Oliver Benjamin
“Yes, it certainly is, but stupid rituals make religion a hell of a lot
more fun. How else could Buddhism compete with trimming the
Christmas tree and spinning dredelsand Ramadan and all that silly
nonsense that everybody else wastes their time with? So what if you
have to put the message in their mouths my telling them its a choo-
choo coming around the mountain? They won’t give a shit if you just
tell them that it’s good for them.”
“I see.”
“Anyway, it gives me an excuse to talk to girls about
underpants.” He stood up. “Hey, let’s see if we can find your friend
the bulldozer and go pay a visit to the Raja.”
The ashram was only a short, three-block stroll away. After being
ushered into the main office to fill out a few papers, we were
interviewed by one of the staff in a room that looked surprisingly like
my childhood dentist’s, complete with blue carpets and sterile white
counters. The most obvious difference was that there was a giant
painting of the Omniraja affixed to one wall. His face looked vaguely
familiar, like one of those people who occasionally appear in articles
that you never read in obscure magazines that you never buy. The
eyes of the Omniraja gave off a radiance of endless compassion, but
this was offset by a grin that seemed as if it was hiding something
fierce behind its shockingly white tombstone teeth—like maybe a
loaded, .44-caliber tongue. The whole image became softened,
however, by an almost endless expanse of grey hair—cascading down
his forehead, twirling and twisting from his brows, pouring in two
broad streams from his nostrils, and all ultimately joining together to
produce a niagara of follicles gushing towards his substantial belly.
He looked like a very wise Indian sheepdog.
“What is your reason for visiting the Omniraja Ashram
International?” asked the young woman seated behind the desk.
“Spiritual continuing education,” answered Oscar.
“Me too.” I said.
“I want to get a tan by the pool,” Joe responded.
She looked at us warmly and said, “Well, you’ll be happy to
know that there’s no wrong reason for coming to see the Omniraja.
So if you return tomorrow with HIV-negative test results from the
local hospital, we’ll get you started on a spiritual training program.
Are there any questions?
“Yes,” said Oscar. “Why is he called Omniraja?”
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