Rai babu caught hold of me the day the temple was to be inaugurated.
“You must come with me to the inauguration. Babaji himself will be coming”, He said reverentially.
“You know me Rai babu. I am not into all this,” I said
“Oh come now! It may bring you back to faith.” Rai babu insisted.
***
That evening we were right in front of the big iron gate of the temple across the main road.
It was crowded to say the least.
The devotees, the curious and a few like me had been waiting for hours for the temple gate to be opened. More so for a glimpse of the mystical Babaji…It was said that the temple was his divine vision. The shivalinga placed inside was said to have been carried by him straight from the Himalayas.
Needless to say, Babaji’s disciples ran into thousands
My calf muscles had started to hurt. Before the cramps set in I pleaded with Rai babu to let me go.
“God only knows when your Babaji will give darshan.”
But Rai babu was adamant. He had this staunch belief that one look at Babaji and I would be completely transformed.
An hour later as I was about to make an impatient exit (to Rai babu’s chagrin), a sleek, shining Honda City glided to a halt in front of the humungous crowd. The car doors opened to first let out the well-armed body guards and then the tall, lanky figure of the Babaji in saffron.
He folded both arms in a gesture of pranaam to the crowd and perhaps to the deity residing inside the gate. I thought it was more to the crowd.
“Not less than a neta,” I scoffed.
In response Rai babu pushed me forward so that I was almost face to face with Babaji. I stared at his long bushy beard and shoulder length dark hair. A thick vermillion tika bifurcated his forehead in two equal halves.
Babaji had a smile on his lips which reminded me of a happy, well fed cat. His eyes were closed.
“Jai Babaji ki jai!!!” The joyous cries of the crowd filled the air.
Babaji opened his eyes slowly and took a step forward. As he did so his eyes fell on me. And then……he froze.
Just a few seconds then he was escorted inside by his Security.
Was it my imagination? Or I saw fear in his eyes. For an infinitesimal moment. But it was there unmistakably so…
***
The ceremony was hour long. The madness of devotion was also strong.
I feared a stampede at any moment and advised Rai babu to leave before it became too dangerous.
As we were pushing our way out I received a pat on my back. One of Babaji’s guards.
“Babaji aapse milna chaahte hain.”
Babaji wants to see you.
I frowned, “Why?”
But Rai babu was jumping in delight by my side expecting some miracle to happen. He nudged me…pushed me…and was about to drag me inside when I thought it wise to follow the guard.
***
I thought it would be inside the temple but the guard took me to another room at the back where Babaji seemed to be waiting for me alone. The guard left us.
Babaji got up from the chair and came forward. One tug and his bushy beard was out. He was smiling broadly.
“Babuji pehchaana?”
Do you recognise me, Babuji?
“Ram Prasad!” I exclaimed.
Our erstwhile Office peon.
“What are you doing here? What is all this?” I asked in surprise.
“Kya karen Babuji! Papi pet ka sawaal hai!!”
“What to do Babuji. It’s a matter of survival. When they threw me out of the job without prior notice I was in hand to mouth condition. I had little children, Babuji. Three daughters and one son. I tried to find work but no luck. After running from pillar to post this was the only vocation that was left for me. It paid. It was safe.”
Ram Prasad confided that it was a matter of chance that he had come across his guru, needless to say, another one of his type, jobless-turned-into-baba. He took Ram Prasad in his fold, trained him for years and then handed over the gaddi or the “seat” to him.
“Par aap kisiko batana nahin, Babuji. Nahin to kiye karaaye pe pani fir jaayega”
But please don’t tell this to anyone, Babuji. Otherwise all my efforts will be nullified.
I nodded.
He took my hands in his, bowed and was gone, beard in place.
I stood there for a long time.
Thinking…
Of course! I wouldn’t tell anyone..
As long as it brought food to the table for his family.
Breach of faith….?
Probably, yes.
***
This is again based on a true story recounted by one of my cousins with a lot of spicy humour.
I remember the miniscule hanumanji temple at the corner of the gole chakkar (roundabout) where we used to wait for our school bus.
My cousin, almost everyday passed by, in fact rushed by, swinging a brief case dangerously in air, invariably late for office.
It was here that he met his out-of-job former chaprasi (office joy) who opted for ‘babahood’ and later narrated the anecdote humorously to us.
His contention was that the holiness of the temple had devolved in the presence of the bogus priest but to me it was another story of desperation for survival.
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