‘Ghaliban bana gham kuch matlabi hi khaleel
Ki shouk-e-shayri se hai uska is husn-e-ta‘leel
Abh na Ishq hai, na Ilm hai, na rahaa koi shakeel
Gar saath di tanhaai hi, voh hui kahaan tazleel ?’
(Sorrow, it seems certain, was not an unmercenary friend
Poetry its passion, but its each conceit to this end
Now not Love is, nor Knowledge, nor Beauty worth the name
If but Loneliness companions how put it to shame?)
Iyer recited his (very crap) poem in aggrieved accents. The winter afternoon was fading into night. The fair skinned face of the Sheikh of the Maah Taalaab Shrine seemed to shine by its own light. For some reason, this angered the Iyer. In a sudden gesture of aggression, he filled his glass from the half-empty bottle rolling at his feet.
“I’ve brought you an amulet. It will help you.”
“Against which ghost? No. Ghost is welcome. Keep your amulet.”
“It’s for your health. To help you shake off this… this demon… this drinking.”
For a moment, Iyer was startled. Then he laughed. ‘No, no Sheikhji! Not even the tilism of your Saint can change Fate. Mine is linked with Madhu. Forty years ago, an astrologer foretold it. He said to my mother- ‘Useless to arrange his marriage. The boy will love Madhu only’. She thought he meant Wine and got angry. She needn’t have worried. I don’t need any amulet against the drink. Give yours to that major domo.
‘Fact is, Wine is my mother-in-law. Arré, your religion says, man should get married. What you do is your own affair, but why begrudge me my wife? Her name is Poverty, and she is the best of all wives for a poet. But, such is the Spirit of the Age, and my own lack of talent, even she wouldn’t stay with me unless I lodged her mother, too, under my roof!’
“If you need money… employment…’
“Aji Huzoor! Don’t you know? Nowadays, the only way you can remain poor is to have employment, to have connection with money. It is you renouncers who are rich. What to do? Zallat al aa’lim, zallat al alaam. It is the errors of the Savants that establish the Spirit of the Age. Why should I feel ashamed? Only you are embarrassed. That’s why the water I’m drinking has blushed to this colour! Or, if you are lacking in belief, O! Man of Belief!, then, all right, don’t believe me- you are right not to believe. In this verse of mine you will find the truth-
“Must I?” “You must!” “And if I fail?”
“I'll kiss the lips that tell that tale!”
Thus urged I did & for those kisses sake,
Court Love and, briefly, Wine forsake.
All of which obtuse palaver having but this occult moral- take howsoever much the piss out of Iyer, not Iyer gets off the piss.
‘If memory serves me right
(Which it won’t ’cause I aint White)
Life- this bouncer at the door-
Was a lap-dancer before…’
Iyer, deeply humiliated by being turned away by the bouncer, told Harish & Bhim Singh they should go into the nightclub without him. They demurred, and so the party returned disconsolate to Iyer’s flat where he had some French Whiskey and British Wine.
Harish tried to turn the conversation to his new career, as a fight-arranger for the movies, and Bhim Singh also piped up with an account of his recent screen success playing a mad South Indian drunkard with a penchant for (very crap) Urdu verse; but Iyer manfully drowned them out with a terribly doleful recital of his own misadventures as an unemployed job-search tutor. To be frank, the injustice he’d suffered was truly appalling. He’d been sacked for ‘having a racist attitude’. Iyer told the story quite incessantly. Because of his vow not to teach youngsters, he’d been assigned the task of helping Male Over-Fifties update their job-seeking skills and make the transition from jobs in manufacturing, or construction, to posts in Information Technology and the Service sector. Unfortunately, the group he was working with, having seen the film ‘the Full Monty’, were insistent Iyer help them get bookings as a male strip-tease troupe. Iyer pointed out that none of them had sex appeal. “We’ve pulled plenty of birds in our time”, the replied truculently. “Yes,” said Iyer, “but that was on the production line at the chicken processing factory.” “Yurr!” they replied happily, “’twasn’t all we did by a long shot! Gave it a bit of that didn’t we? Chicken Kiev stuffed according to our own recipe if you get our drift!” Iyer was revolted. He put his foot down. Unfortunately, their ring-leader, Maulana Maudoodi, complained to the C.R.E. Iyer was unceremoniously sacked and he couldn’t even get back his old job at the Public Lavatory because, in his absence, it had gone and won some prize- either the Turner or the Booker- had a failed relationship with some celebrity- either George Michael or Ulkrika Johnson- and been appointed Cherie Blair’s Style Guru.
