Fiction
Mukul was one of the many
thousands of devotees of Radheshyam Baba.
What drew Mukul to the Baba’s ashram was curiosity rather than
spirituality. What kept him returning to
the ashram was Gopika, one of the many women who managed the front offices of
Radheshyam Baba.
The first thing that
struck Mukul when he visited the ashram for the first time was the absence of
men from the reception and other offices as well as counters. Men managed the main gate and the security
there. Once you pass the security check,
you are in a land of Gopikas. Krishna’s
Radhas. Radheshyam Baba’s Babies.
Mukul saw Gopika at the
reception desk during his first visit to the ashram. She smiled as he approached the desk on which
was placed the sign ‘ENQUIRY.’ He had
nothing to enquire about except the name of the charming young woman who stood
behind the sign with an indeterminate smile which struck him as less plastic than
the smiles of the other women he would see in the ashram eventually.
“Where is the bookstore?” Mukul asked though he was not really
interested in any book published by the ashram.
He wanted to impress the girl with his projected intellectual interests.
The girl smiled at
him. The smile wafted through his being
like a soothing breeze. He did not hear
her telling him the way to the bookstore in the enormous ashram complex. The soothing breeze was metamorphosing into
an intoxicating drug within him. The
drug would bring him again and again to the ashram. His parents were delighted that their son had
become very religious unlike the other young men of his age who loitered around
taking selfies on their mobile phone and whatsapping them to everybody in the
contact list.
The queries he could ask
at an enquiry counter had been exhausted long ago. He had taken to standing at a little distance
from the ENQUIRY counter and watching the girl whose smile had become a shower in
the summer of his being. He had noticed long
ago that she gave the same smile to everyone.
That made little difference, however, to his feelings towards her.
“Jai Radhe,” he walked up
to her one day and greeted her in the tradition of the ashram.
“Jai Radhe,” she
reciprocated with the same smile on her face.
“What should a devotee do
if he falls in love with another devotee in the ashram?”
“Love is a divine
feeling,” she said with absolutely no change in her smile. “We should love everyone.”
“I don’t mean that kind of
love,” he said eagerly.
“I’m not the right person
to guide you in such matters,” the smile continued unchanged. “Please consult one of our counsellors.” She went on to give him the route directions
which he did not listen to. He was bathing
in the shower of her smile. The
movements of her lips. The twitches of
her cheeks. The glow in her eyes.
“Forget those women,” one
of the devotees who introduced himself as Sahasrabhojane counselled Mukul. He had noticed Mukul’s obsession with the
girl at the enquiry counter. “They are
Baba’s gopikas.”
Radheshyam Baba was an
incarnation of Lord Krishna. Sahasrabhojane
explained. Mukul found that
interesting. Krishna himself was somebody
else’s incarnation. Mukul hoped he would
one day be able to be an incarnation of the Baba of the Babies.
“Baby. That’s how Baba calls each one of them. They are his babies. Like Lord Krishna’s gopikas.”
“Hi, baby,” Mukul imagined
the Baba addressing the girl at the enquiry counter. “How is my baby today?”
“Fine, by your grace, Baba
ji,” Mukul imagined her response. Would
it be the same smile that she has for her Baba too? Or would the smile acquire a blush? Would blood surge to her cheeks on meeting
her Shyam?
Mukul could feel blood
surging through his body stirring something within him.
“It is spiritual love,”
Sahasrabhojane explained. “Lord Krishna
had thousands of gopikas. Some were more
dear to him than others. Radha was the
most beloved. Jai Radhe!”
“Jai Radhe!” Mukul
returned the chant. “Was he a
philanderer?” He asked.
“Who? What are you saying?” Sahasrabhojane was scandalised. “The Lord, how can he be anything but a
divine lover?” He walked away chanting Radheshyam, Radheshyam, Shyam-Shyam, Radhe-Radhe...
Why couldn’t he love men
equally then? There was nobody to listen
to Mukul’s query.
Later Mukul learnt from
another devotee that Sahasrabhojane was another aspirant to being an
incarnation of the Baba. “Everybody
aspires after something,” said the devotee.
“Most of the women aspire to be Baba’s gopikas. The men want to be Baba’s avatars. There are also many who make much money out
of the ashram. Some are satisfied with some positions of power. You can even aspire
towards spiritual enlightenment....”
“I’m in love with
you.” Finally Mukul gathered the courage
to walk up to Gopika and profess his real devotion. Gopika was the name he had given her. It was her love that he aspired after.
Her smile vanished. She took up the receiver of the phone,
dialled some number, and said, “Security, immediately!”
Mukul did not get the time
to absorb the transformation that had come over the face whose smile had been
his shower and sunshine for quite many months.
Radheshyam,
Radheshyam, Shyam-Shyam, Radhe-Radhe...
Mukul heard the chanting from the Meditation Hall as he was being
dragged by Baba’s security men.
A collection of my short stories is available in book form HERE
Ahhhh more truth than fiction in this I believe.
ReplyDeleteBoth, Richa, more or less in equal proportions.
DeleteMukul has some pertinent questions that remain unanswered. A blend of truth and fiction.
ReplyDeleteReligion dismisses not only questions but also love :)
DeleteReligion of love overshadowed completely by some illusory aspirations. The fact that 'she' gives same smile to everyone strangely reminded me of Browning's Duchess. The smiles the Duchess had were 'stopped'. Here, the smiles are 'contrived', 'rehearsed' and 'end' at the sight or prospect of 'love'.
ReplyDeleteI am very familiar with those 'contrived' and 'rehearsed' smiles, Sunaina. I watched it for more than two years. The masks fell all too soon when certain games ended... Well, they are personal experiences. They have to be transmuted in fiction.
DeleteThanks for your eminently literary way of reading my stories.
Quite a treat!
ReplyDeleteThank you.
Delete