I am a godman

     

I am a godman, listen you one and all,

Bend and bow, lest from my graces, you fall.

Am a God’s true messenger, His blessings on you I shall shower,

Touch my feet and worship me well: both with money and flower.

No doubt I was born poor, indigent, weak and hungry,

But now I am a ‘Miracle Baba’ as known to all and sundry:

A spiritual guru in my own rights and of a world-renown,

With wealth, power and mass following in almost every town.

To my guru - now no more - I am ever so grateful, for helping me make the grade,

Who taught me some useful mantras and clever tricks of this wonderful trade.

People adore me, worship me and sing hymns in my glory and name,

Mantris, santries and big babus seek my blessings for health, wealth and fame.

For me it is a just a sleight of hand after long practice– a conjuror’s trick,

To roll out a gold ring or a watch tucked behind my sleeve- with just a wrist’s flick.

But for the gullible, Baba-crazy world, it is a miracle good and true,

Suits me fine as it draws men and women of every shade and hue.

To the sonless couples and swooning women I offer the gift of holy ash,

Costs me nothing (being a bonfire residue) but earns me bagfuls of rich cash.

My word is holy and my diktat final and binding for the foolishly faithful,

A mantra whispering god incarnate I am to the paying bhaktas ever so grateful.

But being after all human, when carnal lust does haul me over passion’s hot ambers,

Easily, as lord Krishna’s avatar, I handpick eager gopis to be lead to my inner chambers.

But (curse befall them!)  the media’s shameless  eye upon us of late, fills me with much dread,

In Kaliyuga, though God’s very own, still with caution this path of (sinful) bliss I need to tread.

Thus our credibility and (feigned) powers for miracles suffer due to media’s sharp tooth and claw,

Besides being exposed to the prospect of long term jail under the cruel instruments of law.

Shall, I wonder, in such tragic way my wealth, name and fame, glory all be gone?

Or will some gullible politician in power usher me back into the good old dawn?

The present election winds though do rekindle in me a flicker of heart-warming hope,

My sagging fortunes may turn with the enthronement of a good new Baba-bhakt Pope.

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