Nicola Barker - The Cauliflower

After a long, long period of sadness and carousing and bust-ups in whorehouses, dear, darling Girish finally decided — completely of his own volition — to surrender himself, heart and soul, to Sri Ramakrishna ( parp-parp! ). He tearfully presented himself before the guru ( parp-parp! ). He was willing to submit to anything, he said. No. Seriously. This isn’t just the drink talking — anything, anything .…

“What must I do?” he demanded (on bended knee).

“Do exactly what you are doing now,” the moonfaced Sri Ramakrishana ( parp-parp! ) advised him. “Keep holding on to God with your one hand and to the world with your other.”

After a moment’s thoughtful consideration he ( parp-parp! ) then added, “And just think of God a little, if you can, in the morning and the evening.”

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Just as soon as these magical words were spoken, poor, silly, foolish Girish immediately began to doubt that it would be possible for him to observe such a high level of commitment. I mean, to think of God, each day , with such fearful regularity ? A man with his busy lifestyle?!

Sri Ramakrishna ( parp-parp! ) noted the slight element of reticence in Girish’s demeanor and so suggested, “Well, how about if you remember God when you eat and when you go to sleep?”

Again, poor, silly Girish was troubled by the thought that this was just way too much to ask of himself. He lacked self-discipline. He knew it. He was impetuous and bad and ungovernable. He liked to sing bawdy songs and pee in the street. He was a notorious potty mouth! So to be expected to remember God? God? Before eating and sleeping? Every single day?

Sri Ramakrishna ( parp-parp! ) once more detected Girish’s patent lack of enthusiasm. He ( parp-parp! ) prayed for a short while. Then he ( parp-parp! ) opened his eyes. “Very well.” He smiled ( gasp! The guru ’s teeth are all yellow and full of blackberry pips!). “If you can’t even manage that, then why not give me your power of attorney? I will be responsible for you. And if I am responsible for you, you won’t have to do anything at all!”

( Please be aware of a deep and ominous percussive sound which is growling and rumbling away in the background. It is almost inaudible to begin with, but then grows louder and louder with every passing second. NB: This growling, rumbling percussive sound will henceforth replace the clown’s horn whenever Sri Ramakrishna’s name is mentioned .)

Delightedly, even ecstatically, the foolish, foolish, foolish Girish immediately agreed to this kind offer. Sri Ramakrishna ( ominous rumbling sound ) had set him free! He now needed to do absolutely nothing — zilch! Nada! — to acquire spiritual fulfillment. Yaaaaaaay! A delighted Girish left the Master ( ominous rumbling sound ), feeling an extraordinary sense of lightness and relief.

Dum-de-dum-de-dum-de-dum! Tra-la-la-la-la! Oi!

A few days later, however, while in Sri Ramakrishna( ominous rumbling sound )’s presence, Girish perkily referred to some great scheme that he was undertaking (in the theater, perhaps) with the phrase, “I’m going to do this!”

Ta-dah!

Hardly were the words out of his mouth before Sri Ramakrishna ( ominous rumbling sound ) raised a hand and quietly interrupted him with, “If God wills it. From now on, Girish, you must add ‘if God wills it’ whenever you make such statements.”

Eh?!

Girish gazed over at him, startled.

“Remember, the guru is God, God is the guru ,” Sri Ramakrishna ( ominous rumbling sound ) smiled. “So God has your power of attorney now!!!!”

( Dreadful cacophony! Cymbals being crashed, xylophone being bashed as a large drum kit is kicked over .)

Poor, stupid, lazy Girish suddenly realized — but way too late — that he was now Sri Ramakrishna( ominous rumbling sound )’s slave ! The Master ( et cetera ) had his power of attorney! And now he would permanently be compelled to think of God all the time! At every moment! For ever and ever and ever and ever!

Girish had — through an excess of laziness and complacency — unwittingly allowed himself to become nothing more than a blank-eyed zombie, a lifeless puppet, permanently compelled to bob up and down, up and down, up and down at the Guru ’s every idle wish and whim!

( Curtain falls.

Tumultuous applause!

Curtain rises.

All participants line up to take their bows.

The actor playing Girish performs a strangely stiff and unsettling curtsy as the actor who plays Sri Ramakrishna tugs away, menacingly, at his strings.

Curtain falls.

Applause fades. Everyone charges into the foyer and mills around aimlessly. Atmosphere of nervous confusion. )

The End.

1858. The Rani and her son-in-law, Mathur, kindly employ two of Calcutta’s top female prostitutes to try and help cure Sri Ramakrishna of his deep psychological ills.

Sri Ramakrishna returns to his room after a short stroll in the flower gardens to discover two of Calcutta’s most legendarily beautiful, high-class prostitutes perched quietly upon his bed. They are happy — nay, eager — to perform his each and every bidding. Sri Ramakrishna gazes from one exquisitely attired, bejeweled, and fragranced beauty to the other, then falls to his knees, with a gasp of pure joy, and proceeds to worship them both, in tandem, as perfect embodiments of the Divine Mother.

The prostitutes run from his room in a heady profusion of jangling anklets, utter confusion, and tears.

Yogin Ma is one of Sri Ramakrishna’s most faithful women devotees.

1886, Varanasi

When she meditates

Yogin Ma’s trance is so deep

Flies nibble her eyes.

1882. A bemused and benighted widow who seems to be suffering from a strange kind of indigestion bemoans her total inability to draw away from the Master while clutching at her chest, traumatized:

“Sri Ramakrishna

Has tied a string to my heart

And keeps yanking it!”

Aaaargh!

Winter 1859, at the Dakshineswar Kali Temple (six miles north of Calcutta)

I cannot say with any certainty whether it was Mathur Baba’s physician — with all his special dietary rules and his expensive powders and unguents — that finally cured Uncle of that terrible burning sensation in his chest. But I do know that I overheard Uncle telling someone that he had been concentrating during his most intense periods of meditation in the temple on his own sin — and also on its destruction — and that during one such meditation he suddenly had a vision in which a red-eyed, black-skinned creature came reeling out of his body and staggered around as if the worse for drink. Shortly after, a second person emerged — with clear eyes and a serene appearance — wearing the ocher cloth of a monk. This second person carried a trident and he attacked the red-eyed, drunken creature with it and killed him. From this moment onward, Uncle claimed, he was freed from all his former discomforts.

I was working hard at the Kali Temple and I was worrying greatly about ape-Uncle — so much so that it is difficult for me to recall in what order these events came about. But just as the pain in Uncle’s chest disappeared, so too did ape-Uncle suddenly scamper off. When ape-Uncle left, Uncle was blessed with a great boon in the form of a vision of Sita, Rama’s divine consort. Sita is truly the embodiment of all female virtues. Her name in Sanskrit means “furrow,” because to produce bounty a field must be carefully tended and ploughed. There are very many sources to her name and her story, but Sita is greatly loved because wherever she is worshipped she always brings benevolence and fecundity. When the beautiful Goddess appeared to Uncle she told him that she was happy with his service to Rama and then entered his body, uttering the words, “I bequeath you my smile.”