The sky bathed the earth—water was onomatopoeiaing: slis slis slis slis slis—the sky roared in angry bellows—lightening streaked across the sky as a woman’s lingerie. Watching nature’s festival a joy engulfed me.
The morning was littered with flowers. The sky became a booming canopy. Tiny poems glided in the sky. The poem rose with the pulchritude of good humor. I feel so contented and happy. I thank Jehovah Jesus for soul talking to me.
I have started reading the gospel of Mark. The fact that Jesus being spiritual and mortal fascinates me. Yes, the Lamb became a lamp that was lit. Spirit enmeshed itself with flesh and lived a life on earth.
In the morning I had to go to Allepy also known as the Venice of the East. Aleppy in God’s Own Country is a tourist paradise. One the one side is a poem of tranquil backwaters and on the other, lush paddy fields. Birds of all hues and shapes flourish in the paddy fields. The famous Siberian Crane comes to Kerala when it is winter in Russia. One can cruise along the backwaters by renting a boat. My friend Libardi an anthroposophist remarked that the backwaters are the remnants of the sunken continent Atlantis. Is the legend true or a fancy of the mind? We can accept his opinion with poetic license.
All along the way I saw remains of an election campaign. I was made into posters, sprawling cutouts, and to my viewers hands bowed in Namaste and dripped with a cosmetic smile. I can’t imagine that India being a poor country, millions are wasted for elections. Many in India don’t have food to eat, many live in slums and the irony is the Governments voted to power rarely keep their election promises.
A strange incident happened in my life. I was standing outside a shop drinking coffee when the election candidate in our constituency passed by me with bevy of followers. I thought that he will look at me and smile but nothing of that sort happened. He walked passed me totally ignoring me. I am having two thoughts about voting for him.
Now I want to tell a strange legend. It had dials which keep on moving. When it reaches one hour, it chants a rhyme and then chimes. When it is 2 it rings 12 times and when is 1 it rings 10 times. It is highly erratic and eccentric. Still I love it so much. I keep it as a precious objet d’ art.
It is a connoisseur of art. It tries to live many lives. It is in a confused state of being a fictional self and real self. It tries to novel epiphanies and it also plays with the language of meaning. It is literary and philosophical. It travels to continents and places. Sometimes it says to me: hey mister, you are poem, you are the many women that you have loved, you are the incense of cloved cigarettes of Jakarta, you are grilled Indonesian fish that you have relished with sumptuousness, you are the aromatic sambal (a mixture lime, chilies, tomatoes to be eaten with rice), you are the winning moves made in a game of chess, you are the disciple who has fondness for Christ, you are an allegory and
an epiphany of a self in wonder.
It lies in the living room. One can settle on it with luxury. One can also lie down on it and relax. When lying down on it, it becomes a muse of serendipity. New thoughts violate the privacy of the brain. The mind welcomes them with eagerness.
Morning walked across the sky lazily, spraying an aroma of colors. Tiny dwarfs of the earth chanted melodies.
I thank God for this beautiful Saturday morn. God has blessed me with a beautiful wife and two gorgeous children. My son is autistic and I am praying to God for his healing. My daughter with her teen life could have gone into muddy waters, but thanks to God and the blessed counseling of spiritual brothers, she is in beautiful water and is happily pursuing a course in dental science.
I was intensely reading the Gospel of Mathew and I came upon some new discoveries. There was a youth who wanted to follow Jesus and said to Jesus: I have obeyed all your commands. Then Jesus said to him: sell all your riches and give it to the poor and the needy and then follow me. The youth went away distraught. Jesus said to his disciples it is more difficult for a man with riches to enter the kingdom of Heaven than for a Camel to enter the eye of a needle. I was awe-struck by this profound metaphor. Yes, Christ the Lord teaches in the Lord’s Prayer: ‘Father Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread’. It is virtually impossible for a man with riches to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. I wonder how God will judge celebrity Evangelists who flaunt their wealth and are out to dupe the innocent. Is Christianity a way of making money? The answer is no! Is Christianity a way of making millions? Is it right for Christian evangelists to show off with flashy sport cars and private Jets which are luxurious? Are they emulating Christ who lived a simple life? Aren’t they being hypocrites!
When the little children came to Jesus, they were shooed away by the disciples. Jesus said bring the little ones to me. The Jesus said: whoever wants to enter the kingdom of heaven must be like little Children. Little Children as an idiom means, being morally pure. I was addicted to pornography and during that time I was far away from being a little child. It is hard for grownups to be little children.
Then I came across the amazing Parable of Jesus. An estate manager wanted to hide laborers for his vineyard. In the morning he went to the market and hired people and offered them wages. This he went in the afternoon and evening and did the same. When the labor was over: he distributed the same wages. The workers complained that this was unfair. The estate manager replied that the giving of wages is left to the discretion of the master. It means that an early bird and a late bird catches the worm equally. Christ does not discriminate between the early and the late comers.
Then as I was reading the Gospel of Mathew, Jesus took some of his disciples and went on top of a hill and underwent transmogrification (change of form). Jesus changed his form into a divine body. Moses and Elijah were also with him. His body shone like the rays of the sun and his eyes twinkled with fire. There was a rainbow of a halo on his head. Transmogrification as idiom means having a spiritual character. Humans housed in the body of flesh find it difficult to be transmogrified. We have to develop the nature of transmogrification.
Morn woke up like a hymn. The birds were chanting poetry. Colors enveloped the sky like magic realism. I praise God for this blessed morn. The rhythms of nature are so profoundly fascinating. The birds are gliding in the sky like a gentle opera. The sun is settled now, a peaceful ball of gold.
Clouds hued themselves into an epiphany…poems spoke words of colors…felt the passionate evening sink into me like catharsis….sun was setting like streams of consciousness….mystics drifted in the sky like poetic music…their wings were playing the harp of the soul…my heart wandered, my soul was released from prison …all angst faded away.
It poured like a celestial celebrity ….puddles formed on the earth ….pools of water lying like subdued aesthetics…Rain is an epiphanic poem, a bard wetting the earth and soaking it with love.
As the literati, I wondered passionately about the clouds…white and blue! The white is the sperm left by countless angels copulating …the blue is the piss left over by the angels…a thunder burst is the angels farting…I wonder how many times angels copulate in a day …they must be equivalent of the earth’s population…Unlike humans, angels have pink farts…there’s an art to angel-farting…The sperm left by the angels is a novel art…The piss of blue is an idyllic lullaby….