“ITS time to charge yourself!” So, ungrammatically, the shiny wrappers of Lov Charger cream wafers declare. It is not just the peppy slogan and a pretty price (two rupees, or around three American cents) that make the biscuits sell. Their maker is a firm called MSG, letters that stand not for a flavour enhancer but—take your pick—either for Messenger of God or for the initials of the three gurus who have led Dera Sacha Sauda, a north Indian sect, since its founding in 1948. MSG and MSG2 are also the names of two films that star the sect’s current leader as a brawny, sequin-studded superhero who swats down goons and gangsters like flies while bursting into such lyrics as “I am so lucky because/You are my love charger.”

The talented writer of that song is none other than Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh Insan, the star himself (pictured, above). Mr Singh is far from the first religious leader in India to make money or a spectacle of himself. But his self-promotion via Bollywood-style films, music, gatherings like rock concerts and, since February, a line of some 150 consumer products, marks an important change. Mr Singh is one of a new, more sophisticated crop of godmen, as India’s press calls the country’s proliferation of spiritual entrepreneurs. They are seeking corporate-style synergies between religious messaging, personal celebrity, commercial success and political influence.

An early mover is Ramdev, a teacher of yoga whose television lessons are credited with popularising the discipline among India’s fast-growing middle class. Ten years ago he launched a range of “ayurvedic” drugs and beauty products. More recently Ramdev’s brands have expanded aggressively into foods and detergents, competing directly with big multinationals. When India last year slapped a ban on instant noodles produced by Nestlé, a global food giant, after a health inspection raised alarms, Ramdev quickly stepped in with a version of his own. His next venture is a line of yoga sportswear that he says will be made from khadi, the homespun cotton that became an emblem of India’s independence movement.

Advertising for the godman’s brands is not subtle. A recent newspaper spot suggests that most competing hair oil is “carcinogenic for every human being and may cause cancer”. Fine print urges customers to buy Indian so as to realise Mahatma Gandhi’s dream of self-reliance. Another product, a medicinal herb said to promote fertility, has stirred controversy. Some say its ancient name, which means “son’s life seed”, hints unethically at particular effectiveness in spawning male offspring.

Nor are Ramdev’s promotion campaigns small affairs. During one week in January his Patanjali brand was the top spender in Indian television advertising, beating such consumer giants as Unilever and Cadbury with a blitz of 17,000 showings. Annual sales have reportedly doubled in the past year, to nearly $750m. Such success clearly buys clout, too. Patanjali’s factory complex was recently granted protection by a crack anti-terrorist police unit. The only other private facilities in India with such a privilege are strategic installations such as oil refineries, steel mills and internet hubs.

Another of India’s god-magnates and a purveyor of traditional medicines is Sri Sri Ravi Shankar. He wields huge influence through his Art of Living foundation, a worldwide meditation franchise. When he decided to hold what is being billed as the world’s biggest arts fair on the banks of the Yamuna river, which flows through Delhi, a score of government agencies chose to overlook the fact that the river’s flood plain, a vital catchment area for drinking water, is meant to be protected from any encroachment. The prime minister, Narendra Modi, will even appear on a seven-acre stage along with the world’s biggest orchestra. Even the Indian army has chipped in, erecting a pair of pontoon bridges to carry what Art of Living says will be 3.5m visitors across the Yamuna.

Environmentalists have made a fuss, and India’s figurehead president has called off his planned visit. Delhi’s police, not known for their delicacy, declared it dangerous for big crowds to gather by a river that is inky black, infested with mosquitoes and reeks of sewage. But after much fluster and a hasty investigation, the authorities decided that the show, which runs from March 11th to 13th, must go on.