Waking up Lazarus
While reading the New Testament I stumbled upon on this idiom. When Lazarus died and Mary and Martha his sisters were weeping, Jesus came to the place only after three days. But when Jesus came, he went to the grave of Lazarus and miraculously brought him back to life. Waking up Lazarus as in Idiom means good and fortunate things happening in one’s life. Yes, I want to experience waking up Lazarus.
Rain an Epiphany
Crystals poured from the sky. Thunder was a deafening roar. The clouds were belly bloated. Pink Clothes streaked across the sky. Metaphors lay as puddles on the ground. The earth smelled sweet as a baby’s hair.
I got a letter from a family situated in UAE wanting a tutor of English for their child. They introduced themselves as people of French nationality. Later on I sent my resume to them. Then I had a call from UAE from a person with an Arabic accent speaking English asking me to sign the offer letter. When I opened my mail, to my chagrin they asked me service charges for my visa and tickets. And then I realized it was a hoax. It’s strange that Arabs are also involved as scammers.
Maurice Blanchot is a French philosopher and novelist. He equates the philosophy of Death to writing. What is death in writing is not clear? Every word I strike with the pen is a body being lowered into its grave. Every thought added becomes a resurrection. Another interesting thought of his is a flower in literature has meanings other then what the flower signifies. An example would: I did poetry to her and made her a flower of meanings.
Socrates died as a martyr for democracy. Socrates as an idiom means someone who dies as a martyr for a social, political or religious cause. The crucifixion of Christ was a Socrates. There are many Socrates’ existing in the world.
Jonah’s Journey to Tarshish
Jonah the Old Testament prophet was instructed by God to go to Nineveh to preach to the people there for repentance. But Jonah disobeyed God and went to Tarshish. During the journey in a ship all fury broke loose and then lots were drawn and the lots fell on Jonah. He was thrown out of the ship and a whale came and swallowed him. Jonah’s Journey to Tarshish as an idiom means disobeying the will of God. Many at a time, I have been Jonah going to Tarshish.
While looking back at Indian history, though the British made India into a colony there were some positive things they have done. One was proselytization to Christianity and then the introduction of English Language. Then they banned child marriage and Sati (a custom whereby the wife was set to the flames with the husband during the funeral). Then they passed the Widow Remarriage act another positive step towards making the fairer gender free from suffering. Then the British introduced railways and telegraphs which smashed caste distinctions to smithereens, as people of the higher caste and lower caste had to travel in the same compartment. British Colonialism was not all that bad.
I had a dream of wearing my own shoes. The dream dictionary symbolizes it as a start of a new beginning. It could also mean traveling. ‘Oh’, how I much I dream of traveling to exotic places like Bali. I hope I can be lucky to be blessed this 2020 by God Jehovah Jesus.
Jericho is the land to be possessed by the Israelites after their sojourn in the Wilderness of 40 long years. It was occupied by another group of people who were enemies of Israel. God told the people of Israel to walk around the walls of Jericho seven times and they did and the walls fell down. As an Idiom, the Walls of Jericho is good luck and fortune after a long period of trials and tribulations. Lord Jehovah Jesus: place make this year 2020 a Wall of Jericho for me.
Rahab the Harlot
Israel sent two spies to Jericho to learn about their fortification. The whore Rahab hid them in her house and later let them down on a rope from the Wall of Jericho. Rahab as an Idiom means being a friend to someone who is an enemy. The Iranian Nuclear scientist was a Rahab for Israel.