Harish & Bhim- both of whom were in London to shoot the cabaret scene for ‘Gandhi, Ghalib, Godse’- did their best to stem Iyer’s tale of woe. Harish said that Abdul had gone home to look after his son- his father being busy campaigning for Pandayji’s candidates in the upcoming State elections. Bhim mentioned an Assistant Superintendent of Police who, terrified that his parents were planning to foist Iyer on him as a father-in-law, had gone and eloped with a telephonist at the Exchange he’d once tried to flirt with. The lady was some years his senior- a very prim and proper Anglo-Indian called Rita- and, apparently, the marriage was working out very well.
Iyer, greatly incensed by his guests’ attempts to change the subject, got out his notebook and started inflicting vernacular poetry on them with such single-minded savagery that, with the best will in the world, they fled gibbering into the night.
“No breath of ‘she-breeze’
Again doubled, Darkness falls
Also the last of my species
I miss the Moon’s mating calls!”
“Arif, if you’re going to tell me to shut it…”
“Not at all, I just thought you might want to hear Bhim’s latest theory about Karl.”
Karlji very famous ‘Science nerd’. One day, playing ‘Frisbee’, he is discovering idea for that ultimate technological marvel yearned for by his entire generation and class- viz. the self-delivering Pizza. Unfortunately, evil Pentagon Generals, are hijacking and using that technology for destructive purposes- viz. tom cruise missile. Hence Karlji’s total disillusionment & turning to Buddhism which soon enough yields this sudden satori- viz. rigorous adherence to ‘no self’ doctrine short circuits Godel’s theorem and reinstates omniscience as attainable, indeed (by kshanikavada) instantaneously so, despite and therefore because no choice vector proving to really exist, nor internationality being found to have any actual inwardness, save at the level of the entire, but if entire then Tatgatha, Universe in which all gravity, all karmic connection, persists but persists only as the dust cloud of its own departure. Thus Karlji well placed to find ‘quantum computer’ secret- of which, due to ‘reflexivity of Social cognition’, there can be only one- hence coming India, Jain Ashram, gaining omniscience etc., etc.
Chevda chomper’s theory was as follows. On the occasion of the Emperor’s first public promenade, in his new clothes, a small boy pointed out- actually Emperorji is naked! Immediately, the C.E.O of the Emperor’s New Clothes Conglomerate praised the boy’s truthfulness and appointed him Chief External Auditor to approve valuation of the company’s inventory in the run up to its NASDAQ listing. Needless to say, the boy deserves much credit for restoring Public Confidence in this booming sector of the Knowledge Economy. That little boy grew up to become Karlji.
