Joelle Tamraz shares her story with Take 5…
Taking in my serene surroundings, I instantly felt at peace.
This is precisely where I need to be, I thought.
It was 1995, I was 22, and just after graduating from university, I’d come to India to research social activism in Hindu spirituality.
I was staying in Rishikesh, a small town nestled into the foothills of the Himalayas, with yoga ashrams on every corner.
Read more: Why I do yoga in the nude
A month into my stay, I met a man, Arun, 55. Arun claimed to be descended from a long line of Himalayan yoga masters, and I was captivated by his confidence.
“I know an ancient yoga practice that is only taught one-on-one,” he told me. “I could teach you?”
I agreed, feeling special to be chosen, and we met every morning at 5am for an hour.
After two months, I got to know Arun well. We discussed spirituality in depth, and I hung on his every word. He revealed he had a connection to the other side where his spiritual guides lived.
“My master is the great yogi Babaji,” he announced one day. I looked up to the mythical master yogi and was awed I’d met someone who had learned from him.
After three months in Rishikesh, I planned to travel around India. When I told Arun, he offered to join me.
“I’d love that,” I told him.
The plan was to go home afterwards, but three days before my flight, I was meditating when tears streamed down my face. I knew the reason.
Later that evening, I visited Arun’s room.
“I think I love you,” I blurted out.
He looked unsurprised.
“You’re my wife from a past life,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
I believed in reincarnation, so this was mind-blowing to me. I never expected to date a man the same age as my father, but it all made sense.
I returned home, and Arun and I began a long-distance relationship. I visited him in India whenever I could.
One day, after being together for almost two years, Arun did something I’d never seen before. He closed his eyes, and moments later, they fluttered open.
When he looked at me, it no longer seemed like him. His mannerisms and facial expressions had changed.
“Hi Joelle, I’m Tao,” he said. “I know you, but you don’t know me.”
It was the first time he’d channelled a spirit from the other side. I was stunned.
In 1997, we moved to Paris together, and I started an MBA. As soon as we arrived, Arun changed. He started drinking, picking fights and watching TV all day.
When I questioned him, he insisted it was for his work on the other side.
“This is how I channel Tao,” he said, revealing Tao was my brother in a past life.
Although I couldn’t get used to Arun’s drinking, I was grateful for Tao, who was kind and caring.
We married in a small civil ceremony soon after arriving in Paris.
Our married life was isolated, as Arun struggled to socialise and my family disapproved of our match, so we kept our distance.
Arun also refused to get a job, so our finances fell on me. After seven years, I suggested Arun open his own yoga studio.
I was relieved when he agreed and felt confident things would improve.
In 2003, the studio opened, and clients started coming in. One was a young woman named Angela, 26. Learning Angela was a massage therapist, Arun offered her a role at the studio.
Then, one afternoon, Arun had news.
“Tao was married to Angela in a past life,” he told me.
Shell-shocked, I didn’t know what to say. I was worried about what this meant for our relationship, but I trusted my brother would never hurt me.
Arun started channelling Tao more often so he could spend time with Angela, who also believed Tao was her past husband.
Then, one day, I was out with Tao and Angela when Tao shocked me.
“I’m going home with Angela,” he said.
Even though I believed it wasn’t Arun in soul, it was still his body. Devastated, I knew something had broken between us, and I sobbed all night.
When Arun returned, he assured me it was Tao, not him, who slept with Angela, and told me nothing would happen that I didn’t allow.
I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to handle it, but Tao was my brother, and I didn’t want him to leave if I didn’t agree to it.
Over the next few months, Arun identified two more women at the studio who had been wives of Tao in a past life.
“Well, he can only have one wife in our culture,” I snapped.
Tao and Angela continued their relationship for six years, and he’d use Arun’s body once a week to sleep with her.
Then, when I was 36, the tech company I worked at went bankrupt, completely changing my mindset.
I realised I’d been the only one contributing to our finances throughout our marriage and became aware of my power.
Finding a new job, I decided to regain control of my life rather than trust spirituality to guide me.
Soon after, I became friends with a new colleague, Trevor. He was the first friend I’d had in years.
After getting to know each other, I eventually told him about Tao and Angela.
“That doesn’t sound right,” he said gently.
I already knew it, but hearing someone else say it made it all the more true.
“I want to separate,” I told Arun.
After 17 years together, he returned to India, and we finalised our divorce. Once he realised he wouldn’t get money from me again, I never heard from him.
In 2016, I found out he’d died after a short illness.
Since then, Trevor and I have married, and I finally know what love is.
I realise now Arun manipulated me because I was an easy target. I was a young, naive and vulnerable devotee.
Putting so much faith in spirituality is dangerous, and I’ve turned my back on it all.
Joelle’s book The Secret Practice: Eighteen Years on the Dark Side of Yoga is out now.
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