Exactly a week ago, over 7,000 people had gathered at Whitefield in Bengaluru to listen to a mystic. On a stage set for two, a sizeable rajnigandha plant separated two commodious wooden chairs. Next to one of those was bottled water, and beside the other was a copper lota.
On one chair sat Kiran Mazumdar-Shaw. The man the other chair was meant for, the one beside the lota, paused before sitting. Kicking off his sandals, he smiled and muttered “I think better with my shoes off.” The microphone barely caught his words, but the scene was enough to ease the air of awe and reverence that had built up.
The mystic was Jaggi Vasudev, or ‘Sadhguru,’ as he’s best known.
Earlier this year, the yogi was awarded the Padma Vibhushan; this, he said, was in recognition of the work done by over seven million volunteers of his Isha Foundation. The Bharatiya Janata Party-led government has fared well for Isha Foundation. Soon after he was awarded the Padma Vibhushan, Prime Minister Narendra Modi visited Vasudev’s ashram in Coimbatore to unveil a 112-feet statue of Shiva’s bust.
Of its 250 centres, the ashram at the base of Velliangiri Mountains in Coimbatore and the one in central Tennessee are the headquarters of the foundation.
Vasudev’s appeal, feels Mazumdar-Shaw, is that he helps people see past hypocrisy. “The beauty of Sadhguru is that he keeps religion and spirituality apart, bringing in clarity and objectivity,” she says.
Father of Bharatnatyam exponent Radhe Jaggi and a lover of fish curry, this guru’s portraiture is filled with unexpected quirks. He is a poet and speedster who has biked across India and once was into poultry farming and construction.
Vasudev confesses he’s not read any of the religious texts most Indian babas quote from, but he does read Dennis the Menace, Asterix and Obelix. He is unconventional and some of his stories border on the mythical.
Like the account of the time he lived on a farm in Mysuru with over 20 snakes: most of these were Russell’s vipers and cobras that would often snuggle up in his blanket. Such was his reputation that he’d often be called upon to catch snakes, even when he was in school, recalls Vasudev.
A graduate of English literature, Vasudev’s discourses cover an extensive assortment of subjects: he talks about how Isha Kriya (his brand of guided meditation) benefits one with as much ease as he talks about gravitational waves, or how the current form of organised religion “will go down” in 80-100 years. What sets Vasudev apart, feels poet and writer Arundhathi Subramaniam, is his witty, modern and lucid approach. “There are no scriptural flourishes, no displays of punditry. He is proof that spirituality can be accessible, demystified, contemporary and scientific.”
A practitioner of Isha Yoga (Isha Foundation’s flagship yoga programme) for 12 years, Subramaniam is also the author of Vasudev’s biography, Sadhguru: More Than a Life (Penguin, 2010).
The book records the anecdote of the time Vasudev was asked what he’d do if he came across a terrorist. He answered by saying how he doesn’t identify anyone as a terrorist, and everyone was capable of being that if provoked sufficiently. “But if someone who has been involved in terrorist activity comes to me, I’ll probably embrace him. If he feels some pleasantness within himself, if his anger and hatred recede for some time, he’s no more a terror for anybody.”
But then, notes Subramaniam, he couldn’t resist adding more. “But if I happen to meet the man when he’s in action, I’ll kill him!” When asked if he’d actually kill, Vasudev retorted, “What would you have me do if the guy is spraying bullets around the place? Say ‘Asataoma sadgamaya (a mantra that seeks to be led away from untruth to truth)’?”
This is, notes Subramaniam, “a typically Sadhguru response. Nothing — not even non-violence — is a creed. He can be compassion itself with a person in need; the next moment, he can be as unsentimental as the situation demands.”
Vasudev was introduced to yoga at the age of 12 or 13 when he came across an 81-year-old who was “unusually agile for his age”. This was Raghavendra Swami, a yogi popularly known as Malladihalli Swami, who went on to become Vasudev’s guru.
Today, as he jet-sets from conferences at the United Nations, TED talks or international leadership summits, his carefully-constructed image actively promotes homegrown textiles. His loose-fitting kurta teamed with cotton/silk stoles or shawls (all runway-worthy) and a turban certainly fit in more at such settings than the bare and angular ribs of one of his contemporaries.
The 59-year-old is known for his love for motorcycles. “There was a time when I literally lived on a motorcycle. When I rode somewhere, I never checked into a hotel, I just slept on my motorcycle,” writes Vasudev in a blogpost.
This passion has only grown with time, though on the way he’s also picked up a love for SUVs: he especially seeks out tough terrain and off-roads. He’s also known to hold meetings while driving, and to call him a fast driver would be an understatement, swear all those who’ve been on the road with him. But “nothing was fast enough” for the guru. So in 2011, Vasudev got his helicopter-flying licence.
Though golfing in the early hours of the morning is a recent favourite, it’s a common sight to see the guru play cricket, volley ball and dodge ball at the ashram in Coimbatore.
Finding Vasudev’s teachings is an easy task: all his talks are accessible on YouTube, and he also writes extensively. His In Conversation with the Mystic series show him addressing questions from American fashion designer Donna Karan (she calls Vasudev a “rockstar”) to Virender Sehwag, Loksatta’s Jayaprakash Narayan and filmmaker Shekhar Kapur.
Over the past years, Vasudev has proved he doesn’t shy away from contentious subjects, be it jallikattu or the god-woman Radhe Ma’s controversial choice of attire or the beef ban.
At a time when bans on movies, documentaries, literature and even food (read: beef) continue to generate heated debates in the country, the guru feels that “true democratic thinking does not resort to banning somebody’s opinion. It knows that somebody’s opinion is not the ultimate truth.”
During the early days of Isha Foundation, about 150 people were served meals after a yoga session one day. The next day, only 70 of them turned up again: the rest had reservations about eating with members of certain castes, recalls Vasudev.
After realising that many Caucasian Americans resented the Blacks but still hung basketball player Magic Johnson’s photograph in their homes, he knew that sports could be an effective medium to overcome caste and religious beliefs. A good part of Isha Foundation’s rural revitalisation programme since then has focused on games played during an annual event called Gramotsvam for 20 years.
Many believe that Vasudev’s outlook echo teachings of Osho Rajneesh. “Osho had a running feud with Morarji Desai (the prime minister during Osho’s time),” says photographer and writer Sanjay Austa. “But now you have a scenario where the guru and the prime minister are hand-in-glove: there’s no criticism as today’s gurus receive patronage from the government."
The unveiling of Shiva’s bust raised two questions. One, how does a guru, who claims to be spiritual but not religious, install a bust of Shiva? “In yogic culture, Shiva is not known as a god, but as the Adiyogi or the first yogi — the originator of yoga. He was the one who first put this seed into the human mind,” explains Vasudev in a detailed blogpost.
Two, environmentalists insist the figure has been built on wetlands by flouting regulations, but the Foundation calls these allegations, made by ‘groups with vested interests,’ frivolous.
Even if something can make him unpopular, Vasudev doesn’t back out. “Today you think the problem is parking, garbage or healthcare, but the problem is population,” said Vasudev this past weekend. “I’m thinking of something that will make me super-unpopular; I’m thinking of instituting an award for all those young women who choose not to have children.” The audience exploded in applause.