|Journeys: Roger Koch|
|Date: January 29, 2012|
|It is hard to know where to start, because there were many things in my life leading up to first hearing about Guru Maharaj ji
aka Mr. Rawat that in retrospect, I can see contributed to my getting caught up in knowledge and Guru Maharaj Ji. A combination of
Christian religious beliefs, drug experimentation, rock music, friends getting into TM, a passing interest in Indian philosophy, being
young and naive, and anti-war protesting including a couple of arrests set the stage for my open mind. The rest is just being in the wrong
place at the wrong time like a fish in a net.
I grew up on a farm in Iowa where hard work and religion went hand in hand. I was a good student and escaped from the farm to go to college at the U of Iowa all expenses paid. I started out studying pre-med and was in my senior year when that fateful day came when I first heard about Guru Maharaj Ji in the fall of 1972. I was visiting my fiancee’s house when I learned that her brother, Steve S. and a bunch of other people were headed to India to see this boy Guru. I spoke to him briefly on the phone and he almost had me going to India, but I was too into my education to blow it at that time. A month later he and some friends stopped in Iowa City on their way back to Denver from India, to see my fiancée and I, and to tell us about the boy Guru. As luck would have it, Mahatma Parlokanand, one of the Guru’s initiators was in town shortly thereafter, and I went to hear him speak. He talked about showing me God face to face. I was hooked. This was in Dec.72, but he made me wait until he returned in Feb. 73 to give me knowledge. In the meantime I had to cut my hair, do service at the premie house, read all the available magazines and attend meetings every night at the premie house. So when Parlokanand returned, I was ready. He asked me how much money was in my check book, and I told him. He asked me to donate it all. He told me if I didn’t, that I couldn’t receive knowledge, so I signed it all over. That should have told me something, but I figured it was just one of those tests or lilas that premies talked about. Anyway, I received knowledge and had a great experience. I was hooked on meditation, and the stage was set.
Parlokanand had me speak at a public program in Iowa City after the knowledge session, and he was so impressed that he ordered me to leave school and follow him and perform as his introductory speaker for the rest of his tour. So I dropped out of school, left my fiancée, and hit the road with Parlokanand without a cent to my name. First stop, Omaha, where my brother, sister, and fiancée, and several friends came to receive knowledge. I then left to go to Kansas City, Laurence, and Manhattan Kansas to tour and speak at programs with Mahatma Parlokanand. Then it was back to Omaha. Parlokanand went on to Denver and told me to go back to school and back to my fiancée. So I did. I had missed my midterms and the professors would not let me make them up, so my grades were screwed. No medical school for me. My fiancée took me back and we married in early June of 73.
Someone from Denver stopped by in Iowa City and tried to get everyone to move to either Chicago or Kansas City. We went to Kansas City. I met a lot of nice people in K.C. and spent a lot of time wheat pasting posters all over town for Soul Rush and Millinium, and probably other local events. We eventually had to stop this under threat of arrest. Late at night, we plastered every pole in K.C. with posters. I also did my best to hawk “And it is Divine” Magazines. They were almost impossible to sell. They were horrendous. We spent a couple years there in that community had a child and went back to Iowa City in 76 for me to get an engineering degree so that I could make a living.
Just prior to graduation in the spring of 77, my wife who was fed up with the Guru gave me an ultimatum. Either I leave the Guru as she had already done after the big Millinium embarrassment, and after the Denver staff failed to return her silver service that she had received for a wedding present and loaned to the ashram to use for Bhole Ji’s visit on soul rush with Blue Aquarius, or she was leaving me. Of course, I left my wife and child even though it broke my heart to do it. I graduated with my B.S. in Chemical Engineering and I moved into a premie house in Iowa City and lived there for about 6 months before moving on to Chicago. At this time in my life, it was my goal to become an initiator, so I lived a semi ashram lifestyle, including the celibacy. However, I was not approved to move into an ashram because I had child support payments. Idiots, I was an engineer making plenty of money, even after my child support, but thank God I was not accepted. Those ashram people were so mistreated and abused, especially by some of the initiators who copied their Lord and demanded the best.
I met a lot of nice premies in Chicago, many are friends to this day. I was the aspirant coordinator or co-coordinator and a regular speaker in the Chicago community for a couple years until one fateful day when I was called to Miami to work at DECA, and specifically to work on redesigning the Holi Gun. I think this was Feb. 79. At this time, DECA was pretty much a secret. I did not know what went on there until I arrived. A couple of Chicago Premies had disappeared on service projects, we knew not where. There they were at DECA. When I got to DECA, the aircraft project was in full swing, as were several other projects for Maharaj Ji.
