061127-White

an emptiness of a page looks back at me.. and my fingers move but mistakenly.. maybe the rings are as powerful as they say.. let me tell you about the rings..

no wait.. first about India.. what can you say about a whore.. she takes you back.. much as you hate wanting to go back.. you find lost caresses in the folds of her ample bosom.. you savour the sweet sweat which trickles from her unshaved armpits.. you jiggle her belly for some sign of that intoxication which first overwhelmed you.. you do all this and more and find that it does excite you.. it does provocate.. does overwhelm.. and does actually take you not back.. but to another unsurpassed dimension where you had never thought you would be able to go.. and I realize that I am the whore.. India is what it has always been.. young.. all knowing.. all reaching.. all encompassing.. endearing.. open armed.. open legged.. beautiful and infinite as always.. I am the one who has grown old.. I am stuck in the past.. expecting the same smells.. the same adaa.. the same tehazeeb.. but like a vivacious effervescent nymph.. India has skipped on.. yes she welcomes me.. but it is a welcome for one whose place is in the jaded dusted quarters.. do not get me wrong.. I am still displayed with the jewels.. but hark.. they sparkle but seldom..

but enough of this.. I will not have it said that it was not a home going.. it was.. but more so than ever I was nonplussed.. Laxman.. our Man Friday of the house.. never steps out of home.. he cooks.. he cleans.. he gardens with a vengeance.. at his own pace.. in his own time.. he has found his sphere.. and he is content in it.. I associated with him.. kind of.. I wished to remain in the sphere of my parents’ home.. but I may not.. I am meant for much more.. the world has become our sphere.. and I tend to it in which ever way I may..

Mom and Da.. uncles and aunts.. brothers and nieces.. friends and lovers.. overwhelmed with their love.. I was in limbo once again.. it was peaceful..

then came along the Occult.. four days before I was to leave.. I went to the Ones who Know.. the future.. the past.. the insides.. and the outsides.. and the in betweens.. with a fixed gaze and a non batting eyelid they told me what has been written and what must be done.. I could only bow in awe.. and succumb in temptation of what I know they want me to want and everyone else to want.. it is a rosy picture.. how they know.. I know not.. with what instruments and processes they paint these pictures of black and white and grey.. I have yet to learn.. but I feel it too.. they say the moon affects me.. I feel it.. they say I am to be a star.. I feel I know that already.. they say I must wear the White Sapphire.. and I feel I knew that always.. and so with only two days left to steal Mom and I go to the alleys of Karol B and search high and low for this perfect stone which will carry on our destiny.. and wonder of wonders.. we find it.. at the last moment.. with the perfect vahan.. it is magic.. as so much in India is.. overnight this jewel from Ceylon is fashioned into a ring in the Buddhist Kidney shape in white gold.. and it alters me.. white stone from that tear drop of an island where the three oceans meet.. it is blessed with a power from beyond.. sometimes true beauty.. absolute and unblemished beauty has the power to move.. and so it does.. and I have not since been the same..