CHAPTER 12

MEETING THE GURU

You can answer all your own questions.

When we’re stuck and don’t know which direction to go in life, we often seek advice, refuge, and guidance from those around us, experts, sometimes even the stars. It can be difficult to find our path, especially during times of uncertainty and unpredictability, when things are constantly changing so fast.

On the last trip I took to India before publishing this book, I spent a short time with a spiritual guru. It was a chance meeting, and although I didn’t receive what I was expecting, I learned something even more important: if we only stop and listen to our own inner voice, we can find all the answers we seek and move forward in the direction we really want to go in life.

On a flight to Mumbai one Friday afternoon, I happened upon a magazine article about a parrot that was trained to pick out a tarot card, foretelling a person’s future.

“A parrot? Picking tarot cards? Seriously? You might as well throw a coin up in the air, for crying out loud,” I thought, brushing aside any hope of finding answers to the deep questions I had about my own path in life.

I’m a bit of a cynic, a skeptic who has worked on the streets and in corporate offices in New York City. I’m not much of a believer in palm reading, forehead reading, thumbprint reading, or the ability of any other appendage to ominously foretell my fate.

But deep inside, completely outside of my normal intellectual and cynical demeanor, I had this crazy desire for someone to drag me to one of these places to get a reading done. Partly, I suppose, this was so I could make fun of it or criticize the so-called spiritual guru who would tell you to do the sorts of odd things I had heard about: wear yellow, don’t eat certain foods on certain days, feed a street dog, or some oddity reserved for those thirsty for inspiration. I wasn’t going to drink that Kool-Aid. I was normal, right?

Still, a part of me was desperately in search of answers to help me deal with the uncertainties of life, and something about my recent days of feeling heavy with questions about my future tempted me to find a way to see one of these guys. I don’t believe anyone can tell me my future, but no answers were appearing in my own mind. So, in an act of desperation, I wanted to reach out and see what the stars could see that I could not.

India is full of life gurus, with great variations in creed, message, format, products, and so on. Some have their own TV shows, some have a small following in their village, and some rotate through different towns, offering guidance, doling out advice, teaching yoga, and healing the mind and body.

In Mumbai, I reached out to an old friend who had recently retired from my company’s U.S. division. Makarand (or Mak as he likes to be called) had settled in the United States during the 1960s and had spent most of his adult life working for one of the largest companies in the country. Seeing the emergence of India, he had recently retired from the company and had become a consultant for Indian and U.S. companies wishing to do business together.

Mak’s home is in Connecticut, but he had an apartment in his hometown of Pune, India, a rising second-tier metropolis a few hours from Mumbai. When I told him I was coming into Mumbai and would be free to have tea or lunch on Saturday, he said with great excitement, “Come on over, Bob!”

Secretly, I was hoping he had a few good contacts so that I could explore some new career opportunities, but my main purpose was to find a way to seek his advice. I was so exhausted from overthinking my career and my life that I was giving up, hoping he would tell me which path I should take forward in all the chaos at work. If I couldn’t muster up the courage to see one of these gurus, Mak was the next best thing—and probably more relevant in my circumstance.

Reaching Pune was not easy. It was a three- or four-hour drive from Mumbai, although the new highway with a modern rest stop and a McDonald’s made it much easier. And getting out of the airplanes, hotels, meetings, and conference rooms made me feel like an explorer, free to walk about and experience the fresh air of new things.

Soaking in the warm, sunny climate of Pune was delightful, as was the conversation with Mak and some of his local friends over coffee. Mak was still not used to Indian-style coffee and he constantly asked for the coffee to be a little stronger. “I need American coffee.”

I was eager to get answers about dealing with the reorganizations, changes, and rumors at work. I started to ask him for career advice and inquired how he was doing during his golden years of retirement.

“I am loving my life! It’s so much fun. I get to do what I want and can’t wait to get up the next day to do work,” Mak said enthusiastically.

I was surprised by such vigor and I jokingly said to the server, “I’ll have what he’s having.”

