Fiction When Ram Kumar hurried through breakfast and got ready to go out on Sunday, Mandira knew where he would be going. Nevertheless she asked, “Shivam and Shivangi have a lot of homework. Projects and FA assignments. They need help.” “You help them; I have duty at Bhagwan’s gate.” Bhagwan was a godman who gave darsan every weekend to devotees. Thousands of devotees would come seeking the godman’s blessings. They would squat on the ground in an enormous hall and listen to Bhagwan’s speech. And then they would render some voluntary service like cleaning up, cooking or serving the meals to the devotees or doing the dishes. Ram Kumar always opted to render his services at the gate. Frisking the devotees to make sure that they were not carrying any mobile phones or cameras or intoxicants. The job gave him a strange sense of power. “Jai Bhagwan!” he returned the greeting of each devotee with due solemnity. I have so much work to do, mumbled Mandira to hersel
Cerebrate and Celebrate