Abandoned roads - Jos Lammers

pillows on the porch. And the paintings of frisky young
women and sturdy looking old men on the wall.
His garden almost bordered on that of the previous
ashram on Franklin Street. When I stayed there, he was
here painting, replacing roof tiles and shining copper. No
way we would ever have talked to each other about that
back then. I didn’t even know where my own housemates
were from or what they had done in the past. Aside from
satsang, service and meditation, everything was illusion
and deception.
That evening Janny and I walk along Colfax Avenue
to 511 16th Street, the address that for the Western followers
of Maharaj ji came closest to paradise on earth.
In reality it was a rather gloomy office building, with
heavy rough stone walls and narrow windows. Inside it
was basically dark. A wobbling elevator, wooden paneling
in the corridors and offices and dark wooden desks that
probably came with the building. The ‘executives’, like me
as ‘international coordinator Europe and Australia’, had
their own offices on the first two floors, rented by the
Divine Light Mission from the arms manufacturer Joe
Gould. The floor above was an open space with wooden
benches, that served as a cafeteria during the day and for
satsang gatherings in the evenings. On top of that were
three more office floors with large open working spaces
for bookkeeping, arranging travels and festivals, mana-
52