Time: Random, unplanned moment Mood: Sudden urge to connect
Out of the blue, I felt like reaching out to Mr. N. He was part of a group of five 🧘♂️🧘🧘♀️🧘♂️🧘♀️ — a spiritual circle, highly respected, widely followed. People from across India sought their guidance for the deepest of issues. They held seminars, workshops, discourses. 🕯️📖🔮 By the time I heard of them, they were already seasoned — decades into their path. 🌿 This was the early 2000s.
⏳ Time passed. Nearly a decade later, their leader — Mr. N — died. 🪦 The cause wasn’t clear.
But he had left the physical plane. Years went by. I never thought much of it. Until one day… I did. And in that instant — I connected. No ceremony. No ritual. Just a silent tuning. And then… I met him.
What I saw shocked me. 😨 Mr. N was in distress. Not in light. Not in peace. But trapped in a realm far from heaven — more like a psychic hell. 🔥🕳️
He told me:
“Despite all the years of practice, all the rituals, all the discipline —
I couldn’t escape. Something went wrong.”
I asked him: “What about your Guru? Surely he can help?” His face twisted in rage. 😡
“The one I called my Guru?
He wasn’t even real. Just a con in robes.
He looted people in the name of truth.
And now… he’s stuck too. Same as me.”
I stayed silent. This wasn’t the story I expected. Mr. N looked at me with desperation. 🗣️
“Do something. Get me out. I don’t deserve this.”
But I was honest.
“Look… I’m just a guy.
No background. No lineage.
All I know is — somehow — I can talk to the dead.
And the living.
But I don’t know how to fix this.”
💔 And so… I had to let him go. Meeting closed. Silence followed.
But one truth stayed with me…
🧿 His so-called Guru’s children — The ones now running the same show — They’re still out there. Still selling “spirituality.” Still carrying the same name. Same legacy. ✨ Except the core is rotten. And no one knows. Or no one wants to know.