How I joined a Cult

Anke Holst

How I joined a cultPart One: All the way down

I wrote an inflammatory and cynical blog post, pointingand laughing about the Hare Krishnas. I was surprised atthe amount of attention it received.

Most of us see them singing in the street in their funnyclothes and blissful faces and ignore them quite easily. ButI was part of that and it had not been good for me. Pointingand laughing was liberating, it changed me. I needed toshow that I'm not afraid. I got quite surprising reactionsback, some of which helped me to break the old spell evenmore, but more of that later. Much later. If I get that far.

How did I become a 'devotee' after an atheist upbringing inEast Germany? How did I give myself entirely to servingthe guru? This is how it started. If I can keep going, maybeI'll get to how it ends.

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Chapter One: Decisions

Growing up in East Germany, religion is against official dogma - LutheranChristianity is ok, as part of the culture, but everything else is verboten. Tome, as an idealist, Eastern philosophy is attractive. I don't care about thegods. I love Goethe, Schiller, the Weimar classics. A few of the Weimarpoets (Hölderlin) and later German writers (Hesse) explored Easternphilosophy in their search for 'authenticity, self-knowledge and spirituality'.It is something I am desperate to know more about. (None of them talkedabout Krishna.)

I can't get any literature about Hinduism in libraries or bookshops, but I finda biography of Shri Ramakrishna somewhere on the bookshelf of a friend inBerlin. Ramakrishna was a sadhu (saint) who fitted in well with a culturewhere there is a place for religious madness - I have since learned that hemight well been quite literally mad, and used his frequent 'samadhis'(periods of diminished awareness of the outside world) to just escape fromthings he didn't want to deal with. Ramakrishna's disciple Vivekananda iscredited with putting Hinduism on the world stage as a religion in its ownright. (He still wasn't talking about Krishna though.)

The next book I find is an anti-cult book. The Hare Krishnas are describedin-depth, their rules and regulations, and the mantra chanting. To me itseems the most regulated of all cult environments and as such it seemed themost effective. Because why would anyone put that many regulations inplace, if they didn't have some absolute knowledge of how to lift people outof ignorance to a place where they can understand and realise the self? I takeall the information and a summer job on a holiday island in the North for amonth, go vegetarian, and start experimenting with the mantra meditation,on my own. It doesn't do much for me. I must be doing it all wrong. I am 18,I have just finished my publishing studies and in September I am going tostart my first job at Berliner Zeitung. The year is 1989.

I have a boyfriend who is into exploring alternative lifestyles - well, at thispoint it's correct to say 'I had', because he has just been drafted into thearmy. He had long hair and John Lennon glasses, but when he was draftedhe shaved it, completely - that's the kind of guy he was. Also, because hecouldn't get out of army service, he made himself sick. I visited him inhospital and brought him a cake the month before that summer job. He was

not in a good state. The summer job is on the same island as the hospital heis in, but I don't see him again that whole month.

So that guy, my friend Jens - it still feels more natural to say friend thanboyfriend - he has been to the Hare Krishna Sunday lunch in East Berlin. Hewon't give me the address, he says I am just going to join them - I find itstrange he knows me so well when we weren't exactly in the habit of havinglong conversations while we were together. But after all, he's the person whogot a record player he could set on repeat, just so he could listen to MySweet Lord over and over. Later after I do join up, he will write me a letterfull of John Lennon quotes about personal freedom, and implore me to notgive away my independence. But I take after George, throwing caution tothe wind and my belongings away, and take up the practice of 'devotionalyoga'.

Back in 1989 we are slowly edging towards November. I work as atypesetter at a big publishing house in Prenzlauer Berg and live in a verybasic Hinterhof-flat. Hinterhof seems to be a special Berlin word wherethere are blocks of flats around square tiled courtyards, and those in a certainangle on the ground floor will never get any light or warmth. My flat is oneof those, but I don't mind as I go home only to sleep. Berlin is the big wideworld for me, even before the wall comes down.

Which it does a few months later. I have broken my ankle on my way towork, so I'm off sick, recuperating at my mum's flat, back in my hometownof Rostock. The wall opens and everything changes. My ankle heals up, I goback to work and try to not get lost in the general confusion.

On a walk in West Berlin I meet a Hare Krishna with books on his arm. I askif he has a copy of the Bhagavad-Gita, and where the temple is. He helps mewith both. Afterwards he keeps telling that story for years - most of the EastGermans flooding through the check points have no idea what those booksare. They buy them anyways with some of their one hundred Deutschmarks'welcome money' because the books are colourful and they have been trainedto respect books.

The next day I take part in a peace demonstration, and after that it's Sundayand I visit the temple. It's quite a come-down - it's a flat in Kreuzberg, with atacky white and gold curtain behind the altar. I offer to help with the cookingand am instantly considered a natural devotee because of my service

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attitude. The devotees immediately see how much they can use me. The guywho sold me my first book makes me believe I need a full set of all thebooks, so I go and withdraw all my money and buy a full set. The templepresident uses my bank account to put a lot of East German money whichwill be converted to West German (real) money 1:1 on a certain day. It's ascam but I believe them when they say it's all for Krishna. And believe me,it wasn't the last scam I saw.

A week or so later I stand on the streets with books myself, because if thatdude can sell them, so can I. I sell some books and am invited to join theother booksellers ('distributors') on a trip to the big 'sankirtan' party in Zurichover New Year. Of course I accept - I've never been anywhere. I use almostall my 'welcome money' to buy a saree from another devotee who pretendsto be my friend. She is Bavarian and has a huge crush on the templepresident who she doesn't stop talking about. There is a strict hierarchy andhis position must have made him attractive. She never got anywhere withhim, I doubt he ever married. She also was very proud of having chosenthose curtains behind the altar.

