By a Mohanji follower
I remember that since childhood I used to struggle with sadness inside of me, whose source I did not know, along with the feeling that I was different. That I carry a weight inside me that makes me unacceptable. My father was strict, and my mother was usually dissatisfied, so the spontaneous, joyful childhood in our house stood no chance. For example, playing cards was prohibited as potential gambling, and comic books were only allowed within Politika’s (Serbian daily newspaper) entertainment section. I didn’t get the toys; I made them myself.
I watched from the side the ease of other children playing, socializing, communicating. It wasn’t clear to me how they could do it and why I couldn’t. And when I joined the game, I didn’t have that carefree joy. I was not close to any other explanation except that I must be worse in some way, strange. And relations with my parents, my closest ones, were distant, devoid of closeness. There were no hugs, no tenderness, and no joint activities. I was constantly getting grounded. Or being scolded and ignored or harshly physically punished.
Sometimes, it would be so painful that I had to stay in bed. My father would beat me with a rubber cable or a leather belt. I ran around the room and screamed, crying: “Daddy, don’t please, don’t please…” because I was just waiting for that sharp pain like a hot burn, and he was chasing me and beating me. After that, I had to stop crying immediately, “Stop!!” and then come and apologize to him and to my mother and promise that I would never do that thing I did again. Mostly, my mom would tell him what I did so I would get punished. My mother used to beat me with a wooden mallet over the tips of my fingers or the palms.
Silence and stealth were my preferred behaviors. Success in school was sought after. I was exceptional, the best student in my generation. Not because they invested in me. I taught myself to read; I read a lot by myself, a book a day because there was no playing or playing with children. The desire for knowledge came out of me organically; I was very intelligent, I learned and understood quickly, I loved school, I sat in the first row and absorbed information. The school was a place of peace and gentleness. I had talents, but my parents did not have time or energy for them.
From the age of six or seven, I was alone in my apartment, getting ready for school, doing my homework alone, eating or not eating, and doing everything that was needed. I was not always washed nor always changed into clean clothes. I was dressed in inherited things, and my clothes were among the ugliest among the children. They did not allow socializing and playing with other children. I was allowed to go “outside” for half an hour or stay for two hours at a birthday party, but the children did not come to my place. I grew up socially illiterate, naive and stupid in not knowing social norms and skills. Books were my joy and a window to the world.
But instinctively, organically, I was nice; I had good manners, was born educated, with high sensibility, and gentle, with a nice demeanour. Later, through MTM and Mai-Tri, I realized that I brought it into this world. My parents were educated, successful by all criteria, and beautiful people. It took decades for me to understand and accept that it was not my fault. That I was an abused child in many ways. Educationally neglected child, physically neglected. Decades had to pass, and I had to get my own children so that I could admit to myself that my parents were poor parents, immature and, irresponsible, aggressive. And that a lot of it was their irresponsibility and not my fault. That it was not my fault.
But it was necessary to meet Mohanji for me to have the strength to face the truth even more deeply within myself. It was necessary for me to make a connection with Mohanji and for him to “push” me into the deepest realization of myself and memories in the greatest love, that I have the strength and his support to let the truth come to the surface, to remember: That as a small child of 3, 4, and 5 years old, I was a victim of sexual violence, a victim of a paedophile and that the paedophile was my father. And that my mother knew about it.
When I first saw and heard Mohanji at a satsang, I thought, “That’s my man. He’s me.” I called him Father, Baba. His eyes were full of love. But for me, then, in a certain way, they were dangerous. In the eyes of the father, there was also “danger” for me. Over time, I realized that it was a gesture of his supreme love, his reading of me and what he has to do for me. Eyes, mirror. Love, support, strength…”rely on me and let go, let go, I protect you, I hold you, I’m always there.” His eyes, in that interval of awakening awareness, always carried a huge, expanding love in them, but in my eyes as the observer and the observed his father figure provoked and raised everything in me I had experienced as a child. I was so ashamed. I felt so bad and unworthy, but that was it; he pushed me where I needed to be. In his purity and love, I was calm and stable in that place.
