I’ll explode in a million pieces and sparkle on the robes of Nanda Ghunti . I’ll climb up this mountain even as the mist and sweat cloud my view, as my beloved breaks down in tears. I shall keep climbing even if it breaks my back today, not till my love and I cross the last smooth stone ledge to the meadow with the silver streak. I shall not be cowed down by the dark clouds rushing down to meet us as we setup our home; I shall thrust my chest up and breathe the snarling wind.
I’ll learn to dance a waltz of passion or a thumb down thrust of a rapper with my heart and soul. I shall have the courage to look silly in the dresses that fancy me. I shall live in my country of chaos, of stray cows and honking drivers. I shall not embalm myself in antiseptic courtesy. I shall tell you that I hate you as passionately as I love you. I’ll break your bones and drink your blood, I shall be alive. I’ll wage war and I’ll wage love and passion too. Let me run till my lungs explode; jump till the trampoline rips apart on the crescendo of Rachminoff 3 . I’ll give it everything.
I resolve to drink absinthe, wander bare headed to look for Mayaa , find her and shoot myself in chest. I shall not listen to white robed saints or gurus teaching me the art of living, I shall live as a coward, as a hero and all in between. I shall cry as my people excel, as they jump, run and shoot. I shall wander on the lawns of Princeton and chuckle on Adam . I shall soar and be plundered like a kite.
Let me do those 33 steps of Jion as my master does, even if takes decades of pointless practice. Let me be pointless, let me blast your linear chains and sword into a million bits and piss over it. Let me bite you as I make love to you, hurt you with my love and hate too. Let me paint a storm in a storm in Arles; let me sing a Pavarotti for you or no one. Let me melt your clocks and grow a hornbill mustache. Let me act in the face of the plague, defy it, defeat it or be annihilated in the way.
Let the water lap my bow, break my stern, let me steer my timbers to new granite islands where woodthrush calls through the fog. The valley of Garud, where the Trishul towers like a lonely gendarme in fog and our Camerzind lies looking over the corn field.
Let me sit quietly at the Ghat in Banares as azaan calls the faithful and my shehnai’s caress is fresh on my dry lips. I’ll spit tobacco on the streets on this land, the land of my ancient civilization. I shall not moderate my hate or mellow my love. I’ll celebrate the animal as well as the human animal in me. I shall sing the songs of love and hate too. I shall experience greed, jealousy and much more. I shall fall in love many times with you and without you too. I shall not be afraid to hold hands; I shall jump into the river and cross over to islands. I’ll keep traveling and I shall keep living. I shall be human and not make a monster out of myself. I’ll not celibate or forgive you for pain you gave me. I’ll make you and me suffer till our graves, if I don’t move on. I shall not be an unperson, I shall live with cadence.
I shall know the colours of rainbow is not uniform white, a million colours makes up my sky and I shall live each one, in breadth and in depth. Like a blade of grass I shall be forever alive.
Nanda Gunti - A Himalayan peak.
Rachminoff #3 - Piano Concerto no. 3.
Mayaa – Illusion.
Adam - Adam Smith
Jion - A Kata – Karate sequence of steps.
Pavarotti - Luciano Pavarotti
Trishul - A Himalayan peak
Ghat - River bank
Azaan - Muslim call for prayer
Shehnai - Wind Instrument see Bismillah Khan