When I was a little boy, I was just like every other little boy going here and there, playing. When 1 was six, my father gave me Knowledge. I was given Knowledge and I didn't realize it right away. But I understood it was my duty and I began to meditate and in about a month I realized it. When I was eight, late Maharaj Ji left his body. He was very sick in Delhi. There were all these telephone calls. I was at home and it was time to go to school, so I went to school and I was sitting in the classroom and the driver from Delhi came and called the teacher out to tell her about Shri Maharaj Ji. The madame came back into the class and said to me, "Go."

I went home and everyone was weeping. I was just sitting there not weeping and something began to happen to me. I began to feel that I am not this body; that I could not move these lips. I always thought that the soul would leave by the mouth, but my mouth was shut. Still I felt like I was leaving my body and my soul was everywhere going out. And this voice came to me saying: "You are He, you are the one to continue."

Then I puzzled over the voice. Thirteen days later, I was doing pranam to my father's ashes and bones. You know, in India, they burn the bodies and thirteen days later you collect the ashes. I bent down to touch the ashes, and the voice came, "You are he, you are the one to go and give this to the world."

I didn't want to be Satguru. I would have been satisfied to be a mischievous little boy. I didn't understand why it is me. I would have been satisfied to be the humblest servant of the Satguru and not to be one myself. It was not my desire. But the late Maharaj Ji had left one letter when he was away. He sent his love to his oldest three sons and complete prostrations to his youngest. So they crowned me with the crown of Rama and Krishna and put the tilak on my forehead, and again the voice came: "This is the last I will tell you. You are He, you must take this Knowledge out to the world."

Then for the first time I did not give satsang. The satsang just came and I began to speak (Guru Maharaj Ji, 1974).1

Guru Maharaj Ji was born Prem Pal Singh Rawat on December 10, 1957. His father, Shri Hans Ji Maharaj Ji, was already recognized as a Perfect Master and lived with his wife, Mata Ji, and his four sons in the Prem Nagar ashram* in India. Guru Maharaj Ji, like his brothers, was treated like a divine being by the many Mahatmas* and premies* who served his father in the ashram. Thus, he received the attention and affection of his father's devotees.* who happily responded to his every wish. Luxury and service were his birthright and later became his personal life-style when he was elevated to his father's position as Perfect Master at the age of eight.

It was a surprise to many people that the youngest of the children would assume the father's spiritual role, for the expectation was that his eldest son would succeed him. In another sense, the elevation of the youngest to spiritual prominence was no surprise at all, for stories are told about his extraordinary dedication to the Knowledge,* which he demonstrated almost from the moment when his father, and guru, had revealed the life force to him. From the age of six, he is said to have voluntarily immersed himself in spiritual practices, sometimes meditating for hours at a time. His exuberance for the Knowledge made him a sensation at satsang,* where premies say he spoke spontaneously to mass audiences with the assurance of someone many years older. After succession to his father's position, the young guru continued attending school and officiating at the spiritual activities of the movement, which had attracted a sizable following in India by then.

By the end of the 1960s a few dropouts from the American counterculture had made their way to India in search of a guru. A handful heard about Guru Maharaj Ji, received the Knowledge from one of his Mahatmas, and returned to the United States as his followers. The guru was just emerging into adolescence when, in 1971, a few of those American premies invited him to the United States for the first time. His decision to accept the invitation against the wishes of his mother, Mata Ji, was the first sign of his developing independence, which eventually culminated in the widely publicized feud between them several years later. In India, his mother and eldest brother, Bal Bhagwan Ji, had dominated the Mission with the "boy guru" assuming a more symbolic, but still potent, form of spiritual authority. In theory, he was at the top of an organizational pyramid which bestowed on him the privileges of legislator, executive, and judge-rights generally taken for granted by gurus. But, due to his age, authority was more broadly shared throughout his family. His mother was recognized as the "Holy Mother" and his three older brothers were widely regarded as Divine, each representing a spiritual virtue. Premies prostrated to them as they did to Guru Maharaj Ji, even though in India and the United States he was the only one spoken of as "satguru," the Indian term for Perfect Master.

