with muted curiosity and suspicion as the same breathless disciple carefully conveyed Guru’s unexpected and urgent message. His words foretold of a “dangerous destructive force” force” trying trying to physi physically cally attack attack me, and, in order order to protect myself myself,, for the the next two months, months, every every hour on the hour hour,, I needed to pray ceaselessly to Guru for protection. I was livid. I knew Guru’s masterful tactics of manipulation to lure me back into his fold. It had worked countless times in the past. Since Since birth, birth, as his chosen chosen devotee, devotee, I witnessed witnessed Guru lovlovingly warn of the vicious karmic punishments in store for disciples who did not strictly adhere to his teachings. Whether it was dread of the massive wheel wheel of karma, or weakness for


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his doe-eyed doe-eyed charms charms,, it had been been enough enough to keep keep me bebeholden to him. I couldn’t hang up the phone. Captured by his honey-coated appeal that promised his eternal eternal concern concern and compas compassion sion,, in an instant, instant, all of my my years of struggling to separate myself from his hold dissolved. I still possessed enough faith to fear that his prophecy might be true. I held vigil, clocking protective protective prayer sessions sessions by the hour. hour. Two months later, later, when the supposed supposed witching witching hour came and passed passed without without incident, incident, I was enraged enraged and and mortified mortified that Guru still retained the power power to control me, despite all I had experienced living as his chosen disciple for more than a quarter of a century. That was was it, my final act act of belief in the cult cult of the short, short, bald man in the flowing robes who declared himself to be God.


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The Myth Beg Beg ins

y life story can be traced back to an ad-

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dress scrawled scrawled across across a matchbook matchbook directing directing my my mother to the place where she hoped her lifelong search would end. She didn’t have a phone number or contact name. Although Although it was just after after dusk, the New York York neighborhood seemed empty. empty. No one one to ask, no clues. After crisscrossing the street four times, times, she stood before the only building on the block without a number. Wrought-iron bars covered the cracked glass of the front door. door. Instead of a panel of backlit doorbells, five chewed chewed wires jutted from from the brick. brick. The door was unlocked and sighed open at her touch. t ouch. The dank stairwell had one bare lightbulb. Cigarette butts littered the floor like flattened cockroaches. She rechecked the address clutched in her left hand. This was suddenly absurd. All of it—her it—her exhausting journey, journey, hitchhiking from from San Francisco with with her two-year-old two-year-old son, leaving behind her straying husband and all of the contents of her former life, bringing nothing other than one small satchel and a matchbook with the the address address of of Sri Chinmo Chinmoy y, a guru recentl recently y arrived arrived from from


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Pondicherry ondicherry, India. A drip of rusty water fell onto her shoulder from a brown-stained ring on the ceiling. This was not the place to find a holy man. They reside by the gardenia-soaked banks of the the Ganges, Ganges, or inside inside cavernous cavernous mountain mountain dwelldwellings, ings, or shade shaded d by boug boughs hs of of the bodh bodhii tree, tree, not in in dilapi dilapi-dated East Village tenements. As she she turned turned to leav leave, e, an ancien ancientt voice, voice, gentle gentle and and lulllulling, drifted drifted down to to her. her. “At last, at last. You have come, good girl. Bah.” Bah.” She looked up. Dressed Dressed in traditional traditional Indian garb, garb, a pale blue dhoti, dhoti, and matching matching kurta, Guru’s gold-hued skin glowed, and he seemed to flood the stairwell with his radiance. When she and her very first boyfriend boyfriend fled Chicago, Chicago, leaving behind behind her abusive abusive alcohol alcoholic ic father father, she actively began her search for spiritual fulfillment. In her earnest longing, she had wandered wandered through through San Francisco Francisco,, the epicenter epicenter for alternative alternative spiritual spiritual paths paths,, kneeling kneeling in silent silent zazen at Zen temp temple less, danc dancin ing g and and whir whirli ling ng with with Sufi Sufi mysti ystics cs,, quietly quietly reflecting in Quaker Quaker Meeting Houses, Houses, and clapping and and chant chant-ing in g at at the the Hare Hare Kri Krish shna na temp temple le,, but but ever everyt ythi hing ng,, even even the the spla splash shes es of of mys mysti tici cism sm,, felt felt too too form formal al and proces processed, sed, reminding her of dreaded days in Catholic school. school. Once, years ago, ago, she had read read that when when the discip disciple le was was ready, ready, the guru guru would appear. appear. And there he he was, was, leaning over the railing from the floor above, above, as though though he had been standing standing there, there, waiting waiting for her her,, her entire life. Why had it taken her this long to arrive? And how could she possibly waste one more minute when her guru had finally appeared? At that moment she chose to surrender her entire existence to him. This guru was the answer to all of her questions and longings. He seemed to know her,