All these speculations were wide off the mark. Iyer was the only one to actually talk to Karlji after she gained omniscience- indeed, he helped her (Karlji having changed sex due to the fourteen dimensional interaction of the Post Kristevan Chora) get a place on the purdah-women’s special train for the pilgrimage to the Chotta Pir shrine in Pakistan, in exchange for which favour Karlji was able to confirm to Iyer, from the viewpoint of omniscience, the crucial importance of Anti-Masturbation Struggle for the preservation of the entire Multiverse. At this time, Karlji also confessed everything to Iyer. Indeed, his/her demeanour was very humble and modest. He/she had actually tried to sneak past Iyerji- being dazzled by his tejas- without greeting him at the train station. Fortunately, the Guide noticed and caught him/her. Very deferentially, as was becoming to his/her new sex, Karlji admitted- Yes, he’d only come to India so as to develop a relationship with Arif- who had a family connection with, or debt of honour uncollected from, people like Osama bin Laden and Ahmed Shah Massood. However, it wasn’t so as to recruit him for Intelligence work. On the contrary, Karlji was a reporter for “Hello!” magazine anxious to profile Bin Laden for their series on upscale Caves and Caverns. Since Bin Laden rather shy, Karlji had hoped Arif would open the way. Incidentally, Iyerji was greatly to be congratulated for having, in an earlier conversation, spotted the connection between the magazine and Ernest Hello (1828 – 1885), the mystical writer and self-confessed Belgian whom J.K. Huysmans, in his diabolist fiction La Bas, acclaimed as the greatest occult master of the age. Indeed, Iyer had shown remarkable acuteness- as indeed was only to be expected from the anti-Masturbating Saviour of all Sentient life in the Multiverse- in attributing to this cause the world famous ‘curse of ‘Hello’’ whereby celebrities profiled in it experience immediate disaster. Given the circumstances, Karlji hoped Iyer would forgive him/her for this little deception- after all nobody could say Bin Laden wasn’t simply crying out for a ‘Hello!’ profiling- but, in any case, he’d/she’d given up all such projects along with his/her male gender. Anyway, having gained omniscience, just he/she was in a hurry to get back home and start rolling chappatis. Thus if Iyer could very kindly expedite his/her departure without fuss or publicity, he/she’d be greatly obliged. Being truly chivalrous, not to mention a dedicated Feminist, how Iyer Sahib could refuse?
I don’t care anymore.
I’m going to write some heavy philosophy now.
If you don’t like it, you can bloody well lump it.
Frankly, I’m tired of just sugar-coating everything and pitching things at the lowest common denominator level so as to pander to the fast-food guzzling, attention-span-of-a-goldfish, paperback massmarket. Henceforth, you’re going to see some big changes around here. I’m going to open up the throttle and overtake the big names in avant garde, cutting edge, Politico-Philosophical literature like Paul Auster, Roberto Callasso, David Icke, etc., etc.
My method is- first to quote an aphorism from an unimpeachable source, eg. Badrayana’s Brahma Sutras, Shwarznegger’s Yoga-boxing Shastra, etc, etc, and then give its counter-argument before proceeding to state the correct interpretation. I may mention, though I take full responsibility for all my statements, still, you should be aware, I have very rigorously discussed these matters with highly influential Advaitic authorities- e.g. Snakeji & Infant Hercs.
Brahma Sutra aphorism (2.3.50) âbhâsa eva ca- (A reflection merely it (the Jiva) is).
The life monad has no independent existence or unsublatable entelechy but is a reflection merely- approvable for fidelity and radiance only insofar as it neither adds nor subtracts anything of its own to mirroring the Brahman (which is Absolute Reality)
Poorvapakshya- For a start, lets just review what we have learnt about the Jiva and Atma so far. You will remember, the Jiva’s job is to just remain a very stereotyped, brain-dead & snobbish, Stepford housewife so that the Atma can get on with sucking up to the Boss (Bhrama) and, like maybe, eventually make Partner or something. This is a totally crap point of view, because even if the Atma is so fucking conformist and sycophantic as to be able to imagine no higher good than that derived from slavishly imitating the Boss, then, at least, the Jiva can rebel a little and make waves. Indeed, the whole point about reflections is that they have lower dimensionality- and thus fewer degrees of freedom for creative self-realisation- than that which is mirrored. Hence, the image (being dependent on what it reflects) is that which is least like its object. Thus- assuming that the Beauty we see all around us really is attributable to the Creator- the Jiva (in this context- one’s practical life-philosophy as reflexively discovered in the uncompressible unfolding of one’s entelechy) should constantly be warring with one’s Atma (in this context- one’s sublatable cosmological theories) because the dance-contest of that Tiruvudal is what is most productive of new ideas & fresh ways of seeing. Indeed, this internal Yin-Yang agon, or Tiruvudal, is what we, in practice, appreciate in all those Religious and Ideological leaders who aren’t (leaving side their programmatic utterances) utterly crap.