It was not easy for me to get to see Maharaj Ji when I first arrived. His handlers did not want people like me who were nobodies to talk to him. There were 4 layers of beauracracy between me and him when I started. They were, Jim Hession, Teddy Tannenbaum, Guy Rollins, John Shackford, and then me. I was asked to explain over and over to different people what needed to be done, but the fluid dynamics involved was beyond any of their training, so it was not working well. Finally one day Maharaj ji asked if anyone knew anything about the basic system design and I raised my hand in the back of the room. He saw it and had me come to the front to talk to him. This meeting started my many years of meetings and working on projects for him.
When I left for Miami, at my own expense, I was told that I would be taken care of when I got there. I was not. Some sister smiled and hooked me up with a room with a young Indian engineer in a flop house on South Beach. There were bedbugs biting the Indian engineer all night, and he hollered out in pain all night. A hooker serviced her customers in the bushes below the room window. There was no air conditioning so we had to leave the window open. The business below went on all night. I got little sleep. Thank God after a couple days of this I was able to hook up with a family that needed a roommate in their apartment. They turned out to be the nicest people anyone could imagine. Bob D. was Rennie D.’s brother and Bob’s wife Lynne is one of the best cooks ever. Bob worked for CRA, the construction arm of DECA, and Lynne worked in finance at DECA. They had 2 beautiful boys, one who was born in the apartment while I was living there. We lived together until DECA closed in Oct. 83, and they moved to Denver. I have not seen them for several years, but think of them often.
One day shortly after my first meeting with Maharaj Ji, I was invited to a private meeting with him in a special room that was set up on the 2nd floor at the back of the DECA complex. He explained to me that premies always built themselves into the service projects that they did for him and that I had to promise not to do this if I was to work on projects for him. I said no problem.
The Holi gun was my first big project, but soon I was working on program stage design teams, program chair design teams, microphones, etc, and even the sacred 707. There was a little team of us that were mechanically inclined and had mechanical as well as design skills. These people included Peter D., brother of Michael D. and an ace mechanical designer and machinist, Pat M. and Barbara H. expert seat and upholstery designers, Dale S. electrical engineer extraordinarre, Kenny W. air conditioning wizard and eternal optimist, Fred R. who was dabbling in composites, and a small group of Guy R.’s design staff. Teddy T. seemed to always be around for general inspiration. I had a lot of fun working with these very talented people and also the whole other group that was totally focused on the 707. There was an amazing amount of talent assembled there. It is no surprise to me that many of these people went on to very successful careers after leaving DECA and in many if not most instances leaving Maharaj Ji and knowledge. And, I gave up my goal of becoming an initiator because yes, I was getting good seats usually the first or second row. And Maharaj Ji would look at me and talk to me and seemed to like me. I was in heaven.
One day early in the Holi Gun project Maharaj Ji came to the complex very upset with me. He said that I had spent a lot of time and not accomplished anything, which was partially true. I had to go through all the beaurocracy to get the materials I needed to build a prototype, and they had never been approved. I promised to have a system ready to test by Sunday morning. It was about 3 on a Friday afternoon. I left the meeting at my earliest convenience and did not stay for the rest of the project meetings. I went straight to purchasing and ordered the materials. The purchasing staff immediately sent drivers out for the materials and we had them before any of the beaurocrats knew what was happening. Jim H. cussed me out royally and threatened to kick me out if he had the chance for going against the rules. But he didn’t because he knew that M liked me. Peter D., Bill S., Dave O., Zubie, Dale S., Kenny W., and I stayed up continuously until Sunday morning when we finished just as Maharaj Ji drove up.
We tested it and it worked sort of. Maharaj Ji was not happy, but to me I was thrilled because it proved that the changes would work with a little adjustment. We tested 3 or 4 more times at the complex until I had it down. It would have been so simple, but to touch the Holi Gun and operate and test it was considered sacrilege. Only the Ji could operate the Holi Gun, so we always had to wait for him to test it before we could go on to the next phase. Anyway we finally got it working. By the way, by this time all the colors were USDA approved food colors, not industrial dyes as has been reported. Now let me say at this point, that before I started working on the Holi Gun, It had been developed into a pretty good system by John B. and Rob C. It just needed some improvements to make it more reliable and to extend its range. These guys were a great help to me during this time.