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and perhaps he could fill all the gaping holes that echoed inside. He motioned for her to follow him inside his crowded apartment where the guests sat upon a bare wood floor in silence. lence. Through Through swirls swirls of sandalwood sandalwood incense incense smoke, smoke, Guru instructed her to sit beside a young hippie, barefoot and with a sour odor odor.. After After hours hours of poten potent, t, silent silent medita meditatio tion, n, Guru Guru stated that if she wanted to “jump into the sea of spirituality, spirituality,” she would marry the long-haired man. That, according according to my my mother mother, is how she met my my father father. The blon blond d mendica mendicant, nt, my fath father er,, was was also also at Guru’ Guru’ss for the first time. He drove from Yale Yale University, University, where he was a graduate fellow studying philosophy. philosophy. Born in a refugee camp in Augsburg, Augsburg, Germany Germany, to Estonian parents who who had fled when Stalin’s Stalin’s troops troops invaded invaded their their homeland, homeland, my father’ father’ss family immigrated to America America and settled in Bismarck, Bismarck, North Dakota. Dakota. Thoroughl Thoroughly y dissatisfied dissatisfied with with Bismarck’ Bismarck’ss status quo, quo, by his late teens, my father devoured devoured drugs along with sacred Sanskrit skrit texts as he hitchhik hitchhiked, ed, journeying journeying through through communes communes and churches for answers to his questions on the meaning of existence. He found the ancient tradition of asceticism appealing. pealing. After After arriving arriving at Yale, Yale, he began his his own intensive course of study to become a sadhana, which included renouncing all material objects and a nd attachments. He welcomed personal discomfort and self-denial as important steps toward inner strength. He roamed the Yale Yale campus barefoot, even in the the midst of the New New England England winters, winters, as part of his spiritual practice. According to my father, father, the night night he he enentered Guru’s Guru’s apartment, he planned to take take a vow as a sanyassi, a celibate monk, to learn about the realms of the inner world first-hand from a true Yogi.


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The last thing he expected that night was acquiring a wife and stepson. When Guru Guru blessed blessed them both, both, pressing pressing his hands hands over over their forehea foreheads, ds, they felt a river of warmth warmth course course through through them, awakening awakening their their senses. senses. Wi With th closed eyes, Guru chanted chanted in Sanskrit, Sanskrit, and in the incense incense haze haze and overhea overheated ted space, space, his words felt familiar. familiar. He praised their inner aspiration, welcoming them into his “golden boat that will steer them safely through the ignorance-sea to the golden-shore of the Be yond.” yond.” My mother and my father father were both both fatigued charting charting their own own courses, courses, and the guarantee guarantee of safe safe passage passage to the golden-shore of the Beyond was not something to pass up. This guru felt homespun, homespun, humble, humble, and lack lacked ed the the trapping trappingss of protoc protocol, ol, profits, profits, and prosel proselytizin ytizing g over over which which other religious groups obsessed. This was different—just a small circle of devoted seekers guided by a simple sage. It was exactly what my mother and father yearned for. for. Though neither one had a desire for marriage, they were thoroughly entranced by the idea of a life with Guru. They bowed their heads, accepting Guru’s wisdom. And so on that night my mother and father became Sri Chinmoy’s disciples.