The guru's first visit to Colorado in 1971 created great excitement, similar to that of a Christian revival meeting, as a sizable crowd of young people from the counterculture gathered in the mountains to see the 13-year-old guru whom people were calling the "Lord." Some were just curiosity seekers wanting to see the show; others were seriously looking for a guru to follow. Many stayed to receive the Knowledge from one of the guru's Mahatmas, Indians clad in orange saffron robes and lending mystery to the initiation ceremony by the sheer contrast of their speech and demeanor to American customs. Soon after the first visit, a wave of premies were covering the area like zealous missionaries, spreading the word that there was a 13-year-old saint in the mountains who could reveal God. The boldness of this claim and the thought of a teen-aged Perfect Master was enough to capture the attention of countless numbers of hippies who had already begun a spiritual search. Before long, the young guru was joined by members of his family and other Mahatmas to set into motion an important phase of what they hoped would become a world-wide peace effort. Divine Light Mission had come to America.

Attracting young, white, middle-class youth, the movement expanded rapidly from 1971 to the close of 1973, at which time the Mission's leadership estimated American membership to be about 50,000. That was the number of people who had received the Knowledge; the deeply dedicated followers were a considerably smaller group. In the beginning, the organization was fairly loose knit, and premies did what they could on their own to interest people in receiving the Knowledge. By 1972, ashrams were beginning to open up across the country and premies were flying to India to acquaint themselves with the movement there. The mood was optimistic. Premies were encouraged by the sight of hundreds of people crowding into the ashrams asking to receive the Knowledge, many staying several days until a Mahatma arrived to initiate them. With enthusiasm on the rise, the coffers of the movement filled, making expansion possible.

A medical clinic was opened in New York City to administer to the health needs of the poor, with plans for similar facilities in other large cities. Secondhand stores were started to recycle goods at prices within range of low-income families. Small business organizations were developed spontaneously by premies which contracted for jobs in the community to do painting, carpentry, landscaping, and similar services.

The national and international headquarters of the Mission in Denver naturally swelled in size to meet the demands of the movement's growth, activities, and goals. By 1973, it was staffed by 125 full-time coordinators, who were responsible for operations in the 55 countries on six continents where the Mission was active. The latest technical know-how was used. A computer was even purchased for keeping tabs on the large membership and for filing and documenting financial records. By the summer of 1973, there were an estimated 1.2 million members worldwide, with India accounting for the bulk. Of the estimated 50,000 who had received the Knowledge in the United States, about 500 were living in 24 ashrams in 24 cities, while information centers were being started in smaller cities and towns.

Within the Mission a belief was developing among premies that the day was approaching when the masses would recognize the virtues of their guru, receive the Knowledge, and join them in their mission of peace. Outside the movement, its future seemed uncertain, for public attitudes were far from sympathetic. People were hostile toward the guru. Reports in the media were unfavorable, repeating often that he seemed to live more like a king than a Messiah.

When word first began to circulate within the Mission about a massive festival to be held in the Houston Astrodome premies were ecstatic. Like a symphony building to a crescendo, their hopes for a dramatic change in the world were rising. Millennium 1973, the name given to the festival, promised them what they longed for most-a sign that a new age of peace was coming. For the Mission's leadership there was an accompaning wish that the members of the news media would at last see Guru Maharaj Ji as positively as they did, and hundreds of reporters were invited from across the country. By the time of the festival the runaway expectations of some premies had led them to believe that masses of ordinary people would descend on the Astrodome, a few thought Guru Maharaj Ji would transform the world singlehandedly, while wild rumors spread in half-jest about the possible appearance of extraterrestrial beings.

But the Astrodome did not fill to capacity, the world remained as it was, and representatives of the media were angered, not impressed, by what they saw and heard. Many premies were disappointed. Reassessment began to take place within the movement, as the organization faced the task of paying off a $600,000 debt from the festival and the necessity of cutting back on its programs. (These events and other changes will be described in more detail in a later chapter.)

The millennial appeal of the Mission prior to Millennium 1973 revolved around two beliefs: that Guru Maharaj Ji was the Lord, and that a new age of peace was about to begin under his leadership. Actually, millennial beliefs had been germinating in the counterculture long before the arrival of the guru on the American scene, for many hippies were anticipating the "second coming" and the dawning of the Age of Aquarius. The Mission's millenarian overtones seemed to offer hope to thousands of young people in the counterculture who had become disillusioned with earlier attempts to change the world and were turning to a spiritual solution in the hope that it might accomplish what a political and cultural revolution had failed to achieve.

