For God's Sake !

Two days before Ram Navami , my kitchen was in furiously multitasking mode to meet a domestic deadline . Beans getting nuked in the microwave . Rasam agitating on the Induction cooktop. Semi Soaked urad dal in dharna inside the mixie . And I , hyperventilating in repressed anxiety over a pot of milk that was just sitting pretty on the gas burner, cool and collected , like a yogi refusing to react to the panchagnis. I watched the pot and it never boiled, thanks to Einstein.


It struck me then how spoilt I have become . After discovering superquick fireless cooking, gas fire seems almost neanderthal . Abominable slow motion. Had I put that milkpot on my heated-up head, it might have come to a boil quicker.....anyway, that being the execrable state of affairs, the last thing I wanted was a posse of donation seekers ringing my bell.


Ding dong !


'When you really want something, the whole universe will conspire to make it happen' . When you really want something not to happen, the whole universe will conspire to make it happen anyway. Paulo Coelho's Cosmic Genie aparently does not distinguish between the 'first thing you want 'and the 'last thing you want' . So , Wisher Beware !


Anyway, this posse of four youngmen , armed with receipt books, pamphlets and huge ingratiating smiles marched upto to my door and rang an insistent bell . Inspite of the smudgy vertical tikkaa on their foreheads , oily hair and talcum powder smell, they were all typical hinterland maratha machos in jeans. Handsome, moustached and twinkle eyed. It wasnt necessary to ask who they were. It was written all over them . On their yellow scarves and kurtas : Orange red "Jai Sri Ram"in devanagari script. They wore their Faith on their sleeve , as armbands with a picture of Ram in neon colours. Not the effeminately graceful Ravi Varma brand Ram with a MonaLisa smile, but a grim, square jawed muscular warrior with flying hair, weilding his WMD bow with belligerent intent.


" Jai Sri Ram, Aunty " said the Forefronter in endearingly accented English. " Please participate in our club's pandal ."
'How does one " participate " in a temporary structure, short of morphing into a casurina pole ?' I wondered in the background mind, even as my primary mind shrank away from a fat blue receiptbook that materialised in line of direct vision .
" No donations , sorry " I said , hand ready on the doorhandle.
(Implied meaning : " Be gone ,boys. I am busy" )


They looked at each other and then at me in a theatrical gesture that made me worry if I had ,by slip of tongue, practised my new German language lessons on them.
" But Aunty, its for our RamNavami celebrations ! Dont refuse chance for punya, Aunty " (implied meaning : " Refusing to donate for a Religious cause at your age ! What kind of worm are you ? ")


" Look , brothers , I am not that keen on joining Birthday Parties . "
( implied meaning : "No sale , bye kiddos !")


" Its for the honour of our street , Aunty. During last Ganpati, the Second Block people got the Best Pandal prize, this time we have to win. "
" Who has instituted such prizes ? Never heard of it......and since when did Sri Ram start demanding a Pandal for his Birthday ? "
(implied meaning : " Using God's name to loot people ! Goons! " )


Again, a round of looking at each other and then at me. This time I dint suspect myself of any language gaffes, but suspected that they found my identity suspect.


The portly fellow on the left cleared his throat and asked hesitently " Aunty, You are Reddy-ji's auntie only ,no ? "
" No, I am not my husband's aunt. But , if you are asking whether I am Mrs.Reddy at all, yes, I assure you , I am the lady of this house and fully empowered to take decisions on allotment of donations, voluntary or involuntary, towards birthday bashes of any celebrity..... Now, I have work to do. If you will please...."
(Implied meaning : the same . except , the unsaid ending : ' take a hike, you pests. ")


" But Aunty, this is for God ! " proclaimed Pest -In -The -Foreground , a shade too vehemently. " If we are not united in our Religion, We will lose out to Them . "
" We must be Unity, Auntie ! " declared Pest -On -The -Left , full of zeal. " if we dont keep our ancient traditions, our full Culture only will collapse ! "


My mixie was caking up with halfground urad dal. The beans ,probably getting over scalded ,losing colour. And here they start a socio-political debate without Barkha Dutt.
I was about to blow my top, when this whispered exchange between Pest No.2 and Pest No. 4 assaulted my ears making them prickle . My ears I mean.
" Naastik lagti. Nai ? "
" Intarr -casht bhi hogi , kya pata "
Instead of blowing my top, I burst out laughing. Much to the alarm of the frustrated foursome.


" No, Son. Mr. Reddy dint marry out of his caste, community, species or religion. I am as much a Hindu as you are, even without that mile-long tikka. I believe in a God who is not defined by calender prints and TV serials. I commune with God the way I want to. Wasting good money on useless pandals, loud speakers and unhygenic peda- prasads in no way upholds our traditions or saves our culture from collapsing. You have no right to demand that I prove my allegience to our religion with identifiable demonstrations of piety like putting on certain costumes, certain body art and doing what you or a majority deem is a proof : Shrines, rituals, chants. If , in your perception, I am a Nastik, so be it. "


I dint say any of this. Instead, implying all this, I merely shook my head left to right , right to left vigourously and shut the door.


I heard them leaving , more angry than disappointed. They did not care to lower their voices as they trooped away.
"Saudi Arabia mey toh , they will put in jail this kind Atheist people as "Terrorist" . We people toh too much weak hain ."
" Upper- klass Sudo- sekular kahin ki ! "
" Nai re. Just kanjoosi ! "