(Matt Hamilton/Neon Tommy)

As part of the Westerner welcome wagon at the Ananda ashram in Pune, the tall, sandy-haired American gave us a tour of the spiritual commune's grounds. We saw the makeshift temple with a tin sheet roof and mosquito nets as walls. We saw the garden where they grow their own vegetables. There was the posh white mansion where spiritual leader Swami Kriyananda lived before he passed away last April. And then there was the impressive construction site of a housing complex where 29 people would eventually move in. But what I did not see — no, what I was not allowed to see — was the monastery where Ananda’s monks called home.

Women weren’t allowed to go up there. But men could. 

I asked Victor, who bulged with confidence, why women were banned.

It’s to keep the men from falling to sexual temptation, he said.

Let's be clear: These are modern monks. One named Jamal — a Yale graduate decked in a bright yellow T-shirt and linen pants — developed solar panels and water irrigation systems for the Ananda communities so they could be self-sustaining. And the monks eat, work and hang out nearly all day in the ashram, where, yes, there are WOMEN.

Gender segregation might seem antiquated, but it's still alive and well in America. From all-boys choirs and all-girls colleges, to the separation of toiletries, we divide ourselves according to the genetic differences in our pants (or skirts). But new laws are already saying that a bathroom door is just a door, and it doesn’t matter whether you’re genetically female or male.

READ MORE: "Potty Training: The New Rules Of Bathroom Etiquette"

Give me a spiritual reason for why women aren't allowed up the hill. Like Vishnu taking a century-long hermitage without his wife Lakshmi. Or that women would shift the monastery's energy because their menstrual cycles kept them in perpetual motion.

As granola as these explanations might sound, I preferred them. I found myself disenchanted with the "real-life" reason Victor gave, a categorization of women used time and time again. Should I take offense when, to them, I am just another temptress?

But maybe it's a spiritual purity, a path set by the long line of gurus before him, that Victor truly believes in.

Victor, a Stanford graduate, confided in me at one point that he was thinking about moving back to the U.S. 

What would you do, I asked.

Consulting, he said.

Reach Senior News Editor Melissah Yang here. Follow her on Twitter @MelissahYang.