The Godman and His Disciple

Shreya was there among them, dressed in the same attire. Except for her hair, which was untied, and was long enough to cover her bare back. The saffron mundu began at her waist, hiding her navel, and ended a little past her knees. There was only a little space between her blouse and the beginnings of her mundu. Also, the blouse seemed to be tied tightly behind her. The material was long enough that she had wrapped it three times around her chest to make it thicker and to conceal the poke of her nipples. Her breasts looked squashed, and the flesh of it spread out from her blouse and hung in folds. But no cleavage was visible, and among Guruappa's many female disciples, she seemed the most dignified.

All the disciples had assembled before their Guru's hut. Lanterns formed a huge semi-circle, inside which they stood waiting for the godman. There was no teeming restlessness in them. No murmuring or gossiping as they waited. Shreya was getting uncomfortable too. But that could be because of what she was wearing, or what the others were wearing. It looked like a great orgy was about to take place.

Ashwin unfortunately had not lied about the naked part. Guruappa stepped out of his hut, his penis dangling as he walked. The only cloth he was wearing was a turban, which must have been a way to hide his baldness, although he did have long salt-and-pepper hair streaming out from the sides of the turban. Because of his hairiness, his nakedness was not that obvious. It almost looked like he was wearing a bear suit. Shreya's eyes lingered on his flaccid penis.

And so, the offering began. There wasn't much to it. The disciples chanted and sometimes sang in some strange language. Guruappa joined his hands together and held them to his chest. Shreya seemed confused as to what to do. She saw the others swaying their bodies and was content with doing the same.

Ashwin watched Shreya from afar. He was forbidden from taking part in offerings due to his tendency to grope women. But he would still watch them, and then later in the night, he would ejaculate into his bedsheets. Shreya swayed her ravishing hips left and right. Her mundu was taut around her buttocks region, and at a sideways angle, they bulged like she had stuck rolls of cotton in there. I am going to cum so much tonight, thought Ashwin.

The offering lasted for almost an hour. The graceful movements that Shreya made didn't last long. Halfway into the offering, she was getting tired, and shifting from one foot to the other intermittently. Now she stood covered in sweat, as did every other person there, including the godman who glistened like a black diamond.

Next was the hugging ceremony. Men and women formed a line, and one after the other they hugged the godman and left for their huts to rest their weary bones. It was a tiresome thing, this offering business. And it's not just the legs, one's throat also becomes sore from all the singing.

Just like Ashwin had said, the godman's penis did not even twitch no matter how many men or women he hugged. The man truly seemed to be devoid of sexual desires. Shreya's turn came. There was a reluctance in her walk. It was not proper for a married woman to hug another man, never mind a naked one. The godman hugged her tight for a span of two seconds. His manhood pressed against her belly and reached down past her crotch. When he released her, Shreya turned away immediately, and walked in the direction of her hut. The collective gasp of all the disciples present stopped her. She turned around. All eyes were on the same thing. The godman's erect penis.

Guruappa was not to be seen in the days that followed. The disciples said that he was undergoing a severe penance, in an effort to try and restore his purity. He was to eat no food for the next five days, and only one cup of water per day. It was a punishment that he had measured out for himself. According to Ambili, the disciple who brought the godman his daily cup of water, he was seated cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed, and for the past two days, he hadn't moved a muscle.

Only then did Shreya understand the importance of the whole hugging ceremony. Already some of Guruappa's disciples were losing their faith in him, doing everything but calling him a fraud outright, and threatening to leave the ashram if he did not prove his godliness to them after the end of the penance period. Another group of disciples, mostly women, believed this was Shreya's fault. She was a witch sent here by the evil forces of the world to corrupt their beloved guru.

"So he's never gotten an erection before?" Shreya asked Ambili on the third day, as they were hanging their clothes to dry on tree branches.

"No. Never. He has no sexual thoughts whatsoever. That's the source of his power."

"Maybe he was just born that way. Without sexual desires."

"Ah. But he does have desires," said Meenu, a woman who was quite open about her lack of faith in Guruappa. "We saw it yesterday, did we not?" she said, looking at Shreya. The object of the godman's desires.

