Sunday, April 9, 1995, Kolkata airport 4 PM

I had arranged with Mr. Kejriwal, the Sahaja leader of Kolkata, and confirmed by fax my time of arrival but there’s no one here. It’s at times like like this that one has to be detached. I phoned Mr. K’s house, the lady who answered didn’t speak English. Mr. K had earlier, in response to my fax, had said that someone would be at the airport, with my name displayed on a large card, to pick me up. I asked a policeman to phone his home. Mrs. K informed him that he would not be home till after 9 PM. I can do one of two things, either sit here for five hours and try again or check into a hotel and phone Mr. K either later this evening or in the morning.

5 PM I went to the airport post office and phoned the number Hester Spiro, Dr. David Spiro's wife had given me, the number of one, Mr. Jalan, who was pleasant but singularly indifferent to my plight. He suggested that I stay at the Quality Inn Hotel, about 15 km from here. I’ll buy a street map.

Monday, April 10, 1995 the Kenilworth Hotel Little Russell St..

At 7 PM last night there being no sign of anyone and having waited for four hours, I booked a room downtown in the Kenilworth Hotel and a fixed fare of 150 Rs agreed for “luxury taxi”. It seemed a much better idea to be in the city than in some area a long way from anywhere, the airport being a long distance away from downtown. Of course, my luxury taxi turned out to be a Maruti Suzuki, little more than a van, and the fixed fee had magicked into 375 Rs. I congratulated the driver on his sense of humor and offered to continue the conversation with a policeman present - a risky strategy because there is no guarantee that a policeman would be sympathetic to my side of any discussion.

Later, as a very jet-lagged Alan was fast asleep an apologetic, but clever, Mr. K phoned. He’d tracked me down through the hotel booking desk at the airport, even though it was at a different terminal. He insisted on taking me out for a Chinese meal and explained that with Shri Mataji’s arrival the same day, his hands had been full.

Mr. K, over dinner, asked me if I would be interested in starting up the London branch of Early Bird, a new group blessed by Shri Mataji Herself. A shipping business that would soon rival Federal Express, UPS and DHL. Mr. K’s normal business is Premier Trading, which involves electric fans. I delicately explained that I knew very little of moving goods around and that as a book publisher I would be perfect if his objective was the speedy ruination of his business, then I would be the perfect partner, lacking as I did, any interest or the skills necessary for such an enterprise. Tact, prevented me from offering the obvious comment that a career profile in electric fans didn’t seem the requisite experience of setting up a rival to Federal Express etc.

Mr. Kejriwal, like many leaders before him, did not last the course. Leadership in Sahaja Yoga seems an excellent exit strategy, which en route, offers little in the way of remuneration, company car, pension fund etc, all the normal perks of a leadership position. How comes it holds so much attraction for so many?