Chase Baker and the God Boy: (A Chase Baker Thriller Series Book No. 3) Read Free

God.” It’s a question.
    “The reincarnation of the Hindu God,
Brahma, in fact. What this means is, Rajesh has gone from causing shame to his
family and village to being revered by all who lay their eyes upon him. For
this reason, I’ve had to deal with a very new and very different concern over
keeping him away from public gatherings. Until recently that is, when his
existence could be shielded no longer.”
    I steal another glance at the picture.
“He doesn’t seem entirely unhappy.”
    “Indeed, he is famous now. And
wealthy, for Indian standards. Even your New York Times and USA Today has picked up on Rajesh’s story. Wherever he goes, he attracts huge crowds of
worshippers. Many people come from miles around to receive just a quick glimpse
of him. The hungry come to be fed. The sad come to be happy again. The sick and
the infirmed come to be healed. He lays one or more of his hands on them, and
they experience something out of this world.”
    “But, of course, it’s just an
illusion,” I say. “Mind over matter. He’s not really a God. He just plays one on
TV, right?”
    He nods. “Under normal
circumstances, I might agree with you. After all, I was educated in the states…at
Harvard, and I am in possession of multiple psychology-related degrees, as I
mentioned. We have little room for hocus pocus, religion, or mysticism in my
working world. It is a field pertaining to the nuances and chemical reactions
inside the greatest mystery known to mankind…the human brain.” He pauses to
take a breath. “But something is different with Rajesh. His condition is not
just physical, Mr. Baker. It is, let’s say, out of this world.”
    “You saved my life, Doc, and now
you’ve my attention.”
    He lifts up his tea again. This
time when he does, his hand is trembling as if in his revealing the sacred
truth about Rajesh, he has bared his very soul. He sets the cup down without
drinking.
    He says, “Rajesh has indeed healed
people, Mr. Baker. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. He has healed the infirmed,
made the blind see again. He has even…” His voice trails off as if what he’s
about to say is too painful for words. Or too unbelievable maybe.
    “Go on,” I say.
    He stares into his tea for a while.
Until he raises his head, peers into my eyes with his big brown eyes.
    “With his touch, he has given new
life to the dead,” he says.
    My mind races with the
possibilities. I’ve been to India. With my dad when we were sandhogs for some
of the archeologists working along the northern border with Nepal. I know
first-hand that India is a land of reincarnation. Where death is celebrated as
much as life. I’ve witnessed men and women who are transported to what will be
the site of their burial by fire along the banks of the Ganges days, sometimes
weeks, before their hearts cease to beat. This is not a callous or even morbid
act. It is instead a celebration. People do not die in that vast, congested
land, so much as they are reborn. Flesh and blood dies and burns. Souls live
on.
    But I’ve never before heard of a
child, regardless of how many limbs he was born with or how much he mimics the legendary
appearance of Brahma or Kali, raising someone from the dead. That act was
reserved for one historical man and one man only.
    Jesus of Nazareth.
    It’s precisely how I put it to Dr. Iqbal
Lamba Singh.
    “You are correct about that,” he
says. “But did you know that evidence exists of Jesus’s travels in Nepal and India?
Between his twenty-fifth and thirtieth year, there is a strong possibility that
he studied with the Jainists, became indoctrinated in their belief system, and
at the same time, became a master of Indian mysticism. Something he applied with
great success and also great tragedy to his ministry once back in Jerusalem.”
    “If that’s true, then Jesus did not
raise Lazarus, or even himself, because of his connection to a Hebrew God. He
acted on