So I go to Zurich and it's all very weird. I remember mostly darkness, I'mnot very good with lots of people and that house is packed. Everyone is therewho took part in that year's crazy Christmas Marathon - a tradition of usingthe month of December to push out as many books as possible. I sleep in asleeping bag on a thin mat, squeezed into a big room like sardines, verycarefully separated by gender. Next to me was the personal servant of thebig guru, Vishnupad, who runs the North European zone. [After the founderpassed away, his most eager disciples divided up the world amongthemselves. Vishnupad is the one keeping the tightest reigns of all. He wasinvolved in a scandal in 1998 and left.] I listen to the language while shespeaks. It is Swiss German but interspersed with a lot of English words. Shespeaks about getting the mercy by being able to cook for the guru etc. It is aweird babble to me but she is so immersed in her bliss that she doesn't noticeI had only just dropped into the whole thing and don't speak the lingo. She isa very beautiful woman, doing this service with her husband, I notice quite alot of really beautiful women. I still don't know if I want to be like them, Ifeel mostly disconnected. I can see the rush of mad devotion they all feel butit's not me.

I go back to Berlin, back to my job, quite bewildered. Some of what thedevotees talk about makes perfect sense. I had felt a disconnect from my

body, a disenchantment from getting drunk and having random sex, and Ihad felt the need to put a stop to being looked up and and down and judgedby men. So going and becoming a nun seems a reasonable solution. I look atthe people and am not sure. They all seem to be ok, yes, but the cultureseems restrictive. The rules that control everything from what and how youeat to how you sleep to how many times you take a shower to every otherarea of life seem to be made up to keep a person dependent on the group. Iponder a lot.

I go back to my hometown for a weekend and spend an evening with anotherone of my friends. I know Andreas through Jens. He works with disabledchildren and young adults. Earlier that year, while unsure of what to do next,I spent a day working in the institution with him. It was hard work and Iconcluded that I was not strong enough. This evening at his flat, I tell himabout my decision to join the Hare Krishnas. He has read some philosophyand asks questions. I tell him about the rules and that I can easily give up sexbecause I don't care about it. He doesn't ask about that. We eat and drink andlisten to his Edith Piaf records and I sleep over - we often quite innocently'slept over' in those days. This night he takes me in his arms and asks thequestion without words. My body responds and just when it is clear how Ifeel, he says Ah. So you don't hate it that much. I guess not, maybe I've onlyhad bad, uncaring sex. It makes me ponder some more, but it's too late tochange my mind about joining.

Back in Berlin I spend more time at the temple and babysit some children. Idon't really know much about children and feel out of my depth. I don't feelused, it already seems normal to be of service even when I don't really wantto do that particular service. I learn that the ego will try to keep me fromKrishna's service, that's what its role is. It's also called 'the false ego'.

I learn Krishna is the supreme God [Supreme Personality of Godhead is thephrase they use] and the reason none of the other sadhus I had read booksabout were talking about Krishna, was because they were mayavadins andbad people. In fact every page of the books I start reading states thisimportant distinction. [much later I will find out that this doesn't appear inany of the books the founder, I'll shorten his name to ACBS - because likeevery truly humble servant of god he has a name that's REALLY long -translated from, but is his own addition.] Mayavadins think the impersonalBrahman (nirvana) is where the soul goes after liberation. Every lecture,every opportunity is used to point out that this is wrong, and Krishna is

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supreme and the Brahman is his effulgence, and the people who denyKrishna his supremeness are the worst sinners.

So now we feel superior not only to the rest of the world who don't knowthis absolute truth, but also to the rest of the Hindu world. ACBS evenmanaged to make his disciples believe that the other disciples of his ownguru, his godbrothers, were bad association. But I don't know that at thispoint.

A little more philosophy: We are not the physical but the soul inside. Thesoul (they say) is Krishna's minute part and parcel, and we have fallen intothe material world because we have the desire to be god ourselves - we havesome capacity to control and enjoy, but we can only really be happy if wesurrender to Krishna. And that's the ultimate goal of self realisation.

In practice, to surrender means to follow the rules and regulations thefounder had laid down for his organisation. The basic rules are the 4regulative principles - no meat, fish or eggs, no illicit sex [anything notmeant for procreation, even within marriage] no gambling and nointoxication (this includes coffee and chocolate). Everyone is required tochant 16 rounds of 108 maha-mantras each, a practice which takes atminimum two hours. The temple programme sandwiches the two hours setaside for chanting, so by the time it's 9am you have already spent 5 hourssinging, chanting, listening.

I see this and it seems such a brainwash. I start chanting again, it still doesn'tdo much for me. The devotees have all the right sound bites ready. I am toocovered by maya, I cannot feel the taste of the holy name because I don'tsurrender to it, I need to chant more to be cleansed etc etc. I finally go to thetemple in East Berlin and meet a spiritual master, an enthusiastic guy fromHamburg. He's lovely and his disciples, who aren't very much younger thanhim, seem very devoted. There's a beautiful Swiss guy named Cedric whoseems to look me right into the soul. The swami likes young guys. In thatculture that doesn't mean much, it's just so impossible for them to likewomen and I guess they need some company. We ride the U-Bahn together.I feel a need become more purified. I'm not sure what that means.

I spend time at the East Berlin temple and I notice how much weirdnessthere is between males and females. I don't so much notice it as fall victim toit. I feel that if I fall in love with any of the guys I will have to leave, so the

next thing I do is fall in love with one of the guys - well, whatever goes forlove. There is this feeling that attraction is the enemy, that I am the enemy ifI don't learn to control myself. I'm starting to really go for it. I feel bad aboutobserving that other people at the temple aren't perfect either, and I'm beingtold that offending devotees is the most dangerous thing I can do. But it'strue? Never mind, your senses are covered by illusion, and maya will try tokeep you away from Krishna. You have to take shelter in the holy name.

