Page 75 - Just Deserts

Swami Adavasi

Swami Adavasi evidently harbored no illusions about his mortality.
When a recent recruit, John A. Raleigh-Bowle, sent him a letter
proposing a fitting monument be erected in honor of the church’s
founder, the swami sent for him immediately. Raleigh-Bowle had
enclosed his résumé, as well, to impress the swami with his
credentials; unlike most of the latter’s followers, the former boasted
several academic honors, including degrees in engineering and
architecture. If such a project had previously existed in Swami
Adavasi’s mind, few knew of it; and it would never have occurred to
him to go outside Help Yourself for advice or a design competition.
His worldly knowledge was vast only in the area of base human
desires, and his aspirations had never extended beyond the need to
maintain a tight grip on his organization.
After passing through a suspicious palace guard, the young
architect was ushered at the appointed hour into a large reception hall
furnished with opulent tapestries, plush carpets and richly-brocaded
sofas and chairs. The swami, rarely seen on his feet of late, was
already seated in an overstuffed armchair. He gestured to the visitor,
indicating a smaller chair separated by a low table from his own
throne-like perch. It was the first time Raleigh-Bowle, a tall thin
bespectacled man in an acolyte’s orange jump suit, had seen the
spiritual leader up close. The man who had shouldered the onus of
processing untold millions of dollars annually was unprepossessing
from a distance of two meters. Once perhaps a chunky chubby-
cheeked cherubic little man, Swami Adavasi now looked ravaged and
deflated.
His eyes, however, were sharp as he surveyed the recruit. “You
helpin’ yourself all right?” The creed’s formulaic greeting came out
harsh and croaked.
“Oh, yes, Swami-ji, I am, indeed. And may you help yourself a
thousand times more.” Raleigh-Bowle’s voice betrayed an East Coast
educated origin, almost the antithesis of Adavasi’s.
“Yeah, okay. You look okay. What do you got for me?”
The architect opened the end of a tube he was holding and
extracted a small blueprint. He unrolled it on the table and anchored
it with small weights on the corners. “This is just a preliminary
sketch, Your Helpfulness. I have more detailed plans back in the
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