There was a new sadhu in town and he could verifiably grant wishes. And this wasn’t heard from a friend of a friend or the daughter of the brother of an aunt by marriage.

He had committed miracles that had been seen by hundreds, like the fruition of a languishing business, the reconciliation of two hitherto hateful brothers, the spontaneous curing of a cancer. For a fee of a mere 20 bucks, you could attend a mass healing.

The sadhu would go into a trance and would then run around the stage naked. You had to run around in place imitating the angles he took, and he would help you exercise the poison out. The city thronged to him.

A few weeks later, the businessman was jailed for unethical practices, one of the brothers killed the other, and the woman cured of cancer died of an extra-long sneezing fit.

The police would’ve liked to question the sadhu, but, having infected the city, he had changed his face and left.