Anyway, the focus of the Holi Gun development was for use in India. The actual final gun design was never used at a public Holi in the US. It was too big and powerful. The gun itself was made of 8” welded 6061 aluminum pipe with dual swivels and an adjustable nozzle with a flow rate of up to at least 1000 gpm. Peter D. and Bill S. machined the parts and Dave O. welded it all together. It was designed for the large crowds of India. We boxed it up and shipped it there. The gun was powered by a large Tata truck engine mounted on a welded steel frame connected in line to a large irrigation pump also mounted on the same frame of course. The color injection system used in line water pressure to power a dual cylinder hydraulic amplifier that I should have patented for fire-fighting applications, but oh well. The water supply in India was limited to 2 small wells. A big pit was dug and lined with bricks to hold enough water for the Holi Festival. It took almost 2 weeks of water pumping to get enough water for that first festival.
I went to India to put this system all together. I believe it must have been in 1979, because I don’t think a year went by at DECA before I went there, but maybe it did and it was 1980. Anyway Maharaj Ji was upset that I had to go to India since I had promised that the system would run without me. I explained that there were many unknowns in India and it still had to be built there, so he relented. Off to India I went with nozzle in my luggage due to a shortage of money for customs fees. I was now a smuggler. A small sacrifice of principle for the Lord.
At least I had a passport, and thank God I still had a credit card from when I had a job, or I still might be in India for all anyone in the DECA management seemed to care when it came time to return. This was the cold and aloof Jim Hession management which was the worst I saw at DECA, as opposed to the polo playing let them eat cake David Goulet management, and finally the better but too late Lem Lasher management.
I will never forget the Delhi airport. I had flown over on a 747 with a young Indian engineer from DECA who was flying home to see his parents as well as to help me with the Holi Gun set-up, a young man named R.C. S. I remember looking out the window of the terminal toward the plane while we were waiting for our luggage. I was shocked to see bags being thrown to the ground from the cargo hold of the 747. That is a longgggg way up--- or down. I just hoped my bag was not at the bottom on the cement. Anyway finally they brought bags to the conveyor. What a joke! It was not circular, it was about 20 feet long and straight. The bags quickly began to stack up at the end of the conveyor. They then stopped the conveyor while all 3 or 4 hundred passengers went to see if any of the bags were theirs. This process repeated itself several times before RCS and I found ours. Knowing I was smuggling a fire nozzle made me nervous, but we worked our way to customs. RCS went first, I was right behind. The customs agent was furious with RCS. He lectured him interminably about not bringing anything home for his family after all his time in the west. While he was still lecturing RCS, he just motioned me to pass on through. I sailed through and stepped out onto the street to wait for RCS. And yes there waiting for me was……. A big sow laying in the slop on the road outside the terminal along with all the 3 wheelers and rickshaws and a few so called cars. RCS eventually made it out, and somehow we made it to the new ashram/residence/festival site.
I was so relieved to have made it through customs. I am sure that I must have praised the grace of Guru Maharaj Ji over and over for my good fortune. I think it is appropriate to note here that Maharaj Ji could have taken the risk himself or paid the customs fee, but did not, and left it up to me his lowly devotee to take that risk, which in my state of mind at that time, I did.
Teddy T. arrived the next day. Now Teddy T. and I were kindred spirits in that we both loved baseball. Anyway we had a great time in India, except for the first time we went to meet with Deepok for some strategic meetings. All went well until the car we were given to get from Delhi to the festival site broke down about 10 at night. We thought we knew the way back and decided to hoof it. All went well again until we saw a light in a stall alongside the road and I decided to go ask the person if they had a phone so we could call for help. As I walked toward the light, I stepped straight into an open sewer trench between the road and the shack. I went in up to about my knees. We later made it home, but needless to say I became sick as a dog for about the next week. I remember us pretending like we had guns while a shady group of goat herders passed us with their goats on the road in the middle of nowhere with people hollering constantly in the distance. Once again, we made it safely home by the grace of Guru Maharaj Ji. I say that to be true to my frame of mind at that time.