In him, through him, I once again entered into the trauma of my own wrongness and doubts about any of my values except physical, so here he, Baba, does not see me as a being but through the body. I found flaws in my body as something that diminished my worth. I was jealous of other women around him. On the other hand, his father figure meant that I was not allowed to speak to him and address him (because in front of my father, one did not speak, only listened in fear of punishment and anger). To think that I have no right to the bright light within me. I was literally absent in his presence; I was not allowed to ask a question.
So many times, I knew when Mohanji asked us to ask questions, he was talking to me. Once, there was a satsang on my birthday, and he asked several times, “It’s someone’s birthday today. Who is it?” and I wasn’t allowed to answer. I wouldn’t know how not to be silent, to speak. That’s how it seemed to me. His fatherly authority made me cower in fear and shame. He let me go in his noble gentleness. I repeat: it was his work, his sacrifice, his all-wise way to force me out of the prison of trauma.
Over time, day by day, week by week, month by month, the memories of disgusting touches, of pain, of crying began to surface. Images that hurt so much, degrade so much, make anything so meaningless. Then, the awareness of how helpless I was. How my formal father crippled me terribly in my childhood. Physically and emotionally. My future, my life, all my relationships were put into question by that terrible exploitation. The stifling of my sense of self-worth, ability to set boundaries, self-respect, and inner permission for happiness and well-being. The ability to one day create a gentle, tender, close relationship of trust and respect with the man with whom I will start a family has been brought to near destruction.
Mohanji guided me along the ridge line. On the one hand, there was my organic need for Baba, his infinite love, the light in me, liberation, as the longing of my heart and my whole being. On the other hand, the abyss of the worst fears and self-loathing, images, memories, and guilt. I am “the marked one,” the one unloved by my parents. It was a walk on a narrow path of naked pain, knowing that all the while I was walking in the palm of his greatest love, paving the way to love within myself, love for myself through love for him. How love hurts when the deepest conviction is that it will never be mine, that others have the right to it but not me. That I am too crippled to heal.
Mohanji opened up everything to me within the Foundation as well as in all aspects of my life. Everywhere I applied, I was accepted, and I got everything I asked for. It was continuous: “I’m here, I’m with you, I’m here, I’m here, I love you with my whole being.” I went through dozens of Mai-Tri and MTM sessions in the process, endlessly grateful for all the love and work I received through the wonderful Acharyas. Nothing was too hard or too painful. “I surrender to you, Father, do with me whatever you want; I accept with gratitude and love.” Each work removed part by part, layer by layer the black sticky substance that used to cover my life, my memories and my feelings, joy, carefreeness. Mohanji just forgave me, cleaned me up and just loved, loved, loved. And he pushed me further and further, deeper and deeper. Through darkness to love. Through faith and effort to reward. Through fire to purification.
He healed me with his love.
Otherwise, in my process of collapsing into myself while growing up, dying in pain due to inadequacy and being unloved, in one interval of my life, I did not speak; I had “mutism,” which lasted for a couple of months. Of course my parents yelled at me for that, thinking it was my rudeness and spite. My throat just closed up, and the words wouldn’t come out. That closed throat began to speak before Mohanji. He healed it too. Also at some point in puberty my intellect started to shut down. I couldn’t stand it anymore; my consciousness and communication retreated inside.
I started having problems with learning, giving myself the right to succeed and presenting myself in success. Because what does success even mean when there is no love for me and within me a love for myself? Father Mohanji worked on me, made the aggressive, lustful, punishing father of my childhood rise to the surface of my mind and, more importantly, differentiated him in my consciousness from my being, from my quality, my little golden, pure, shrivelled inner child. His evil was not my evil. His evil was not my fault. His evil crippled me, but it was not my fault. It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t my fault. I have the right to joy and happiness. I saw it a thousand times in Mohanji’s eyes.
