We want to tell you about a young man who lived in India in the latter part of the nineteenth century. He was the second son of a provincial maharaja and very close to his elder brother, Daman, who was every bit his complete opposite, which is perhaps what drew them together. Rikesh was the more sensitive one. He had a burning desire to discover deeper truths about life and himself and knew that he would have to break away from this privileged lifestyle to pursue them. The pomp and ceremony of the court meant little to him. Their father wanted them to be schooled by a religious man living to the north, who was thought to be the wisest in the region, so they were ceremoniously sent away, accompanied by protectors and minor court officials who would cater to their every need.

Rikesh was used to being surrounded by fawning sycophants, all hoping to become more favored in the court, but he could see through their shallow designs. The teacher turned out to be a bit of a showman. He liked to produce gemstones out of thin air to impress people, and Rikesh knew immediately that he was to be trusted no more than a common street-corner fakir. He was there to be schooled in the arts of manipulation, not anything truly spiritual.

Behind the scenes at the school was an older woman, Nazia, the teacher’s mother. Rikesh soon realized that she was very aware of what was going on and much wiser than her son. Nazia saw in Rikesh qualities that were very rare in the shallow world of aristocracy. The two soon became close friends. Whenever he needed reassurance or advice, Rikesh turned to her. She was the true teacher.