The recent events in Hisar, where his followers were willing to die for their ‘deity’ Satguru Rampal, highlight our strange fascination for Babas.

In his 1992 bestseller No Full Stops in India, Mark Tully narrates a captivating tale of Babas, gullible women and superstitious rural India.

In his story, a follower of a popular Baba takes her bahu to him because of the bride’s inability to conceive and produce an heir. The omnipotent Baba promises to solve her delicate problem and asks her to bring the bride to his ashram. When the bahu arrives, the Baba makes her fall asleep in his private chamber. Nine months after the bleary-eyed bahu wakes up, a family heir is born. The grateful family stays indebted forever to the Baba for his chamatkar.

The recent events in Hisar, where his followers were willing to die for their ‘deity’ Satguru Rampal, highlight our strange fascination for Babas and their ashrams. But we are enamored of them not just because they perform ‘miracles’ and keep many family lineages alive. Here are some more reasons behind the popularity of fake Babas and their dark dens:

One: They hint at free sex: Acharya ‘Osho’ Rajneesh was a delightful speaker, an erudite scholar and a thought-provoking philosopher, but for the lay man he meant something else. Osho’s most famous treatise was titled 'Sambhog Se Samadhi ki Or', and the controversial philosopher was himself revered as ‘Sex Guru’ and many luscious rumours of lustful soirees were part of his legend. With so much to lure a bhakt, no wonder people queued up outside his ashram.

Satsang and religious discourse may be the underlying themes of communions at many Indian ashrams, but the hint of free sex has always been a part of their lore. Asaram, for instance, is in the jail because he, his son and many of his acolytes were linked to many sexcapades; not so long ago a Swami Nithyanand sadhu was in the news when videos of his amorous encounters with an actress went viral.

This is not to argue that all Babas turn their ashrams into destinations for illicit liaisons, but the evidence against many of these ‘saints’ is overwhelming.

Two: They facilitate business deals. Many of these ‘godmen’ work as middlemen for their followers. Chandraswami, a self-proclaimed tantric, was rumoured to have links with arms dealers like Adnan Khashogi and many of his clients. Asaram was rumored to have invested the black money of many his clients. But not everybody gets to become an international broker or a repository of slush money. Most of the Babas work at the district or town level, facilitating deals between their followers.

Once a Baba acquires influential followers, he starts acting as the head of his bhakt family. Match making, intervening in disputes, seeking favours, brokering business deals become part of his life. This works like a religious ponzi scheme: an obliged bhakt returns the favour and the list keeps growing.

Three: Politicians patronize them. Babas have vote banks written on them. So politicians trip over their dhotis in a bid to chase them and influence their followers. Today Asaram is in jail, but if he were to hold an exhibition of his photographs with influential politicians, many of our top leaders would be embarrassed. PV Narsimharao was quite blasé about his relation with Chandraswami, the BJP has openly hobnobbed with the likes of Ramdev and Gurmeet Ram Rahim, controversial leader of Dera Sachcha Sauda.

What is the message that goes out? In India, power is synonymous with politicians. When the all-powerful netas are seen kow-towing to self-proclaimed godmen, gullible, impressionable Indians begin to fawn at a Baba’s feet.

Four: They lure women with song and dance. Pankaj Udhas once famously sang ‘Mohe aaye na jag se laaj, main itna zor se naachi aaj.’ He might have just returned from an ashram. Every ashram thrives on mid-noon and early-morning satsangs, where a lot of singing and dancing takes place. Now, principally, there is nothing wrong with singing or dancing at religious gatherings; they have been part of our culture. But the Babas use them to entice women in rural areas and towns out of their homes.

A shrink would be able to tell us more but it is evident that for women in small towns and villages of India, the singing and dancing is a welcome escape from their dreary, dull life, from where they are not allowed to escape except for religious functions. Babas understand this completely. So they turn their satsangs into events packed with a lot of fun and festivity, where some piffle on religion and spirituality is also read out. No wonder, most of their followers are women.

Five: Most of us are incurable idiots. Every year some Baba or the other goes to jail. Many more are exposed to be frauds and fakes. But our enchantment with saffron robes, flowing beards, and vermillion-stained foreheads never ends. For us, these are indelible symbols of the holy and the sacred.

Like the women in Mark Tully’s story, perhaps only a Baba can cure us of our inability to conceive a simple thought: All that's saffron is not sacred.