Thus, to conclude, kindly don’t give me this shit about Jiva being a reflection of Brahma or start up a sermon that ‘the pleasures and pains of this world are totally illusory because our only purpose is to make it big in the next world- whose pleasures and pains are not totally illusory at all because they were invented by some crazy chap with a beard who differed from all other crazy chaps with beards because, though he spouted precisely the same line in guff, we either crucified him or didn’t crucify him but, at any rate, ensured he didn’t receive proper psychiatric care in time’. Thus, so your argument runs, though careerism in this world is totally wrong- indeed, we should always spurn any sensible course of action because only by so doing can we do well in our other-worldly career- being sensible careerists involves being drooling dropouts and vice versa because some crazy chap with a beard said so- and, anyway, someone somewhere is bound to be making a tidy little profit on all this so thank you very much. This being the case- or, at least, this being the uniform testimony of all religions with respect to each other- all religions are unanimous in declaring themselves to be the only creed which strikes a sensible middle course between this-world careerism and next-world social climbing. Indeed, it is their very witless insistence in this matter which makes all religions such an inexhaustible source for belly-laughs.
Obviously, most people aren’t actually in the market for a bespoke Paranoid delusion system, but since we all believe that other people are, on average, far more stupid than ourselves (indeed Language has continued survival value only because it permits Social Co-operation by giving us this impression) it therefore follows that the majority is always likely to buy into the most egregious brand of shite on offer & so we too must jump on the bandwagon because there’s safety in numbers and hey! it's like we’re actually reeeely deeply spiritual people donchaknow and like Religions and Ideologies do inculcate basic Social virtues- e.g. don’t eat up all your children- and in any case people feel so empty in this materialistic civilisation, it’s like they’re not enjoying the communion with Mother Nature their ancestors found in the wilds (i.e. they’re not experiencing the stress reactions which would have sent them thoroughly round the twist), and so people need the sense of belonging, the sense of purpose, the craziness and criminal sociopathy that only organised religion or paranoid politics (and the two reduce to each other) provides.
Firstly, many crazy people don’t have beards. Furthermore, as Lord Jesus Christ said- ‘Man does not live by beard alone. Moustache too is advisable.’
Secondly these things always look a lot more sensible if you take enough of the right drugs; thirdly no one says you have to suck up to the Boss, get made Partner, etc. Indeed, just as in any large firm there will always be a need for, non-Executive material, number-crunchers (e.g. bumbling Asian geeks who wear peculiar suits made from carpet fabric or curtain material) so too with organisations on higher Ontological planes. The fact that we all spend most of our conscious life in impossible, magical, or just plain silly cognitive dimensions proves that Religion is like a good house-keeper, tidying up after us rather than a Fata Morgana luring us off the precipice of Reason and Utility.
Another point is- this is with reference to your rant about dimensionality- didn’t Cantor prove there are just as many points on a n dimensional surface as on a n+1 dimensional surface? I’m not sure how this relates to your argument but it’s something to think about at any rate.
Actually, when we contemplate any given Jiva- e.g. Infant Hercs- we soon start to see, not him exactly, but it’s like his unutterable cuddliness becomes a property of the faces and places we pass walking out onto the streets after spending too much time just sitting at home crying etc. The analogy is- just as wetness becomes a property of the crowd during a rainstorm, so to does reflecting upon Infant Hercs cause all beings to glisten with a sort of diffused cuddliness due to, in some sense, he hasn't gone anywhere at all. ‘Cuddliness of you/ tho’ I can plainly view/ you aren’t here/but far more near’ etc., etc.
In this context, let us consider Brahma Sutra aphorism 3.3.37- vyatihaaraha, viśinşanthi hiitaravat- ‘Scripture prescribes reciprocity between worshipper and worshipped’- i.e., the former can be meditated on as modifying the latter. To give a simple example- ‘taking his first tri-vikrama three steps, Baby vanquishes the Demon Bali within us’- similarly all epithets of the Supreme Lord gain glory from being primarily predicated of Infant Hercs- e.g., in this manner, to call Him Madhusudhana (slayer of Madhu) ceases to be an etymological mistake (as Prof. Ingalls thinks) due to, when holding that miniature Marut in his arms, even the World’s worst drunkard loses all interest in Wine. Q.E.D.