The next day Teddy T. and I met with Sampuranand. He was excited to meet the genius engineer from America who was going to solve all of his problems. Not just building the Holi Gun, Holi Gun Stage, but the main festival stage as well. I asked Teddy who this person was and he laughed and said it was me. We both laughed, but then it got more serious as I started to get very sick from my swim in the roadside sewer. I fought through it as best I could because there was no one else to do the job. I found Indian engineers to be the project managers for the main stage, for the Holi gun stage, and for the holi gun engine and pump construction. There was already an engineer in charge of the wells and water storage pit. I told everyone what to do and then retreated to my room to puke and crap for a couple days like I have never before or since. Maharaj Ji was not yet on site for several days possibly a week or more.
Sampuranand was in charge of all the money and finances. He told me that he would get me anything that I needed because this was such an important festival. He was true to his word. Whatever I needed I received, no questions asked. There was such a shortage of mortar that he was calling in help from all over India to get more rations. One night there was a big explosion. The next day Sampuranand and one of my project managers in charge of the engine and pump construction came to see me very distraught. Someone that the manager knew, possibly a relative, I can’t remember, had been killed in the explosion. The explosion was at the on site residence. There was an Indian engineer from DECA who was in charge of all residence construction. He was an egotistical maniac who always claimed that he had Maharaj ji’s agya. You could never question him. He would not allow it. I had asked him to let me review the boiler design before it blew up but he took it as a personal insult. He did not allow anyone to check his work. It cost a man his life. I confronted him about it that day and he blamed it on a local subcontractor of course. This person is still M’s personal engineer I am told.
Well, that Indian Holi festival came and went. It was a huge success. The Holi Gun got built, the holi stage got built, and the main stage got built. When M. came down from the Holi stage he was happy as hell. I was given his color stained socks straight from the lotus feet. I was also given a box of left over candy that I shared with the staff. We were in premie heaven. I had trained RCS to take over for me so that I never needed to go back to keep my promise to M. I have not been back since. The system has worked continuously since that time. I take engineering if not spiritual pride from that fact.
After this project, I was a made man in Mafia terminology and in M’s world.
I got back to America by using my above referenced credit card, and by lying that my father was deathly ill and that I needed to get back before he died. Otherwise there were no flights for over 2 weeks. I was still sick. I returned weighing over 30 pounds less than when I left Miami little over a month prior. I coughed black dust for over another month.
For some reason, the Hession regime ended and the Goulet regime began at DECA. It was a kinder gentler regime, but a very royal one. David was a Canadian and must have been a monarchist. He fashioned himself an aristocrat and took up the sport of horse polo, at at least watching it. He loved to go up to Wellington and piss away time and money. He felt that it would help DECA get business. What a crock. He never accomplished anything as far as I am concerned other than refusing to pay me a fair wage while he was paying selected other workers at DECA above industry average wages. I ran into him at the very last program that I attended and during a discussion he mentioned to a friend of mine who invested in AMP and who went on to great financial success that he should have suggested things to him to do at DECA. My friend said that he should have listened to me. David never acknowledged me then or ever, but since I took the rubbish of DECA and made it into a success, you would think he would acknowledge me as having some good ideas, but he didn’t. I think it says something about his perception.
At some point the idea came to have DECA make money. There were 2 divisions, Aviation and Construction. The name DECA stayed with the aviation business and the construction business became known as CRA. I know very little about CRA although I knew several of the CRA personnel. One of them is Mike R. who has posted a journey on this website and whom I consider to be a fine individual. I hope he is well. My journey stays with the aviation side and DECA.
Upon my return from India, there was work to be done to make money. The first few jobs at DECA included Resorts International and the Leona Helmsley Bac111. I will not go into detail on these customers at this time but could if anyone is interested.
Several other customers materialized including Air Florida and Pan Aviation. I became the systems manager at DECA, which meant that I was in charge of plumbing, A/C, lighting, electrical, and avionics. I was trained as a Chemical Engineer and at least avionics was beyond my scope. I recommended that we replace me with a qualified individual, at least for the avionics, and we hired an ex Pan Am avionics supervisor to take my place. I moved back into manufacturing where I felt more comfortable.
At this time, there was a tofu company called Swan Gardens owned by the McIntyre family, operating in Miami. They were working hard and not making much progress. I had worked for a soy processing company in Iowa upon graduation from engineering school, so I had ideas how to improve tofu production. I convinced them to let me automate their production. I hired Peter D., Dave O. and Bill S. to make the components that were required. The project was a huge success. The money that I charged them, I used to buy machining equipment for use by DECA to make aircraft seats. It was understood that this was my equipment, but as naive as I was I didn’t get a UCC filing on the equipment and DECA unbeknownst to me used it as collateral to get a loan, and I lost it.
