I Lived With the Beatles at their Guru's Retreat

 

The author of this story, Simon Regan, did not have an enjoyable time at the Ashram in India.   I think it is because he was there as a report to see what the Beatles were up to and not there to learn about meditation.   However, I do understand why he was suspicious of Maharishi's motives. 

I Lived With the Beatles at Their Guru's Retreat

Written by Sam Regan 

Family Weekly 

May 19, 1968

    Whatever it is that the Beatles and the other stars saw in the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's circus world of high finance and meditation on the banks of the Ganges, frankly, eludes me.

     I spent several days meditating with them earlier this year. I have to report that there's more hokum than spiritual regeneration at the giggling gurus academy. At the Maharishi's retreat, celebrities take precedence. The poor and the unknown are kept out by the guards.

     The bearded guru, who requires each of his converts to donate one week's net earnings to his cause, is making hay while the sun shines and busily lays plans for retirement at the end of the year. 

    Indeed, poverty is apparent everywhere in the town of Rishikesh, India. Yet nearby, the Maharishi is building a sumptuous new headquarters, complete with air conditioning, hot and cold running water, ultra-lavish style chalets with wall-to-wall carpet, and landscaped gardens. He told me, during a lull in the bedlam of pop star publicity, that before he settles down in America, he plans to go on a 100-city tour of India, a 30-city tour of the United States, and jaunts through Italy, West Germany, Holland, Sweden, Norway, and Canada.

    "The Beatles have promised to help me reach up to 10 million new converts before I retire into silence," he declared.

     And he disclosed that he plans to finance his globe-trotting by charging every meditator seven days' salary each year, half the proceeds going to the local meditation Mecca and a half to himself. "With my new converts, I hope to plan world peace within 10 years," he added modestly. 

     What was it like at the Beatles' Shangri-la? Well, a favorite pastime for the visiting celebrities was "who could meditate the mostest."  Although it is against all the established principles, there was a keen competition among the converts to see how many hours each could blank out his mind.

 Before leaving, Paul McCartney led the Beatle's meditation league for four hours. John Lennon was runner-up with three and a half. Ringo Starr, who returned to London, declared it was all like a holiday camp, and George Harrison managed only three a piece.

     The Beatles, their wives, and a phalanx of friends, who included Donovan, Mia Farrow, two of the Beach Boys pop group, and a cluster of agents, friends, managers, and secretaries were in their own carefully guarded enclosure. They enjoyed wall-to-wall carpeting and hot and cold running water. I was billeted in a nearby building where I slept on a single blanket. 

    What bearing it all had on finding personal tranquility and solving the world's major problems, I cannot yet see, nor I suspect can John Paul, George, and Ringo.

    Other holy sects in the area are calling the Maharishi's meditation center the "greatest show on earth." And hecklers are accusing him of egotism, ambition, materialism and exhibitionism.  The holy men say it's against the principles of spiritual life to charge fees for guidance, and they accuse the Maharishi of accepting only the rich and famous, leaving the poor outside the gates. 

    Pilgrims from all over India have been coming to seek the Guru's guidance, only to find their way blocked by armed guards. Ironically, no one is barred from the other nearby holy places. All are welcome. 

    Worst of all, other holy men are seriously disputing whether the Guru is a true yogi or not. They say that only a few years ago, he was a humble employee of the founder of his order, Guru, Shankararacheraya of  Jyotirpeeth. When the leader died, there was an undignified scramble, which ended with two senior priests haggling it out in court. While litigation hog bogged down, the Maharishi quietly took over the operation. 

    These days, the Maharishi's sermons to the crowd outside his allmod home have a bitter tone.  They used to be given in complete peace in the shaded gardens of his ashram house, with monkeys playing and jostling in the trees above.  Now, hecklers dominate the scene.  They scoff at the pop stars avowed plans to turn the world without acid, (LSD), and create world peace within 10 years through meditation. 

    Despite the chaos, which is rather like a three ring circus operating in a madhouse, I decided to find out exactly what the Beatles were doing at the feet of the master. Meditation started each day at 3am with a violent banging on the door. One morning, the devotees had to stumble down to the Ganges for a wash in the dark at freezing Himalayan dawn. There we were then herded off to a small temple, where, under the beloved, benevolent stare of a sitar playing Goddess of music, we sat through a tedious two-hour meditation session, shoes off. Of course.

     At 530, prayers and chants started, and when that session was over, it was yoga time in a room full of withering, contorted bodies. The Beatles were notable by their absence. At this stage, I tried a few simple exercises, but even crossing my legs and touching my toes with my chin sent spasms of agony through my cranking joints. Yoga practice over it was meditation time again.

     The Beatles spent most of the time in their rooms and put aside five hours a day for meditation. Heads in hand, they had an audience with His Holiness for at least two hours a day. He saw that they ate very well and were equipped with all the comforts of home. 

    Nevertheless, they claim vehemently that the Maharishi's teachings worked wonders. They must be used to him, for I couldn't make heads nor tails out of what he had to say. He told us in one session, for instance, "Now, even intellectually, we understand that the world is changing all the time, that means it is eternally changing. And when it is eternally changing, that means the basis of change is something eternal, changing, changing, changing, and goes on changing, and it's very changing. "No, I'm not kidding. Those were the words as I tape-recorded them!

     George Harrison, not to be undone. Told us all, "I want to be unseen, unknown, unheard." Quite a change for the Beatles.

     Lunchtime brought the end to the day's meditation. Everyone settled down for the siesta until the evening brought the beginning of the parties, in the lush tropical gardens or down on the small beach by the river.

     One day, the Maharishi gathered the famous Four and told them, today is Mahashitri, the day of Lord Shivas wedding. Paul McCartney quipped, "Who is he marrying?  Mrs. Shiva, I suppose?"
Which startled several onlookers. Shiva being the most revered of all the Indian Gods.

     The Maharishi, as an expert on publicity, knows the true value of a photo session. Whnever one was held,  the Beatles brigade always was asked to join in. He told me, "I devote a lot of time to The Beatles because they arrived later than anyone else. They are picking up fast and are getting lessons in what I call practical philosophy for action, I must admit they are playing a very important role in my campaign." 

     After a recent photo session, the Beatles retired to chant and mumble in the Maharishi's personal meditation room. They sat cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with the beads around their necks and toning the age-old words from the scriptures as the guru spoke to another visitor. After lunch, Ringo and his wife came up holding hands, looking decidedly worried. "Can you spare a minute?" he asked. The great man took them into his room for a 15-minute conference. "They were beset by some problems. Now they are both meditating happily again," he said.

     Afterwards, the next day, we all trip down to the banks of the Ganges for an impromptu party. Folk singer Donovan, ("a great leader of youth," says the Maharishi) put Hindu chants to a modern pop setting, and the Beatles joined the group.

     All the while the Maharishi set gurgling, squeaking happiness. "They are wonderful lads,"he said, "they always make me so happy."

     Then, of course, there was George Harrison's birthday party, complete with a seven pound birthday cake and 25 candles. The Maharishi put Sandalwood perfume on the Beatle's head, and George flung flowers around a picture of a former holy man.  Mike Love of the Beach Boys sang a song, and famous Indian musicians joined in the chorus with traditional music. The Maharishi presented George with the globe of the world turned upside down. "That's the state of the world today," he explained. George promptly turned it the right way up. "That's what we're going to do about it," he replied.

But lately, one by one, the celebrities are becoming dropouts from the Maharshi's Academy: first Ringo, then Paul, then Mia Farrow. It could be that they have found their spiritual fulfillment, or it could be that after serious meditation, they found their wallets becoming unfilled. Only time will tell.