DIVINE NEGOTIATOR: The Kabchi seer

"The time has come for all religions to unite. Let religion become more important than politics. Only then will politicians see the light."

The mid-afternoon deception is in the facade itself: an understated gateway to the Goddess, and, a cool hall and few descending steps and a small courtyard later, God's own redeemer. Shri Devi Kamakshi Mandir in south Delhi, with more conspicuous neighbours like Secular House and the Jawaharlal Nehru University, is, in ordinary times, the unlikeliest of destinations for the politically desperate in search of an answer. Not at this moment, for the Goddess herself is gazing benignly at the posterior of a formidable Mercedes, which almost blocks the entrance to the temple. Somewhere inside this mandir, the answer to the Unrealised Mandir is having its post-lunch seista.

So it is anticipation time inside the temple complex. "Oh, he had such a hectic schedule ... you know, from four in the morning to 12 in the night. Yesterday was really bad. How many of them! Almost all of them! Advani, Fernandes, Joshi ... This morning too ... too hectic, too hectic ... so we told him, swamiji, take a break, sleep for a while, there is another long day ahead ... wait, wait, be patient, at four he will be up..." So go the exclamations from those who are in the know. And waiting for Swami Jayendra Saraswati, the Shankaracharya of Kanchi Kamakoti Peetam, are anxious cameras, restless notepads, wrinkled oranges, yearning souls in silk saris or white dhotis. Darting across this crowd of swami-seekers are the shirtless swami-handlers who are in permanent conversation with cell phones. Swamiji, please wake up.

A door opens and divinity leaps out. For Jayendra Saraswati on the move is a brisk, barefoot passage of energy, as if, being the 68th legatee of Adi Shankara, he too has miles to go before the Vedantic boundaries of Bharat Varsha are established. For the 66-year-old Vedanti though, the mission of the moment is to bring advaita to Ayodhya, which is pretty "dualistic" now. Today, he is the peacemaker with the dandam, the sacred staff, always aloft, never threatening, and the subject of his activism is the most volatile item in the glossary of Indian politics-Ayodhya. And look how the saint as the salesman of temple salvation goes about his work: breezing in and out of so many doors to convince and cajole everyone who has a stake in the country's most disputed real estate in religion.

Hence you have this fast-shifting scenario. The Shankaracharya with Vishwa Hindu zealots. The Shankaracharya with the big bosses of the Bharatiya Janata Party. The Shankaracharya with politicians of all kind. The Shankaracharya with retired bureaucrats. The Shankaracharya with constitutional experts. Most pathbreakingly, the Shankaracharya with Muslim leaders and imams. That sight, one of the highest gurus of Hinduism-complete in saffron, sacred staff and holy ashes-sitting on the makeshift throne, actually an office chair made divine by a piece of saffron cloth, and talking Godhra, God, Ayodhya and Ahmedabad with a group of imams inside the conference room of Lal Bahadur Shastri Rashtriya Sanskrit Vidyapeeth, a corner away from the temple. Almost like Gandhi redux in religion. "I can see a pigeon atop Lal Bahadur Shastri (the statue that is)," says the head of the Vidyapeeth, Vachaspati Upadhyaya, in absolute bliss.

Does the pigeon have a point? To get an answer, one early Thursday morning you find yourself at the feet of the Shankaracharya, who has so little time and so many things to do-and there is a flight to catch, Ahmedabad is calling. Ask, he beams. You ask, but he says, "No English." "Bad Hindi," you apologise. "No problem," benevolence beams further, "Tamil, Malayalam, Sanskrit, anything will do, but I'll answer in Hindi." No problem, you nod in submission.

So is spirituality triumphing where politics has failed?

He provides a brief history of the story so far, the formula in the making, all the while looking through closed eyelids to the infinity beyond the ceiling. "The time has come for all brothers and sisters to come together for the resolution of Ayodhya. Ram and Lakshman, even though they had different mothers, lived as brothers. Just like them, all are brothers, the sons of Bharat Mata. Sugreev and Bali, despite being sons of the same mother, fell out. That should not happen again."

Happened. In Gujarat.

"There is a reaction for every action (Godhra). No religion advocates reaction to every action. But men react differently when they get angry. There is no religion in this."

Is religion let down by politics?

"It is always politics that causes anger and violence. The time has come for all religions-Hinduism, Islam and Christianity-to unite to save the country. Let religion become more important than politics. Only then will politicians see the light."

You met quite a few. Could you make them wiser?

"I think so. The media too should act to complete the work."

But all those talk about the secular versus the religious...

"When there is no religion, there can't be any secularism. That is why the very word secularism is wrong. Only religion can save the world."

And what was it that brought you to this disputed politics of Ayodhya?

"It was the call of Ramachandra."
For Jayendra Saraswati, the spiritual has never been static. It is dramatic and very this worldly. His social activism is often in conflict with the lofty aloofness of the orthodox Brahmin. There are shankaracharya watchers who believe that Jayendra Saraswati's dramatic disappearance for three weeks from Kanchipuram in 1987 was a kind of protest against puritanical pressures. A close devotee reads the seer's mind: "I can't appease everyone. I do what I think is right." Today it looks like every player in the disruptive Ramleela at Ayodhya is appeased, for Swami Jayendra Saraswati is doing what sober India thinks is right.