Almost as soon as my parents committed themselves to

Guru as full-time full-time disciple disciples, s, Guru rapidly rapidly changed changed his small small informal meditation circle into a structured organization. Since Guru wanted all his disciples to expedite their spiritual growth, growth, he presc prescribe ribed d a lifes lifestyle tyle that, accordin according g to him, would would guarantee the quickest route toward self-perfection. He prohibited all activities he considered dangerous detours: alco-



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hol, hol, caff caffei eine ne,, sm smok okin ing, g, drug drugss, TV, TV, radi radio o, movi movies es,, musi music, c, news news-papers papers,, magazi magazines nes,, books books not written written by Guru, Guru, meat, meat, dancin dancing, g, and pets. In addition, all disciples were were to remain single. AcAccording to Guru, traditional families families created insurmountable insurmountable tangles tangles and distractions distractions that that at best delayed, delayed, but more often often derailed, true seekers seekers in their quest for enlightenment. enlightenment. There were, were, however however,, a few exceptions exceptions.. Guru Guru sanctione sanctioned d certain unions that he arranged and labeled as “divine marriages.” riages.” Created to encourage intensified spiritual spiritual practice to achieve “faster than the fastest progress in their inner lives,” Guru paired a number of new disciples with the mandate that they marry but remain celibate. Shortly after my parents’ “divine “divine marriage marriage”” in 1969, 1969, my mother became pregnant, pregnant, clearly violating Guru’s policy. The problem of my mother’s pregnancy drove an immediate thorny wedge between the newlyweds, who were still strangers to each other. other. Nervous to confess confess to Guru, they felt ashamed ashamed and embarrassed. embarrassed. Guru scolded my parents for being undivine and indulging in “lower-vital “lower-vital forces” that threatened to eradicate all of their spiritual hunger. My parents were mortified and pleaded with Guru that their failing was due to weakness and not out of deliberate disobedience. Eventually, Eventually, Guru’s infinite infinite compassion intervened. He pleaded with the “Supreme”— his preferred preferred word word for God—an God—and d told my parents parents that that the Supreme was so moved by Guru’s prayers that he decided to allow Guru Guru to turn what what he called called this “undivine” “undivine” episode episode into a spiritual boon. Guru then announced that he had contacted the “highest heaven” and arranged for a special special soul to incarnate as his chosen disciple. My grateful parents humbly vowed to never again indulge in “lower-vital “lower-vital activities,” activities,” and renewed their undying commitment to Guru to never permit


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the “trappings of family” family” to deter them from spiritual progress. progress. They understood that what held them together was Guru and Guru alone. He served as the foundation of their marriage and lives. As in in all great faiths faiths of the world, world, Guru, too, too, had storie storiess to answer answer the unanswera unanswerable, ble, to explain explain the unexplainab unexplainable, le, to rationalize the irrational. His story was me—the miracle child. In the history history of the Sri Chinmoy Chinmoy Center Center, from its humble humble beginnings in 1964 to its present-day expansion with more than seven thousand followers around the world and the hundreds hundreds of thousands thousands of ex-disciples ex-disciples and seekers seekers who, who, for however fleeting a time, came to experience experience Guru’s presence, I, according to the legend originally told by Guru and then repeated endlessl endlessly y by disciples disciples around the world, world, am the only soul to have have been personally personally invited invited,, selected, selected, or commanded commanded to incarnate into his realm on earth. Though mine wasn’t proclaimed claimed a virgin birth, birth, he announced announced that I descended descended from from the highest heavens to be an exemplary disciple; I was to be the Ananda Ananda to to Buddha, Buddha, the Peter Peter to to Jesus Jesus,, the Lakshm Lakshmana ana to Rama, Rama, a devo devoted, ted, sacrifi sacrificia ciall bein being, g, selfles selflesss and and tirele tireless ss,, pleaspleasing the master unconditionally. unconditionally. The myth of my birth was one of Guru’s favorite stories that he repeated over the years. Although it changed slightly depending depending on his mood, mood, the standard standard version version is the followfollowing: At 6:01 on a warm warm morning in in September 1970, my soul entered the world, landing in a Connecticut hospital. hospital. My exhausted mother beamed and clutched me tightly to her breast, breast, while while my father father was in the parkin parking g lot waiting waiting for Guru. Guru was being chauffeured chauffeured from Queens, New York, York, and as soon as he arrived, arrived, my father father escorted escorted Guru directly directly into the nursery.



