The Guru

“Good evening. Tonight we meet Guru Kaun...”

“Please. You must use my full name.”

“Alright, forgive me if I mispronounce it. Guru Wobble Butt...”

“No, no, no. It is Guru Woh Bol Bahut Laykin Laghana Thora Kaun.”

“May I just call you ‘Guru’?”

“Please.”

“Thank you. Now, Guru, your recently published biography makes some amazing claims. Would you like to back them up?”

“By all means.”

“You were born in Jaipur?”

“Yes.”

“Ah yes. I know Jaipur very well. The Pink City, with the Jal Mahal, the Lakshmi-Narayan Temple and the Amber Fort. I lived in the Sindhi Colony for some time, you know. Where exactly in Jaipur were you born?”

“The bedroom just above the kitchen.”

“I’m sorry? I don’t understand.”

“My father owned a restaurant in Peckham. I was born in the apartment just over it.”

“So, not in India?”

“No. Peckham.”

“You weren’t born Wobble Butt…”

“Woh Bol Bahut Laykin Laghana Thora Kaun. No. I was given that name after I attained enlightenment.”

“What was your name when you were born?”

“Neville G. Cooper.”

“What did the G stand for?”

“Arthur.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes. The G is silent.”

“I see. Now, your book says that you are an Astral Traveller?”

“Yes. A very good car.”

“Sorry?”

“The Vauxhall Astra. Very good.”

“And what is this about walking between the stars?”

“Ah yes. I have not done that for many years.”

“Would you like to tell us about it?”

“I learned to walk between the stars when I was in the United States. I was taught by a wise man called John Glenn.”

“John Glenn the Astronaut?”

“No, John Glenn the USPS Letter Carrier. He delivered the mail in Beverley Hills. Many stars there.”

“How did you become a Guru?”

“It was in May 1978. I achieved enlightenment and ascended into the heavens. Then I found myself in the scented garden of the wise woman. I told her of everything I had seen. That is when she gave me my new name.”

“You levitated?”

“Certainly.”

“How did you do that?”

“I sat in the Lotus Position on a bamboo mat, repeated my mantra, emptied my mind, and rose up into the air.”

“What was that mantra?”

“Cut the cords.”

“Can you demonstrate this levitation to us here?”

“I would need a hot air balloon.”

“Tell me how you met the wise woman.”

“As I say, I found myself in her scented garden. I was dazed by my experience. She called to me and we talked for hours. It was then she gave me my new name and bestowed upon me the title of Guru.”

“How did you know she was a wise woman?”

“By the deep spiritual questions she asked.”

“Such as?”

“Who do you think you are? Why did you crash your balloon in my greenhouse? Who is going to pay for the damage?”

“And she called you Guru?”

“Yes, although I did not immediately understand her accent. It sounded more like Gerrout.”

“What actually do you do as a Guru?”

“Each day I go to my chambers. When people seek my guidance, they are ushered into my presence. There I listen to their stories, their appeals for help. I do what I can with the powers that I have. Sometimes it is enough.”

“And how do you help them?”

“I offer them a loan. Low interest, easy terms, six months for first repayment.”

“So, you aren’t a Guru, are you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are, in fact, a bank manager.”

“OK, guv’nor. It’s a fair cop. I’ll go quietly.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, that was Neville Cooper, bank manager.”

“Psst! Want a mortgage?”

“Gerrout!”