By Suma Varughese

"Satyug is as sure as death", says Dadi Prakash Mani, head of the Prajapita Brahma Kumaris Ishwariya Vishwa Vidyalaya. The 60-year-old woman-dominated order headquartered at Mt Abu in Rajasthan, India, abjures rites, rituals and idol worship and focuses on meditation and purity to bring people to soul consciousness, ushering in a golden age

With a last silent goodbye to the dazzling blue sky, crisp mountain air and our benevolent hosts, I shove my bag into the dickey of the video coach taking us back to Mumbai. I am conscious of walking with unusual care and precision, and I hug to myself the rest of my baggage: a newfound sense of purpose, rockhard focus and solemn stillness. Not a bad dividend for just four days spent at Gyan Sarovar, housing the Prajapita Bhahma Kumaris Ishwariya Vishwa Vidylaya's Academy for a Better World, at Mount Abu in Rajasthan.

A youth festival on the value-based society had brought some thousand of us to this craggy mountain top, 4km from the headquarters of this 61-year-old spiritual movement (or World University as they prefer to call themselves). Looking down at the magnificent complex, I was impressed. Here was a thoroughly modern, hi-tech cluster of buildings. The sophisticated, elegant architecture with an edifice of brown sandstone, the high standards of construction and, above all, the state-of-the-art facilities conveyed an impressive drive for quality and completion without regard for expense or effort. I was to learn later that an open-fisted yet scrupulous employment of money and material, and regard for comfort and appearance characterized the Brahma Kumaris (BKs).

Abundance, not austerity, was their keynote. A public address system and close-circuit TV networked the vast complex. The main edifice contained a meditation hall and a conference hall, with a seating capacity of 1,800 people. Next to it was the training center, with 13 seminar rooms and offices for their internal operations. It also accommodated the Spiritual Applications Research Center which tries to correlate spiritual and scientific research. Residential enclaves dotted the landscape. At one end, facing an ornamental lake, was an elegant chalet for the dadis, the group of elderly women who run the organization.

Beautifully landscaped gardens provided a verdant background. The beauty of the surroundings was somewhat marred by the gaudy pennants on the walkways, and streamers and lights festooning the buildings. But a penchant for kitsch, I soon realized, was one of the few regrettable aspects of the BK culture. Over the next few days, I set out to understand and experience that culture. There was much to like about this quaint woman-dominated order, and little to reject, save their aesthetical flaws and the more arbitrary tenets of their philosophy. What I would principally remember them for was the sincerity, serenity and control that marked their actions, and their overwhelming sense of service. I have seldom felt as well looked after and cosseted as I did at Gyan Sarovar.

I recall Gayatribehn, 31, our escort to Mt Abu, coming to Ahmedabad station to receive us at 5 a.m., looking fresh, crisp and capable, and solicitously offering to carry my bag for me. That same sense of service rose to embrace us from all sides at Mt Abu. Dadi Prakash Mani, the strong faced immensely capable looking administrative head of the organization, set the tone for our stay at the inaugural function itself, when she fervently extended to us a welcome so warm that she hoped it would not be equaled even in the house of God. At the end of the function, she insisted on meeting all thousand of us, presenting each with a woolen shawl, and a delicious sweetmeat as prasad.

They have an endless supply of these delights, held in vast steel containers, which they liberally hand out at all meetings, pretty much like a real dadi (grandmother) would to her favorite grandchildren. Even the boarding and lodging facilities were munificent. The bedroom, which I shared with a delightful college principal from Madhya Pradesh, India, was well-furnished and comfortable, containing a well-sprung mattress and thick blanket.

Likewise, the food. The BKs adhere to a very satvic (ascetic) food code: vegetarian, and free of garlic, onions and chillies. "Yatha anna, tatha mana (whatever our food, likewise our mind)," intoned the keeper of the prasad section, solemnly. Indeed, such is the importance they place on pure food that no one, including householder members, eat out. In the dining halls, their sense of service rose to new heights, as solicitous Brahma Kumars and Kumaris went from table to table, smilingly offering second helpings.

Such hospitality (somehow so Indian in character) is a reflection of their founder's inclination, a one-time diamond merchant from Hyderabad, India, named Dada Lekh Raj. Known as Brahma Baba, he had often expressed the view that as a servant of God he was supposed to give to every guest "such comforts and care as should give him the feeling that it was the House of God". The solicitude continued till the end.

Satish Kumar, 37, has never trained in music, yet he is today the chief songwriter of the organization. "It is the fruits of devotion," he says.

Theirs is a resolutely dualistic philosophy. The soul is eternal and has an existence of its own, and cannot therefore merge with the Supreme, they say, shooting down advaita, or the non-dualistic theory of Vedanta. Liberation, then, or going beyond the cycle of birth and death, is an impossibility. "The souls have to come down to act in the cosmic drama," they say.

This adherence to the tenets passed on by the revelations of their founder, Brahma Baba, is almost an ideology, and would conceivably come in the way of their own spiritual explorations. Perhaps it is this didacticism that keeps away the intellectual class, for most of their members are drawn from the middle class and the trading communities.

