Skip to main content

Baba’s Babies


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







Comments

  1. Ahhhh more truth than fiction in this I believe.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Mukul has some pertinent questions that remain unanswered. A blend of truth and fiction.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Religion dismisses not only questions but also love :)

      Delete
  3. Religion 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'.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I 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.

      Thanks for your eminently literary way of reading my stories.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pranita a perverted genius

Bulldozer begins its work at Sawan Pranita was a perverted genius. She had Machiavelli’s brain, Octavian’s relentlessness, and Levin’s intellectual calibre. She could have worked wonders if she wanted. She could have created a beautiful world around her. She had the potential. Yet she chose to be a ruthless exterminator. She came to Sawan Public School just to kill it. A religious cult called Radha Soami Satsang Beas [RSSB] had taken over the school from its owner who had never visited the school for over 20 years. This owner, a prominent entrepreneur with a gargantuan ego, had come to the conclusion that the morality of the school’s staff was deviating from the wavelengths determined by him. Moreover, his one foot was inching towards the grave. I was also told that there were some domestic noises which were grating against his patriarchal sensibilities. One holy solution for all these was to hand over the school and its enormous campus (nearly 20 acres of land on the outskirts

Randeep the melody

Many people in this pic have made their presence in this A2Z series A phone call came from an unknown number the other day. “Is it okay to talk to you now, Sir?” The caller asked. The typical start of a conversation by an influencer. “What’s it about?” My usual response looking forward to something like: “I am so-and-so from such-and-such business firm…” And I would cut the call. But there was a surprise this time. “I am Randeep…” I recognised him instantly. His voice rang like a gentle music in my heart. Randeep was a student from the last class 12 batch of Sawan. One of my favourites. He is unforgettable. Both Maggie and I taught him at Sawan where he was a student from class 4 to 12. Nine years in a residential school create deep bonds between people, even between staff and students. Randeep was an ideal student. Good at everything yet very humble and spontaneous. He was a top sportsman and a prefect with eminent leadership. He had certain peculiar problems with academics. Ans

Queen of Religion

She looked like Queen Victoria in the latter’s youth but with a snow-white head. She was slim, fair and graceful. She always smiled but the smile had no life. Someone on the campus described it as a “plastic smile.” She was charming by physical appearance. Soon all of us on the Sawan school campus would realise how deceptive appearances were. Queen took over the administration of Sawan school on behalf of her religious cult RSSB [Radha Soami Satsang Beas]. A lot was said about RSSB in the previous post. Its godman Gurinder Singh Dhillon is now 70 years old. I don’t know whether age has mellowed his lust for land and wealth. Even at the age of 64, he was embroiled in a financial scam that led to the fall of two colossal business enterprises, Fortis Healthcare and Religare finance. That was just a couple of years after he had succeeded in making Sawan school vanish without a trace from Delhi which he did for the sake of adding the school’s twenty-odd acres of land to his existing hun

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Sanjay and other loyalists

AI-generated illustration Some people, especially those in politics, behave as if they are too great to have any contact with the ordinary folk. And they can get on with whoever comes to power on top irrespective of their ideologies and principles. Sanjay was one such person. He occupied some high places in Sawan school [see previous posts, especially P and Q ] merely because he knew how to play his cards more dexterously than ordinary politicians. Whoever came as principal, Sanjay would be there in the elite circle. He seemed to hold most people in contempt. His respect was reserved for the gentry. I belonged to the margins of Sawan society, in Sanjay’s assessment. So we hardly talked to each other. Looking back, I find it quite ludicrous to realise that Sanjay and I lived on the same campus 24x7 for a decade and a half without ever talking to each other except for official purposes.      Towards the end of our coexistence, Sawan had become a veritable hell. Power supply to the