Sitting in dappled shade at a wooden table later that afternoon, Vincent begins his letter to the Guru.

Dear Bhagwan,

G’day

So, I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I’ve done some Transcendental Meditation (TM) in the past, but not much. I am 25 years old. Formerly, I worked in the Prison Department for the state government, in Victoria, in Australia, working with prisoners out on parole, but I recently quit that because my boss is due to some disagreements with the management. I am currently unemployed. I have been in India for almost six weeks. I don’t really know how long I’m going to be here for. I’m thinking about going into the building trade when I return to Australia. Or maybe carpentry. I’d like to work for myself. I like to work with my hands.

Also, I’m not really sure if this is relevant but I have spent some time in a psychiatric hospital (two months) for depression relating to the end of a relationship.

What I really would like to know is: what is the meaning of life? I think about this a lot. I have so many other questions. For instance, why is there so much rage inside me? Can you give me any clues? Does God exist? Why does it feel like my soul is entwined in shit? Who will show me how to love and live?

I guess that’s it for now.

I look forward to meeting you.

All the best,

Vincent (Vince) (From Australia)

He makes a clean copy, then delivers it to the woman, Laxmi, in the office. She has a smile that reminds him of something good, though he cannot think what it is. He likes her a lot.

Somewhat disconcerted, the Canadians have retreated to a nearby hotel, The Blue Diamond, to drink. This is where Vincent and Kurt find them that evening. Two big men, tilting sideways in their chairs, drunkenly flushed and boisterous. When they see Kurt and Vincent, they stand up loudly to embrace them.

Kurt has tracked down Rani. She is living in a little room not far from the ashram, although she is in the middle of some sort of ‘encounter group’ at the moment, and can’t talk to him.

‘Two more days to go,’ Kurt says. ‘She doesn’t want to break her concentration.’

‘Why? What would happen?’

‘It’s like surgery,’ Kurt explains. ‘You can’t just get up and leave in the middle of it. They have to stitch you up again.’

‘What’s the group?’ Vincent asks.

There are about ninety therapy groups, and it’s compulsory to do some of them, apparently. According to Bhagwan, therapy is necessary, because people have forgotten how to be religious. It’s like purging. Around the ashram this is known as ‘working on your shit’.

‘Tantra,’ Kurt says.