One day in Fiuggi, I was up very early and went around to the meeting room Mahesh used. His deerskin was still on the couch. No one was around, so I sat on the deerskin, crossed my legs into the lotus position (Mahesh had bragged how Guru Dev sitting in the lotus position demonstrated what a great yogi he was) and I just sat there.
But having thrown caution to the wind, it didn't seem all that prudent to overdo a good thing. I got up and waited in the back of the room and soon it filled up. I wondered, would Mahesh go all cosmic and perceive that something was amiss. He hated being touched and appeared to be so sensitive that only the finest silk could touch his skin, only the finest shahtoosh shawl cold be worn.
Would he blow an aneurysm knowing something as gross as I had defiled his asan? Would he leap into the air like a cat on a hot tin roof?
I waited, wondering what would happen as he sat down.
He asked what we had been talking about last time and proceeded to ramble on and on. At Estes Park he had lied about his revelations from the Rig Veda. Here was another lie: he wasn't quite so cosmic.