The flourish of the pen—what a phantasmagoria. The pen is semen scattering the fields with fertility. It takes time for it to harvest and blossom. During times of difficulties, the pen is a stoic ornament, a virtuous shield masking the persona of the writer. The pen in meditation is a pen wanting to pounce on the prey. Pen is the architect of the universe of words. The pen is a ritual undertaking in art. Behind the pen lies the philosophical self. The pen crafts philosophical fiction. Ideas are a painting of words. The pen is shelter in the lonely, desert walk of life. The pen has made me walk in green pastures. The pen is a Hellenic Beast. The pen symbolizes the tin drum of Gunter Grass. The pen creates an ideal emotion and feeling. The pen is a carpenter with a chisel who fine tunes wood into furniture. The pen is loyal and obedient to God Jehovah Jesus. The pen has done the ritual of poetic music and has flowered the muse. The pen is a lover of art. Everything the pen does begins with a line and ends in a circle. What is a circle asks the pen? Pen replies to itself: ‘it is a joy of art in writing’. The pen has veil of feeling. The pen absorbs the past, lives in the present with ode of praise for the future. The pen is a weighing balance whose weight the pen does not know. Pen loves the semen wetting the earth. The pen is a sheer voice of eloquent poetry. The pen is a prolific artist of passion. What is written once cannot be taken back. The pen is a joy, a surprise brought out from the musings of the unconscious. The pen is making a curve, a passage of peace and refuge. The pen extracts dialogues from an underground valley. The pen is a hill atop a valley. The pen is a pilgrim in the journey of the desert. The pen can only contemplate eternity but can never calculate it. The pen meditates on ecstasy. The pen has never spent a night in a brothel. The pen is authorial and has got multiple selves. The pen is a Grecian Urn an architecture of aestheticism. The pen is green as grass and red as the sun. The feelings of the pen give a joyous shout. The pen is a flowing brook. The pen woos the writer to become an acrobat. The pen bears the charm of meaning. The pen has been through many disappointments but every time has woken up with the motto: ‘keep trying never give up’. The pen is wine drunk with joy. The pen is the feast of the eyes. The pen is a moody instrument of sorrow. The pen is a joy kindling the heart. The pen is in love with waltz of spring. The pen works wonder with the soul. The pen is an incantation praising God Jehovah Jesus. The pen adorns the paper with sweet memories.
Pulp fiction is mass adored fiction. But writing pulp fiction is not an easy one. One may have to do a lot of research or one may have to read up history and one may have to visit art galleries and museums. All pulp fictions are who-done-it stories. Pulp fictions provide the reader with entertainment.
Roland Barthes has said there are two kinds of fictions: one a writerly one and the other a readerly one. A writerly fiction is the one over which the reader constructs dialogues. It can be done through analysis and reviews.
The author of Literary Fiction is an artist-novelist. Literary fiction is a pure work of art. It is like a surreal or cubist painting. Literary fiction is meta-fiction where the author alludes to the self. In other words: the author is self-reflexive. The author weaves the pen through a mass of inter-textuality. One author becomes many fictional selves. Literary fiction is creative, adventurist and futuristic. Literary fiction can have legends within legends.
I took a job as an English and Social Studies teacher in a very prominent school in Jakarta during the years 2005-2007. Moving from a village to a bustling city gave me the experience of something new as lights, colors, smells and sounds. I had to become a thorough bred professional. Slowly as time went by I started doing my profession excellently well. Jakarta had many maids and I engaged a maid to sleep in flat to do the cooking and washing of clothes. The lady teachers there strictly warned me not to sleep with maids as this would lead to gossip and reach the headmaster’s ears. Though I wanted to sleep with a maid, I avoided it. My predecessor in the school lost his job because he slept with maids and gallivanted with them. So I took all precautions to avoid it. There in the school, I was introduced to drinking as the school gave lavish parties during festival seasons. Slowly I started drinking every day. One day during a party: I drank a lot and started weeping. Then the Principal came over and hugged me and said ‘son don’t worry’. I felt so grateful to him for that. Jakarta has a fair collection of malls and it is fun to be in them. Time flies so fast. Indonesian cuisine is unique with a dish of rice, chicken and duck curry. There is also sambal a paste made by grinding shallot and chilies. The grilled fish of Indonesia is a sheer delicacy. Night life of Indonesia is so vivid. One can see prostitutes standing on both sides of street waiting to be picked up. Cars slow down; doors are opened and this continues still the streets become empty. Sometimes I regret the fact that I did not sleep with prostitutes. I was all full of Christian virtue. Another thing I would like to mention is that when I came back from school, someone has slipped a notice through the underside of the door and it reads: ‘massages available at budget costs’. At that time I did not understand that in meant it was a professional calling for you-know-other-things. I feel sad that I did not visit the beautiful island Bali. I would like to say that though Indonesia is a Muslim country, it is very liberal and permissive.
Stephen Deed Locust is an imaginary name coined from Joycean Ulyssean character Stephen Daedalus
Dawn dawned –the sky all rosy-pink. Night hung in my body as yesterday’s hangover. I drink a low cost budget rum called Karl Marx. It’s a drink of the proletariat. A cracked mirror reminded me of a fable from ancient Greece. I had two glasses of black coffee. I watched the mist hovering over the earth like a helicopter. Birds are chanting hymns. The sky turned into a goblin and the feast of the monsoon as rain started. I remember how in my younger days I used to float paper boats. A witch came home to give milk. Her cheeks are wrinkled due to old age. Now I am having breakfast with cereals and fresh milk. Soon I hurry to school where I am teaching.
