Journeys: Stephanie Linares

Date: January 4, 2006
Email: silverdagger78{at}

Unlike most other Journals here, I was never a premie myself. However, my life and that of my family has been ripped by the Maharaji cult. I felt it was finally time to tell my story, this seemed the best place.

My parents fell into the Majaraji cult in the 70's. My dad was the first to find it, along with a group of his college buddies, then eventually got my mom to do so as well. Fortunately, mom saw through what they were being told and left the group, however dad refused to listen and remained. This produced bitterness between them that would last for many years to come.

For years as I kid I was dragged to events, made to watch his videos and go to presentations. For some unknown yet very lucky reason I grew resentful. I hated Majaraji as a child, possibly for all the time dad was away from home following the almighty majaraji around like a dog, being sent from the TV room when dad had his friends over to watch the majaraji tapes, or the picture of majaraji that sat on his desk, or even worse the entire album of photos from the cult. I hated seeing his fat, sneering face in my house.

Even before the divorce, during our financial hard times he insisted on going to majaraji gatherings, even on one occassion where I was sick. That was the first and hopefully only time I ever saw majaraji. I was sick as a dog, sore throat, coughing, body ache, you name it. Yet I was forced to walk throgh freezing temperature in New York city to get to the place. In a silent act of defiance, I neglegted to wear my contact lenses as to not see that sick man clearly.

As things tend to do, the bad got worse. Parents divorced two years back. I'm pretty sure the cult wasn't a direct reason, but it has succeeded in making our lives miserable since. We have had barely enough money to get by due to court mix-ups, while daddy dearest spent hundreds of dollars taking trips to whever maharaji is speaking, be it palm beach florida or sunny california.

Even today he has all the tapes and a new majaraji calendar on the wall. My attempts to reason with him have failed. I told him about the child sexual abuse by mahatma Jagdeo. About all the ex-premies trying to tell the truth. As usual he laughed at me.

I do wonder what life would have been like without the despicable cult in our lives.

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