Says a teacher of Vedanta: "Their philosophy is not stimulating." Perhaps not, but insofar as the measure of a philosophy lies in its ability to transform a human being, determine his conduct, and help him lead his life effectively, theirs scores high.

The serenity and calm on the BKs' faces is arresting. Particularly true of youngsters such as Kiran, 20, whose face shines with goodwill and joy. "Here our life is balanced spiritually, mentally and physically," she says. And their collective sense of efficiency and organization is superb.

The youth festival, a logistical nightmare, went ahead with clockwork precision and order, as indeed is true of the functioning of Gyan Sarovar. Their sense of cleanliness is equally laudable. The meditation hall was padded with a white quilt covering that miraculously remained white despite the trampling of thousands of feet. And their dazzling white outfits are a perfect advertisement for a detergent. The buildings are scrupulously clean.

"You won't find a cobweb anywhere," says Dadi Prakash Mani proudly. She adds: "Brahma Baba always said that cleanliness and truth attract each other." Cleanliness extends to their personal hygiene which stipulates baths twice a day even in the bitterest of winter. This feminine emphasis on good housekeeping and lavish hospitality is not accidental. One of the most unique aspects about the BKs' is that it is managed by women. Dadi Prakash Mani is assisted in her administrative tasks by a core group of eight other dadis associated with the movement from its founding days. The women undertake the administrative and managerial duties, as well as the spiritual tutelage.

The men play a supporting role in the administration, shouldering heavy-duty functions such as driving, gardening, cooking. "This is probably one of the world's biggest women's spiritual organizations," says Karunabhai, in charge of the media cell, "and we're very proud of the fact. Women excel in love, patience and tolerance, all of which are necessary in teaching something as difficult as spirituality." Considering that most of the BKs' come from conservative middle class backgrounds, they enjoy remarkable role reversal within their movement.

Says Gayatribehn: "Our society is backward. Here girls can do something." That something can often be considerable. On the whole, the BKs' radiate an aura of distinct self-reliance and formidable competence. Many display the spiritual maturity to fuse opposite qualities, being at once modest and self-contained, yet when necessary, daring and assertive. Free of inhibition or fear, they seem able to try their hands at anything, from giving extempore singing performances, to breaking into a garba, to explaining subtle spiritual concepts.

Here, in short, is the quintessential Indian woman, gentle as a dove and firm as a rock. Their training is largely responsible for their protean personalities. Gayatribehn, for instance, a resident of a small village near Ahmedabad, was sent immediately after her induction to Mumbai, and then given independent charge of the Andheri center within three years.

Says she: "I'd never even traveled overnight by train. And I learnt to live in a flat. At first I felt like a monkey." Today this poised and self-possessed young woman says: "I learnt to look after people. To give love. I feel I don't need anyone's help. I have a lot of faith in God and I have also learnt how to value myself. I feel that my talents are being used."

Others report considerable spiritual progress. "My concentration and memory have improved. I can put my mind in four different directions at one time," says Radhabehn.

Their supremacy was inbuilt into the charter early on by Brahma Baba. "Baba told us that we were not women, but mothers, and our task was to awaken the world," says Dadi Manohar Indra, 73. Accordingly, as soon as he decided to liquidate his business, Brahma Baba constituted a managing committee of women, to whom he bequeathed all his wealth. Reportedly, such was his respect for women that when he came across a portrait of the goddess Lakshmi massaging the feet of her consort, Narayan, he asked an artist to wipe off the scene and "liberate Lakshmi".

In their own gentle fashion, the BKs have exerted a similar liberating influence on the more traditional aspects of society, to whom empowerment of women is more palatable when spiritually sanctioned. Indeed, so gentle is the influence that far from resisting their leadership, the male members, Brahma Kumars, actively support it.

For B.K. Gokak, an Oriya who was introduced to the movement at the young age of 14, the movement's chief attraction, apart from its spiritual thrust, was that it was run by women. "From the beginning I placed great value on mother love, and here was a family atmosphere. I could see the pure fraternal love between men and women here. So I decided to help the sisters."

On their part, the women freely acknowledge their brothers. Says Dadi Prakash Mani: "Men are with us, giving their lives to the movement."

Sitting later in the bus, on my way home, suffering the blood-splattered mindlessness of a martial arts film, that world of order, peace, harmony and service seemed far away. But the fact that it exists in microcosm, gives one new hope for the macrocosm and for a time when mankind will live in peace and harmony, when love and service will replace exploitation and greed, and where soul consciousness will transcend the materialism of our times.

For the BKs, this is no wistful, wishful hope. It is a palpable reality, albeit of the future. And indeed to bring about this heaven on earth is the self-appointed mission of this movement. The BKs see themselves as the midwives of Satyug (according to Hinduism—an era when Truth and Purity had reigned), here to help mankind transit from the strife-ridden coils of Kaliyug (the present era of darkness), into an era of peace and prosperity.