Pyramids of cure and karma

You can see it from miles away, looming over the birch forests, wildflower fields and construction sites crammed with future dachas for Russia's rich and ruthless.

Stabbing towards the sky from its hilltop perch in Kozenski, Russia, the pyramid gleams white under the blast of northern sun.

Twelve storeys high and made of 55 tonnes of fibreglass, the pyramid swarms with Russians desperate to rearrange their energy fields and cure their karma.

It seems everybody has heard some miracle tale about the pyramid: The sterile woman miraculously impregnated after a visit.

The prisoners pacified with drafts of saltwater charged by the energies of the pyramid. The pillar of mysterious force allegedly emanating from the peak, healing the ozone layer over Russia.

“You can't expect to build a pyramid and see everything change overnight. It happens gradually,'' says Alexander Golod, a Ukrainian defence contractor who has spent millions of dollars building pyramids around the former Soviet Union and beyond.

“The possibility of any emergency decreases, including hurricanes and typhoons. It seriously changes physical and psychological conditions.''

Golod sits in a yard of bright grass and vibrant poppy beds in a Moscow suburb. Between the rooftops, the pyramid blocks the horizon — he and his family live well within reach of the pyramid's energy, he says.

Asked what drives his obsession with pyramids, Golod takes a long time to answer. He blinks and says: “The pyramid changes the structure of space.''

Olympic athletes visit the pyramid to boost strength, he says, and Russian cosmonauts are so fond of it that they have taken keepsakes from the structure into space. (An official at Russia's Gagarin Cosmonaut Training Centre could not confirm this claim but said he doubted its truth.)

Rumours of the pyramid's mysterious powers have spread through the suburbs and into the city. People come looking for peace of mind, strength, health and insight.

Life is hard in Moscow. The city is a place of blank expressions and cold shoulders. Prices climb high and then higher still.

But the pyramid is quiet and cool, a sort of New Age monastery. There is no sign, no gate and no admission tickets.

Visitors park, wander inside and stay as long as they like. Swallows wheel in circles up in the roof. Summer sun filters thinly though the fibreglass, casting an amber glow.

Three massive globes — one each for geography, topography and astronomy — swell in the centre of the floor, surrounded by benches.

On one of the benches sits a stooped woman, stretching her arms to the ceiling, scooping them through the air and pulling them down to her heart. “Try it,'' she says. “Feel how you are drawing the energy to yourself.''

Another woman, Lidiya Okhapkina, 70, brought visiting family members to the pyramid. She has heard it can cure sickness and pain. She only wants to be healthy. “So far,'' she sighs, “I don't feel much.''

Kseniya Simonova, arm around her boyfriend, has heard the stories too. A rowing team visited the pyramid and went on to grab first place.

“We've heard you get energy from it,'' she says. But that is not why Simonova and her boyfriend, both recent college graduates, have driven all the way out to the pyramid.

The truth is they are looking for a good hangover cure. “They say no pills can help you like the pyramid,'' she says.

Behind glass counters stacked with stuffed pandas, jewellery and stone eggs, Olga Vorobyova keeps watch.

Three years ago, when she took a job peddling crystals and water in the pyramid, she was sick and weighed down with troubles. But now because of the “positive energy'' of her work space, she has been cured.

“Bad things used to happen. My husband drank a lot and we had no money,'' she says. “Now I live alone and life is better. I feel healthier.''

Posters on the wall offer “A brief description of the effect of the pyramid shape on things'', “A brief description of the effect of the pyramid shape on the organism'' and “The general possibility of the use of pyramids''. People stand quietly and read.

Outside, traffic piles up on the road back into Moscow. Igor Kacher is headed for home.

The 51-year-old construction manager stopped by the pyramid to pick a birthday present for his secretary. He walked away with a small elephant figurine.

“It's difficult for me to really, seriously judge but I do believe it has some cosmic force,'' he says.

“They say the pyramid charges everything here with special energy. I was always curious about it.''

Does he find it eccentric, this creation of a pyramid? “No,'' he says firmly, as if the question were foolish. “Nobody thought this was crazy.''