The people individually seem quite mundane, but there is a strong groupidentity. I remember a program we had in the East Berlin temple where wehad bhajans (sitting down chanting with music) and someone played the[Indian, hand-pumped] harmonium. Just a few notes but it seemed to add somuch. I like that. I liked some of the Bengali and Sanskrit songs they weresinging during the morning programmes. None of the texts wereunderstandable but I was always good with dadaist poetry, so I learned. Istart playing their instruments too and adopt their lingo. And I start invitingmy friends around to 'give them prasadam' - food cooked in the temple andoffered to Krishna. It is supposed to be purifying. Of course I never hearfrom them again.

I see pictures of about 6 living gurus and am told that I will naturallygravitate to one of them when I'm ready. All the living gurus are disciples ofthe founder, some of them put in this position by him, some later. The one Ilike has only been a guru for 3 years. I speak to one of his two first disciples,Vedanta Krt, in the kitchen. He's calm and sensible and I seem to be doingsome gravitating.

Talk starts of someone driving to Heidelberg soon, the German HQ andbiggest temple at the time, and if I want to really join I could catch a ridewith them. This is only 2 months after Zurich, and now I'm not sure how Icould fit that much into such a short time. I take 2 weeks off from work andaccept the lift to Heidelberg. I never go back to the job.

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Chapter Two: Heidelberg

After a long drive in a van with the same people I went to Zurich with Iarrive in Heidelberg. The temple occupies rented furniture showrooms abovethe bus garage. The women's quarters are a row of rooms with bunk bedsbuilt out of chipboard.The beds have no mattresses. Devotees sleep insleeping bags on thin camping mats. They can be rolled up and wipedunderneath every morning.

I learn about the mode of ignorance, the enemy of devotional service. Sleep,mess, dirt, time spent on your own not chanting, not showering every timeyou slept, or had a bowel movement - all the mode of ignorance and bad.The temple programme starts at 4.15am and everyone is showered andwearing clean clothes by then. I am a little shell-shocked. The programme isheld before the altar. On the altar are two 'deities' - dressed up metal figuresabout 25cm high - and lots of pictures of saints and gurus. The women standin the back, behind the men, with their heads covered. During the first partof the singing, everyone stands and sort of swings in one place from side toside, during the second bit everyone sits on the floor.

There is puja, a plate of things offered to the deities with circular movements- incense, flower, water, a handkerchief, a fan made out of the tail of a yak.There is singing and bowing down to the floor. Then there is a small plant,with a sequinned skirt around the pot, brought in and everyone sings a songto it. There is walking around the plant three times and everyone wateringthe plant with a tiny spoon, and more bowing down and saying things inSanskrit. There is a prayer to ask forgiveness for any offenses one mighthave committed against the devotees.

At five, the end of the first communal part of the programme, everyone startstheir individual chanting of the mantra on beads. This is supposed to be loudenough so ones own ears can hear it. The men stay in the temple room whilethe women go into the vestibule. The chanting is hard work while tired.Sleeping is really frowned upon.

The next bit of the programme starts at 7 with the puja to the living gurus.The song is in Bengali and more energetic than the earlier ones. Everyonestands and sort of rocks in front of a small row of pictures, someone in frontis offering that plate full of things again. A drum is played and somecymbals. At 7.15, the deities are greeted. Everyone files into the temple

room, the curtain to the altar is opened and a song from the album producedby George Harrison is played. The deities have been dressed in their dayclothes in the meantime and are wearing fresh flower garlands. There is ahuge operation involved in keeping them dressed and fed every day. (yes weare still talking about the two small metal figures.)

This is all going on for a couple of weeks and I somehow manage to surviveit. I take one or two walks on the Philosophenweg and take in some of thebeauty of Heidelberg.

The temple is run by a 'temple president' and his wife. There are departmentheads and everything is very well organised. I again meet many beautifulwomen. I am shy and not very good with interpersonal skills. There is a ladyresponsible for all the new joiners. I never could get a grip on how I wasseen by other people. I don't remember talking a lot. I later find out thereweren't many who thought I'd make it.

People accept that I've made a decision re. the guru. I start collecting hislectures on tapes - there is a guy in the temple who sells them, so I get a fewat a time. He has a nice voice and way of talking. I am encouraged to listento his lectures - listening is a higher form of association than actually seeinghim.

I help in the kitchen and am not very good at it. I wash a lot of pots. I meet adevotee called Padmanabha who takes my pulse and tells me to eat spicesand honey because I feel sluggish. I liked Padmanabha, he had some goodsense. He has passed away since. I have a massive cold. I go swimming onceor twice.

There is a structured 3 months 'bhakta programme' I'm enrolled in so I canlearn the basics. There are some other girls who joined at the same time.Another one from East Germany. I later learn she regularly has 'meetings' inthe cellar with the guy who sells the tapes, and who is married. He is alsoslightly repulsive. There are some male devotees from Argentina I try topractice my Spanish on. It's not going very well. I don't remember falling foranyone.

I am accepted as older devotee by people who join after me. I remember agirl from Croatia talking to me in English about how puffed up and in

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ignorance she is. I have no idea what she is talking about. She likes mebecause we have the same guru. I still haven't written to my guru.

We go to a different place deep in the Odenwald for a week or so. It's a nicehouse with a Steiner feel to it. There are some other people but it's muchquieter than the central temple. There is some structured learning but alsofree time. I am so hungry that I eat all the nuts out of the breakfast müsli.

