The bath-tub was anointed with lavender oil and rose petals. Deva Bapu rose from the tub. 3 female attendants knelt to spread a fluffy white towel at his feet. Deva spun the saffron robes around his considerable girth. One attendant stood on tiptoe to daub horizontal gashes of vermillion and ash across his broad forehead. Her nipples, demure in white silk, grazed against bare nipples. She blushed and swayed in ecstasy. Another attendant wound rosary beads around his hairy wrist.
Deva Bapu heard the shuffle of impatient thighs scraping the floor directly above his head. He knew the assembly was packed with devotees. He flicked a glance at the mirror. Miracle Bapu stared back at him. His eyes were bloodshot and flat as a snake.He didn’t doubt his divinity. He couldn’t afford to. He was THE messenger.
God’s envoy. People’s salvation.
He stepped upon the wooden platform and signaled his pupils. They tugged and spun the rope. Deva rose upon the platform before his devotees, as if from the plumbs of Hell. There was pandemonium as the devotees clamoured for a smile, a look, a word.
The clamour died a sudden death. The flap of the tent was flung up and a posse surged in. A pair of manacles snapped shut upon Deva’s wrists. The handcuffs crushed the rosary beads. Deva did not budge. He exuded tranquil grace and serene patience. He smiled beatifically and asked for his lawyer. His trusted devotee-cum-lawyer had saved him thrice before. His lawyer knew how to leap through every legal loophole.
As the police spoke, Deva’s smile faltered. Said the police, “Today we found your lawyer swinging from the ceiling. His suicide note clearly points an accusing finger at you.”
Deva always believed his devotees couldn’t survive without him. Now he knew he couldn’t survive without them either.
Impractical Dreamer: Sweety Shinde 
Maybe inspired by actual events? Some self-proclaimed saints have had me lose faith in God!
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Ditto! They made for ugly representatives. It’s much later I realized that doctors ought not to get a bad name due to sundry quacks. There will always be fakes and genuines.
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Right!
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Brilliant…
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🙂
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There is a saying in Tamil. Roughly translated, believe in God and don’t believe in God-man.
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Perfect saying. It encapsulates all the dangers of middle-men who can distort, maim, manipulate and sully the original ideas & thoughts
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Telling commentary on some of the real-life god men and women, Sweety. Dig deep into the Vedas, and one may discover that The real prescription is to be seekers of truth without being blind believers and followers. Everything must answer the test of reason with strong persuasions to persevere further in quest of truth.
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Well said. The question being, how many want to travel the difficult road and how many prefer the shortcut method for instant Moksha. The latter will invariably land them in the hands of religious quacks. As for seekers, recent Indian trend is to believe & trust sans questions. Even a child is made to think it ‘asks too many questions. Just listen to me. It is so b’cos I say it is so.” Wish we placed a higher onus on logical answers to logical questions right from childhood.
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Do I smell an idea trap ?
By the way the story reminded me of a Kriti that we used to dance to , where the child asks her mother about “who is great” the mother talks of God, and all the greatness, at end she says, God becomes great when the devotee recognizes his greatness.
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Hmm, thought provoking. It could place the onus upon the devotee to choose the right deity. As also upon the deity to remain worthy of worship. Afterall its a symbiotic relation and should thrive on mutual evidence based trust. Thankfully our traditions permit such creative works to exist without having fatwas issued for blasphemy.
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The description was superb with the vermillion and attendants. How you’ve etched such a terrific narrative which hooked me from start to end. Superb ending:) I think we’ve been listening to so many cases but you gave a certain edge and your personal touch to it.
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Thank you so much! Your encouragement means a lot. Made my day.
Yes, any narrative works wonders with that personal touch. I remember as a child we met a baba in an ashram and he exuded a crude arrogance that made me flinch. Instinctively, I refused to bow at his feet. I remember his look of injured ego and simmering hatred. He sure must have popped out somewhere from my memory when I wrote this piece. 🙂
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It lies in the subconscious and seen quite a few whose egos are bruised. Why should we touch the feet of fellow humans? They are not flawless.
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Yes. Elders in the family- well, they have sort of earned a place in our hearts with wisdom and experience. SO I wouldn’t mind touching their feet, but I draw a line at bowing before some unproven stranger in saffron and straggly beard.
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I remember that incidence clearly 🙂
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Thankfully you took the initiative and put ur foot down. I merely followed suit.
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So much in the name of God! its really difficult to guess who is genuine and who is not?
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Yep. Just as in all occupations, there will abound the genuine ones and the fakes. I use my own meter. Anyone who doesn’t demand rituals/personal exploitation/ donations/animal or human life sacrifice and is open to questions is likely to be on the right track.
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I love your writing! So well put 🙂
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🙂 Thank you. Do keep visiting.
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Wow! I wasn’t expecting THAT! 🙂 Every field has culprits and when it is something that involves so much faith, it gets worse.
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True. It is everyone’s responsibility to see where exactly they out their trust into. There will always be sum1 willing to exploit trust, so all the more vital that we put self-protection first.
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Perfect plotting of moral using meaningful words…!👌
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