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Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth. 

Daily Journal

It was raining cats and dogs today. Did a lot of traveling on my scooter in the rain. Was able to soak into the cool breeze that serenaded my cheeks like a waltz. Getting wet in the rain was a feeling of being poetic as Jazz. Had to run around a lot to get my daughter’s certificates done. Visited a government office today to get my daughter’s community certificate. Government officials, oh my—have laid-back casual approach. There are computers on their tables but their approach is slow and lethargic. I laid the application form on the table. The official was simply gossiping for hours to someone. Their approach to providing efficient service somehow shows symptoms of laziness, indolence and sheer disregard. At last after waiting for hours I got the form done. This kind of attitude is typical in government offices in India.


Today was a fast grind. Ran about like a hare getting documentations ready for my daughter to join Medical School. Thought a lot about literature while I was traveling. I am fond of Asemic writing but I don’t have a calligraphic pen. In fact my signature is one of Asemic writing. It’s a pictorial hieroglyphic. The weather today was sunny and bright and smiling. Till yesterday it was raining mad. I am so fond of Kerala’s monsoon. To see birds drenched in the rain is a poetic lullaby. I am feeling much happier with myself. I stopped reading astrology columns. They make the wind go wayward and anxious. I live for the day contented with myself. I miss my son who is admitted in an autistic boarding school. God, I miss him so much. I am always thinking of bringing him back. Yes, I m so fond of him. Started reading the Bible—the version called the message. When I think of it as literature I think the fall of man is an allegory. But then spirituality leaves the core of meaning in the heart. I am so happy that I am living in the grace period of Christianity. Grace is all I need and Grace is all I care. Am I created or did I just evolve. Sometimes in dreams I have experienced the sensation of leaving my body. I try to move but I am totally numb. Life has a meaning and it is not Sartre’s nothingness. There is no Camus Sisyphus in life. Christ makes life a precious gift. Words according to Bakthin have to attain a dialogic democracy. Today I watched dragonflies in flight. They were a vulnerable mystic poem. Beauty, delicacy and art mingled together.

Letters to Nonette

Darling Nonette, It’s been years since we have met. Loneliness without you engulfs me like a dark night. Kissing you has been a poem of flowers. The nights we made erotic and passionate love remains like a sonata in my heart. Darling, I am missing you so much. I keep the dream of meeting you in person in my heart. I admire your zeal for your profession, your dedicated commitment to youth up-liftment. You are so svelte when you hold the mike. How I remember the day when I embraced you in public and kissed you in the airport. Making love to you was an erotic poem. I cherish fondly how you thrusted your thighs when I penetrated you. A caress, a whisper, a hug that’s all I need from you. I love you so much, yours dear Anand.