There is Tribhanga, one of the older devotees, and we watch him go up ahill. He picks up an apple from under a tree and eats it. We are shocked. Weonly just learned that everything we eat needs to be offered to Krishna. Andhere is this guy just eating an apple? Shocking.

Back in the temple in Heidelberg I am asked to design new stationery for thetemple. Which I do, with a nice stylised lotus flower. It's nice to have myown space to work in and peace for a few hours. I almost get respected.

I go to the Mitfahrzentrale to arrange a lift share. I need to go home to seemy dying nan for the last time. She is conscious and I manage to say good-bye. The devotees said she was bad and will go to hell because she ate meatall her life, I think this is bullshit. I love my nan and she's had a shit life butshe took care of 7 children, on her own, after having lost everything duringthe war. All her children 'made something of themselves'. I can't evenimagine how she managed.

I go home to my mum's and try to live the devotee life. It's not going well.I'm running around visiting friends with my hand inside a bead bag andpeople think I've hurt myself. I go back to the temple.

Later I find out people thought I had left. I wished I had.

The 3 months of bhakta programme are ending. I meet other disciples of myguru. There's Vainateya, a tall dark artist from somewhere in Yugoslavia. Icould fall for him but now there is the guru to direct all my love and passionto. I hear from Vainateya that he needs a van to travel and preach in. I set mymind on collecting money for him. I develop all sorts of ideas with makingsweets and selling them.

Visvadeva, the very nice temple president, listens to me. I go back to normaltemple life and a few days later there is another conversation. I am told thatanother devotee just had exactly that idea, only on a much bigger scale.

I am introduced to Asanga, a very senior devotee. She was traveling andselling books with her friend Rohini and had the feeling that wasn't goinganywhere. So she wants to start collecting money to open a new temple. I'mgoing to travel and sell stuff with her. I cut a deal that I get to keep 10percent for the guru, I think I can do it. The love for my guru is very muchencouraged. It will get me through everything. Maybe it will give them thechance to get me to do everything. But it's love so it can't be bad?

I finish my 3 months of training and get ready to go traveling.

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Chapter Three: Traveling

Asanga is about 39, tall, sporty, blonde, very German. She got her firstinitiation from the founder, so she's definitely very senior. In fact, she'smarried, on paper, to my guru, an American, and shares his last name. It's apurely transactional relationship. She tells me the story of how theyphysically got married - she was taken to the registry office in the back of avan like a dangerous creature, and the happy couple didn't look at each otheronce. It must have looked funny. I guess sham marriages to Americansweren't a concern back then. They're divorced now. He sent her flowers tothank her.

She now becomes my authority, so we are not friends. Surrendering toKrishna now means doing what she says. She has been on the road sellingbooks many years, she knows the business. She is from a village in themountains outside Cologne, so she decides that her next mission is to open anew temple in Cologne. At the time, there are permanent temples in Berlin,Heidelberg, a community in Hamburg and a farm in the Bavarian Forest nearPassau. Germans consider the Hare Krishnas a cult and don't ever warm tothem. There was a well-publicised scandal when the first people the gurusent to preach in Germany had a castle as a temple, and when it was raidedby police, weapons were found. Since then, the Hare Krishnas are in thesame category as Scientology, no matter how many nice Indian culturalevents they put on.

We are joined by two other new girls, Hanna from Lüneburg and Ivana fromSerbia. We pack our belongings into a red Toyota Hiace fitted with a highroof, storage space and a hob. We have sleeping bags and our mats. We getyear planners and sturdy shoulder bags and set out to learn the business ofselling paintings.

The paintings are ordered straight from Hong Kong where they are painteden masse. We carry them in a big roll under the arm and go door to door inoffices and small industrial areas. The sell is that we are a strugglingcommunity of artists trying to open a gallery in Munich. I've never been toMunich but somehow I get by with this.

We all sleep in the van, two up, two down. We get up at five, shower atmotorway rest stops. We chant for two hours, sometimes walking back andforth near the van, sometimes exploring the area. If I sit down I fall asleep so

I don't. When we are done with our sixteen rounds, we go back to the vanand Asanga drives us to the place we are going work at that day. We're inthe Rhine area around Köln and Düsseldorf, so there is a lot of business.

While we drive, we sing the daily programme of prayers and when wearrive, we read from the books while Asanga cooks in the back. I usually fallasleep at some stage, sometimes in the middle of reading out loud. (Still, thiskind of programme ends up working for me. I never do get used to the fulltemple programme in the end.) When we're done, we have a massive plate offood. Asanga is a good cook and it suits me to eat like this. I take some nuts,dry fruits during the day, and buy juice. I don't feel hungry.

Nine in the morning is an excellent time to start going door-to-door. Thechanting is supposed to clear the mind. It shuts down something. I lose myskepticism but I also lose the voice telling me I can't do things. So I learn tosell and communicate, and I learn it really fast. Asanga is a good teacher.

I do this for my guru. I get a catalogue from Fiat and decorate my plannerwith pictures of Ducato vans which is what he wants to get. There isdialogue with him in my head during the day. I have a walkman and listen tolecture tapes during breaks. Once a day I sit down to write to him into adiary. I am told that all this is perfectly spiritual and purifying. I do thepaintings as my personal devotional service and because I don't knowKrishna, and sentimental love is not encouraged (of course not, it'sGermany), it is seen as perfect to learn to love Krishna by loving thespiritual master, and this love is practical. I am happy that I have found asituation where I can function and everyone seems to be happy that I ambeing useful. So I finally actually write to the guru and officially ask tobecome his disciple.

