When my friends shared their plans to launch a website, I felt compelled to contribute. While I may not be well-versed in pop culture, I had a captivating story to share.
A decade ago, I worked as a customer service representative for an astrology mobile app. This unique role introduced me to numerous D-list celebrity astrologists and provided insightful conversations.
The intriguing world of gurus is a fascinating one. Unlike comedians who blur the lines between fact and fiction or garden-variety psychics toe the line between being deluded and trying to delude their clients.
Only recently has the cult space received the scrutiny it deserves, with compelling documentaries shedding light on abusive groups like NXIVM.
In this realm where skepticism intersects with the esoteric, the Oh No Ross and Carrie podcast stands as a valuable source of information. During the pandemic, like many other programs, the podcast conducted interviews instead of attending physical gatherings. One such interview left a lasting impression—an intriguing conversation with a self-proclaimed Siberian Priestess and psychologist named Shakuntali Siberia.
Shakuntali claims to possess unique healing abilities inherited through 12 generations. She presents a fascinating theory that time is not fixed but rather influenced by the speeds of objects. However, like many psychics, her appearance on the podcast exposed discrepancies in her origin story.
According to Shakuntali, she received an honorary psychology doctorate from a Siberian university in Barnaul after miraculously healing someone with psoriasis in a mere two weeks. However, the Siberian university has no record of her attendance or the conferral of a doctorate.
Furthermore, her origin story contains a significant flaw. She asserts that as a child, she assisted her father in performing surgeries at a hospital. Curiously, she claims her toys were surgical instruments. This narrative becomes even more implausible when she mentions living in a Siberian forest with her shaman during her teenage years—a time when she supposedly attended university. Siberian climate also casts a major shadow of a doubt on this sceario.
Shakuntali also emphasizes that her biological age has halted, yet despite her skincare resources, visible signs of aging are apparent.
Unfortunately, much of Shakuntali’s YouTube presence was wiped out following the fallout from the interview. However, one peculiar video endures—a footage where she appears to “walk on water.” Closer examination reveals the presence of a hidden plank just beneath the water’s surface, debunking the seemingly miraculous act.
In these situations, we often find ourselves questioning the fine line between delusion and deliberate deceit. In this case, the evidence speaks for itself.
Since the interview’s release, Shakuntali has undergone a curious rebranding, adopting the name Madonna. Perhaps she chose this iconic moniker to make it exceedingly challenging to find information about her original identity on Google, given the prominent pop singer sharing the same name.
As we delve into the mysterious world of Shakuntali Siberia, now known as Madonna, we encounter a web of intrigue and enigma. Her story raises questions about authenticity and prompts us to consider a healthy dose of skepticism when approaching any extraordinary claim.