Skip to main content

Guru


Fiction

Guru had been sitting in meditation on the hillock for as long as he could ward off the hunger that was humming in his belly.  By the time the hunger became a fire in the belly, Guru had reached enlightenment.

“It was about four and a half hours that I sat there in deep meditation,” Guru declared to the devotees who had assembled at his ashram by the time he had finished his meal.  Perverts and antinationals spread the rumour that Guru’s chelas had paid in hard cash to bring in so many people as devotees.  They were the days when the Prime Minister had shoved all hard cash into the trash bin with one 8 pm television address to the nation.

“Up to that moment,” Guru went on, “that moment of my enlightenment, I always thought that this is me and that is somebody else or something else.  At that moment, however, I did not know which is me and which is somebody else or something else.  Suddenly, what was me was all over the place.  The very rock on which I was sitting, the oxygen I breathed, the very ecosystem around me, I had just exploded into everything.”

Perverts and antinationals said that the guy’s business had gone bust and his wife’s father had refused to pay more dowry.  So he exploded. 

The explosion was a Big Bang.  It gave birth to a whole universe with Guru at the centre.  Planets and satellites formed soon and started revolving round Guru. 

Miracles occurred once in a while.  The greatest miracle was the Mahasamadhi of Guru’s wife, Kalyani. 

“On the 13th of next month,” Guru prophesied, “when three planets will form a cluster centred on the 13th degree of Aquarius, joined by the Sun with the Full Moon opposite them all, Kalyani will achieve her Mahasamadhi.  It is the most auspicious day for Mahasamadhi.  The great sages of the past chose this day for their Samadhi....”

Perverts and antinationals spread the rumour that Guru had murdered his wife. 

The devotees beat their drums.  The drum beats resounded above all other noises.  The drum beats became the music of the spheres in the ashram.  The music enticed.  The music bewitched.  Guru claimed that he was the music. 

The heavens were pleased.  They poured down showers through the holes in the ozone layer. 


PS. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anybody else or anything else is a figment of the reader’s imagination.


Comments

  1. The guru created ozone layer through those hard cash, shouted the pervs and the anti nationals!?

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Ghost of a Banyan Tree

  Image from here Fiction Jaichander Varma could not sleep. It was past midnight and the world outside Jaichander Varma’s room was fairly quiet because he lived sufficiently far away from the city. Though that entailed a tedious journey to his work and back, Mr Varma was happy with his residence because it afforded him the luxury of peaceful and pure air. The city is good, no doubt. Especially after Mr Modi became the Prime Minister, the city was the best place with so much vikas. ‘Where’s vikas?’ Someone asked Mr Varma once. Mr Varma was offended. ‘You’re a bloody antinational mussalman who should be living in Pakistan ya kabristan,’ Mr Varma told him bluntly. Mr Varma was a proud Indian which means he was a Hindu Brahmin. He believed that all others – that is, non-Brahmins – should go to their respective countries of belonging. All Muslims should go to Pakistan and Christians to Rome (or is it Italy? Whatever. Get out of Bharat Mata, that’s all.) The lower caste Hindus co...

Tanishq and the Patriots

Patriots are a queer lot. You don’t know what all things can make them pick up the gun. Only one thing is certain apparently: the gun for anything. When the neighbouring country behaves like a hoard of bandicoots digging into our national borders, we will naturally take up the gun. But nowadays we choose to redraw certain lines on the map and then proclaim that not an inch of land has been lost. On the other hand, when a jewellery company brings out an ad promoting harmony between the majority and the minority populations, our patriots take up the gun. And shoot down the ad. Those who promote communal harmony are traitors in India today. The sacred duty of the genuine Indian patriot is to hate certain communities, rape their women, plunder their land, deny them education and other fundamental rights and basic requirements. Tanishq withdrew the ad that sought to promote communal harmony. The patriot’s gun won. Aapka Bharat Mahan. In the novel Black Hole which I’m writing there is...

Romance in Utopia

Book Review Title: My Haven Author: Ruchi Chandra Verma Pages: 161 T his little novel is a surfeit of sugar and honey. All the characters that matter are young employees of an IT firm in Bengaluru. One of them, Pihu, 23 years and all too sweet and soft, falls in love with her senior colleague, Aditya. The love is sweetly reciprocated too. The colleagues are all happy, furthermore. No jealousy, no rivalry, nothing that disturbs the utopian equilibrium that the author has created in the novel. What would love be like in a utopia? First of all, there would be no fear or insecurity. No fear of betrayal, jealousy, heartbreak… Emotional security is an essential part of any utopia. There would be complete trust between partners, without the need for games or power struggles. Every relationship would be built on deep understanding, where partners complement each other perfectly. Miscommunication and misunderstanding would be rare or non-existent, as people would have heightened emo...

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

The Circus called Politics

Illustration by ChatGPT I have/had many students whose parents are teachers in schools run or aided by the government. These teachers don’t send their own children to their own schools where education is free. They send their children to private schools like the one where I’ve been working. They pay huge fees to teach their children in schools where teachers are paid half of or less than their salaries. This is one of the many ironies about the Kerala society. An article in yesterday’s The Hindu [ A deeper meaning of declining school enrolment ] takes an insightful look at some of the glaring social issues in Kerala’s educational system. One such issue is the rapidly declining student enrolment in government and aided schools in the state. The private schools in the state, on the other hand, are getting more students. People don’t want to send their children to the schools run by the government systems. The chief reason is that the medium of instruction is Malayalam. The second ...