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According According to Guru, Guru, my first first dharshan, official official blessing, blessing, occurred an hour after my birth. Guru walked up to the window and spotted spotted me. I, like like the other shriv shriveled, eled, stunned stunned newborns newborns,, was asleep. asleep. Guru had brought with him my name. In Eastern Eastern traditions traditions,, a spiritual spiritual name means means receivin receiving g a new life, a new identity. identity. My mother, mother, originally Kathleen, Kathleen, was given the name Samarpana Samarpana by Guru, and my father father, originally originally Tonis, onis, was renamed Rudra. My parents would never have considered naming me themselves. I was Guru’s. He picked out the name, Jayanti, meaning “the absolute victory of the highest Supreme.” Supreme.” Guru started meditating meditating on me, sending me an inner message to wake up and respond to his presence. In the first of many of my great acts of disobedience and disappointment, disappointment, I continued continued sleepin sleeping. g. Again Again,, Guru intentl intently y concentrate concentrated d on me, attempting attempting to stir me, yet I offered offered no reply. reply. Feeling Feeling frusfrustrated, trated, he inwardly inwardly told told my soul, soul, Is this your gratitude? I spe- cially chose you from the highest heavens to come to earth to be with me, and this is your gratitude? gratitude? You do not acknowl- acknowl- edge your Guru? Bah. At this point, point, I uncurled uncurled my fingers fingers and moved my hands together in a prayerful pranam, opened my eyes, and slightly bowed my head and neck into my chest. chest. It was a perfect moment, an act of unconditional surrender, surrender, of pure bhakti, devotion. It was miraculous and yet expected. It was my first test, and I had passed passed it, cementing my my status, status, cementing my bonds.

For the first six months of my life I was homebound be-

cause Guru Guru told my mother mother that that my my special special soul, so dazzlingly beatific, beatific, needed careful sanctuary sanctuary while while adjusting adjusting to the vibration vibrationss and conscious consciousness ness of of the chaotic chaotic world. world.


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Unquestioni Unquestioning, ng, my mother mother obeyed. obeyed. That That was was the requirerequirement necessary to be his true disciple: obey and please Guru uncondition unconditionally ally,, and, in return, return, he would would deliv deliver er the disciple disciple to the golden-shore of perfection. It was his guarantee. All of my childhood memories involve trying to obey and please Guru. My earliest memory is of my third birthday party in Queens. The meditation that night was at the house of a disciple who lived a few blocks from Guru. My mother dressed me in a sari of Guru’s favorite favorite color, color, a shade of light blue the disciples disciples officially officially dubbed “Guru-bl “Guru-blue. ue.”” Saris were the required uniform for meditations—six yards of fabric, carefully carefully pleated pleated and and draped, draped, that modestl modestly y concealed concealed the the body. body. When When worn worn well, saris produced goddess-like silhouettes. ettes. The The discip disciples’ les’ saris included included many many colors, colors, from jeweljeweltoned silks that evoked the splendor of strutting peacocks to pure white cotton that suggested nunlike severity severity.. For my mother, mother, trying to keep six six yards of slick slick blue polyester pinned pinned and tucked on a three-year-old three-year-old determined to waddle around, kicking kicking and spinning spinning,, was a true challeng challenge. e. I kept tripping tripping over the pleats, pleats, even though my mom had safety pinned my my goddess draping to my undershirt. When Guru summoned me to the front of the room for my birthday cake, cake, a bus-wheel-size mound covered covered in sugar icing and and pink rosettes rosettes with three three thick candles candles,, I marched marched over, over, anxious anxious to blow out the the flames. flames. But, as always always before before any activity, activity, first came the meditation. Guru motioned for me to stand still in front of him. I started to squirm. squirm. I heard heard the flames lick lick the air, air, then watched the candles melt into pink wax puddles on the icing. icing. I needed to get to those candles. I needed to lick off the pink