We go back to Heidelberg for the weekends to wash the van and do ourlaundry, and to visit the temple. We've been out and about all week, so wefeel boisterous and elated now that we're back. We get taken aside and toldthat we must be quiet and chaste and cover up else we might disturb thebrahmacaris (monks). I don't see that I might disturb anyone in such a waybut I comply. Hanna is far more beautiful and intriguing, and Ivana is fieryand powerful. I still haven't got a clue how I'm perceived. It's probablychanging from the sluggish person I was at first. There's a big feast onSunday and loud kirtans in the temple room in the evenings. The boys areback from the road too, the genders are still very nicely separated.

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On Saturdays we sometimes go and sell books instead of paintings. Sellingpaintings for Krishna is just as much devotional service, but selling books isone step up, because it was the founder's central and most important wish.We take a pile of books from the car and shove them into people's chests inquiet areas of shopping streets, tell them about yoga and the self, and theybuy them or not. I'm not good at it. For one thing I don't think the books arevery good, even as a full time completely committed member. They arecobbled together from transcribed lectures and are not very well edited. Thedevotees don't care, because the main thing is that the poor lost souls hearthe name of Krishna and read the words of the pure devotee. Another thingis that I am reserved. I learn to overcome my shyness and to use bodylanguage to change the dynamics between me an another person, touchingshoulders or elbow, building trust.

It's Asanga's 40th birthday. I bake her a cake and we have a party. Weprepare a play for her. I saw a display in a pharmacy that gave me the idea. Itwas a little man being inflated and deflated through hidden valves, I don'tremember what it was supposed to illustrate, some cough medicine I think.

So we play ourselves, as we get inflated and more confident in our ability tosell and Asanga 'giving us the Keule' (club) frequently, deflating us, thenbuilding us up again. There is some plot to it and a lot of physical comedy.The actual 'getting the Keule' isn't that much fun. I'm less tough than theother two.

I make marzipan and nougat for the cake and build it up to resemble thebuilding we just bought for the new temple.

Twice a year we go to the festivals on the farm. Everyone comes there fromall of Europe and again we sleep in big rooms on our mats. Some of theother people in the room are Hungarians. They seem to talk to each other alot.

The farm has more intricate worship. There are two altars, two sets ofmorning greetings. There are hours of singing and dancing. By now the threeof us have gravitated to our various gurus and they are sometimes there.Hanna's guru is a pujari (doing the worship) on one altar, mine is on theother. We do a lot of service, sometimes through the night. There is fastingand then feasting.

Festivals are always a high, Asanga brings us back down quickly. We don'twaste time being happy, instead we stay humble and get straight back towork.

There is a Slovenian devotee with a flooring business near Köln. Hebecomes the practical uncle for us and helps with the renovation of theapartment building. I and the other girls don't get involved, we just make themoney. Asanga manages everything and he is at her side. They would havemade a good couple but the practicalities of that didn't work out.

A few months later, the two top floor flats are ready and we move in.

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Chapter Four: Köln

The building we move into is on the wrong side of the river. There is aTurkish family in one of the flats below. I feel bad for them, but they allhave to move out. There is a lot of bad feeling against us, that's par for thecourse when you're a Hare Krishna in Germany. Those who started it didn'thave much sense so those who came later followed that example.

At first, life doesn't change that much for us. We get up, shower, chant, havea programme of singing prayers to the gurus, read together or one of us givesa lecture from the books, have breakfast, and go out to sell paintings. I takethe fast train to Düsseldorf and systematically work off street by street. It's arich city and I have good results.

I don't get 10 percent for the guru anymore. I sent 5,000 Deutschmarks andthey got him a van, after that I was allowed to take 5 percent, but then itstopped. I don't negotiate well. I now sometimes write letters that I send him,and he sends letters back. They are typed on yellow paper. I meet a lot ofshop keepers and one interior designer lets me have bits of remnants. I sew abook cover as a present for the guru. At the next festival I see him use it. I'mso happy.

The house changes. The next flat is ready on the floor below ours and it isdesignated as a men's ashram. A carpenter moves in to work on the groundfloor. There is a restaurant and industrial kitchen planned. Other boys andwomen move in too. We're getting a bookkeeper from Bavaria.

We slowly get more luxuries - thicker mattresses and desks to write on. Westart learning how to drive. We go shopping for clothes once a year and ifwe need something small, we use the money from the paintings. We don'tneed much.

I get into 'science preaching' - the founder considered modern sciencedemonic and wanted his disciples to be able to prove his theoriesscientifically. So there is a Bhaktivedanta Institute and one of their peoplecomes to visit us. He is American and very nice to listen to. I take one oftheir publications, Origins, where they disprove evolution and other theories,and start translating it into German.

It's now early 1992 and we are preparing for a trip to India. The headquartersare there and devotees go for the annual festival in March, as they can affordit. We do everything together so I don't make any decisions for myself. Weget visas and buy things from a list. We have saris already so we don't needclothes.

In India, we are freaked out by the cities and just move on quickly toMayapur, about 3 hours taxi ride north of Calcutta. I just follow whateveryone else is doing. There is a walking tour of the places some saints inthe tradition have visited and I sign up to it. My guru is there too.

There are about 800 devotees from all over the world on this walking tour.We have our bags, a bucket and water jug, which gets taken on a lorry fromone place to the next. There are tents built for us where we sleep. We showerat wells with canvas walls put around us. We leave underskirts on. I don'tsleep well because the generator is loud and stinks.

We walk barefoot and there is a senior god sister of mine (disciple of thesame guru) that I stick with. At this time there are only about ten of usworldwide, about 5 of them initiated. There are other gurus on this tour thathave thousands of disciples. We feel a bit more connected. We sometimesliterally walk in his footsteps. It's all very spiritual and purifying.

There is a male disciple who is the personal servant of the guru. He's Polishand seems to me a bit of a wet blanket. I mention that to Alakananda whoI'm walking with and she admonishes me about Vaishnava-aparadha, sayingbad things about devotees, the most dangerous thing in spiritual life. I feelguilty.

