35053668-Empire-of-the-Soul-Paul-William-Roberts

‘WE SHOULD SHARE OUR SEX ENERGIES’
‘You come for initiation?’ asked Ma Tantra, fellating a spoonful
of mango ice cream.
I confessed I’d come to study current developments in Indian
mystical philosophy. It seemed better to lie than to get into the
inevitable squabble over gurus.
‘You gotta let go of that mind stuff,’ she informed me. ‘That’s all
crap, Bhagwan says. It’s your mind that stops you livin’ life. You’re
like in a lead shield – you know, those things what they use to keep
out X-rays in the hospital – and you can’t feel, man. You gotta dump
that fuckin’ mind.’
She asked where I was staying. I wondered why she wanted to
know. ‘Fuckin’ shithole, that dump,’ she said.
I agreed wholeheartedly.
‘Why dontcha come stay with us?’
I thanked her, saying I’d consider it tomorrow. We all arranged to
meet the next morning at Bhagwan’s ashram. They had to go home
to meditate – or so they claimed – and I lingered over a coffee that
had milk skin like an old condom floating on its surface.
Sickened by this little latex shroud swaddling my coffee spoon, I
ventured out shortly after, forgetting to pay. I had walked thirty
yards down the litter-strewn street when a voice behind stopped
me. I turned around. Padding my way with a gait just short of a
canter was a gaunt Western man, excruciatingly thin, sixtysomething,
dressed in a crumpled dark suit, a still more crumpled
white shirt, and even, for God’s sake, a tie.
‘Vait!’ he was shouting. ‘Yes, you, my friend! Pleece vait!’
The accent – all singsong uphill candences that made every word
into a query – had to be Scandinavian.
‘You verr not paying your eating bill,’ he told me, pausing to
catch his breath. ‘Do not vorry,’ he added, finally aerating his blood
again. ‘I haff pay for you.’
I started rummaging in my pockets, but he grabbed my arm,
saying he could spare fifteen cents without too much hardship.
Then he introduced himself: Gunnar Otis, professor of psychology,
University of Reykjavik.
He had the face of a cadaver. His cheekbones were wearing
through his skin like translucent vellum pencilled over with faint
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