was wearing red. "A non-conformist within a group of
non-conformists!" I thought.

He nodded to us but continued talking.

I walked by and noticed his name tag. Directly beneath "ATMANANDA"
glimmered a sticker from AAA and this warning: "Fasten Your Seat Belt."

That night, in the Castaneda books, I read how ordinary events were
often portentous omens. I wondered if there was a significant message
hidden in the Guru's absence. I wondered, too, if I was supposed to
meditate with this Guru before hitchhiking west.

The following week, I ventured with my brother to another of
Atmananda's lectures. We also returned to meditate with Chinmoy. When
we arrived at Columbia, disciples were arranging flowers, lighting
incense, and otherwise darting about in preparation for their master's
presence. Chinmoy apparently was on his way. Several minutes later a
short, stocky Indian entered the chapel. He had a shiny head, a hooked
nose, and high cheek bones. He was draped in a light-blue dhoti, the
male version of a sari. He walked slowly toward the front. He sat in
a big blue chair, opened his eyes wide, and blinked a couple of times.

Disciples in the audience sat with their hands folded, as if they were
praying to him.

"Are they praying to him?" I asked my brother.

"No," he whispered. "They are aspiring to the Infinite in him."

The Guru sipped from a glass which he held with his pinky pointing out.

"Well," I thought. "As long as they aren't praying to him."

Suddenly Chinmoy belted out, "Aummm. Auuummmmmm. Auuummmmmmmmmmmm."
After five minutes of meditation, the Guru folded his hands and bowed
to the audience.

My brother whispered, "He is offering his meditation to the Infinite in
us."

"That about evens the score," I thought, feeling better about the whole
business of guru worship.

Chinmoy signaled a disciple who placed a box of oranges before him. He
stood behind it and nodded to the audience, which began forming a line.

At first I thought he was just giving out oranges. But by filling the
fruits with spiritual light, my brother explained, the Guru was really
giving darshan.

One by one, the disciples looked into Chinmoy's eyes with out-stretched
hands. When they received the darshan they touched the orange to their
heart chakra, bowed, and walked reverentially back to the benches.

When it came my turn, I approached slowly so that people would think I
was spiritual. "When Guru flicke