> > The MD servant assignment isn't voluntary, it's based on 
> > finances.  
> > 
> > Personally I like service, which is one reason I've moved 
> > away from the tmo and towards other spiritual paths.  I'm 
> > not trying to liberate the oppressed MD servants - if they 
> > think their spiritual path is to iron the silk saris of rich, 
> > manipulative, mood-making princess diana wannabees, that's 
> > their choice.  I guess it comes from the hindu caste system 
> > philosophy, though when you see the MD thing in practice it
> > feels more like the british upstairs-downstairs type of thing.  
> > 
> > I just think the complex and strictly enforced MD hierarchial
> > structure would make an interesting sociological study.
> 
> Wouldn't it make a *tremendous* setting for an 
> Agatha Christie-like murder mystery?  The "ashram"
> in an Iowa trailer park, and the biggest, meanest
> Princess Diana wanabee trailer-trash bitch MD winds 
> up dead as a doornail, with thirty knives sticking 
> out of her.  Master detective Hercule Pushpam has 
> to figure out whodunnit while still getting eight
> hours of program in every day.

Following up on this, and in the spirit of the
recently-mentioned Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest,
here's the first sentence of the novel:

Having stumbled over Wilma's dead body on the way
to program, Sandra Submissive found her TM-Sidhi
practice less than...uh...elevating as she sat 
solidly on the foam, not flying, her mind filled 
with a stream of distubing thoughts -- "I wonder 
who whacked the old bitch?"..."I wonder if it would 
be more in tune with Natural Law to tell someone 
about the body after morning program or wait until 
after evening program"..."I wonder what's for lunch
today"..."Do I still have to iron her saris now that 
she's dead?"..."If I wait until after evening program 
maybe they'll appreciate my one-pointedness and give 
me her old trailer" -- and at the last thought she 
finally felt the familiar kundalini rush, smiled, and 
lifted up off the foam in a graceful arc, butt-bouncing 
madly across the room, screaming, "Later!...later!...
much later!"







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