"That wasn't desire," said Ambili, angrily. "That must be like one of those morning things. Men are hard when they wake in the morning. It is the same for the guru. I have seen his morning erections before when I go to his hut with his tea. Last night was something like that. Not desire."

"If it wasn't desire, then why is he undergoing penance?" Meenu asked.

"Because he knows that people like you will doubt him."

Meenu left with a sniff of disapproval. Ambili continued advocating for Guruappa as they walked back to the ashram. "Don't listen to anything that Meenu says. She is a fickle person." When she saw that Shreya did not respond, she went a step further and provided evidence of her guru's powers. "He cured my mother's cancer."

"He did what?"

Ambili smiled and nodded at her, satisfied with her reaction. "That's why I became his disciple. I was like you once. Came here to save my loved one."

"And you didn't leave?"

"No. I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life."

"And how exactly did he save your mother? Are you sure that she was sick?"

"You think I'm some kind of idiot who doesn't know when someone is sick?" Shreya sniggered, at which Ambili dug her in the side with her elbow. "My mother was really sick. She looked like a skeleton of her former self. Our guru saved her. We performed the offering of life."

"Yes. I've heard something like that. What is it exactly?" Ambili was blushing. "Well, what is it? This... offering of life."

"The guru beds you."

"He does what?" Shreya couldn't believe what she had just heard. It was like an affirmation of all her fears. This is a sex cult then, she thought.

"It's not what you think. I mean... it is... but that's how his powers work. I thought he was deceiving me at first too, but he wasn't. He is strongest when he is... inside a woman. He is...."

"Would you stop it already. I can't believe this." Shreya held her head. "I thought you said he was free from all desires."

"He is free from desires. That's why the sex works. It's more of a spiritual act when you're doing it with him. You'll see."

"Trust me, Ambili. I will not see."

xxx

Two weeks passed. Still no sign of the godman. He had extended his penance indefinitely. His disciples had divided into different factions, each faction vying to make their leader the godman's successor. There were debates and offerings, and pretty soon there were talks of a test to be held, to prove which of these leaders was truly free from all desires. As all of this happened, the godman's hut remained the only constant in that ashram, immutable like the sky or the wind.

Guruappa's supporters were led by Ashwin. He would come to check up on her a few times a day, say a few consoling words, ogle at her breasts, and console her some more, always trying to bring her in for a hug. "Whatever happens, just know that I'm here for you," he would say, looking into her eyes like a lover.

These people really take all of this nonsense seriously, Shreya thought to herself as she heard some of the disciples discuss ways to conduct an offering to increase the crop yield of a farmer from the neighboring village. He had come to them asking for help. Meenu's faction offered their help. Other factions were busy with their own projects: helping a couple become pregnant, removing the bad luck from a local merchant's life, helping a man find a mate, and so on. Maybe it is not all nonsense.

It was getting close to midday, but there was no way of knowing that for sure under the leaden sky. Ambili had said something that made her laugh. Shreya laughed till her belly hurt as tiny needles of rain splattered into nothing against her wheatish skin. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ashwin making a beeline for them, his mobile phone in his hand and puddles splashing in the wake of his fast feet. Even before he spoke, Shreya knew the dark news he was bringing. A disciple had been sent to Chattakood to monitor Unni's situation. The disciple was also given a mobile phone to make contact with them. There were no phones in Chattakood.

"It's serious now. The boy won't even open his eyes," Ashwin said, panting.

Shreya got to her feet. It looked like she was going to run to her son and then later realized that Chattakood was so far away. On the verge of tears, her lips started trembling. Ambili wrapped an arm around her, and she burrowed her head into her chest and wept

"You have to go to him, friend," said Ambili, caressing her head like a mother. "Only he can save your son."

Shreya found the godman sitting huddled in a corner of the hut. He was not cross-legged anymore, but sat with his legs drawn up to his chest. Guruappa looked at her despondently. The large and confident presence of his was reduced to a sad, shriveled, mess. Days without sustenance can do that to a man. And it was also the first she had seen him without a turban. White hair sprouted out in all directions from the bald, brown circle on his head.

Before Shreya could say anything, he said, "I heard about your child, Shreya. But sorry, I just cannot help you."

