Guru with a gun

In 1978, when Tim Guest was three years old, he walked into his mother's bathroom and found her dyeing all her clothes orange. She had become a follower of the Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh - one of the most successful cosmic shysters of recent times, who preached an alluringly watery doctrine of Eastern mysticism and sexual freedom.

After writing the Bhagwan an adoring letter, she had been given a new name - Vishmaya - and invited to visit his Indian ashram. Before she left, as a sign of devotion, she had herself sterilised. Soon she and Tim - soon to be renamed Yogesh - were joining the ever-swelling ranks of the faithful.

Every morning the Bhagwan would climb into his white Rolls-Royce and be driven the 150 metres to the auditorium where he gave his daily chat. Along with all the predictable stuff about opening doors within and freeing oneself from the past, the Bhagwan liked to sprinkle these talks with jokes culled from Playboy and Penthouse magazine.

He would also periodically top himself up with snorts of laughing gas. Possibly as a laughing gas substitute, he got his followers - or sannyasins - to do a "dynamic meditation", which entailed them flapping their arms about and shouting "Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!" at the tops of their voices.

Favoured sannyasins were rewarded with special gifts - among the most coveted were polished wooden boxes containing the Bhagwan's toenail clippings.

Vishmaya was put to work in the ashram, filing the sacks of fan mail that poured in from all over the world. Nothing could dim her devotion, not even the discovery of her own letter with the Bhagwan's dismissive comment - "flowery blurb" - scrawled across the top.

As for Tim/Yogesh, on the surface at least he led an idyllic existence, with no parental strictures and a multitude of other orange-clad "brothers and sisters" to play with. Yet all the time he had to watch as his mother slipped ever-deeper into the Bhagwan's creepy clutches; her will bent this way and that until she almost fell apart.

When India could no longer contain his dream of cornering the global hogwash market, the Bhagwan moved to Oregon in the USA. Once again mother and son followed in his wake. But soon the laughing gas dried up and the atmosphere grew steadily darker. The Bhagwan began warning of the coming holocaust and commanded his followers to wear "dental dams" to stop them from catching Aids when they kissed - lavatories and basins also had to be sprayed with alcohol before use to keep the contagion at bay.

The Bhagwan's henchmen - and women - took to carrying guns. Meanwhile the Oregon locals grew increasingly appalled by all these snarling sannyasins in their midst.

After suffering a further blow to her self-esteem when she learned that her new name meant "Poisonous Illusion", Vishmaya was accused of having "the negativity of a hundred lifetimes" and put to work scraping gunk off the communal pots and pans.