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The holy man stood motionless in the center of the market. He was a pelican at rest in a tidal estuary. The thronging crowd seemed to form around him, never brushing or otherwise molesting him in any way, although the crowd was boisterous. Now and again a bird would come to perch on his straight brown shoulders. He would remain unchanged, like a statue of Vishnu reclining on a serpent. He was erect, although the appearance of calm was such that he appeared as the Pervader. Not a sound emanated from his lips, though a man would think he was possessed of the most profound speech. And not a quiver of movement emanated from his body, though a man would think he was the most graceful Cheetal Deer. As Vaishnavas view their deity, so does the passerby view our holy man. He was naked, and his lithe, bronze body was unadorned, save for a string. One end of this string was tied around a large rock. The rest of the string was wound around his penis, which was long as the hair of Shiva, and utterly flaccid. To defeat the impure thought, one must first disable the agent of impure acts, he repeated to himself silently. “Great Brahmin,” stammered a little boy over the crowd, who had summoned the courage to speak after watching the holy man for some time. “How does one reach such a state of purity? Shall I too tie a rock to my penis, and thus avoid the increments of reincarnation?” After an eternity, the holy man looked down at the dark skinned boy, and finally spoke. “Get your own fucking trick you goddamned Dalit.”

Date Written: January 28, 2006
Author: William Asp
Average Vote: 3.66667