“Join me for chai?” Over tea and sweets in the cafeteria, Bhajan looked for an opening. “May I be candid, Gangaji? My agents have seen your sets at the Blue Sadhu.” “The head librarian has agents?” “I’m a householder with mouths to feed, so please do not confuse my day job with my real life. I’m president of a group called Just So, and I need your help.” “Just Sew—are you tailors?” “We take our name from the state the Buddha dwelled in: tathagata, a condition we translate as suchness, or just so.” “So why dress like a Brahmin?” “The sacred thread is an excellent disguise for a Buddhist revolutionary at BHU.” “Well, I’m no Buddhist revolutionary.” “That’s why we want to hire you.” “How come I’ve never heard of your group?” “We’re a secret cell of agents holding fast to the liberating insight Gautama gave us, that we already have the Buddha nature within us, or as he put it, ‘Don’t think anything was attained when I attained enlightenment.’ If everyday people understood this, the whole religion game that preys on us would be over, not just the killing of other sentient beings because they may hold a different view than you, but the justification of aggression for alleged enlightenment training when there is no one to save and nothing to do but laugh at our striving and conniving to get at who we’ve always been anyway.” “I’m not sure what this has to do with me.” “The Just So Society would like you to represent us at an international world congress of religions about to take place at the Sir Francis Drake Hotel in San Francisco. Sri Ramakrishna had encouraged Vivekananda to attend the first congress in Chicago a hundred years ago, and he stunned the audience with his eloquence.” “I’m no eloquent stunner; I have classes.” “I’ve gotten you excused from class. The completion of the assignment will give you more than enough credits so you can graduate on time.” “But I love my week-end gig at the Blue Sadhu.”
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