The belief that Guru Maharaj Ji was the Lord conformed to the eastern spiritual tradition, where surrender to the inner spirit and obedience to a spiritual teacher had been regarded for generations as customary steps in the attainment of spiritual enlightenment. Trying to follow Guru Maharaj Ji's teaching created uniformity of conduct and fashions among premies while it ensured their practice of meditation, satsang, and service. These practices were considered essential for staying in harmony with the inner spirit.

Disillusioned with conventional American religious groups in their youth, premies emphasized the importance of the Knowledge experience as the source of their spiritual awakening and as the basis for seeking more love, peace, and happiness in their lives. Upon entry into the movement, there was no vast literature for them to study, such as we find in the Hare Krishna movement, nor was there an elaborate theology. Instead, they regarded their relationship to the universal spirit and to Guru Maharaj Ji as sufficient for undoing what they saw as the undesirable features of their social conditioning, which they believed would give them a fuller and more joyful experience of life.

Many people who watched the 13-year-old guru attract a mass following in 1971-73 were amazed. They wondered how a mere boy could be regarded as Perfect Master and why so many young people, dressed in counterculture style, were anxious to follow him and to lay prostrate at his feet. Some parents were appalled and disappointed when their children became involved and scholars were wondering whether Guru Maharaj Ji's followers were not just another wave of desperate people in this country trying to "escape from freedom." I have talked to many people in the last five years who were skeptical and sometimes antagonistic toward Guru Maharaj Ji and Divine Light Mission. Yet, most were not very well informed about either the guru or the movement, nor were they interested in learning how premies might be benefiting from their involvement. For example, one woman whom I had met at a party in 1973 nearly shouted, "Oh, I am quite willing to accept all the different spiritual movements in the country, but not the one with the boy guru. That one I can't stand." As we talked, it became apparent she knew little more than what she had read in the newspapers about the Mission. In fact, she had never even met, let along talked at length with, a premie. Because she felt Divine Light Mission was contrary to her values, she was more than ready to condemn and reject it.

When I first started this study, I too was made skeptical by some of what I saw in the Mission. Even now, I am aware of certain pitfalls to individualism in such movements. Yet I knew in the beginning that to perceive it as a threatening and bizarre phenomenon could only be an excuse for not examining it carefully and objectively. Instead, I wanted to set my personal biases aside as much as possible in order to understand it as a part of human experience, as ordinary people trying to find spiritual answers to the ultimate questions of purpose and meaning.

Religious movements were a new area of research for me when I began this undertaking in the summer of 1972. Having just completed a book about commitment and charisma in political revolutions, I was disappointed that I had been unable to fully grasp the personal drama which leads ordinary people to experience a change of values and to choose revolution as a way of life. Much has been written about the leaders and the organization of social movements, but little is known about the conversion and transformation of followers who put their security in jeopardy for the sake of change. Therefore, when I turned to study Divine Light Mission, I was certain that I wanted to focus on the lives of premies, looking especially at how they had become followers and how they had changed as a result of their involvement in the Mission.

There were two ways I could have carried on the investigation. One was to join the movement and study it as an insider. That choice was not a viable one for me, however, because I had no intention of becoming a devotee. To join without a genuine interest seemed a sham, not to mention the fact that masquerading as a premie won1d probably have given me a distorted picture of the movement. So I took a second approach, which was to remain on the outside and to explore the Mission as a visitor.

For about a month, 1 spent time at the ashram in Boulder, Colorado, watching, talking to premies, and participating in some of their rituals. I certainly did not agree with everything I saw or heard; in fact, there were some premies whose beliefs seemed quite unrealistic, for example, some believed that the guru could transform the world singlehandedly if he chose to. However, I respected many of the Mission's goals and the motives of those involved. They seemed sincere about what they were doing and were committed to many positive values, such as love, peace, and cooperation. Feeling I could treat the Mission fairly, I decided to begin interviewing premies. By that time, most of the local followers knew who I was, so I was in a good position to make further contact with them.

