"Sounds to me like you have a 'Take Me To Your Leader,'" she said.
"Does it have antennas?"
"No."
"Then you must have an 'Uncle Lucius.'"
"Actually," I said, "we call it 'Bliss.'"
Over the next few years, Rama ordered thousands of yellow,
red, green, pink, and blue Blisses.
"Oh, how adorable," said the flight attendants when they saw
the grown man in first class playing with the colorful puppets.
"We donate them to children's hospitals," Rama claimed.
He failed to mention that he brought the Blisses to Centre meetings,
where he infused their beaks with a "special force" and where he sold
them at a handsome profit.
I could have written the story of "Rama and the Token Underdog."
"A large part of what motivates me," Rama once confided,
"is my concern for the underdog." He displayed his concern one
desert trip by accompanying a handicapped student who was unable
to keep pace with the group. I recalled one of Rama's lessons:
"You can tell a person's level of spiritual evolution by how
they treat those around them." I felt proud of my teacher.
But shortly thereafter, Rama's attitude changed. He began
four-wheeling the desert sands while the rest of us walked.
He also banned from all desert trips those who were unable to
keep up.
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