Thursday, August 07, 2003

Gone to Texas:)

I love and adore a good story and I could fall hook, line and sinker for a good story-teller. My entire legacy, the country and its lore are all a product of careful and meticulous story-telling. Had once attended a concert by Teejan Bai, a SPIC-MACAY affair. This woman tours the country narrating stories from the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. A voice like a fog-horn and a presence like the Titanic. Unerring punch-lines and beautiful orchestration.

One of the most common techniques used by such narrators is analogy and familiarisation. Every member of the million strong pantheon is analysed in the light of humanity and its errors. Come to think of it, only way to develop a healthy empathy for our own fragile selves.

So if Brahma is never worshipped, it is because he consorted with his own daughter and Indra is as guilty of despotism as any Amin. Vishwamitra blows his top at the drop of a hat and is putty in the hands of every dancing damsel.

As I have been told, God is after all nothing but the pathological outgrowth of the megalomania of man;)...
It probably doesn’t get better than this, but I am allowed a few pauses and some deep breaths. Steady there…
It is the hopelessly skin-scraping process of letting go. Draws blood. Every fuckin’ time.I will be fine when I get onto that plane…and then some.

Can I ramble till the owls come home? Cause this night doesn’t seem to have sleep anywhere on the itinerary?

Johnny Johnny, Yes Papa
Eating sugar? No Papa

And don’t you tell lies my child…wrong, right, evil, wise…