The facilities are laughable and most devotees have some stomach problemsby now. I also get a cold because I don't sleep and the mornings are chilly.But it's all considered tapasyam, spiritual austerity, which strengthens andpurifies. The souls of my feet are growing thick.

There are rousing kirtans everywhere we stop and the gurus take turns to tellstories. There is a tree where somebody surrendered to someone, there issomeone else's birthplace. I just want to be near my guru because it's sopeaceful there.

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When we are back at HQ, I get a little lost. The guru isn't always there but Itry to run some errands for him. I spend time with the other girls but theyhave their own things going on. I have some problem and go back to Asangaand her friend comments that I am like a child because I'm in tears. Theylaugh. I'm confused. I don't enjoy India much.

We go to the other big ISKCON temple in Vrindavan near Delhi. We buylots of sarees and other things for the new temple. We take rickshaws, andthe place is not very human. The water is terrible and the river has dried up.The temple is very opulent with white marble. We travel around a little anddo more walking, it's the festival of Holi and all inhabitants have strictinstructions to leave the Westerners alone with the dyes. They mostly do butoutside in a small village someone gets me with some sprays of purple. Ihave those spots on my bead bag for ages afterwards and am very proud ofthem.

We come back with our various bugs and I lose a lot of weight. It's nowApril 1992. In May we go to the festival on the farm. I get my initiation theday after the big festival. Three gurus sit side by side on their thrones withtheir flower garlands, two Germans and my American, and the aspiringdisciples sit on the floor around a fire pit decorated with fruits, flowers andcoconuts. One by one we are called by name and go up to the guru, the guysprostrate themselves, we bow down on the floor from a kneeling position.We get asked a set of questions and answer with vows: no eat meat, fish oreggs, no gambling, no illicit sex and no intoxication. We vow to chantsixteen rounds a day. Then we get given our new names, there's a rousingapplause, and we take our seats around the fire. Then there is a fire sacrificewith a lot of mantra chanting, and at the end we all walk around the fire andget a little ash mixed with oil on our forehead.

I wear a horrible saree with silver and stripes, I can hardly make it stickaround my body and over my head, and I definitely can't walk in it. Styleisn't my thing. My hair is always just long enough to wear in a low pony tailand I don't wear any make-up. Sometimes I have my eyelashes dyed black,because they are so light, but that's the extend of my beauty routine. We allwear wooden bead necklaces, now that I'm initiated I get to wear threestrands. Mine is messy, I don't give it much attention. Once in a meetingwith a customer I get asked straight out if I'm in a cult. Often people tell meI have to be more confident in my approach. But it all somehow works so Ikeep doing it.

I develop back pains because I'm carrying about 10 kgs under one arm forhours every day. There is a chiropractor in Düsseldorf who helps. I also meeta nice dentist who bought a painting. My teeth are bad because I wasn'tlooked after well as a child. But it's all much better now.

The temple is slowly coming together. The loft is converted into a temporarytemple room and we have deities of our own now. They are the same kind asin Heidelberg. I learn to do the deity worship and bathe them once a week.There is a big ritual around this and I need to concentrate. I also learn to playthe harmonium and lead the chanting more often. We start having our ownSunday programmes for new visitors. I don't easily give lectures but I amhappy to play and sing. I learn all the melodies from tapes of my guru, he isa very skilled musician.

Later that year I get my driver's license. I pass the theory easily but thepractical test takes two attempts. Hanna - now Harakanti - gives up and triesagain later. I get given a car from our business man's company and startdriving rather than taking the train.

I am pushed into going on the road with my own party of girls. I don't wantto. I have no interest in becoming someone else's boss. My guru gave me thename Anuradha and said that its a name of someone in the spiritual worldwho manages all the other girls. I'm thinking yes, maybe when I'm ready.

Not doing this is not an option so I take a van and some girls and go. Itdoesn't go well. I get my period and just want to curl up and die. One of thegirls leaves in the middle of the week, she's phoned her brother to pick herup. I feel bad. They don't try to make me move up the ranks again. I go backto paintings for a while.

Early in 93 the paintings stop working. I'm a little burned out, and theGerman economy is taking a turn for the worse. The temple now has arestaurant and I get involved there. There's a cook and his wife and littleboy. We have new people joining from around Köln and Harakanti nowtakes the role of their teacher. They are all boys and they hang on her everyword. She's beautiful and a little kooky.

A guy joined and brought his Clavinova with him. It's in the cellar and I goplay it sometimes. Then there is a guy called Michael joining. He takes me

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out to visit his friends sometimes. I must be very boring. I develop a crushon him.

I don't realise how cool this all is. We have a temple that is quite naturallyrun by women. This in an organisation where women don't get to becomegurus or have any other say. Asanga still takes care of everything, with helpfrom the Heidelberg president. She has bad migraines and sometimes can'ttalk or do anything for days and just lies in her blackened out room. Shetakes strong caffeine tablets for it. Our relationship is a little more frazzled.She's still the authority but we're also good friends. Sometimes that doesn'twork.

I try selling candles instead of paintings. They are dipped in a variety ofcolours and carved while still warm. The devotees make them outsideHeidelberg. They are too garish for people in our part of Germany so we tryit down south in the mountains. I have a couple of weeks where I travel onmy own in the Black Forest. I stay on camp grounds and have the van tomyself. It's the best time I've had in years. The candles are fragile and don'ttravel well, so it doesn't work.

I start working in the restaurant. An Indian vegetarian menu is still a noveltyand we get a lot of interest, even though we are in a bad location and there'shardly any parking. I also bake bread, grow herbs, have ideas for otherthings we can be doing, and sometimes I deliver food. I clean the kitchenfloor every night. The kitchen is a work of art.

