Narratives

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.