Dear Mr. Trump,
I am an Indian citizen hailing from the native shore of Kerala. It is my fervent wish to visit America, especially the Art Galleries there. Many undeserving people have gone to America and those include terrorists. I know if I apply for a visa, I will be rejected. I also don’t have the money to visit America and also I have no credentials. But still the wish to visit America is heart-felt dream. It’s easy for American citizens to visit India but it’s not an easy job for an Indian citizen to come to the shores of America. Dear Mr. Trump: Why don’t you invite me to America for a few days? Even if it’s a hyperbole it’s a nourished dream. I am so fond of America especially its music, art, philosophy and culture. Dear Mr. Trump, are you listening!
I used to rave and rant and blasphemy the Holy Spirit. But now I have come an empathic understanding about him. I accept the sanctity of the Trinity. Trying to reason out why I did so, I realized it was a part of my sexual repressed. Now I have got an outlet to share and express my amorous feelings. Dear Holy Spirit, I am sorry for what I have done.
I was out early morning on the scooter to have a cup of tea. There was a leper there who was handing his glass to drink tea. A thought came to my mind to give him some money. But then I did not! Later on in the evening, I saw him again. The same urge to help him came back to me. I gave him a generous offering and hugged him. Tears started welling on his cheeks. I broke into a poem of happiness and gratitude.
All sound and no rhythm as an idiom means having intellectual wisdom but no financial prudence. I got this from Pranoy Roy the media king of India who owns NDTV, a prominent news channel. Pranoy Roy has fallen into severe debt and his premises have been raided.
We cannot call Trump as an all sound and no rhythm person.
The fate of Pranoy Roy as a media tycoon has become an all sound and no rhythm one.
Clouds as torn carpets
Invaded the sky awaking
A metaphor from sleep!
Recently I happened to visit a remote village and there a Lepers colony. The lepers are given free housing and food as they have been abandoned by their families. I was really moved by their gratitude and mirth. What surprised me most was that their housing was donated by my late grandfather T P Chandy in loving memory of his wife, late Alyeamma Chandy. I reflect on his philanthropic spirit and fondly reminisce his concern for the sick, poor and down trodden. Dear Appachan (Granddad), I am filled with awe, respect and love for you.
I had the fortune to correct the English Book of 6 Graders. There were so many errors in sentence construction, grammar and punctuation. I felt like a scientist, drawing red markings over their writing. I remember the Philosopher Derrida’s phrase: ‘to write is to have the passion of origin’. What gives me the greatest satisfaction is leaving my Asemic signature at the end. Correction is marvelous writing, like stars twinkling in the night sky and it has a passion—a pleasurable origin.