For Thursday, July 24, 1997 Drummer Column, Gibbs, 1,122 words

Ravi ruse

What we thought was going to be a mystical experience turned out to be a ludicrous encounter with some redeeming qualities.

My wife and I took our son, Adam, down to Monterey last Thursday to tour the Monterey Institute of International Studies. He was curious about some of their courses, and we wanted to feed his curiosity.

The Institute is nice. It offers intensive foreign language studies, including Russian, Arabic, Chinese, and Japanese, along with courses in diplomacy, trade, non-proliferation, and so on. Thanks to Benician Judy Potter we got a personalized introduction. Her son Tim works there as their web master.

So, anyhow, there we were. Adam was about to take a tour, and Susan and I had a few hours to kill. We walked into town to window shop. At a juice bar, over carrots, we picked up one of those free local event magazines and began thumbing through it. That's when visions of mystical experiences began dancing in our heads.

We saw an ad, good for that night only, to see at a conference room at the Hyatt, the one, the only, Ravi Shankar in person. Wow! Sitar music and Hindu philosophy in the comfort of an air-conditioned conference room. How '90s. And, we'd both missed Ravi in the '60s. We liked his musical contributions to the Beatles albums, and we were interested in hearing him speak, so we went.

We arrived early, and the setting was as expected. A platform in the Beach Room was draped in tapestries and piled high with multi-colored flowers. An overstuffed chair and a microphone stand marked center stage. Several minions were bustling about lighting incense and arranging several hundred chairs.

We killed an hour in the main lobby, then returned. We paid our $10 "donations" at the door and received literature on the art of breathing and an application to take future breathing workshops, for an extra fee.

As the room filled up, we explained to Adam who Ravi Shankar is, and why we weren't at the movies watching "Contact." We explained that Shankar's music had a profound effect on the mood of the sixties, that he was voted "Musician of the Year" by Billboard magazine in 1969. We told him that Shankar must be in his 70s by now and probably has a lot to say.

That's when the bubble broke. A white guy in a suit came to the microphone. Laughingly, he said, "Well, I hope no one came here tonight to hear sitar music. I hope everyone understands that the name Ravi Shankar is as common in India as Bob Smith is here. This is a different Ravi Shankar, but I think you will be pleasantly surprised by his teachings. But first, I'd like to introduce you to Bob Smith, who runs the Breathing Institute here in Monterey."

Then another white guy in a sport coat and T-shirt got up and spoke in a voice so soft and dreamy I almost got the dry heaves. He talked about the first time he ever met Punditji (Shankar's pet name among his followers), how the mystic touched his arm and changed his life. He then spoke in detail about his breathing workshops, the location and hours, and reminded us to fill out our applications. Visa and Mastercharge were accepted.

"Ah, he has come!" said Bob Smith, and sat down. Up the aisle came Ravi. He was about 29, had long, tangled black hair and a huge beard, and was wearing a flowing gown. Several devotees got up, clasped their hands, and bowed. Ravi took his seat and folded his legs beneath him.

White guy No. 1 began strumming his guitar. A white woman in a gown knelled on a pillow and began to sing in a soft, airy voice, "I am blinded by the light of the lamp of his love." She looked to me like she'd missed her comet.

When she finished, Ravi sat speechless for five minutes. Then he said, "Ah, ha. You were expecting me to speak, and I did not. By this, I have put your mind in the present. Neat trick, eh?"

He spoke briefly about not dwelling on the past or future, but living in the now. Then he asked the audience for topics. This is where it got ludicrous. After an uncomfortable silence, one long-haired man with a baby asked, "Punditji, what is memory?"

Ravi paused. Then he said, "What did you say?"

"I said, what is memory," said the man.

"Ah," said Ravi. "And that is memory. Another question?"

Someone asked, "What is love?" and Ravi said, "We are love. Another question?"

Someone asked, "What is ego?" and Ravi said, "It is the pea in the pod. Another question?"

A woman asked, "Why causes suffering?" and Ravi said, "Ignorance. Another question?"

It went on like this for 40 minutes. He solicited questions, then made brief, often flippant responses. It was like putting quarters into the fortune teller machine at the circus arcade. All his answers fit nicely onto a tiny cards.

My favorite question came from an otherwise normal looking woman. She asked, "Punditji, what is reincarnation? Is it a string of pearls or a row of dominos?"

I even liked the young pundit's response. He said, "If the phenomenon is continuous, why do you call it reincarnation?"

I looked around hoping to make eye contact with someone else who thought this woman needed a shot from a fire hose, but everyone was gaping expectantly at Sri Lanka, or whatever his real name was.

Then came the highlight of the evening. Mr. Punditji wanted all 200 of us to meditate, so he asked for the lights to be dimmed. His minions jumped up and began turning every dial on every wall. The lights did nothing, so he instructed us to close our eyes. While we were contemplating our toes, and breathing deeply, the temperature in the room shot up. Someone had either turned off the air conditioning or turned on the heat. I looked at Adam. Sweat was dripping from his nose. He shook his head as if to say, "Well, Stanley, this is another fine mess you've gotten us into."

When Captain Pundo snapped us out of our trance, we noticed that many people's skin was glistening with perspiration. Except, they didn't seem to notice. I guess they figured the swelter was generated by body heat and reified love.

White guy No. 1 took the mike and said, "That concludes our session. If anyone would like to meet and touch Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, please form a line to your left. If some of you would prefer to sing, you may come over here with us.

That was our cue to skedattle.