Bhrama Sutra aphorism 2.3.27- Vyatireko gandhavat tathā ca darśayati (Scripture also declares extension- as of the perfume that pervades the flower- as being possible for the soul (without compromising its self-identity))
Madhava, by the account of Dr. B.N.K Sharma, considers this Sutra to have relevance in clearing up the discrepancy in Scripture between the insistence that the Jiva is without parts and remains always an indivisible whole, and the testimony in, for example, the Aagneya Purana, that “certain great Yogins- like Saubhari, Agastya, Kardama etc- could simultaneously maintain many forms while keeping intact a full sense of personal identity for all their alter-egos as one single experiencing Self.”
Iyer, now you’re just being silly. We well understand what you’re getting at- viz. due to being a mighty Yogi, incessantly performing sucking-own-toe-asana, Infant Herc acquired supernatural powers and multiplied himself so as to bring comfort to Ribena etc. No doubt, he planned the whole thing with her daughter when Ribena and Arif came to visit you on the hill above the Japanese Monastery. Furthermore, you will now tell us, nobody was watching him at the time when he performed the miracle- proof of which fact is given by Arif’s telling you he spotted Doctor’s Daughter following him when he first set out to search Maah Taalab environs on the off chance his niece had crawled off somewhere. Not that there’s any reason to get angry with Arif. He didn’t know that the Doctor’s Daughter, that scapegrace truant, was supposed to be minding Infant Hercs who was busy taking nap on Amba riverbank. Still, due to he must have guessed she was totally infatuated with him and ‘Queen’ Ribena, Arif shouldn’t have told her the whole story of Baby disappearing and thus set her to scouring the countryside rather than keeping a proper eye on Infant Hercs. Still, what’s happened’s happened, so why be bitter?
Anyway, from philosophic point of view, I’d just like to ask you a simple question. Due to why, no Infant Hercs was coming off with me? You might say- Iyer you are like a demented she-monkey just swinging from tree to tree clutching the corpse of its child. Let it go! However, I reply to you- firstly the monkey jibe is very racist and I’ll report you to C.R.E. also; secondly, I never touched the corpse- if I had then, yes!, I’d have snatched it up & jumped into some tree and gone swinging from one corner of India to the other! Why not?! Why not?! That’s also all right. Indeed, it’s only right and proper. After all, Lord Hanuman went swinging to get Chiranjivi herb to revive His Lord. Why not me? Why not?! Why not?!
Anyway, what all you are saying is totally senseless- not that I’m a violent person- still, you should just watch it that’s all.
Belief that a single personal identity can span more than one object is very ancient. Indeed, in Byzantium, people thought the soul could simultaneously reside in a number of disparate objects- eg. a Tavern sign, an old statue, etc. The paradoxes regarding the concept of identity- and thus Language’s ability to function- such beliefs give rise to, explains, perhaps, the mirroring of apophatic Greek Orthodox theology in the ‘apoha’ of Madhyamika Buddhism such that the image we see, as in a glass darkly, of the ‘Thus Departed’ or ‘Absconded God’, is but the alchemy by which all Loss becomes but the crystaline jewel-box ablaze in every facet with the friendly presence of that which it mourns.
In any case, you should not complain if the ‘Hymn leaved Ashwattama tree, whose roots are in Heaven and whose leaves are the Scriptures’ is also the hideout of this demented she-monkey clutching the corpse of its child. For bright characters and noble personalities, from all walks of life, that tree remains a wish-granting kalpavrksha.
As for myself, what I can tell you?- due to past-life bond only, I was born in Iyer class. Maybe, what happened was this. Two children were playing outside cave. Weeping Hyena comes up and interests the little girl. Boy also intrigued. The kids play a little with the novel creature, then go back coz Mummy is calling. Weeping Hyena wants to come too, but Mummy says no due to it might eat baby. Children regretful, but the god of Karma gets angry. Bond is created. Weeping Hyena gets power for to laugh and is reborn as that Cave Mommy’s own son. However, due to original Hyena nature, his attachment to Iyer values is due to canine considerations rather than creative sublation of ego-ideal through Knowledge, Good Works etc., etc.