The last flats are empty and there is work on a temple room and a guruashram for visitors. We pick out wallpaper and I get catalogues of furniturefrom people I now know. We get golden taps for the en suite bathroom. It'sall so beautiful.

My guru comes to visit. I'm so nervous. We cook for him and I run back tothe shop about eight times to get things I forgot. I'm exploding withexcitement. And when he's finally there it's such a high, because this is atI've been working towards all this time. I don't actually remember anythinghe said but he must have liked it. Lots of other people come to visit and itbecomes a part of the Krishna scenery in Germany.

We now have lots more girls. Linda from Denmark works in the kitchen andShyama-Sakhi is out and about with us. There's a lot of life. I don't take the

change from being outside to staying indoors too well. I also eat the leftoverfood from last night for breakfast which is never a good idea. I go quitesluggish quite fast.

One quiet evening I'm standing behind the counter in the restaurant when aparty of eight or nine young American guys bursts in, hungry and excited.They are from a straight edge band called Shelter, all devotees, allvegetarians. I have no idea what just happened. We manage to find enoughfood for all of them. They stick around for a while and are quite animpressive presence. I quite like their drummer (Ekanath or Ekachakra?) butdon't let on - I don't actually have the ability to flirt, I just have crushes.Shyama-Sakhi however takes a shine to a gorgeous Italian New Yorkercalled Vince, who used to be in a band with Zac, now of Rage against theMachine fame. She later goes to America and marries him, they have threekids and are lovely people.

A few months later some of us travel to some of their gigs. They are brilliantand it's all fully bona fide because its about Krishna. I get some new energyfrom listening to them. I almost end up in trouble when we inadvertentlycross the border into Switzerland and one of the girls in the van doesn't havea visa. I manage to convince the border guard to just let us go back intoGermany. That could have ended badly.

I'm back in the restaurant and the injection of energy doesn't last. It becomesobvious that this is not going anywhere, the restaurant isn't doing a lot ofbusiness either. I am not able to consider that I could just do somethingentirely different, even though on some of my sales trips I have met peoplerunning printing businesses where I could easily have gotten work. There isa call from Brahma-Muhurta, the Bavarian who runs the North Europeanarm of the Hare Krishna publisher, the Bhaktivedanta Book Trust. Healready wanted me to come to Sweden and work for them back in 1990when I first joined, but it was decided to let me go on the road with Asangafirst. Now in late '93 I am burned out and a bit useless, the Germans don'ttell him that and let me go to Sweden.

I pack my suitcase and a box of my belongings, ask for travel money, staylong enough for the new year festival at our business man friend's house, andin January I travel up to the frozen north.

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Chapter Five: Stockholm

I go by train to the North of Germany and by ferry to the South of Sweden. Idon't have enough money for the whole trip so I find a lorry driver to giveme a lift from Trelleborg to Stockholm. It takes about 8 hours. Someonepicks me up from the station and drives me to Korsnäs Gård. It's a 40 minuteride.

Korsnas is a collection of buildings around a central manor. I am housed in aroom over the kitchen in the central building. Another bunk bed. There is notmuch furniture in the room and the first conflict I have is when I ask for alittle table and are branded 'demanding'. I doubt myself because I thoughtdemanding was bad. (Without humility we cannot get the mercy of Krishnaetc.) Strangely, the person who called me demanding is later on going to beone of the few I will keep in touch with.

There are about 80 people there. My friend Linda, now Niramaya, is inKorsnas, with her parents and sister, who works in the administration. Thereare other families and teenagers whose parents are devotees.

The main business there is book production. The director Brahma Muhurta,a stocky Bavarian, wanted me there because I can read cyrillic and havetrained as a typesetter. None of what I have learned is really useful in thissetup so I get designated to work in repro. The couple running the office arenot very personable. The lady is East German and was smuggled across thewall when it was still impossible to travel. Her husband is from formerYugoslavia. They cook their lunch in the back of the office, it's the exactsame meal every day. He has his toothbrush in the office.

The other German managing production is a skinny German with no energy.The kitchen manager is German too, the store manager is Indian but marriedto a German. They all are typical cult functionaries. They have absolutepower and can decide over every aspect of someone's life.

My work involves cutting out bits of printed text on foil and sticking themonto paper. We don't talk. There are about 3 hours of daylight and thetemperatures go down to 25. There is the same temple programme but Ihardly every manage to get up for the 4.15 start. There is strict control so Ihave to force myself. Then I fall asleep around 6 which means I have roundsto chant for the rest of the day. It takes two hours with full concentration and

it's a slog trying to complete it later on. If I don't take a nap I'm dead tired forthe rest of the day.

Korsnas is mostly people scuffling from one building to the next. Everyonetries to manage. There is much more space for individuals than the places Ihave lived at before. It is also the HQ of the big zonal guru. Brahma's wife isa beautiful Fin and they have a flat in a nearby town, where they keepbackup books. They drive a nice car. Everyone is aware that we are at aconstant war with the authorities and hide a lot of what is going on, so wecan keep the charity status. Once I get sent into Stockholm to exchangesome of the cash from the book distributors. I get asked for my passport andshow it. They don't send me again.

I don't ever get into a good schedule. I make friends with the teenagers. Ihave lost most of my social skills and my peers are difficult to talk to, theeditors and translators don't seem to have an interest in me, and themanagers are horrible people. There are some godsisters of mine but wearen't close.