The selection of premies for interviewing took a fairly natural course, through random contact, asking if they would participate, then scheduling a time for the first interview. Given the casual nature of the setting then, this approach worked quite well, although I did end up interviewing more premies who lived in the ashram (13) than on the outside (5). The stories of the two groups, however, were quite similar.

My only concern in selecting people was to equalize the representation of the sexes. I thought it would be interesting to discover if the accounts of males and females would differ, but, except for minor details, this was not the case. Other than the sex of the premie, I had no knowledge of the person's background before the first interview for example, whether he or she had a history of psychological disturbance, had attended college, used drugs, etc. Initially, my intention was to interview twenty premies in depth. Only nineteen cases were completed, however, because the twentieth person was transferred to a distant city while our discussions were underway. By that time, I had become aware of a pattern in the accounts of premies and additional stories were not adding many new elements or insights. One case was eliminated from those completed because I suspected that the individual's motives for participating had not been completely honest; he spent most of the time trying to convert me and almost no time talking about his personal life. In all the remaining cases, premies spoke with frankness and honesty, revealing intimate details of their lives which many of their friends, and certainly their parents, were unaware of.

The interviews were each tape-recorded in three segments, and taping was done wherever it was possible to find a quiet and secluded spot, which proved to be a challenge at times. Many meetings were in the basement of the ashram, where the incessant sound of clanging water pipes from the kitchen made conditions less than optimum. On one particularly busy day, when the ashram was filled to capacity with visitors, a premie and I squeezed into a storage room, where we spent a cramped three hours in the midst of old clothes, suitcases, discarded living implements, and whatnot.

The first interview covered the early lives of premies up to their contact with the movement. 'I'he second probed the period from contact to the "present." The final interview focused onl their life within the Mission and the difficulties of propagating the Knowledge in the surrounding community.

My main purpose was to get as complete a story as possible without leading premies on with prearranged questions. I wanted to encourage them to tell their stories in their own way. My role was merely to see that they told detailed stories. Therefore, the one question I asked over and over again was simply, "Could you tell me more about that?" I raised this question whenever I wanted them to fill in the substance of something they had touched upon only briefly or had skipped over entirely, thinking it was not worth talking about. Questions arose from the first interviews which I felt moved to ask in later ones, pertaining, for example, to the premie's relationship to his or her parents, attitudes about conventional American religion, success in making friends, drug use, and the like.

Follow-up interviews were conducted over the next several years with seven premies who seemed representative of the larger group. I maintained contact with all eighteen, however, in order to keep track of their activities within the Mission, to observe any changes, and to initiate follow-up interviews with any who chose to leave, as three eventually did. In the summer of 1976, an extensive questionnaire was mailed to the remaining fifteen, exploring changes which had taken place in their lives and in the movement since they had joined. In 1972, a questionnaire covering basic background information was completed by the eighteen, by other premies from the Midwest and South, as well as by forty college students who were not followers of Guru Maharaj Ji and twenty-nine members of the Hare Krishna movement. The information from these various sources provided a comparative perspective which was indispensable for understanding what, if anything, was unique about the background of premies to make their lives take a spiritual direction. (For a brief discussion of the methods and results of that questionnaire, please see "A Statement on the Method" at the end of the book.)

I was aware of the subjective quality of retrospective accounts, since the past obviously takes on a somewhat different character after conversion. But "reality" is always subject to individual interpretation: perceptions of reality differ in the stories of premies, in my interpretation of each of their accounts, and, finally, in my analysis of all their stories combined, which we could call "theory." I do not pretend that my rendering of reality in this case is the "true story," but only one of many that could be written.

I have been trained to look for and understand the social and psychological processes that appear in all social movements and during different periods of history. To see such processes operating in the Mission is not a condemnation of it, for they can be found in all similar movements. In fact, while cautioning against the dangers of prolonged dependence on the guru, I conclude in a later chapter that premies seem to have grown personally in many positive ways from their involvement in the Mission.

The book is organized in two parts. Part I includes four individual case histories. Part II, the bulk of the work, traces the stages in the conversion and commitment of premies and an analysis of some of the social and psychological dynamics of change. I conclude the book with a short discussion of the future prospects of the "spiritual revolution." Throughout, the names of premies have been changed to preserve and protect their identities.

Glossary