And Then, I Went to India

I made my way back to Colombo and caught my flight to Chennai. There was a massive shift in the vibe from Sri Lanka to India.

I arrived in Chennai around 11 p.m. on a night flight. I remember standing in the immigration line, surrounded by a mix of hippies and a few older people. I started chatting to a woman nearby.

She asked, “Is this your first time in India?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”

She seemed alright.

Eventually, I made it to the immigration desk. The officer looked at me, looked at my documents, and asked if I’d been to India before. I told him no.

He said, “You’ve arrived on a very auspicious day.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked.

“Yes, the Diwali festival is just about to begin.”

I had no idea what Diwali was, but I liked the sound of it.

Then he looked at me and said, “You must watch out for scams, you’ve already been scammed before even arriving in the country.”

“What?” I said. “What do you mean?”

He told me I’d paid way too much for my visa I’d clicked on a scam website and been charged for something that could’ve cost next to nothing.

Well, fucking hell, I thought. I’d applied for the visa in bed at the hostel in Sri Lanka just a few nights earlier, clearly wasn’t paying attention.

I made it through and stepped outside. It was hot. Humid. The energy was heavy noticeably heavier than Sri Lanka.

I ordered an Uber to take me to a hostel for the night.

When the car arrived, the driver didn’t speak English, but he asked, “Country?”

“Australia,” I replied.

He smiled. “Shane Warne!”

“Brett Lee,” I said.

He laughed and pulled up the IPL (Indian Premier League) cricket on his phone, placed it on the dash like it was a GPS. I swear he ran a red light while watching the game.

I finally got to the hostel. I was too tired to go out, so I ordered food, ate in bed, and crashed.

The next morning, I got up early and decided to take a bus to Tiruvannamalai. Only problem was I had no idea where to catch it from.

I couldn’t make sense of the info online different names, different stations.

I went to the train station first. No luck. Tried a couple of other places. From 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. I searched all over Chennai.

Finally, I found the right bus. I jumped on completely exhausted and was finally on my way to Tiruvannamalai.

I still remember the moment I first saw Arunachala.

It was unforgettable.

I couldn’t take my eyes off this enormous, silent mountain.

When I arrived, I got off the bus and found where I was staying. Went straight to sleep.

The next morning, something strange happened.

It was like someone had muted my head. I couldn’t think. What the fuck is going on here? I wondered.

I wasn’t anxious or panicked, I was just... still. Present. It felt unusual. But right.

I headed to the ashram for the first time. They didn’t have ashram staff back then, all those years ago, it’s much more organised now. Back then, it felt raw. Open.

One morning, I was sitting in meditation when I felt something odd. I opened my eyes and there was an Indian guy, literally in my face.

I blinked.

“What the fuck?” I said, confused.

He was crying.

“Bus… bus. Please. Money for bus.”

I just sat there, stunned.

Eventually, I gave him some money.

He stopped crying, dropped to the ground and did a full prostration at Ramana’s tomb. Then he walked away.

As he left, I heard a voice beside me say,

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

I turned to my right, there was an Indian guy sitting next to me.

We started chatting.

I said, “Look man, if he wants to rip me off and lie, then so be it.”

He told me his brother had once been scammed in a similar way.

I listened. He asked what brought me to the ashram.

I told him I didn’t really know, I just liked Ramana.

He told me he’d been here once before, when his father had died. Now, his mother was dying and he had returned for peace.

Heavy situations. I felt it.

We kept chatting.

He asked where else I was going in India.

I told him I didn’t know. I said I’d had a dream once with Sathya Sai Baba in it, but I didn’t know what that meant or where I was supposed to go

He said, “Oh, then you must go to Puttaparthi. It’s near Bangalore. You can take a bus from here to Bangalore, then a train.”

I was so happy.

“Thank you,” I said.

We left the ashram together.

Before we parted ways, he asked if we could take a selfie — so we did.

I never saw him again.

But I remember that day clearly.

Something was unfolding.

And while all of that was happening within the next few days, I would have my first close encounter with a cult…