‘He was about five feet five, ash-covered face, a long bronze trident in his hand, seated on a tiger skin, hundreds of prayer beads around his neck, piercings in both his ears, long brown or black dreadlocks gathered into a topknot, he was periodically suspended one foot above the ground, stark naked,’ said the Scotsman, pleased with his attention to detail. Three days later, eighteen men stood inside the dark grey cell of the police station.

‘Identify him, sir. We’ll give him a good thrashing.’ The tourists declined. As a last resort, the babas met and decided it was time to form a union. First, they would get rid of the outsiders. Then they would set up a system of monitoring known only to those at the top of the hierarchy. The popular areas and the festivals would be ticketed, and the revenues would be shared in an appropriate manner. Newspaper reporters would require prior permission. The union disbanded before it could hold its first quarterly meeting. Haridwar wasn’t the only Mecca. New places were springing up alongside the Ganga. A trans-Ganga union required building a number of bridges, across temple lines, across gotras, across castes, across sampradayas, across sangathans, across pilgrimage sites, across even religions and the only bridge that seemed feasible was a ropeway for the solitary traveller who would otherwise have to wade through the river on foot.

~

‘Please ask again,’ said the translator.

‘Let me repeat. Question one: why are there more clove-eaters in Mahim than in Colaba or Fort?’

The swami shook his head from left to right a few times, a gesture that conveyed little information.

‘Question two: why don’t people add mint in their paan?’ the officer asked.

The swami remained unmoved.

‘Why not mint-flavoured paan?’

‘The Vedas do not permit the simultaneous consumption of mint and paan,’ replied the disciple, exercising his free will.

The swami glared at him. The disciple was not reduced to a pile of ash.

‘Question three: why do the old consume paan with areca nut shavings and the young with areca nut pieces?’

‘Ah, that’s easy. They have no teeth.’ This time the disciple did not look at the swami.

‘Oh!’ the officer slapped his palm on his forehead. How could I have missed this?

‘Chewing paan is a health and sanitation hazard. If there was a product that was hygienic, did not leave red stains, did not compel you to spit often, would you buy it?’

‘What product?’

‘We’re working on it. Will you buy it?’

‘Why not paan? I see, you haven’t tried it.’

‘Do unko (Offer it to them),’ the swami said to the translator, thrusting a whole paan into his own mouth. Young refused. The officer refused as well. For the next five minutes, only the translator appeared to understand the swami’s garbled words.

‘What if there is no paan. Instead—’ the officer tried again.

‘Are you trying to make paan illegal?’