Anyway, we used this equipment to make a demo seat based upon a new seat design that we used for the Helmsley project. This had been a design worked on by numerous persons including Pat M., Kirby W., Peter D., and Myself. DECA refused to finance this effort, so I did using my own money and equipment. We built a demo seat and I rented a station wagon and took the seat to Page Avjet and Gulfstream and made the first sales of the DECA seat. The DECA sales staff did not appreciate my efforts, since they made no commission on the sale since I had made it myself. This created a big dispute leading to my being hired by the DECA sales staff so that the commission could be earned by the sales staff. They then fired me so that they didn’t have to share it with me. I was left out in the cold. My friend Tony T. who was the DECA hanger manager at the time was upset at this and found a position for me at the hanger.
About this time, Lem L. took over the management at DECA. Lem was a very bright man, and might have made it work under better conditions, but the rot was too deep. Lem moved me back to the manufacturing facility from the hanger which had been taken over by Leroy W., and I began to work feverishly on development of the seat business. An Indian engineer, initials appropriately B.S., did not like this arrangement and finagled to have me transferred back to the hanger. Here I proceeded to get myself into a very compromising position. Here is the story.
Pan Aviation was the corporate arm of Sarkis Soghanalian, a reputed weapons dealer. DECA was doing maintenance on the Pan Aviation 727. The owner had been having trouble with the A/C on his aircraft. I was tasked to take a look at it. I observed that the air cycle machines were malfunctioning. I fixed the problem. Mr. Soghanalian now considered me to be a genius which led to a whole different can of worms. This can of worms was opened when my services were offered to fix Mr. S’s purported Cessna having A/C problems in Europe. I was sent without passport to fix said plane. It was explained that DECA needed the money and that everything would be OK. I saw Lem L. recently and he joked that we would always have a special relationship because he was the only one who knew that it was true that I had been kidnapped and taken to Bahgdad. Actually several others know this as well. What trip to Bahgdad?
Well, after loading up into Sarkis’s 727 in Miami, and after in flight service of Caviar and Dom Perignon and a pretty waitress, we were off to Europe. We landed and spent the night in excellent quarters in Basil Switzerland. After a couple nights of revelrie, we headed for Frankfort, supposedly to fix said Cessna. However, we did not end up going to Frankfurt. Instead, we ended up heading for Baghdad, Iraq. This is too weird to process, just suffice it to say that after a horrendous set of flight circumstances, we survived and ended up in Baghdad, right in the middle of the Iran Iraq war.
I was scared shitless most of my time in Iraq. Part of it was partially my own fault. One night as I was playing gin rummy with the stewardess in my room, Mr. S came to the door very upset. He said that he needed to have her go with him to meet with Sadaam immediately. After finding the stewardess in my room, he was pissed. I hadn’t done anything because I was still celibate, but I was still scared shitless. After a couple days he called me to his room. He said “she is too fat, you can have her”. Then he said “let’s get down to business”. I asked what business was and he explained to me that when I fixed his airplane air conditioning, that he had told Sadaam that he had found a genius engineer to solve his aircraft A/C problem. So we set out for an Iraqi Air Force aircraft hangar. I was convinced that I was a dead man. We arrived at the hangar filled with Russian MiG fighters and Russians as well. The Russians were pissed and put up a fight but were escorted out. I didn’t know what to do. Sarkis asked me to take a look at the aircraft and figure out how to A/C the plane. This was important because the pilots were overheating and passing out on the runway. Now at this point, I didn’t care about the Iraqi pilots, I just wanted to get home alive. So, I used my American ingenuity and lied. I said that I thought that I could fit an air cycle machine in the fuel tank behind the cockpit. We removed the tank, took it to the 727 and loaded it in the cargo hold. I explained that I needed to get back to Miami to work out the details, and off we went. It worked and I made it back to Miami safely. Should I say by the grace. I am sure I did then.
Shortly after I got back from Iraq, things started going sour at DECA. Pan Aviation didn’t pay it’s bills. Another customer, Nigerians I think, didn’t pay, and suddenly it was all over. Everyone dispersed so quickly it was hard to keep track of what was happening.
