MR EDWARD Teo is a bit shy. When he speaks, his voice is soft, and his arms hang quietly by the side.
Bashfulness, however, is not a good look for a real estate agent; so twice a month, the 42-year-old visits a temple in Geylang for a boost of confidence.
There, the abbot gives his blessing — by putting on Mr Teo's head the hollow figure-head of Papulla, a green-faced warrior known among Thai Buddhists as the Devil-King’s son.
"It helps me feel bolder," said Mr Teo.
It was the same answer I received from other devotees, when I visited the Zheng Zhong Xin Fo Guang temple in Lorong 34 Geylang last week.
Many, like Mr Teo and manager Vincent Sim, 42, believe that the abbot’s blessings have helped them at work. "I'm more confident about my business decisions," Mr Sim told me.
Another, Mr Max Cheng, 38, who recently became a believer, agreed: "Since coming to this temple, I have had a lot more faith in myself."
The mythical powers of Papulla have been in high demand in recent months, said the temple’s abbot, Venerable "Thousand-Headed" Pu Da.
Hundreds turn up to be blessed by him on the first and 15th every Lunar month. Most, he said, have taken a beating from the recession; many worry about keeping their jobs, or making ends meet.
Venerable Pu Da believes that by donning on the fearsome Papulla, his devotees will be conferred the deity's supernatural courage.
According to him, there are over 80,000 different deities, each for a particular purpose: One bestows good health; another helps you make friends easily; there's even one to get your spouse back if he or she cheats on you.
Though unpopular in Singapore, he added, the heads and their use in religious blessings are a fixture in Thailand's Buddhist culture, which incorporates elements of Hinduism.
To learn more about them, I called Venerable Phraku Sophon Buddhikun, first vice-president of the Thai Sangha Samatca, a council of monks who governs Singapore's 26 Thai Buddhist temples, who explained their origin:
"These deities are not actually part of the original Buddhist canon," he said. "They are representations of Brahminical lore, and closer to the Hindu faith."
At the temple, I stood transfixed watching the unusual ritual of placing what essentially looks like the decapitated crown of an animal on Mr Teo's head.
After he was done, the abbot asked if I wanted to be blessed, too, but I said no, thank you.
I declined as I was working, but more because I was skeptical. I reasoned that the deities' alleged powers were bogus, and its effects psychological.
But later I thought: Who was I to judge? To the faithful, it worked – the temple has been supported by its devotees for more than 20 years now.
They shared with the abbot a familial relationship; many devotees I interviewed have followed him for decades, and spoke of him like a father.
So I'm thinking I may have a go at it, maybe the next time I pop by Geylang.
In economic times as topsy-turvy as today, even the non-faithful can use a bit of encouragement – no matter how shy, skeptical, or un-Papulla.