Posts

Joe Biden, Donald Trump, and Thomas Crooks

In a dark wood I came upon you three. Two Presidents and a would-be killer. I wonder what your punishments should be. I wonder about my moral tiller. Joe.  I'm filled with deep loathing for you. You're mentally and morally decayed. But it's wrong to give you the torture screw. I hope my hate for you will soon fade. Donald.  You are a more difficult case. To call you a swine is unfair to pigs. I'd like to see rectal boils on your face. But torture?  Nope.  No rack.  No thumbscrew rigs. That leaves you, my fellow doubting Thomas. For you, the tortures of Hell I promise.   [7--20-24--Mumbai]

A Failed Backwaters Tour

I'm frustrated!  I want to smite them all! I missed my boat because Peter got gas, because I couldn't understand Joseph's call. James wants three thousand for a tour--I'll pass! India feels to me like endless cheating. I hope it one day is honest and clean. But I'm here!  To rage is self-defeating. Group punishment is ignoble and mean. It's nineteen rupees for my ferry ride. Many stops, people hopping off and on. It's beautiful.  My bilious rage has died. May I die here in peace with my ire gone. I've learned from Lizzy to respect Hell's rules. Hell's for the rightly mad, not for mad fools. [7-18--Allepey, Kerala]

Sati

Suttee comes from Sati, Shiva's wife. She cursed her father and leapt into flame. Did she err, Lizzie, in ending her life? Could she have done better in Hell's dark game?   "I think that she did as well as she could. Shiva in rage cut off her father's head. What she could not do, her husband did. He danced with her body when she was dead. Remember punishment is not magic. Hell is mixed, but it, too, is comedy. Nothing in the end is truly tragic. With God, All is a Divine dramedy. You cannot conjure up dragons and towers. Better to burn than to debase your powers." [7-18-24--flight to Kochi--drawn from a book bought in the Ahmedabad airport: Mahagatha: 100 Tales from the Puranas, by Satyarth Nayak]

My Wedding Clothes

"Two thousand dollars!  I'm being cheated!" "No!  It's a move in a bargaining game. Offer two hundred.  Don't be defeated by your moralistic need to blame." My need to hate won out.  I paid their price. I like the clothes a lot, I must admit. So.  Lizzy--may I ask for your advice? Should I rage or should I let go of it? "This is Hell.  Inflicting pain is dharma. You may curse them with painful rectal boils. Know, though, your action's subject to karma. Your butt will burn in its own flaming oils. Act if you are ready to bear the cost of hurting yourself with hate's labor lost." [7-18-24--flight from Ahmedabad to Kochi]

The Gandhi Ashram

The Gandhi ashram's closed for Ashura. Lizzy's on the street in heels, looking smart. "Let's go to Gulberg.  Let's take a tour--a tour to humanity's evil heart. Ghodse killed Gandhi.  That can't be undone. Godra, Gulberg.  You can't prevent either. But you can shoot Ghodse with his own gun. Burn both sets of arsonists.  Spare neither! There are very fine people on both sides. An eye for an eye makes the world go blind. On Heaven's throne, love not anger presides. In Heaven kind sayings rule the mind. But this is Hell and We, too, are God's plan. Let us punish wrong as hard as we can." [7-18-24--Ahmedabad]

Adalaj

I descend, down to the lowest level. Lizzy is by the well, waiting for me. She twirls her sari.  "I am no devil-- I'll show you whatever you want to see." "Tell me what happened to Queen Rudabai, Widowed when Begada killed her rana, Rather than marry him she plunged to die where you stand.  Did she attain Nirvana?" "I'll look her up.  I'm sure she's on my phone. Yes, there she is.  Begada is there, too. You can see them.  I hear him moan. She's stabbed out his eyes with a spike-heeled shoe. The myth's wrong.  In truth, Rudabai chose Hell. She killed him and never jumped in the well." [Adalaj stepwell, Adalaj, Gujarat, 7-17-24]

I'm Back

I have been away for years.  Now I speak. You're in front of the Church of God in Christ. The woman screams, "Fuck you!  Go home!  You're weak!" I listen.  Once I joined you in a heist. You're an old man now, protesting Biden. "It's over Joe!  You've got to pass the torch" For you, Joe's me--a lost soul in hiding. For her, you're an old White devil to scorch. You hate Joe who can't think straight anymore. You hate the woman who's yelling at you. Do you hate me?  There is much to deplore! You, Joe, her, me--an American screw.    Go ahead, yell back at that crackhead bitch. I'm your Layla.   I'm your queen and your witch. [7-8-24, Little Spain, NYC]