To return to the story of growing up. At some point as I was growing up, my father’s interest in my body stopped. However, what remains is a system of values, or rather a system of worthlessness, undervaluing oneself. My being, my consciousness, the right to boundaries, the right to self-respect. I grew and, as fate would have it, grew into a very beautiful girl who attracted a lot of male attention. That was my only right. I had inner permission for that: to be physically beautiful and sexually attractive. In my girlish beauty, I did not know how to ask for respect, support and attention; it did not belong to me. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t look forward to falling in love. Love meant worry and fear.
With my own enormous effort, I managed to finish school, start a family, and become a mother. But it was part of the terrible mental effort, the work. It pressures me to fit into social norms. My heart was something else. My heart was silent, dying. Writing this testimony is proof that my heart is speaking now. I am writing it so that men and women who have suffered violence know how powerful MTM and Mai-Tri techniques are.
During the sessions, I learned that the problem of sexual violence has existed throughout the female lineage for several generations. Through the male side of the family, various traits are also passed down. My determination to fight all the energy deposits inside me was becoming unconditional and complete. I was determined that the violence suffered by the women in my family would end with me. Not to go further. So that it doesn’t reach my children. That I would be the woman with whom these terrible transgenerational stories would end.
As my inner space was cleaned and harmonized, the “outer” space of my life was arranged on all levels. Even some physical problems I had were disappearing. My life was a mirror of my inner process. Abundance in me gave birth to abundance in life. Mohanji’s love, which is huge, golden, shining, made me reborn. It was a painful process, weeks after weeks of tears, emotions that had to be experienced, unfolded, viewed, and released. Anger, hurt, tears. Forgiveness. Giving yourself the right to life and love – love for your body, for your femininity, love for your sexuality, intuition, femininity. But that’s why my children showed more and more trust and tenderness, more and more personal freedom and self-confidence. The people around me became more and more attentive and full of respect, and my relationships with people became more and more spontaneous and warm.
During one of the last group Mai-Tri sessions that was very deep, a struggle was going on inside of me. Tears, pain, spasm, determination to come to the surface to be ultimately free, to be filled with love, to be love, to receive. The process was wonderful and painful. But in the end, a special thing happened. At the end of the process, a space of light opened in the distance, and a golden pair appeared, a pair of golden lights. The information that formed in me was that these were my parents from long ago. That I, as their golden child, stubbornly sought and wanted to enter the experiences of duality. That they let me go and that they knew what I was going through. And that I “passed.” When the circle ended, they came joyfully to greet me, to give me love, to remind me, to contact me. To embrace me with their presence. From that day, my physical parents with all our stories of the past ceased to exist, lost their importance, became grains of sand in the flow of life and experiences.
Mohanji’s pictures and eyes are my daily interlocutor. Starting the day with meditation with him in my heart gives a tone of joy to my day, which I enter with stability. Hundreds of synchronicities and hundreds of small miracles happen continuously. Mohanji’s constant support and protection are my reality. Now I see in Mohanji a Father, Brother, Best Friend and Guru. I carry the awareness that we are one Consciousness and that it is up to me how much I will root myself in it. The fight is still going on, and there is still a lot of work ahead. I’m not afraid. I am one with him, and it is such a blessing that I cannot be grateful enough because I am part of Love, Tradition, Light, and Reality. His light is mine. The blessing of his presence and existence is the evidence of the light in me.
With Mohanji, any healing (karmically permitted) is possible. Joy is a natural state, and flow is a natural state. His love is more powerful than anything. The techniques of Mai-Tri and MTM through which he directly works are gifts always available to each of us.
|| JAI BRAHMARISHI MOHANJI ||
Edited & Published by – Testimonials Team, 1st July 2025
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Mohanji Testimonials team