Abandoned roads - Jos Lammers

without the protection of car steel, as it turns out.
After that we cross the financial district heading for
ground zero and look at the hole that, like a knocked out
front tooth draws more attention than the once intact set
of teeth. I used to have the answer to war and violence.
Meditate. That would bring man and ultimately the world
the ‘thousand years of peace’ of Maharaj ji. Now I don’t
have answers anymore, or only answers that raise new
questions.
Just down the road, in the marble doorway of a bank
on Fifth Avenue, lies a skinny man. He looks straight
ahead, without seeking eye contact with the people that
are swarming at this hour past his outstretched feet. A
little cardboard sign leans against his leg. ‘Vietnam Vet’,
it says, written in crooked ballpoint letters. Underneath
it says: ‘Homeless and desperate. Please help.’
How this meditation had to be done, was called the
‘knowledge’. Techniques that had to be revealed by a mahatma,
a traveling teacher of Maharaj ji. This wasn’t so
much about technical skills, the devotees in the ashram
stressed, but rather about becoming a part of the world
of guru Maharaj ji. Or not. The test of whether you were
ready for that was a game without rules. The fact that a
mahatma came, showed that enough souls were ready. But
what you had to do to get there, was a question that only
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