One of Mak’s local friends was a man my own age named Laxmikant. Sensing that I wasn’t getting the answers I was seeking, Mak mentioned that I should try to see Laxmikant’s father the next time I was in India. Inquiring further, I learned that Laxmikant’s father is a revered figure and has a big following as a spiritual guru and adviser, not only locally but also in India at large, in Singapore, in the United States, and in several other parts of the world.

Providence? There are no coincidences. Was I being set up here? Whatever, man. I needed answers. I wasn’t getting answers from anyone else, and this person’s father happened to be one of those Indian spiritual advisers. Why not give it a shot? Maybe the stars will show me the way. . . . Or maybe he’ll tell me something bad about my future and jinx me or something. Should I even be doing this? This is crazy. Calm down, Bob. Just go and give it a try.

“How can I see him? Does he live nearby? Will he see me today?” I asked, suddenly eager.

“He’s about two and half hours from here. Let’s see if we can do this,” Laxmikant said, somewhat reluctantly. It was Saturday evening and he didn’t want to drive out there on a Sunday. In desperation, I gave him one of those “Please help me” looks.

On Sunday morning I got a phone call from Laxmikant saying that we would be leaving by 10 a.m. to travel to see his father. Laxmikant picked me up and we started driving toward the hills, leaving the noisy city behind. The drive was picturesque, featuring rolling hills and beautiful pastures. It didn’t look anything like the honking and dirty India that I had seen too often while navigating the metro areas in a taxi. It reminded me of the countryside of a small European nation, with lots of cows. The bright, sunny day bathed the road in front of us as we talked about life in India, life in the United States, and our ideas about work and careers.

In the back of my mind, I was considering what questions to ask the guru. I mean, how could I bring up substantive, important questions without sounding like a loser who has no idea what to do in life? How could I stop overthinking and worrying about the future? How could I get unstuck?

As we got closer to our destination, my mind started conjuring up ideas of what this so-called spiritual guru was going to be like. Images from the magazine article filled my head. Was he going to read my palm, run numbers using my birth date, read tea leaves? Would he ask me for a “donation”? He’s got to be asking me for money.

Oh, man, what have I gotten myself into? I hardly know this guy and I’m traveling with him in a car for two hours to meet his father in a village where there may not even be a cell signal. My wife has no idea where I am. How do I know if this is even safe?

I started to get a little nervous, doubting myself as we reached our destination. Somehow, though, the sunshine-filled fields of corn and flowers, the clean streets, the warm air, and the big, beautiful trees dispelled my negative thinking.

Laxmikant got out of the car and some of the villagers approached and started touching his feet. He received them humbly, with folded hands.

“Are you a big deal, Laxmikant?” I asked jokingly.

Smiling with great humility, he led me on a tour of the village that bore his last name and his father’s and grandfather’s legacy. It seemed that growing up in this tiny town had been a wonderful experience for him, and he proudly showed me the temple and ashram, introducing me to some of the hundred or so people who had come from all over India to meet his father.

He led me down clean alleys and streets to a temple with many entrances. Attached to the temple was a small, open-air corner building. As we entered the temple, I noticed its pristine condition. Polished stones covered the floor all around us, with statues of the Hindu gods centered toward the back. A beautiful sand mandala of Vishnu adorned the center, giving rich color to the floor.

After we paid our respects to the gods, one of the guru’s devoted volunteers in spiritual training came and escorted us through a hallway in the back of the temple to the other building, where the guru meets his followers. We went inside barefoot. The small room we entered contained a couple of sofas for guests and a small chair in the middle for the guru.

A beaming man of about five foot four with a fun, enthusiastic smile came in, lighting up the room. What he lacked in height he made up in the sparkle of his eyes, which seemed to indicate that he had discovered a secret he was eager to reveal.

We sat down and Laxmikant introduced me to his father, who began speaking in perfect English polished by his years of practicing law in a neighboring state. He offered me Indian sweets and we started chatting.

I asked how he found himself to be a guru and learned that his father had been a fairly famous spiritual guru who had contemplated the nature of existence over decades and began writing and sharing his knowledge. After his father passed away, Laxmikant’s father quit his lucrative law practice and moved back to follow in his own father’s footsteps.

