Then one day in 2003, they crossed paths in a florist’s shop in Mumbai. Porumamilla touched her on the shoulder and said: “I’m supposed to meet you here today at this time.”

Bhavsaar, who says she always knew she had a special connection to the spiritual realm, says: “This was a stranger to me. Of course I knew energetically, there was a time I was told when this would happen to me.”

She had trained as a fashion designer and ran her own boutiques, but left that behind when she, Porumamilla and her daughter from an earlier relationship migrated first to the UK, then Singapore, before settling in New Zealand in 2010.

A year later, Kosmic Fusion began, offering free meditation centres in community halls and running stalls at spirituality expos in Wellington, Auckland and around Australia.

Those who signed up were initially invited to one-hour classes, then three-day residential retreats, with each phase taking them slowly up the hierarchy.

Payments for this were often called 'energy exchanges' and were up to $800.

Bhavsaar describes herself as a teacher. But what is apparent from reading hundreds of pages of WhatsApp chat logs with her followers is how demanding she was.

In one posting, she gives a “strict warning to not even for one second think that any decisions will be made by anyone other than the Guardians”.

Trainees are warned that one lapsed member is to be “quarantined” to “stop any contamination”.

Former member Katie says: “They tell you what to say, and what to think, and cut you down so badly if you question anything.”

Katie says they were warned not to have sexual relationships with outsiders who had not completed a course because they would have the “wrong energy” and some former members said they felt cut off from outside family and friends.

The couple provided email statements from several former trainees who deny they were warned about sex with outsiders.

Katie left because she felt she couldn’t trust Bhavsaar and because she says course fees were beginning to be demanded in cash, in US dollars (testimonies from other followers say some payments were in USD, but others were by paypal, NZ dollars or on payment plans).

“In the beginning, I do think she had good intentions but I think her ego got the better of her and she got worse and worse and more controlling… she would say I am a divine being so I never go grey or age - then I realised she dyed her hair - and I thought if you’re lying to me about stupid little things like that what else are you lying to me about?”

But there are still plenty of believers.

Sheree McRae, who used to run Kosmic Fusion's social media, describes Bhavsaar as “an extremely special person who obviously has a gift to offer people. She’s an extremely selfless person.”

McRae says she stepped away because she became irritated by other members jockeying for status. She says Kosmic Fusion is “so far from a cult … I hope a few bad eggs don't ruin their reputation”.

Renu Ryder, formerly a close friend of Amoutsias, claims she was “manipulated” by her in an “unhealthy friendship”.

“She admitted to being a malignant narcissist and treated a number of us poorly.”

Yes, Amoutsias admits, she was a bully, and was encouraged to be. She regrets it.

To Bhavsaar, Kuo and Amoutsias are “snakes”.

She believes they wanted to steal her intellectual property and use the teachings of Kosmic Fusion for their own financial gain. (Both women deny this and say they were simply helping take Bhavsaar’s teachings to a wider audience).

A “blacklist” notice on the Kosmic Fusion website - and 10 affiliated sites - delivers a lengthy excoriation of the pair.

Kuo is accused of printing out fliers and brochures describing herself as a “master practitioner” of the QVSWPP without permission.

“The materials all glorify herself rather than honour and pay homage to Sree Maa Shri Ji, without whom no-one can receive the All-Knowing and most benevolent Quantum Vortex Scalar Wave Photon Pulse,” the notice says.

Blacklist notices have appeared on Kosmic Fusion websites. Blacklist notices have appeared on Kosmic Fusion websites.

Both women have received legal letters, with Porumamilla threatening to sue for $750,000.

In an email he sends after we meet, Porumamilla says Amoutsias and Kuo feel “rejected” by the group and we are “enabling individuals with NPD [narcissistic personality disorder] in their revenge. They have no conscience and will go to any length to play the victim card”.

Neither is “the brightest spark”, he says.

According to Lineham, all this is not unusual. Expelling former senior figures is often a key strategy to promote loyalty among other members.

“In every movement,” he says, “there is always a Judas. And no step is too serious to take against the traitor.”

Kuo estimates that Kosmic Fusion cost her $100,000 in time, money and the loss of income from quitting her job as a university librarian to volunteer full-time.

Bhavsaar and Porumamilla laugh at that and say they are the ones who’ve lost out. They’ve cancelled all their online healing sessions, stopped recruiting and say membership is down to just two. It will take them three years to rebuild the movement, they estimate.

They deny Kosmic Fusion is a cult. “If it is a cult I was running, then it has to be an absolutely unsuccessful and a horrendous one - because the only victim in this cult is me,” Bhavsaar says.

She suggests she was too kind, too generous, too empathetic, and has paid the price. “I can look into your eyes, and tell you the only victim is me.”