"What? Why not? You promised me," the tears that she had somehow bottled up came pouring out again. "Unni is the only reason I'm here. You brought me here saying that..."

"I know what I said, Shreya," his voice broke as he spoke. "But look at me. I'm weak. My powers have weakened. It is even possible that I don't have them anymore."

"You can still try. How can you be sure that you don't have powers anymore."

"You don't know me, Shreya. But I've not always been a... god. I was a different man once. A bad man. I buried the bad part of me long ago. But I fear that the devil can't change his ways. Anyway, I am in no position to conduct any prayers. It works only if my disciples have faith in me. They have lost faith. I cannot do anything to help your child. I'm sorry."

There was a sureness and a finality in his words. She knelt on the floor, weeping. There was no hope left for her son in this world. Everyone had abandoned him. The village doctors could not help him; no one knew the whereabouts of her brother, who had gone searching for a doctor; and now even the godman had thrown in the towel.

Then she remembered the thing Ambili had told her some time ago.

"But what if I have faith in you? Won't that faith be enough? If I open myself to you..."

A half smile curved on the godman's defeated face. "You're talking about the offering of life, aren't you? We don't generally market that aspect of my powers. It would give people the opportunity to call us a sex cult."

"But it will work, won't it?"

"It is reserved for when all things fail. That is true. But there are two components to it. The faith of the masses, and the faith of the individual I'm helping. If the former isn't strong then having just the latter would not help."

"But it is still worth a try. Some of the disciples still have faith in you."

The godman sighed, but it sounded dry, like it hurt him to speak. "I don't know about this, Shreya. I don't think I'm strong enough to engage in that act."

Shreya crawled closer to him, her knees crushing the old coconut leaves that carpeted the floor. Now that her mind was clearer, she noticed the stench in the room. The stench of piss and shit. And it grew stronger the closer she got to the godman. He is broken indeed.

"You will do this for me," she said to him, looking into his sunken eyes, though they looked more human now. "Pull your act together and get some food in you. This could solve both our problems. My son will live and your disciples will believe in you again."

The news of the scheduled offering of life spread, and when evening came, the disciples assembled before the godman's hut. Some factions were absent, for they were busy with their humanitarian efforts and trumpeting their chosen leaders as the next Guruappa. It truly was a make or break situation for the godman.

They were in the godman's hut, Shreya and eight other disciples, all women. They were rubbing Shreya's arms and face with sandalwood paste, to rid her of the desires of the flesh. Orange sunlight leaked into the hut from the million pores in the thatching, like demonic eyes that came here to applaud her infidelity. But she must not think so, Shreya remembered. This is not a physical thing that they were about to do. It's spiritual, just like Ambili said... with a slight blush.

Rose petals were scattered on the white bedsheet, already stained yellow by the clumps of sandalwood that fell off of her. The floor was matted with fresh coconut leaves, giving the room the dew-covered fragrance of a forest after rain. Shreya wore a saffron blouse and a saffron mundu that stopped at her knees. A bell rang outside, announcing that the godman was ready.

Guruappa wore a robe that looked like it was made from choir bags. His cheeks were fuller but still hollow. His eyes were less sunken but unsure of himself. As one disciple closed the door, another came forward with a tray containing flowers and incense and moved it in a smoky circle before him. A blessing. All part of the ritual. Outside, the beating of the drums began, setting a mood of urgency and anticipation.

The tray was taken away, and a disciple untied the knot that held the godman's robe in place. Shreya gasped as she feasted her eyes on Guruappa's manhood for the second time. It was swollen, with veins popping out, but not yet hard. Seeing her must not be enough, a vexed Shreya thought.

"Are you ready, Shreya?" the godman asked. Shreya looked up at his face, blinking a hundred times. She had stared at his junk for too long. Only now did she see the sandalwood paste on Guruappa's hairy chest. Some of it had gotten onto his long beard. His turban was back in place, the only piece of cloth on him as his naked self approached the bed.

"I'm ready, guru."

The guru stopped at the edge of the bed. Two of the disciples knelt on either side and began stroking his manhood one at a time. Shreya was aghast at the scene that was happening right in front of her. Oh, Lord. What have I gotten myself into? She slinked away towards the end of the bed, nose crinkled and forehead creased.

