Except for another, smaller bronze statue of the Dancing Shiva, poised on a silver-inlaid table. I also noticed that his own flowing hair seemed to match that of the bronze figure.
Yes, I thought, I was right. That's who he thinks he is. And he has complete power over the people around him. How many chances do you get to do a documentary about somebody like this? I should have brought a Betacam for some video.
He studied my test records as a jeweler might examine a diamond, his serious eyes boring in as he flipped through the pages. The rest of his face, however, betrayed no particular interest. I finally felt compelled to break the awkward silence.
"As you can see, I've had every test known to science. And none of them found anything wrong."
He just nodded, saying nothing, and kept on reading.
After a long, awkward silence, I decided to try and open things up a bit.
"Tell me, do you have any children of your own?"
The question seemed to be one he didn't get asked too often, because he stopped cold.
"All those who come here are my children," he replied, putting aside my records, dismissively finished with them.
"Well"—I pointed to them—"what do you think?"