istina.

"Hi, Agni," said a woman's voice. It was Dana.

"I should have changed my number," I thought.

"There's going to be a meeting at Rama's for the Stony Brook group,"
she said. "Can you make it?"

"I'm doing okay on my own," I reminded myself. "I don't need to see
Rama."

"Rama said it's going to be our last meeting together," she added.

I nearly laughed. He had been holding "last meetings" for years. I
wondered if he were trying to suck me back into his organization. I
thought about the disciples and about my brother. I had not seen them
in weeks. "I'll be there," I told her.

Late the following night I rode my three-speed toward Needham. Rama
typically conducted business between two and four a.m. because "the
world's psychic energy was calm" and, perhaps, because disciples at
that time tended to be tired and off balance. Yet as I pedaled through
the dark and empty streets, blood pulsed quickly through my veins. I
felt alert. I wore all black. Black for me was a symbol of power. I
wore around my neck a string with a bicycle lock key. I had worn such
a string during bike trips of my youth, before locking on to Rama's
path. The key was a reminder that waiting just outside Rama's door was
the trusted three-speed.

I entered the house. The disciples seemed friendly toward me. Rama
approached. He said, "You look much better, Agni."

I offered him a classical music tape. This was my way of saying that I
harbored no ill feelings.

He accepted.

It was well past midnight and the twelve had arrived. Actually there
were only ten but we counted Tom's spirit. We also counted Lakshmi,
the Centre's patron goddess.

Rama served a red wine which he said was expensive. I recalled that
weeks before, he had counseled disciples to avoid alcohol.

He showed us a cake decorated with the image of a frog. "You will get
some cake after the meeting," he said, as though addressing a group of
children. The decoration reminded me of Kermit. I wondered if he had
reincarnated the symbol as part of a spiritual lesson, or if it was
just icing on the cake.

A few minutes later Rama put on electronic music, picked up the
original Bliss puppet, and started to dance.

The disciples watched, their faces aglow with adoration. I wondered if
I used to look like that. "Don't watch," I thought and walked away.
In a corner of the room, I quietly danced with a Bliss of my own.

The music stopped. Rama inst