Then there are the guys. There are network engineers who manage the localnetwork, and the global communications service called 'COM'. A Serbian, aCroatian, a Belgian. (Later on I will find out the Belgian was involved inuncovering one of the ugliest scandals in the movement. He had good senseand a proper backbone. I'm proud to have known him.) The Serbian, asimple, big man, marries Linda's sister. I really like the Croatian. He's tall,lanky, younger than me, intelligent, calm, cultured, with a good smile.Anwhere else we would have been friends and everything would have beencool, but here where you either don't talk or get married, I get obsessed. Theother girls don't get it. We all know about each other's crushes. We call ourcrushes 'min gubbe' - my old man - and it's very cute. I suffer a lot.

I forget the good things I did back in Germany. I very quickly lose the rest ofmy confidence. I also relax and have fun. We have parties where Lindamakes pita breads and lots of dips. We watch the Sound of Music. I finallylearn to wear sarees properly. In my room, I secretly read Scarlett, thefollow-up to Gone with the Wind. One night I stay up after midnight and goon the computer. My gubbe has just logged in too. My heart nearly explodes.

I don't manage the repro work very well. I am told there is one other serviceI can do. There is an old people's home in the next village, 20 minutes walk

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away, which they just bought as an additional facility for Korsnas. Theyhave shipped in about 15 young guys from Russia to do the building works,and they need a driver. A job where I don't have to use my brain! I say yes.The director makes it clear he considers me useless for anything else.

I get out even less than back in Köln and it affects my judgment. Thethought of picking up and going somewhere else doesn't enter my mind. Ioverhear the cook and the store manager talking about me. It's not great.There is talk about marrying me off to one of the guys who do the worshipon the altar. He's Azerbaijani and lovely actually. I do some service in thekitchen so we've met.

He is asked but he hesitates. (Later on, about a year before the time ofwriting this, we will get in touch and he will tell me that he really liked meand was sorry that he hesitated.) In the same time, those Russians come overand I start driving them around. They find it funny to be driven around by ayoung woman. I start getting presents from them. I'm cool enough not to fallfor that. The guy I end up talking to because there's no such silliness comingfrom him, is the one who ends up writing me a letter asking for marriage.

I have no hope that things with the Croatian will work out. The Russianwrites me mails that impress me. Later I will find out they were written forhim and spellchecked.

I decide to stop waiting around and say yes to the Russian. As a marriedwoman at least you're not controlled by the vicious temple authorities. Idecide for the Russian because at least it was his own decision, and not anarranged marriage like with the Azerbaijani. The guy who first called medemanding is now the manager of the new place. He is the only one whostands up and asks me what the hell I'm doing. My suitor threatens him withviolence. He shuts up. It's my life, after all.

My father comes and spends the summer in Sweden with his wife and myhalf brother. We haven't seen each other from the time my parents divorcedwhen I was 5, until I went to see him in a saree when I was 23. Now a fewyears later we have an ok relationship. His wife is nice and their son is ateenager. My sister comes out too for a few days. She is married but doesn'thave kids yet. I have arranged a summer cottage for them, just a fewhundred metres down the road from Korsnas. It's nice. V and I have only justgotten engaged.

In autumn I work on a project with my former gubbe. V is aware of how Ifeel and is so protective that he stays in the room with us.

I move to a room in the old staff building of the former old people's home.My fiance moves into a room in the main building. My former gubbe movesinto another room in the same building. I still can't talk to him. I'm stillobsessing.

I now have a mobile phone I get called on if the guys need a lift, I have alsostarted to do the flower arrangements for the altar in the morning. I have twohours from 5 to 7 to work on them. I've always made bouquets for my nan asa child, and we did flower decorations back on the farm at the festivals, soit's something I am good at. I take day-long courses and learn more about it.

My fiance and I get married on paper within the first 4 months of his stay inSweden. He really only gets married for the visa. He takes my name becausea Western surname gets him more opportunities. I'm insisting that we wait ayear for the temple ceremony so I can change my mind. I'm also the one whoinitiates physicality. It's been a long time - and yes I'm one of the few whokept to the vows. I believe everyone else did. I later find out not everythingwas as it seems.

My guru comes to Korsnas. He meets my fiance. He doesn't speak out abouthow obviously idiotic this is.

We spend time together but keep our separate rooms. I still drive the shuttle.I teach V how to drive. His main service is painting and sometimes we goout and he paints landscapes. We start looking at learning Swedish. InSummer we go swimming nearby. I teach V how to swim too. On Thursdayswe watch the X-Files on a little TV in his room. I wash and iron his clothesand cook for us sometimes. I'm a good Vedic wife and nicely submissive. Vhas gone and taken over my life, defended me from Brahma sometimes, isnow managing me. V keeps me from my friends and after the year is over Idon't think about splitting up anymore.

We have the temple marriage ceremony in summer. My friends do my hairwhich by now is waist length. I wear a red saree. V is in white, pudgy,shorter than me. There is a fire sacrifice and we have a sit-down mealupstairs.

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I get a new service: Transcribing lectures from the zonal guru. I'm very slowat it. I also waste a lot of time playing solitaire. I'm asked to experiment withdictation software. It doesn't go well.

We decide to go to India. V doesn't have any money so I work for a monthin the restaurant in Stockholm. I get 4000 kronor at the end of the month.

We go to India with V's mum. She doesn't speak English and I don't speakRussian. I try doing that walking tour again but it's different. We have nomoney so we take the cheapest option for food and eat with the Bengaliguests. Sometimes I don't have food vouchers and the others bring acontainer back from lunch for me. V takes a lot of pictures of places with hismum posing. This time I get over all my illnesses in the first week and myhealth is good for the rest of the trip.

After we come back I enroll in an adult education college in a nearby suburbof Stockholm. Every week my confidence is coming back a little more and Ienjoy using my brain and talking to people. I flirt a little. There are mostlypeople from outside Europe on the course, so I move up to the next levelafter 2 months.

In July I learn that I'm pregnant.

End of Part One