Whatever the truth of this ‘just-so story’, for myself, I can only say- I don’t know work, I don’t know striving-
‘Love that works Love is as the Sun- it is reckoned
& Love with but works- the Moon & is second
While Love without works- which is mine & the third
A glow-worm but is- to feed Night’s unclean bird!
Indeed, I must tell you,- Infant Hercs only liked me due to I was coming straight from Ashram and hence had the perfume of Sadhavis’ vatsalya still fresh upon me. Moreover, nowadays, at least since I shaved off beard, I am experiencing a strange phenomenon- viz. sometimes, looking in mirror, I see Madhu’s face.
Of course, there is nothing supernatural or mysterious about this & though I’ve never actually undergone a Hindu marriage ceremony myself, still, I’ve watched movies, I’ve read books, I know what’s what. Indeed, Rg Veda 10.85.28-30 couldn’t be more explicit. Rather than documenting some bizarre cross-dressing impulse on the part of Vedic bridegrooms, this sukta throws light on a universal psychological phenomenon. Marriage occurs when Karma becomes Krtya, Magic displaces Causality, and ‘become endowed with feet, enters the husband’s heart as his wife.’ Thus, if ‘lacking in beauty, he wishes to clothe his own limbs in his wife’s garments’- this Krtya is not some evil enchantment, or mental malady, but simply the complex-number working out of an otherwise intractable (for ignoring our imaginary component) problem in Karmic mathematics.
Now, I don’t want you to worry if you didn’t quite grasp everything in the last paragraph. For the moment, it would be quite sufficient for you to understand that my seeing Madhu’s face in the mirror is not
a) some supernatural phenomenon
b) evidence I’ve gone bonkers
c) an instance of the ineluctable modality of the peristalsis of the fourteen dimensional hypotenuse of the Post Kristevan Chora.
d) Any other such shit.
On the contrary, it’s just a very commonplace phenomenon- the antiquity of whose occurrence is testified to by the Rg Veda- and, as such, quite unexceptionable even if it suddenly crops up in the midst of an Indglish novel.
Anyway, all this is beside the point. All I’m trying to say is, under ideal conditions, I could simply have been the Daddy-type person, taking delight in infant’s feeding and farting and not being bothered about its ethical development, moral evolution etc, etc, due to wife would take care of all that side of things. Since, it couldn’t be- and though, like a demented she-monkey, all I have in my hands is this deadweight of a corpse- still, you might say I’m changing. Though the child is only a ghost, still, by my turning into a woman, - i.e. the face I sometimes see in the mirror- something can still happen. In some sense, I can still be the Daddy- discharging duty to Society by sitting on committees & hampering rural development with paranoid P.C. eco-feminist jargon etc, etc- before coming home to glory greatly in the overflow of mother-child vatsalya.
Of course, all this begs the question- is Madhu really there in that image in my mirror? Does Infant Hercs actually feel the quickening pulse of my hot blood hurrying to him when his image climbs unbidden into the empty lap of my heart? What of this diffused Universal-friendliness- like bewintered Gunashil’s honeyed light- I see in faces and places outside my house of sorrow, my den of despair? It is a reflection, I agree, but can it see me? Can it be touched by my recognition of it, even after all these empty years?
Scripture tells us, Yogijivas can be given the power to retain a single personal identity though subsisting in many forms at once. But, has this power been granted to the members of my imaginary family? Are we still together? Sometimes, I feel so unreasonably happy, it must be the case.
Of course, you might say- Vivek, that stuff about Yogis being able to multiply their forms etc. is just superstition. Please don’t expect us to buy that guff. Or, if you insist on it, kindly tell us, where is the proof?
My reply is, I can give you proof. By God’s grace, thanks to my family’s financial sacrifices & blessings of all teachers, neighbours, servants etc, I did actually get a chance to associate with Mahatmas and Gurus and so was able to witness this miracle with my own eyes. I will tell the story in the next section due to, for some reason, I’m feeling quite chirpy now & so I’ll just knock off for a bit and go outside for a little.
 C.R.E.- The Commission for Racial Equality.
