Faith-based felon

Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh is a bemusing absurdity. His core occupation is that of a serious "godman," that unique Indian creation, but the past few years have seen him become a subject of scathing derision, principally on account of the buffoonish characters he plays in his films, with such titles as The Messenger of God, madcap ventures that he also sometimes produces, directs and composes music for. There is nothing this rotund superhero cannot do.

This rock-star posturing by those driving his cult has yielded success in the past, often masking many of Singh's transgressions, which include murder, rape, forced castrations and land grabs. In fact, if you're a journalist visiting the Dera Sacha Sauda headquarters in Sirsa, protocol requires you to visit the official spokesperson before anything else. There, you're given a protracted insight into the man's "greatness". All the dubious stuff is blatantly soft-pedalled.

Anurag Tripathi attempts to lift the lid off such heinous misdemeanours in a baldly titled new book, Dera Sacha Sauda and Gurmeet Ram Rahim: A Decade-Long Investigation . Mr Tripathi, a journalist who conducted the seemingly impossible — and treacherous — probe while with Tehelkamagazine, offers a welcome unrestrained insight into Singh's murky past, stitching together an engaging narrative. Racy, dangerous and topsyturvy, the book comes loaded with all the makings of a suspenseful Bollywood flick — just that this is, sadly, no fiction and it is highly unlikely that it will ever make for any kind of enjoyable viewing. Riffling through it, any tiny slivers of sympathy that some of us might have regrettably evinced for the man once upon a time, are sure to dissipate; its place taken by a sense of abhorrence impossible to ignore.

There are obvious reasons why the Dera has flourished for almost seven decades. Most of its followers come from Punjab, a state ravaged by caste where discrimination against Dalits is prevalent as ever. The Dera, over the years, has sheltered the community from these societal prejudices, offering a feeling of equality and security impracticable to expect from the outside world. While this doctrine of egalitarianism has always been at the core of the Dera's operations, it underwent a transformation of sorts when Singh took over as the group's chief in September 1990.

Unlike his two predecessors — Shah Satnam and founder Mastana Balochistani — Singh, obsessed with power and forging a blind, obsequious following, never showed much interest in imbibing the cult's original principles. Instead, in subsequent years, as Mr Tripathi ably explains, Singh bought vast swathes of land, normalised something as horrific as rape, built connections that invariably invited political sycophancy, and shamelessly preyed on his followers' helplessness. When he was finally convicted of rape, last year, the years of brainwashing ensured that his followers spilled out on the streets, torched public property and brought the states of Punjab and Haryana to a standstill.

With countless interviews conducted over several months and across different cities, Mr Tripathi's is a work of stellar investigative journalism, complete with anonymous letters and tip-offs. And while books of this genre habitually veer into commentary, Mr Tripathi commendably suppresses that urge and ensures that this remains a product of hardcore reporting, exhibiting a kind of journalism that is rare and so real it feels implausible at times.

Almost every page has bits that are engaging; the most captivating parts, however, are where Mr Tripathi exposes Singh's relationship with Khalistani militant Gurjant Singh Rajasthani and how he helped Singh secure his seat of power at the Dera; the emergence of Honeypreet Insaan as Singh's trusted deputy; and the efforts made by Mr Tripathi and his colleague, Ethmad A Khan, to track down Khatta Singh, the Dera chief's former personal driver.

Even as Mr Tripathi successfully obliterates the myths tagged to Singh's messiah-like image, the book makes a larger, more formidable point: Of how faith, when not tempered with a degree of realism, can result in disaster. Almost all Dera followers will have some magical feat — literally — by Singh to tell you about. Miracles, after all, are at the root of the enormous political clout and evident prosperity that Singh, despite being lodged in jail, most likely still enjoys.

How else can you explain followers buying a sack of vegetables grown on Dera land, christened "divine parsad" by Singh, for as much as ~230,000? Moreover, no amount of "sorcery" can justify the rape of hundreds of women and the castration of scores of men, the latter quite bewilderingly, having been carried out by some of the most qualified surgeons around.

As detailed journalistic works generally do, this book is no benchmark for the most sparkling writing. The narrative is sometimes tedious and trite, but that is more than made up for by the meaty and disturbing content at play. The most telling thing about the book, however, is the fact that despite the heaps of information around on Singh and his quasi-religious sect, something as expertly detailed and skillfully compiled as this was much needed.