As we began to get deeper into conversation, our focus shifted to life and knowledge of the self. He talked in detail about the ego, objectivity, human nature, Freud, Stephen Covey, and positive thinking, referencing great literature and thoughtful writers from yesterday and today. Eventually, we came to the question of what had brought me to this place. My skepticism wore off and I felt comfortable, almost eager to ask him the questions about my own life.

But something wouldn’t let me reveal my own insecurities in front of Laxmikant. So I pulled one of those “When you speak to someone . . . hmm . . . and they ask you, Which direction should I go in my . . . I mean in their life, what do you tell them? Especially nowadays, when there are so many choices and so much confusion. There is no certainty anywhere and it can be confusing for some.”

I tried to ask about myself without seeming too obvious. My ego wasn’t letting go.

“Yes, you are right. It is very difficult for a lot of people these days to find the right direction to go in their life. Too many choices. Even if you go to a temple, you see lots of gods here in India. Too many to choose from. Which god should you pray to? And when you start praying, you get distracted and find yourself thinking of another god or of something else.”

Pausing to reflect, he asked, “But let me ask you something. When you pray to God and ask Him all these questions—What should I do with my life? How do I earn more money? Whom shall I marry? How do I get through these difficult times?—does He respond? Does He answer you?”

Is this a trick question? I wondered. I mean, I guess the answer is no, but does he want me to say something spiritual or does he mean it literally? Do all the voices in my head qualify as God’s voice? Or does he mean do I learn anything? What’s he asking me questions for, anyway? He’s the guru! He should be telling me.

Oh, man. I’m losing it. I’m way overthinking his question.

“No,” I said to him, as if I was playing a TV game show and this was my final answer. “God doesn’t answer.” This was too hard.

“Right. God doesn’t answer your questions because He is allowing you the time to answer your own question. You see, most people expect the answer to their life questions to be somewhere outside of themselves. But the reality is that God is allowing them that silence, that time, so that they can answer the questions themselves. Because the answer to all of your questions, the answer to which path to take forward, is always inside of you. It is not with-out but with-in.

“That’s the true nature of existence, of life, of how to live life. To see the divine nature of existence within and to let it out. Let it breathe as you exhale, as you start your journey. During times of prayer, God is allowing you to have a conversation with yourself, to resolve your inner conflict.

“The answers to the questions you have in your life are not found outside of your own mind. Your search for those answers often is revealed in moments of prayer or contemplation—or, other times, through the persistent questioning from an old man like me.”

Sensing that I still didn’t have the answer to my question about how to choose a path, he touched my hand. Giggling slightly, he said, “You know, some people think that I am here to give them answers to the questions they have, but my role is to be the stubborn person by your side, to help you ask yourself the right question.”

With that, I realized that our time was up. Laxmikant rose and we said good-bye to his father. Hundreds of seekers thirsty for his knowledge were waiting in the great hall nearby. I was given a handful of books written by the guru and the guru’s father on topics as relevant today as they were in the 1960s: inner conflict, objective view of the self, stress management, and more.

While we waited for lunch to be prepared, I got to see the guru’s collection of books and sacred texts in the huge library, which was open to all seekers who dropped by the village. In addition to the hundred or so sacred Hindu texts, which were about two hundred years old, were thousands of more modern books from such writers as Napoleon Hill, Abraham Maslow, Viktor Frankl, Stephen Covey, and Wayne Dyer, covering topics as diverse as economics, psychology, philosophy, motivation, innovation, and architecture. Dozens of current magazines from all over the world were on display, including The Economist and Time.

Following the library tour, I was treated to a traditional Hindu lunch in the personal eating area of the guru and his family. On a brightly polished floor beautifully decorated with a sand mandala sat a wooden platform surrounding the steel plate on which the food was served. Rays of sunshine broke through parts of the roof, illuminating the cleanliness of the floor. Eating with my hands, as is the tradition, brought back some memories of my childhood in India, and the authenticity of the moment reminded me that I was eating soul food.

On the drive back to the city, I was full of good food, but more importantly, full with a lesson that many seekers realize a little too late: in our search for fulfillment, happiness, and direction during times of great confusion, we don’t need to look in some faraway place like a village in the hills of India. Rather, we should look in a place that is so near but so often overlooked: within.