So My Friend’s Sister-in-Law Started a Cult
Yes with a throne, followers, bowing — the whole thing.
The names in this piece have been changed to preserve anonymity, but I chose ones that still reflect the essence of the characters and their story. Events are real, and Miriam gave me permission to share them.
“My sister-in-law is a cult leader,” Miriam says, just as I take a bite of the pizza I had pulled out of the Ooni oven a minute earlier. Shock hits my face, and I’m pretty sure a bit of mozzarella slips out the side of my open mouth.
“She started a community in Northern California many years ago and changed her name from Jessica to Bhavani,” Miriam continues, taking a bite of pizza with the nonchalance of someone who’s already been through the shock and come to terms with it.
“About 90 people. They live together, do chores together, build things, you know?”
No. No, I don’t know.
The closest I’ve come to a cult was the evil priest who festered in our parish for seven years and liked to pretend he was Jesus. One Christmas, during his sermon, he said he dreamed he was born on December 25th in a manger. Take a chill pill, padre.
“Every morning, the followers line up to bow to her,” Miriam goes on. “Bhavani sits on this throne in the temple they built for her and looks each of them in the eyes. If she spots someone with bad energy, they get shamed and aren’t allowed to make eye contact again until their energy is back to positive.”
My brain is trying very hard to process Miriam’s words. The slice of pizza is still in my hand, now drooping dangerously, with toppings inching toward the edge.
“Wait, what? They bow to her?”
That’s the part that sticks with me, probably because I immediately imagine myself on a handmade throne, judging auras and deciding who’s worthy to bask in my presence. One or two people come to mind that I wouldn’t mind placing in the naughty corner until they repent.
It’s the image of a villain straight out of today’s romantasy books. And while I love that energy for a fictional character, what does it mean when someone’s actually doing it? Miriam basically just told me she knows a god. Because yes, every modern religion started with someone who had a message to share—and people willing to believe and follow.
Isn’t a god exactly that? Not a queen appointed by lineage or law, but someone exalted by belief. A woman, or a man, with a message, and followers who reshape their lives around it.
Our NorCal goddess, Jessica-now-Bhavani, awakened after a near-death experience that apparently gave her insights into enlightenment. Not sure when that granted her permission to borrow a Hindu name, but it seems that almost dying gives you certain liberties.
Her whole belief system revolves around pushing yourself as close to death as possible—to feel that thin veil between worlds. A fleeting brush with Charon, the ferryman who guides souls across the River Styx.
“My husband’s brother, a very successful surgeon, got divorced after meeting her and joining the cult. Bhavani divorced her husband too (he still lives in the community), and then married my brother-in-law,” Miriam shrugs before taking another bite of pizza.
That’s not awkward at all. We love a reversed harem, right?
In my fantasy, next to my throne, I picture a harem of handsome men in their 30s and 40s—ready to serve my every wish, assuming their auras are still clean, of course. I would never pick from the naughty corner.
“I’ve been there, I’ve experienced it,” I lock eyes with Miriam after that revelation. “What? How?”
“I needed time away and thought of asking her for help. I mean, she’s family. But after bowing that first morning and meeting one of the shunned ‘bad energy’ people crying in a corner… I ran.”
Who knew someone could hold that much power over others? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised: we see it with politicians and influencers.
At the end of the day, we’re all looking for meaning. In a society that pushes us into submission and cookie-cutter versions of ourselves, we search for something to tether us to our true self, or to something bigger that gives us purpose. And so, we follow those who claim they have answers.
Like Miriam, many people reach out during hard times, hoping that someone they trust, a friend, a mentor, a family member, might offer support. And Bhavani did… until she didn’t. My friend left. But so many don’t.
And that makes me wonder: are they finding healing? Or just a more seductive kind of trap?
Through Miriam’s eyes, Bhavani seems fully aware of what she’s doing. Hear me out: if your entire cult is made of wealthy people, you clearly made an effort to recruit that crowd. You're not trying to help the masses—you’ve just redefined what "the masses" means.
It’s giving Scientology vibes with a good dose of narcissism. This enlightenment looks more like an expertly packaged scam. A methodical ascent to godhood.
I flash back to high school. Senior year. That dreaded moment when we had to choose what to study at university: the decision that was supposed to determine our future careers.
I had no clue then (not that I’d have one now).
I wanted to write. Journalism was at the top of my list. But everyone around me said I’d make no money. Philosophy sounded like a waste of time. (If only younger me could see me now, obsessed with Jung and writing essays about the meaning of life.)
So, I picked business. Bland, vague, safe. I hated every second of it, but hey, here I am.
No one mentioned “godhood” as a career path on orientation day.
But maybe they should have.
Bhavani seems to be doing just fine. She’s got a community, financial support, and an entire squad of weekend worshippers who build her temples. Yes, plural. Two temples. Both designed by an architect from her inner circle.
Am I still on time to leave my 9-to-5 and start my own religion?
Because frankly, goddess life sounds kind of appealing.
Just a girl with a pen (and no throne… yet),
Simona
I love my silent readers, but if this story tickled your inner goddess (or made you laugh, gasp, or feel anything at all), consider tapping the heart. Writing into the void is tough, and even a small sign makes a difference. 💫
Credo che rileggerò più volte perché sono basita.
Non adorerei la cara Bhavani, ma sicuro le chiederei un corso di comunicazione accelerato perché sicuro lei scrive i post meglio di me 🤦♀️
This is insane! Thank you for sharing this story, you make me laugh and cry at the same time..