blind deaf fool

how could that blind deaf idiot know everything and definitely more than me without ever stepping out; meeting anyone; or going to school? i plan. today i know that i am made to plan. i cannot accomplish any of my plan till i am forced to sit with the fool sitting behind me making me do everything. all the mistakes; all omissions etc.... all the blame is mine. i have to take the blame and he makes sure that i do it most un-elegantly. QED.

i am and have to write this exercise. i have to complete it here and now. he is sitting behind me i cannot even have an excuse of making tea. is it so important! well i know, mulla nasruddin too enjoys no freedom while his donkey has all the freedom. mulla does not any longer sits seeing the direction his ass is going. back of mulla is turned in that direction the donkey is going. mulla is not under control while his donkey never relinquishes controlling mulla even for a moment.

i was not fond of words in no language ever. poem songs were beyond my appreciation or comprehension. in last few years i have started understanding words! now i am 70! the other day i was listening to a tv interview conducted by rituparno ghosh of a bengali musician who is making fame in bollywood. how could he? he had very bad stammer. poor language and vocabulary... he was asked to sing some of his popular numbers playing his guitar... last question from rituparno ... don't you feel handicapped by your stammering. the answer was ... "i do not allow myself bothered by my stammering. i tried many years and many ways to get rid of my stammering. finally i gave up." what about stammering when you are middle of song? "if it ever happens, i don't know; as of now it has not happened."

long back i remember; it was in 1982, i walked into a post office to buy some stamps. the person before me was holding his conversation with the stamp seller; it was impossible to comprehend. at last being fed up the stamp seller asked why didn't he write down what he wished to buy? this time what he replied, was clear and distinct! "god has given me my lips and tongue; why should i not use them?" QED.

one does not have to sell himself but be himself only. rest is taken care of. by whom really? who is that changes the surrounding to allow one be oneself every moment of one's life? My brother kamal had a different take on this. he was very clear about communication ~ perfect precise monotone no over writing. he always said that even an address written on envelope should be clear and distinct without over writing or correction. writing or speaking is meant for others after all. i never do care. i am not allowed. i had a teacher jroy. he would erase the same word many times on the borad till perfectly aligned with the rest of the line!

the happiest time in my childhood was durga puja time. it used to be about two months vacation. every afternoon for one month; i would be immobile in a room watching the pratima or image is being made. starting from gathering of materials - hay bamboo clay color tools .... i would be watching transfixed for hours unable to move; the divinity taking shape; colored haired dressed ornamented and equipped for war ; that victorious stance; slaying the devil hidden within a byson cannot escape being killed. image would be taken to the stage where puja would be performed; but it would be kept hidden behind a cloth screen; until the last touches are completed; the eyes - pupils is colored; and some oil is applied in eyes to sparkle; then the job is done! the image hereafter is live and the divinity herself; and shall be so for four days until immersion.

i do not cross check what i write; it is extempore outburst of creation with missed and misused words, misspelling grammatical mistakes wrong punctuations ... often even i do not understand what i have written when i read. it indeed is the composition of that dumb deaf blind idiot without education! by that time i have forgotten what was the idea? it may take many days to make it meaningful; even to me! it is similar to divine image building. first is last time. no corrections. as soon as i am able to get some meaning out of the writing; my job is finished. i cannot not touch it anymore. i am not allowed to expect or to be appreciated or be understood by anyone. i don't have to be read. i am not allowed!

i am without option self taught; not even knowing; where i am going; sitting my back turned against time. i am incapable of seeing future or present. only past that i can never sense or touch;

i am puppet of an ass

Harikalar Diyari Nasrettin Hoca
alias me