"Do not worry, child," said Guruappa. "This is just to get my member fully erect." Even as he spoke, the woman started licking and sucking his member. "It is difficult for me, you see. As I am free from all desires."

"Guru," it was one of his kneeling disciples. "It is already up."

"It's strange," the other disciple said. "It never becomes that hard that fast."

There was a brief intermission where nothing was said. The unspoken truth hung in the room, whispering in their ears. The guru is no longer free from human desires.

He had that glow in his eyes again as he stared at her body. He unashamedly watched a bead of sweat run down her neck, swerve past the bulge of her breast, down her cleavage, and into her wet blouse. The blouse that hid the bulbous treasures he coveted. Shit. I've already failed, thought Guruappa.

"Should I proceed?" he asked an embarrassed, and uncomfortable Shreya.

"Okay."

Outside, the beat of the drums became louder, and people sang in that unknown language. The godman climbed on the bed, and Shreya spread her legs as the disciples had instructed her. This was not sex. There is no foreplay, no pleasure, no satisfaction to be gained or given. This was the offering of life.

Guruappa's hands trembled as he set them on Shreya's knees, spreading her wider. He was not supposed to look down there, but how he wanted to.

Closing his eyes, he put his manhood under her mundu, positioning it at the damp opening of her cunt. He could tell that she was very bushy down there. It felt like her wiry hair was pulling his cock into her. This is the heaven that I've been wanting for so long. And now I have it. All wet and hairy.

Guruappa pushed his tip inside her. Shreya gripped the bed sheets firmly, and her stomach tightened. It was a tight fit, and he leaned forward and placed his hands on the bed for more leverage, and pushed his manhood all the way in one hard thrust. A tiny cry escaped the beautiful Shreya's lips as her body moved up on the bed, her sandalwood-colored face looking at him, her mouth clenched like she was trying not to scream.

Perhaps he should have been more considerate and eased his way in. The walls of her cunt were pressing against his manhood, trying to push him out like he was an invader. This feels heavenly. Guruappa closed his eyes and looked sideways, reprimanding himself for thinking such things. This is not sex. This is a ceremony. If I don't get my mind right, then this won't work.

She exhaled in relief when the godman took his dick out. It was too big for comfort. Being penetrated by him reminded her of her first time. Maybe even slightly more painful. The godman leaned forward again, and this time he only pushed it halfway in.

The disciples were waiting for them to get comfortable with each other. They watched their guru's buttocks clenching and relaxing every time he thrust his dick inside Shreya. She still seemed to be struggling to accommodate his girth. Wincing and grimacing with every thrust of his.

Rose petals fell on them, distracting Shreya from the pain of intercourse. The eight disciples now stood around the bed with burning incense sticks and plates full of rose petals, chanting hymns and re-affirming their faith in their guru. "It is time, guru," one of them said. "Use your powers."

The godman was looking right into Shreya's eyes, still dicking her. "Do you believe in me, my child?"

"Yes, I do, guru."

"Good." He increased his pace, and he thrust a little deeper, though not completely balls deep inside her. Guruappa closed his eyes and was saying something in that ancient language, the words sometimes lost in his frantic panting. As if on cue, the tempo of the drums outside changed, and so did the songs and the hymns. Everything became fast-paced, and everyone in the room started to fall into a trance of religious fervor, worshipping the man who was fucking her.

In those briefest of moments, Shreya forgot why she was doing this in the first place. She began to take in everything that was happening around her. The people watching her fuck and showering her with rose petals. The determined face of the godman crowned by a turban as he went up and down above her, his beard tickling her belly. The juices that were flowing out of her pleasure hole and the sweet wet sounds of a cock tearing through her cunt. "Oooooh," she moaned. "Oh, my guru."

Guruappa opened his eyes with a jolt like he got a shock from stepping on an exposed wire. Whatever it was, it made him thrust all of his length inside her. "Aaaahhh," Shreya held onto his hands. His all-white eyes frightened her so much that she looked away. A deep throbbing emanated from the godman's body. He resembled a cobra at that moment. He was facing the ceiling with his upper body raised, and his lower body was flat on the ground. The waves of a climax passed through his body and his black manhood pumped his seed inside his disciple.