Reviews for Subject India

The average rating for Subject India based on 2 reviews is 3 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2016-04-06 00:00:00 Eric Viney "What's in the bottle? It looks empty to me." "There's nothing in the bottle...just air. It's the yogi's last breath." How many of these gurus have died just to have their closest disciples gather up everything they owned, their shoes, their bowl, their robes, their fancy cars, and then called them all holy? All religions do this or would if they could. Maybe it is like catching a baseball at the Super bowl and keeping it, or having Keith Urban's jacket, but at least these things are not considered holy, or are they? I remember when I was in a Neo- Hindu group, they sold bottled water from the Ganga river, and I bought one, so even I was not exempt from this, but I don't have that bottle now, as I poured it out on the ground one day and threw the bottle in the garbage. So Tahir went to India to learn magic, while others joined Neo-Hindu groups in America to learn to meditate and find God, if not to learn some magic too. Tahir wrote a book about his experiences with his guru, while I just became disenchanted and left. And then I began reading books by ex-devotees and also listened to others' reasons for leaving. My own experiences were not as bad as what others went though, because I wouldn't put up with the gurus, and meditation never harmed me; instead it was rewarding. But to continue on: Gurus can stop their pulses, sprinkle ashes on you and make other objects appear out of thin air. They can also heal the sick or even raise the dead, so they say. And they can stop eating and live on air, and you can learn to do this too, but I didn't try; I liked food too much. I also knew I would die. They can also read minds, and that I know to be true, but you never get enough information to make it all worth while; instead it becomes a side show or a way to make money, and most who do this are charlatans anyway or just think they are getting information from their higher self, when it is just a projection of their own minds. Have a psychic reading from someone you know, and you can learn what they really think about you. In the 60s and 70s, India became a Disneyland for many hippies, as they flew on our magic airplanes to India to learn meditation, to learn the truth about life, and about the universe. Some came home with their minds' blown away from meditation and spent time in psychiatric wards, others came home disillusioned, as all their guru wanted was sex. And some closer to the gurus had sex with him or her, and then became disillusioned. And last of all some gurus taught "crazy wisdom." So if it wasn't meditation that blew their minds, it was how this crazy wisdom affected their minds. Either way they were blown away. Some committed suicide. The gurus just write these suicides off as "bad karma." So while Tahir's book is entertaining, it also contains some horrible truths. Tahir searched and found his teacher, who was reluctant at first to teach him anything, and he told him that it wasn't magic, it was illusion. He put him through many tests. He taught him eat bad foods and chemicals and then how to throw them all up. He even swallowed small round stones and barfed those up too. Tahir obeyed; he had to if it wanted to learn. All gurus want you to obey; it is in their genes. Tahir's stomach continued to churn, he got an ulcer, and he could have ended up in one of those graves where the bodies are just tossed into a pile and picked over by grave robbers and then sent to factories and displayed in doctor's offices. But this learning was that important to him, so he stayed with his teacher. He said that his teacher was sadistic. Yes, he was. Then after he learned, he wrote this book and exposed the gurus as charlatans. I knew of monks and nuns that had left the ashrams, I know of disciples who had stayed and suffered because it was being disloyal to the guru to leave. Some monks and nuns in the ashrams left right away due to the abuse and were then considered weak by those who stayed. "Just can't get good disciples these days," the head lady said. If they stayed, some became depressed and finally had to leave, but were then called weak, but now they were also "disloyal." When the monks left, disciples also said of them, "They just wanted a woman." Remember in the movie, "Amarcord," when the old man got out of the nuthouse, climbed a tree and yelled to the world, "I want a woman!" It was like that. But it wasn't like that really; they just wanted out of the nuthouse. Women were secondary. Tahir not only writes about what he has learned, he also wrote a great travel story and meets all kinds of eccentric people, as well as those who are living on the edge, like the grave robbers who sell skeletons, and the baby sellers who loan out the babies so that people can make money begging. And while I really loved Tahir's stories, I couldn't wait for him to leave his grueling teacher. Still I liked one of the trips his teacher sent him on. He had to go to the cemetery and spend the night with just a candle, a blanket, a box of matches, some dates, and six samosas. Give me six samosas, and I will spend the night in a cemetery. I remembered in high school when my friend Paulette, her male friend, Bob Fries, and I went to a cemetery at night. We saw a car pull up and stop. It was filled with boys from a nearby military base, and they were drinking and talking loud. They couldn't see us as it was a moonless night. Paulette got up from where we were sitting and walked along a row of evergreen trees that blocked the view of the car. As she walked along, she made a long drawn out moaning sound of a ghost " "My mother. My mother." Then she ran back to us and said that they had begun cussing. One said, "What the ---- was that?" Then they started the car and began driving around, flashing their spotlight over the cemetery grounds. We quickly ran under a nearby cedar tree and flatten our bodies on the ground just as their spotlight moved over our heads. They didn't find us and so left. But, Tahir in this book, was seen; he was being followed. I remembered him saying that you are never alone in India, and then I wondered if the person following him just wanted his samosas. And maybe it was me.

Review # 2 was written on 2017-11-15 00:00:00 Olga Gres This is one of those books that gives me intense wanderlust. Tahir Shah is either a man with an incredible knack for stumbling across the bizarre, a fabulous liar, or some combination of the two. His story is absolutely outlandish, and sometimes I wondered if he was playing tricks on me just as the Indian godmen he visits perform illusions for rapt audiences. Several of the events in the book are just too coincidental, too good to be true. But in the end, I don't even care—his performance was so much good fun that it doesn't matter how much of it was real. The book is about Shah's quest to complete a course in the art of illusion under the guidance of Hakim Feroze, an obsessive-compulsive and sadistic instructor whose skills border on the supernatural. After forcing him to study countless illusions and the work of incredible performers like Harry Houdini, Shah's teacher directs him to examine people throughout India and collect "insider information," which Shah accomplishes in ways you will definitely enjoy reading about. If you ever wanted to learn about India's skeleton dealers, questionable pharmacies, holy men, baby rental services, or a huge variety of other curiosities, this book is for you. Descriptions of unpleasant aromas, flea-infested hostels, and questionable dining experiences also make the stranger side of India come to life. This book made me want to hit the road and seek out "insider information" of my own. One of the best things about Shah's work is that, no matter how gross or irritating his situation is, he describes it with obvious affability and good humor. Although he is a highly learned man and is occasionally prone to some high-falutin' prose, he never shies away from poking fun at himself. It's very easy to travel vicariously through him, and to feel like you've learned a lot by the end of the journey.