ven though I last sat with Maharishi more than 10 years ago, he left an 
indelible 
impression, as he did on everyone. His extraordinary qualities are known to the 
world. 
Without him, it's fair to say, the West would not have learned to meditate. 
During the Cold 
War era a reporter once challenged him by saying, "If anything is possible, as 
you claim, 
can you go to the Soviet Union tomorrow with your message?" Without hesitation, 
Maharishi calmly replied, "I could if I wanted to." Eventually he did want to, 
and meditation 
arrived in Moscow several years before the Berlin Wall fell. In his belief that 
world peace 
depended entirely on rising consciousness, Maharishi was unshakable.

The Bhagavad-Gita declares that there are no outward signs of enlightenment. 
The point is 
underscored in many Indian fables and scriptures, which often take the form of 
a high-
caste worthy snubbing an untouchable, only to find that the untouchable was 
actually a 
god in disguise. For his part, Maharishi had three guises, and perhaps in the 
end they were 
also disguises.

He was an Indian, a guru, and a personality. The personality was highly 
quixotic. Over the 
50 years of his public life, Maharishi never lost his charm and lovability. He 
had these 
qualities to such an extent that Westerners took him to be a perfect example of 
how 
enlightenment looks -- kind, sociable, all-accepting, and light-hearted -- when 
that is 
far from the case. His presence was more mysterious than good humor can account 
for: 
you could feel it before entering a room. You could be walking down the hallway 
to his 
private apartments with the weight of the world on your shoulders and feel your 
worries 
drop away with every step, until by the time your hand touched the doorknob, by 
some 
magic you felt completely carefree. But if you were around him long enough, the 
older 
Maharishi in particular could be nettlesome and self-centered; he could get 
angry and 
dismissive. He was quick to assert his authority and yet could turn disarmingly 
child-like 
in the blink of an eye.

The Maharishi who was an Indian felt most comfortable around other Indians, 
with whom 
he chatted about familiar things in Hindi. He adhered to the vows of poverty 
and celibacy 
that belonged to his order of monks, despite the fact that he lived in luxury 
and amassed 
considerable wealth for the TM movement. What gets overlooked is that he viewed 
wealth 
as a means to raise the prestige of India in the materialistic West, which was 
both canny 
and realistic of him. In the end the movement's money went to preserve the 
spiritual 
heritage of India by opening pundit schools and building temples. Maharishi was 
deeply 
concerned that he might be the last embodiment of a sacred tradition that was 
quickly 
being overwhelmed by modernization.

In one way or another, for good or ill, these two Maharishis are the only ones 
that the 
outside world knew. If you came under the power of his consciousness, however, 
Maharishi the guru completely overshadowed every other aspect.

It's shameful to say, but gurus are a dime a dozen in India and are often 
treated like 
retainers by the rich and powerful. Nothing could be farther from the truth in 
Maharishi's 
case. He was venerated by the venerable and considered holy by the holy. His 
capacity to 
explain Vedanta was unrivaled, and if he accomplished nothing else in his long 
life, his 
commentary on the Bhagavad-Gita insures his lasting name, because with acute 
analysis 
he cuts through to the heart of every verse. Imagine that someone arose in the 
West who 
definitively settled all the disputes over the New Testament and went on to 
exemplify the 
nature of Jesus. Then you might get some idea of Maharishi's impact as a guru.

Around 1990 I was commissioned to write a book about him; it turned out to be 
the only 
assignment I could never complete. Even after spending hundreds of days in his 
presence, 
one could not capture him, either on paper or in one's mind. The Gita is right 
to say that 
there are no visible signs of enlightenment, but I would go further. The 
enlightened person 
ceases to be a person and attains a connection to pure consciousness that 
erases all 
boundaries. My deepest gratitude goes to Maharishi Mahesh Yogi for showing me 
that this 
state of unity exists outside folk tales, temples, organized religion, and 
scripture itself. To 
live and breathe in unity consciousness is unfathomable, but in at least one 
case, I am 
sure it is real. 

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