Yogis now live at the same velocity and material comfort as any of us. So what’s their spiritual draw? A sceptic spends an event-filled week inside Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev’s ashram in the Velliangiri hills in Tamil Nadu. And returns with some answers.
Just A Practical Guy
SIX IN the morning and he’s on the golf course. It’s drizzling and extremely windy, but he wanted to talk to this guy, so they play eight holes. He finishes 3-0 or something. He’s very competitive, but most of the time he plays alone.
At 8.15 am, he heads to a nearby Coimbatore house to shower. These people are Telugu, so there’s pesarattu for breakfast, and then he drives out for the day. He likes to eat light while driving, given his speed. Because heavy stomach and this this this, it doesn’t have good impact on you. It’ll do wrong things to your organs. People don’t understand this.
He drives straight from Coimbatore to Bangalore, with people meeting him while he’s driving. This is his usual thing — he’ll take somebody in his car for a quick meeting. Ahead another car is waiting with somebody else, and he’ll drop off the first person and pick up the next.
Eight hundred and fifty kilometres in four hours. Average speed: 210 km/h. He doesn’t stop, just gas station to gas station. Never takes a driver. Find somebody who can drive better than him and he’d let them drive! He can’t bear people who drive with fear and not with skill.
Everyone thinks it’s a Lexus... it’s a Toyota! A black Land Cruiser. Range: 650-700 km. He had it painted matt black when he bought it second-hand. The guy he got it from wanted to be seen in a Lexus and so imported its front guard. Now he’s been trying to get a Toyota one, but it’s difficult.
He could take the faster Salem road — it’s a four-lane highway now — but there’s a 25-30 km unfinished section and you can lose an hour there, easy. So he drives through the mountains instead, going through Dinbumghat and Chamrajnagar, and then a smaller route, villages and little-little towns and all those names he did a long time ago. Malavalli! My god, he was last here 32 years ago. He likes this drive.
Next to his seat there’s a bottle of mineral water, a hanky and a packet of paper napkins. There’s also his trusty menthol inhaler (his staff places it wherever he sits). There’s always this little nude white tube he’s frequently sniffing. They take off the packaging since he doesn’t want to be seen endorsing a brand. He loves the smell.
There’s also a small photo of his late wife just below the steering wheel on his left. It’s turned slightly so only the driver can see it.
When he drives through the Himalayas, it’s 135 km/h. Nothing has travelled that fast on those roads. People ask: How do you do it? He’s got a video of every bend in his memory. People don’t remember anything because they never pay attention.
He drove this car in Tibet. All the way from Kathmandu to Kailash and back. Only the Tibetans and the Chinese police drive there. What they do in five days, he does in three. They said it’s impossible. He said, “You just watch.” Manasarovar to Nepal in one day. Okay? He started at 3.30 am and had to clear the border by 6 pm. His two escort cars arrived after 8-9 hours. Now when he gets down from his car there, all the drivers stub their cigarettes and stand politely. Not because of who he is but because they see — he’s a driver. That’s their way of respecting him.
So, Bangalore. He goes straight into the urgent meeting. No lunch, nothing. He thought they’d offer, but nothing! The rest of the meetings happen as he drives — he needs to move again. Mysore.
He drove a Maruti 800 for 1.35 lakh km in one year. You understand? He just rubbed it out. Now he’s not the same man. He’s older. If he drives an 800 now, his body will break. He needs something comfortable, a little faster. Options? He drove a Maruti Gypsy and broke it. It’s an SUV only in name, it doesn’t drive. He drove a Tata Sierra, which ran well for some time but then started giving trouble. Then he went for a Tata Safari, which doesn’t have that kind of power. But he used it for almost four-and-a-half years. Then someone gave him a Land Rover. A beautiful car. But the damn thing stops anywhere. Through 5-6 years, it gave him hell.
Then he decided: Okay. You know, people say: If I’m 80, I’ll buy a Toyota. The most unexciting car on the planet. But the Land Cruiser is a damn reliable car. He decided to go for it. The new ones are too expensive, so he bought an old 2001 model. He can buy a Ferrari. Or if he asks someone, they will buy him a Ferrari. The only thing is the potholes — what he needs is a Land Cruiser. The kind of travelling he does, he needs something that can take on everything. And it’s fast. He wants to do it the way he wants. His choices are not about what’s niche. They’re about what’s most practical.
In Bangalore, a man who meets him is someone who has expensive cars. It’s not an issue for him to get into an old car... this man feels privileged just to meet him, but is hurt to see him driving such an old car. The man says, “You tell me what you want. I’ll buy it.” He smiles and says he has what he needs. What’s the problem? He just wants something reliable. And if he works on the engine for two days, he’ll make it 20 percent more than what it is now.
He needs to hit Mysore by 9 pm to see some projects coming up outside the city. He and his associates find the directions to one site to be wrong. Not to worry. He bulldozes through. This is why he’s driving a Land Cruiser!
By now, it’s 10 pm. They head to a restaurant, an outdoor kinda place, better than a dhaba. He has rotis and vegetables. People don’t recognise him, he’s in disguise since he’s only in his dhoti — no shawl, no turban.
His family’s still in Mysore — dad, brother, sister. He drops the associate at his family’s place, where a car is waiting. Spends about 10 minutes with the family, then he’s off. He has a conference call at 11 and he wants to be on the road.
This one’s a monthly marketing meeting with the US and UK teams for a new online course. The connection snaps when he gets to the mountains. When he hits the plains, he has the option of dialling back in... but now it’s drizzling again and he’s driving really fast, so he waits to get home.
He started from Mysore at 11, he’s back at his place outside Coimbatore at 2.10 am. Three hours 10 is bad for him. He’s made this route in 2 hours 40 many times. But he’s driving a 2001 model and that’s all it can do.
Now he’s trained to fly a helicopter since it’ll save time. He hasn’t found an appointment for the medical, though. October he’ll get it. Last time he went up, he saw the damn cell phone tower was sticking out, painted red and white. He told them to move it, it doesn’t matter if the service isn’t too good, move it out by 100 metres. He’s also refused to put a lightning conductor because it’ll stick out. It’s a big risk in a place like this.
Someday if you come, he’ll take you on a ride over his place. If you look from above, it looks like the whole thing has just grown out of the ground. It’s like a termite mountain.
Soon he’ll be able to fly out, yeah. Swooping out over everyone since all will be done then. He’s ready for what comes. He wants it. He’ll walk into it. Once more. Up, up, there he goes. He is on the move again. He is moving. He is rising. He is floating. He is flying. He is Sadhguru.
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