Second Helping

Swami Dharyanand was a disciple of Mahatma Gandhi in the sense that he allowed that all religions had their good points although he and his disciples believed that there was no proof of the existence of God or soul and there was neither reason nor need to believe in Him; and even if God existed, was too busy saving His creation from the ravages of human overpopulation to pay any attention to the individuals of the humble station like him and his disciples.

Swami had a small temple next to his sanctuary for atheists. In accordance with the Gandhian philosophy, the temple had the features of all major religions including atheism. It had a dome for the roof with four minarets like a mosque, a pulpit and pews inside like a church and the marble images like a Hindu temple but of atheist saints like Darwin, Huxley, Hitchens and Dawkins. His followers observed Sabbath, listened to a rousing sermon on Sunday, discussed various aspects of life without religious dogma on Tuesdays. On Fridays Swami and any of the disciples who had any energy left prayed to the saints to give them some of their neurons. Every twelfth Sunday there was the unholy communion in which Swami gave a digestive biscuit and a half-full glass, some ungrateful recipients thought it was half-empty, of port of old vintage to strengthen their belief in lack of belief in traditional religions.

One architectural feature of the temple was its many pillars. The pillars were made of pure Italian marble inlaid with precious stones and gold in the style of Taj Mahal. The pillars were gifted by the former Maharaja of Manypoor before he converted to a conventional religion, no one knows which one. Maharani, however, was still a disciple and appeared every Sunday for the sermon. This Sunday was the communion day; a row of sparkling wine glasses adorned a side table, a glowing red bulbous decanter with a glass stopper sat on a raised stand in the centre. A large basket of digestives covered with cellophane to keep out the dust and the spit of the excited speaker on the pulpit could be seen from the front pews..

The congregation was starting to get restive. It was fifteen minutes after the time the service was due to start, yet there was no indication that the Swami was about to begin. There was a sigh of relief when the hall filled with the sound of organ that had been recently donated by the Maharani out of the funds she received from her divorce settlement. Every one present turned around to admire the Maharani as she walked down the aisle. As usual, she was dressed just right for a middle-aged woman; a Kirmani black pant suit, her face lightly touched by make up and long grey hair twined like a thick rope hanging behind her head. A young boy who couldn’t be more than six years old, walked alongside her on the left holding her bejeweled hand.

Maharani took her seat on the front pew, the boy sat huddled next to her. The service could now begin. After some preliminaries from the assistant swami, Swami Dharyanand stood up facing the congregation. He wore a long saffron cotton robe, his grey beard and longish hair neatly combed and three lines of sandalwood paste shone on his dark brown forehead. His attire was the only sign of his years as a Hindu priest so long ago before he saw the light. He coughed gently, as was his custom, before speaking, welcomed the devotees and asked the young boy to stand and be introduced. The congregation learnt that he was Jaydeep, the only grandson of Maharani. Preliminaries taken care of, he gave a rousing sermon, walking across the pulpit, occasionally fixing particular members of the congregation with his steady gaze, telling them how atheists had a particular responsibility to live a clean life and to eschew what religions would call sin. He mentioned that if they needed an example of how to live their lives, they were fortunate to have one in Maharani. The applause continued till the Maharani stood up to acknowledge it.

After the sermon blue ceramic bowls were passed around for collection. Devotees did not need to be urged to be generous; they were well aware of the needs of their Swami. When the bowl was making its away, young and old, men and women heartily sang an ode to evolution and the scientific spirit which had freed them from the bonds of conventional religions.

When the bowls were presented to the swami, a smile of satisfaction crossed his face as his experienced eyes estimated the amount of collection. He decided that he could be generous in the dispensation of the unholy communion. To begin the ceremony, he picked up an earthen lamp with a wick floating in virgin olive oil and lighted it. He took the lamp to the four images, mumbled what some may confuse with a prayer but was merely an expression of gratitude for their teaching, deftly circled each image with the lamp without spilling the oil on his spotless clothes and then circled the decanter of port speaking loudly so that the farthest member of congregation could hear, “Saints, share some of your excess neurons with those who partake in this unholy communion made to resemble your favourite after-dinner repast.” He then led two assistants, one carrying a tray of glasses and the other the basket of digestives down the steps to the Maharani. Maharani daintily picked a glass from the tray and a digestive from the basket and the Swami poured the port more liberally than he would have on most days. Little Jaydeep followed his grandmother’s example. After the swami had blessed – nay wished them well, Maharani took a bite and a sip. Jaydeep, however, was too young to observe such niceties. Two quick bites made short work of the digestive; one big swallow emptied the glass. He raised his crumbly hand and pulled on the tunic. The whole congregation heard what to any young person would be a perfectly reasonable query, “Grammie, can I have a second helping?”