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rosettes, rosette s, but I was trapped. He wasn’t wasn’t done. done. I hadn’t yet yet been thoroughly blessed. He smothered my folded hands with his left hand, hand, capturing capturing them, them, then pressed pressed his his right right hand on my my head, covering covering my my entire entire skull, skull, then he he pushed pushed harder harder,, as if to ensure through force that the showering of love would be better received. received. I wiggled more, trying to turn my my head to look for my mother. I was worried now. The candles were shrinking while people giggled and oowwd and aahhd behind me. Guru rotated me to face him. His blessing wasn’t done. Fin inal ally ly,, with with a larg largee sm smil ile, e, he proc procla laim imed ed,, “Goo “Good d girl girl,, Jayanti, you are a good girl.” girl.” He let go. I took a step step back, dazed from from all the blessing, blessing, and again looked looked for my mother. mother. Spotting her, her, with a huge smile, smile, her eyes eyes happily happily streamin streaming g with tears, tears, was a relief relief.. I was always relieved when I could see my mother. With With both hands folded, folded, she prompted prompted me to do the same—keep same—keep those hands folded. I did. I brought my hands together and stood beside the cake. I then looked for my father and brother. My father was was fidgeting with with a camera, staring down at the lens cap, as if looking at himself himself in the reflection. reflection. My six-year-old six-year-old brothe brotherr, Ketan, etan, glared glared at me with with his his arms arms sque squeezi ezing ng his his knees. He hated all birthdays that were not his own. But then it was finally time—the big event—the sugar fortress awaited. The sheer bulk of the cake meant that I couldn’t get close enough to blow out the candles properly. I tried with a faint puff and nothing happened. I looked up at Guru for my instructions. He always had answers. “Blow, “Blow, good girl. girl. Bah, Bah, bah. Blow Blow hard. hard.”” I tried again. Nothing happened. I didn’t want to disappoint Guru. Disappointing Guru meant he did not smile at


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me, and my parents parents didn’t didn’t either. either. More giggles giggles and oowws oowws and aahhs. I forced a burst of sloppy wind up from the bottom of my stomach. Again nothing. “Oi,” “Oi,” Guru said. “She cannot cannot do it. Her mother mother,, come, help her. her.” Guru started reading a note on his side table. I had failed. My eyes filled with tears. Guru did not look up at me again. My mother stood stood up, up, ready as always always to sacrifice sacrifice herself herself for her her family family,, but then, then, without without any any invitation invitation,, Ketan Ketan dashed dashed up onto the stage, rammed his entire entire fist into the scripted lettering of Beloved Jayanti, and blew out my candles. So there, he glared at me. He had won. “Oi,” “Oi,” Guru said at the chaos chaos before him. him. Happy Birthday.

quickly grew, grew, the informal medAs the number of disciples quickly itation group my parents joined disappeared. In its place, Guru established the groundwork for a booming organization. Guru invited my parents to be active pioneers in the process, process, and they were were both honore honored d and overjoye overjoyed d to be part of what they viewed as an expanding movement with the potential to radically transform the world for the better. My father, father, in particular, particular, wanted to be at the forefront forefront of Guru’s evolving mission. Although my parents longed to move permanently to Guru’s new neighborhood in Queens, New York, York, Guru told them to remain in Connecticut to manage the Connecticut Center—the gathering place for potential and current disciples. disciples. One year year after my my birth, after consulting with Guru, my parents parents found a humble two-story two-story ranch house in


About the Author

Jayanti Tamm is an English professor at Ocean County

College, College, where where she teaches teaches writing. writing. She lives lives in New Jersey with her husband and daughter. daughter. For more information, mation, visit visit her website, website, www.jay www.jayantita antitamm.co mm.com. m.


To purchase a copy of

Cartwheels in a Sari visit one of these online retailers:

Amazon Barnes & Noble Borders IndieBound Powell’s Books Random House


Cartwheels in a Sari by Jayanti Tamm - Excerpt

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