 People think the word ‘Hello’ is a meaningless, non-sectarian, greeting used on telephone for purely conventional reasons. This is far from being the case. Swami Harikantha has pointed out that actually ‘Hello’ is secret Christian name for God (vide the Lord’s prayer- ‘ Our Father who art in Heaven, Hello be thy name’). Through morphic resonance (especially intense due to proliferation of telephone network- including mobiles!) constant use of the H word is part of evil ‘Crusader’ conspiracy to destroy Purist Religion. Anyway, that’s why I’m not paying phone bill. You think Anti-Masturbation Messiah like me really made so many calls to sex-lines from own phone? In any case what has has happened to ‘presumption of innocence’ said to be foundation of White Man’s Justice system? “Never presume” as Colin Powell said to Condaleeza Rice “because, to presume would make a Pres. out of u & me.” Anyway, reason I mention all this is because it is all part of same basic conspiracy, isn’t it? As for Swami Harikantha’s failure, to get even a measly M.L.A ticket from B.J.P, this totally & very conclusively proves Vajpayee is just a tool of the fanatical Bush/Blair ‘Crusader’conspiracy. Bin Laden also involved. His family own mobile phone network. Who else is hounding Swamiji out of Indian Police Service? Too much dirty business is going on, I am telling you. Time for us Purists to take a stand. To underline urgency, I may be permitted to respectfully relate following anecdote which is like a parable of our times. What happened was this;- due to listening lengthy speech at last prayer meeting, just I went up to one of our young stalwarts and asked - ‘Brother, where is toilet?’ Immediately young man replied, ‘Sir, just go through that door, turn right, advance 5 yards, and immediately gain evangelical blessing of fulsome & forthright bowel & bladder evacuatory relief.’ Why you lie to me!’ I screamed at him- ‘Do you think I’m blind? If I do as you say, I will be run over by truck!’ ‘Sir,’ the young man replied reproachfully, ‘You and I belong to same sacred creed. As you know, for billions of millennia our particular community has been universally acknowledged to be the sole repository of Truth. Indeed, it is because- however much their false prophets and mercenary pundits have tried to disguise this fact- everybody has always known this that the entire world is united in a remorseless and unremitting conspiracy against us. That is why we see, even at this moment, even as we speak, entire universe is engaged in mercilessly slaughtering billions of our brothers, heinously raping trillions of our sisters, and forcing even the doddering old malis, who tended the gardens of our infancy, the grey haired ayahs in whose laps we used to play, to submit to the most atrocious and aggravated acts of fellatio and cunnilingus. In this context, we must fight fire with fire. If they tell lies- we too must tell lies. Granted, and meaning no disrespect to you personally, not everyone has the mettle to become a suicide bomber. Still, if not a fart in a crowded lift, you can at least commit a nuisance on the public highway. In this way, we the people of Truth can begin to fight back and, since our victory is inevitable, History can end and the Rapture commence.’
 Purvapakshya- first objection, preliminary objection, stated in disputing a philosophical thesis.
 Indeed, that fragment of Bedil’s facetiae (only included in his Divan to ward off the ‘Eye of Perfection’) which Arif (then clean shaven) had insisted on translating to me- viz.
‘Preacher, the blaze of thy beard is the Believers’ pride
It’s silver, not senility seared, but by much semen dyed
& if from thy hirsute nimbus, the Law most thunders and booms
Blame thy Deep Throat dingus, not Heaven blunders or dooms!’
acquires an almost oracular quality given the final outcome of this narrative.
 Bali- a demon King who conquered the Universe by his austerities, causing the Gods to become fearful for their prestige & position. Bali celebrated a yagnya (sacrifice) to give away his wealth. A dwarf (vamana) or small person came to him. He said- give me as much as my three strides can cover. Bali tried to persuade Vamana to take a richer gift. But, Vamana was adamant. With his first stride he covered the Earth, with his second the Heavens, then he asked Bali where he could down his foot to complete his third stride. Bali, knowing Vamana to be Lord Vishnu (of whom he was the sincerest devotee), said, ‘put your foot on my head!’ thus gaining both death & deliverance. The three strides of Vamana are called tri-vikrama.