One of the DECA customers, Jetborne, ended up buying DECA. Jetborne was an Israeli company with no ties to DECA. The Jetborne management asked me to stay and run the remainder of DECA. I was also asked by the DECA management to stay on with the Jetborne acquisition, so I did. This was in the fall of 1983. Jetborne changed the company name to AMP. I remarried during this time and had 2 additional children, both boys. I re-entered normal society and re-established myself financially during this period of Jetborne ownership. The company prospered under my leadership. Peter D. left after about a year to start Dettmers Industries, and Kirby W. went on to form Enflight. Both companies became pretty successful and were eventually sold. Jetborne owned AMP until they sold it for $10.7 Million to a group led by myself 7 years later in Dec, 1990. About a dozen premies stayed on at AMP, and the balance of the over 70 employees at the time of the 1990 buyout were not premies, and probably did not even know what a premie was.
The group led by myself made AMP very successful. We sold it to BE Aerospace in 1998 for $106 Million. At this time we had over 300 employees. I did not own it all, only about 51 percent. Several other people owned the rest, some were premies and some were not, and many became millionaires. I am very happy for their success.
After retiring from B. E. Aero in 1999, I became active in many charitable activities. I am especially interested in mental health issues as I have a son with a mental disorder diagnosed as everything from bipolar to schizophrenia. I am also interested in educational activities and have been particularly active in supporting minority scholarship initiatives. I also made a large donation to WOPG in 2010, and became an active major donor. This reactivated my front row seats that I had lost since DECA closed.
In hindsight I see that my life as a premie had somehow always been safely compartmentalized all those years. It started to come apart in 2011. The first drip was when I was asked to speak to a group of students at an engineering college. I was reviewing my notes where I had written a comment about leadership qualities. One note stated “ a leader must be willing to work harder and sacrifice more than anyone who works for or with them.” It went through my mind that maybe this was not accurate and I should drop this comment because obviously Mr. Rawat did not meet this criteria and he was a great leader. Then sacrilege of all sacrilege’s, it fleetingly entered my mind that perhaps the comment was still correct and that Mr. Rawat was not a great leader, and that this would explain the failure of propagation. This thought kept popping back up in my mind and I would push it back away.
The next drip I have posted on the forum, it was when I was attending a major donor conference in the late summer of 2011, and a lawyer made a presentation asking us to include the Rawat related entities in our wills. He reminded us to have a copy saved separate from our families since they might not honor our wishes.
The next drip was hearing about the sexual conquest of an old acquiantence by Mr. Rawat. This disturbed me greatly.
The next drip was accidentally stumbling on ex-premie.org when I was doing a google name search for myself looking for an article that my father wanted to see. I found myself mentioned in a couple ex-premie forum entries. I was interested and started to read because the information about me was not totally accurate and that bothered me. I started to read more, and soon I couldn’t stop. I took the “are you in a cult test” and had to admit that I was. My head was spinning. I read the Bob Mishler and Michael Dettmers articles. I read all the journeys and started digging into the archives.
I was particularly bothered by the revisionism that I hadn’t even really noticed to a certain extent and realized that I had never left the Lord of the Universe phase. All the premies that I knew still talked and acted like he was still Lord of the Universe in private if not in public. I was in shock.
Since I had already been reading the forum for a couple weeks, I decided to register in case I got the courage to post. One evening in the fall of 2011, I cautiously typed in my first comment. The thread that followed was not always kind to me, but mostly it was. I have been reading and posting on the forum since that time. I appreciate the perspective of the other posters even when it may be quite different from my own at times. Several premies found that out I was posting and tried to dissuade me. They encouraged me not to burn my bridges. I couldn’t burn them fast enough when I realized that Mr. Rawat was fully aware of his scam and using premies mercilessly for his own personal aggrandizement. I kept right on posting, damn the torpedoes.
Finally, after years of being exhorted to stay in the boat, I had flopped out. There are rumors that I am swimming free, which I am.
I am proud to be an ex premie. I no longer consider Maharaj Ji to be anything other than a fraud. The effort and sacrifice made by the ex-premie.org organizers and participants helped set me free. Thanks to all.
I know that this is a very long journey. However once I got started, it just kept coming out. I really tried to keep it short and left out much material. Thinking back, I probably had at least 20 or 30 so called private meetings with Mr. Rawat over the years. These were all pretty much related to projects that I was working on for him, that he wanted me to work on for him, or projects that I had completed. There is much material from those meetings that perhaps if anyone is interested, on which I could elaborate.
I have read many Journeys and they helped me wiggle free. I don’t know if my story will help anyone else wiggle free, but I hope for the best.
Peace, Kindness, Love, and Laughter.
Roger Koch --- still “swimming free”