Religious hypocrisy

It was a Sunday morning and everybody was supposed to be in a lazy mood. On the contrary, the situation at my home looked quite different. My home was abuzz with activity. The women amidst all this flurry of activity appeared more eager and enthusiastic. Nobody deemed it appropriate to inform about the hustle and bustle. But I could no more stifle my curiosity and blurted out, “what is happening? Will anyone tell me?”

Before I could continue with my assumptions, my mother broke her silence and told me with a smiling face that it was turning out to be a very sacred and special day for us. Our Guruji was arriving at our home to bless us, added my grandmother with a visible spark in her eyes.

“Our Guruji”, I exclaimed, testing out the phrase with some discomfort. Perhaps, my family was well-aware of my religious beliefs, which was why they were initially hesitant to tell me what the fuss was about. By noon, when the whole house was gleaming, “our Guruji” arrived along with a coterie of his disciples. They were presented with a ceremonial welcome. Infused with reverence, my devout grandmother asked Guruji his preferences for lunch, ‘His Holiness’ ordered, “Cook whatever you wish, we are saintly people not slave to the pleasures of the palate. But make sure that no impure woman cooks the meals.” Decoding the 'divine command,' my grandmother withdrew with a bowed head.

Unable to interpret the message for a while, I was bemused over the definition of a 'pure' woman. According to me, all women were pure, unlike the vampish characters of daily soaps, they live in harmony with their family members. But soon I understood that by purity this phoney Baba was referring to was the otherwise normal menstrual cycle.

Unable to contain myself I told him that the white sheet that was rolled on the bed was by the maid who might be menstruating. And the raw vegetables that were used to cook lunch were also bought from a female vegetable hawker, whose 'purity' no one bothered to confirm. “A cup of hot milk which you have just gulped down is also delivered by a milkmaid whose monthly cycle the family has not kept any record”, I told the Guru. Before I could quote a few more instances of such sort, the irate hypocrite left our home in a huff followed by his stooges.