The country seems an empty place… like a desolate vessel… to millions of people: their quest for a ‘proper’ –
aacha, changa spiritual mentor, never seems to end. Grey-haired by now, the quest itself has become a cause of harm and grief for such people, because they are very largely a restless baffled lot roaming from place to place in search of a promised master. In the draining process, members of this specific category are making guesses on their
phuti kismet – broken destiny; the disposition to good and intelligent guidance is completely missing. The temperament for sound discipline may also be missing in them, majorly. Some, who experience flushes of gun-shot gusto supporting a fat purse: will cross-country. So, they will even reach the far shores of Hong Kong, Japan, Mexico to capture the face and spirit of a new-found divine personality – eliciting for them, all powers of God Almighty.
This is how I know a modern day true story, with all manner of recurring from its state of primitiveness and deceit. This is a true happening which occurred some years back. From day one, Moti Lal (name changed) keeps falling at the feet of
Maharaj ji. The self-styled-self-appointed-god-man,
Maharaj ji, is snapping up, one more time, the advantageous moments and knows the fundamental thing to say to the gullible new comer. “I have been waiting for you my child. I know you would come to me.” “Then,
Maharaj ji, your call has brought me to your benevolent feet. I beg of you to prepare me with all the fortunes for the next world”, pleads the sobbing euphoric devotee. Spotted in the scene are two young female attendants in deep saffron pure silk gowns. Their eyes are heavily laden with kohl and the lids smeared with purple eye shadow. Playing by the situation, the women encourage Moti Lal to become more emotional. Drawing closer to him, one of them whispers, “Cry! Cry as much as you can. Your tears will cleanse your heart. Why only the next world? This world, these present moments are also yours.
Maharaj ji has the power to do everything for you.” By now, the inclusion of a warm cup of a herbal tea laced with the quality of hallucination is placed in Moti Lal’s quivering hands. It is god-man’s turn to proclaim. “Child, I am your
only saviour who can mend your life. Now, drink from the cup of my special blessings.” With a few sips of the concoction, Moti Lal is feeling dizzily great – robust, lively and amazingly tranquil. The paternal speech made in honour of his promising future by the current master had ended all doubts (if any at all) about the new place.
Anyway, neither his teenaged son nor his wife could persuade Moti Lal not to further ruin himself or them. They could turn to several unfortunate accounts which had depleted Moti Lal’s bank balance. “The fact, that most of it I’ve earned myself can make no one stop me to do what I want to do with my money,” Moti Lal always vigorously announced to his family. He saw no different method to appease his unsettled wandering mind, but this latest expedition to Paradise Centre (name changed) in Hong Kong was the fastest-running track of the man who had undyingly remitted more than half his cash money to the cause of one more god-man…
Then, there is another breed which identifies itself in complete brotherhood with the
pundits – astrologers, who can clearly notice anybody’s future: coming! These fortune-tellers arouse your faith freely and falsely by dropping names of crowd pullers, like, Amitabh Bachan and his entire family members.
“Aare, Sahib, what should I tell you! Where should I begin? Amitabh
ji and Jaya
bhabhi, both of them take my advice, separately, and that’s how I know Amar Singh, and you know what, Amar
bhai’s whole family comes to me, now.” The reason for mentioning the astrologers is because, for sometime (till the time lasts) they begin to relate themselves as “gurus” when they are putting the hefty consultation fee in their greedy pockets. There can be a complicated argument, if you point out to a dicey astrologer that his
bhavishya vanees – prophecies of future – are not coming out true. In an obstructive slimy style, he will tell his client,
“Sahib, hamare paas aatey raho, samai theek nahin ja raha aap key liye, sitare adal-badal ho rahe hain, hum kiya karen? Sochna hai, vichar karna hai, dheeraj rakho, danger hai. Aap tau hamare shishye hoe aur hum aapke guru. Sahib, hamare paas aatey raho.” – “Sir, keep coming to me, your times are not good, your stars are changing rapidly, what can I do? I have to think and think, have patience. I see danger. You are my disciple and I am your guru, keep coming to me.”
Unshakably, for the purpose of his destiny following framework of blind-belief – man often resigns himself completely to whatever faith he may be sent to by god-men of sorts.
Geeta Chhabra
Glossary.
Maharaj ji — The word is derived from Hindi language and addressed to someone of superior position, or caliber.
