Friday, 13 May 2011

Thought Detonation #7 - Fakers in Saffron

Today I was a little worried you know. It was nearly 1 in afternoon and I wasn’t able to find something to write about. I don’t want to break my consistency so soon. One article a day is going so fantastic and people are loving me and sharing my work. So basically I was desperately searching for something to write about since my consciences don’t allow me to just forward second hand content. That very moment, “God” came to rescue me. How? Just find out yourself as I turn my encounter with those ‘two fakers in saffron’ into a short story…

…And the door bell ringed. I lifted my face to see the clock in front and shouted, “Nothing today. You can go”. I started reading again, but suddenly realized that the garbage collector had already come earlier. So actually I had treated some guest with the hospitality of the garbage collector of our locality. I jumped from my chair with an “oops” and ran to the main door. I opened the door and saw two men dressed in dhoti and kurta of saffron color. One of them was tall, dark, dirty, and skinny; and looked like bark of a neem tree. His brown-half-broken-and-other-half-about-to-break teeth gave me an impression that he had been punched hard in face. His eyes were yellow and watery; and his neck dipped down in his shoulders like he had no neck. Overall he looked no sage, he looked more of a beaten up street fool. The other one was short, fair and had a decent mid 30’s physique. He was clean and wore a constant smile, apart from his saffron clothes. Basically I was in front of two rouges who were pretending to be sages. The clean guy was the ‘master-mind’ and the stinky was aide. I had a thought of chasing them away but since there was nobody home, I wanted to take a chance, and have some fun.

I called them inside and asked the clean guy to make himself comfortable on sofa as I showed a wooden chair to stinky. I am cleverer rogue fools. The clean guy sat down comfortably and moved his bums a couple of times before finally coming to rest. Hah, I knew that. He was sitting on a sofa for the first time. Damn I am so clever. Holmes? It makes me laugh now, but getting back to the scene. Stinky said to me, “Arrival of a saint *points upwards* God’s signal. A miracle happen now. Bring my lord water. *Shows me his pointing finger* One glass enough,” I was startled by his broken-English-confidence. I joined my hands in pretence and said, “Ji Guruji”. I went into my kitchen and brought two glasses of water. I wasn’t scared of them lifting something from the guest room and running away. My ‘pretended foolishness’ had made them expect something even better. I was quiet convinced that they had no weapon and even more convinced that they could not outsmart me. I brought them two glasses of water from the kitchen. The clean guy saw me coming and stopped murmuring to stinky. He smiled at me as he picked up the glass of water from the tray I held with both my hands. I also returned the fake smile he threw at me. He said to me, “Such a decent young lad, your parents might be proud of you. Where are they?” I rammed him by saying that they both worked and were at their workplaces. Starting with a few general questions while he cooled himself in my AC cooled room, he started his tricks. He told me in a grave tone, “You know, there in nothing a sage owns, a true sage never needs anything of his own. The ground below is his bed as the skies above is his shelter. Look at me son. Even the kurta I wear was gifted to me by my follower. This is world you see, a person never dies of hunger here. God is above to feed him. He sends farishtas(angles) in form of young men like you, who take up the responsibility to keep the thoughts of sages like me alive. I have thousands of followers, they gift me money, jewels, land and I don’t know what more; but I neglect all that.” Phaww…Too much of play old man. I was just standing there pretending to be mesmerized by his talks, while my soul rolled on floor laughing. He continued, “I have never asked a lal paisa (penny) from anyone. I am on my journey to shidri on my foot. I don’t take train or any other transport. The life of a sage is all about sacrifice. We lay above all the filthy pleasures of this universe. I didn’t marry, but I have thousands of children. Each of them follows my preaching, inculcates my teachings in his life and moves towards the prime goal of life, as we all must.” Man…Unlike stinky this dude has some cool wordplay and nice language. “When I was young”, I let him continue, “I knew this unreal world won’t fetch me anything. So I went on my way to find the ultimate goal of every life, to reach within myself. That is the place where all gods stay and all demons can be slain. The power to rule this whole universe and destiny remains within us. Fools are those people who run for the outer knowledge. My preaching is all about inner feelings and inner wisdom. The feelings of life are million fold. They cannot be tackled just by reading a few books or ‘reading’ internet.” Sh*t….sh*t….He was giving me Goosebumps now. I stood there shocked while his aide joined hands in front of his master. What was happening to me? WTF I mean? I knew he was fake. His ‘preaching’ was by hearted and his aide was hired by him just to support his ‘character’ in case the listener did not. I knew his tricks. I knew he was here just to get a few bucks out of me. I knew he was dumb. He would never go to shidri, I knew he didn’t have a single follower. But accidently he had said something that stuck my mind. The feelings are too manifold 
indeed. Generally we are just happy, or sad, or low; but how do we describe the feeling of an athlete, who wears his old shoes again, after recovering from a fractured leg. Or how would an obese teen on diet feel when she slips back in her old jeans? How shanti would have felt after getting back her beauty, and what about her father. How I had felt when I found out that red cosco ball. This crapman’s words detonated a new thought in my mind, something about complex feelings. Something inspiring, not just happy, or sad, but something which was there to stay. It looked as if I had moved up a step. I, then, knew what complex emotions would mean. It is like being lost somewhere in Thar dessert, left only with one sip of water, when you have to decide if it’s you, or your fiancée, who will be having a sip. I was getting carried away by my thoughts and was readily feeling it, complex emotions. I had a thought now, I desperately wanted to pen it down.  

“There was nothing I wanted from you as well, only if my kamandal(stoup) wasn’t lost. This great sage has never spread his hands in front of anybody except god, but today I you beg you to gift me one kamandal. Just one kamandal, of bronze, not of steel, of bronze.”
 I slightly lifted the table cloth beside me, lost in “my” thoughts, and handed over 500 bucks to stinky which were kept beneath it. As soon as he got the money, the master mind lifted his bums from the sofa and hurried to the door saying, “Bless you my son. I will donate some money to the temple trust in shidri by your name.” 

He was out of sight within seconds. He had reaped what he wanted and I got what I needed. This was the character of my new story – “Fakers in saffron” The emotions of life are complex indeed. They can make you give away 500 bucks to a faker and in fact, detonate thoughts.

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