How much I try to generate in students the love of literature. The lesson was an extract from the Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. France is all feverish with the proletariat echoing the sounds of revolution. I asked the kids: ‘what is revolution?’ I got no answer. I replied to them: ‘a revolution is a major change occurring in a society. Revolution can be political and are also brought about by changes in Science.’ I gave them a briefing about the industrial revolution that occurred in England and the French Revolution that occurred in France.
The Bell rings for break. I hear the rushing of feet, an urgent scampering to go outside.
I wonder whether I am satisfied with a teaching job. ‘I am not’. I long to be a global vagabond with unsettled roots –a pilgrim of cultures. I want to visit many countries; I also want to visit the famous art galleries of the world. I want to do all this to awaken the aesthete within me.
The school bell rings and all the kids rush out. It’s an amazing psychological fact that when kids enter school, they are slow and when they leave school, it’s always in a hurry.
I reach home tired. Again I have a few cups of black coffee. I open Whatsapp to see if there are messages for me. There is nothing, and I feel disappointed.
I watch the sunset with the aroma of a poet. The colors of the sky are a dazzling fiesta. The sun is a globe glowing red. I watch the flight on tiny wings. Slowly the sun sets and the sky becomes a dark veil. Stars, the tiny buttons glimmer in the sky with radiance of hope and love. I want to rest but I am reminded of Frost’s Words: ‘the woods are lovely dark and deep but I have many miles to go before I sleep.’
The Pickwick Picnic is an odd, jolly folk and every day in the evening they have a meeting on the days’ proceedings.
Mr. Bombast is the secretary of the Pickwick Picnic and the other members are Sheraton Jolly, Tom Grapes and Silly Alice.
Mr. Bombast: ‘Order, Order, let’s begin the meeting.’
Mr. Bombast asks Silly Alice: ‘Did you count the grass growing in your field?’
Silly Alice replies: ‘Yes I got the number 1 and the rest of the field is bald.’
Mr. Bombast: ‘Well done Silly Alice’.
Mr. Bombast to Sheraton Jolly: ‘Did you measure the length of your wife’s night gown’.
Sheraton Jolly replied: Yes Mr. Bombast, but dear me, I have forgotten it.’
Mr. Bombast: ‘For not remembering it, you will receive 5 beatings with a cane on your rump.’
Mr. Bombast is beating Sheraton Jolly.
Mr. Sheraton Jolly: ‘Ouch ouch it hurts’.
Mr. Bombast asks Tom Grapes: ‘What is the interesting thing that you did today?’
Tom Grapes: ‘I smooched Mrs. Robinson but I felt too shy when she invited me to her bed to do poetry.’
Mr. Bombast: ‘Why Tom Grapes, you should have gone for it’.
Mr. Bombast: ‘Today’s session is over. We will meet again at the same time tomorrow.
Clue Crooks Clan is a secret society wanting to take over the world and world economy. Every year the members of the cult have a secret rendezvous at a resort named Lake Wood.
They worship a stone made into a phallic pillar with an embedded on a vagina. They also worship an owl (Minerva) as a sign of wisdom. Sometimes they have séances to bring froth dead spirits.
Prof. Umberto Ego says: ‘what’s the secret of the number 666 as mentioned in the Biblical Book of Revelation? 666 stands for the added sum of 18 nations, probably an alliance of nations for global dominance.’
Dawn Shakespeare the financial think-tank of the Clue Crooks Clan while delivering a seminar mentions: ‘Our aim is to create a one-world-order based on a single currency. We are proceeding with Dollarization of all countries. The currency would be called 666 with the logo: number of the beast’.
Prof. Umberto Ego: ‘We have to demilitarize all nations except ours in the fraternity of alliance 18. If nations don’t comply, we will impose sanctions.’
Now the members of the Clue Crooks Clan have an occult ceremony. A virgin named Virginia Wolf is placed on the altar and she is nude. Prof. Umberto Ego takes a sword and draws it three times on her vagina as a sign of trinity in hell.
After the ritual they retire to bed. The bed becomes an orgy of people having same and different partners. They are unable to realize their shame as they are doped and drunk.
The members of the cult are perverse people who act against the will of God Jehovah Jesus.
The sun seen on the horizon was orange-red; the sun resembled an eye; colors started spilling over; orange, red and pink glowed in loving passion. The sky was a peace of prose. Eloquent angels danced in the sky. There in the sky, I saw a mermaid, then I saw a fire belching dragon; then again I saw a gigantic salamander; the sky became a poem of efflorescence.