The innocence of a young banded krait

A venomous banded krait caused quite a commotion slithering near my gate. It wasn't a big fellow; just into his teens, I should think. This species is not known for its aggression or nimbleness- being a lethargic serpent species. I let the chap slither away unmolested into the park. I didn't at all mind the young gentleman serpent out on his evening stroll through the colony and the wider world; more importantly, my dogs didn't mind him at all, which must mean he was an OK fellow. But, as is the habit of homo sapiens around these parts, passersby and layabouts in the vicinity were quick to film, gabble about and spectate like incorrigible voyeurs, disturbing the fine sensibilities of the young snake and forcing him to hide in the bushes. That's humans for you. That's my snake story update for today, hopefully my next update on snakes will be titled- "The spectacle caused by a spectacled Cobra."

Permanent Vacation

I NEED A F*****G VACATION!

I wish I was on a beach somewhere

I am not fussy about the here or there

I need to be far and away- more than most

On a shell haunted turquoise coast

Or in the pebbled nook of a rocky shore

Any beach I haven't been to before.

Perhaps the sands on a sun blessed Isle

Will be host to my wistful exile

Or Perhaps, a moss hugged cheerless shore

Is where I shall hear the ocean roar

I cannot be fussy about the here or there

I just wish I was on a beach somewhere-LT

CHOICE IN LIFE- BANKS AND BANKERS.

When banks want to screw you; they do a good job, what are your choices in life when it comes to banks and bankers. May I suggest a few.

Scenario 1: You are neck deep in a river, stuck between a well armed banker on a boat and a crocodile Best choice: Embrace the crocodile-it only wants to eat you, the banker wants your soul.

Scenario 2: An apocalyptic event has overtaken the world and a searing, flame ringed, sputtering wall of lava, 500 meters high is engulfing your city, you can feel the scalding heat on your face as you race away from the inferno, the bank building with its armored vault is the only place of possible refuge. Best choice: Walk into the lava! bank vaults trap souls for all eternity.

Scenario 3: Suicide bombers have overtaken your local bank and come out with a list of demands which must be agreed to within four hours or else they blow up the bank and kill everyone inside, you are the chief of police. Best Choice: Do nothing. Because one should never negotiate with terrorists.


Scenario 4:You have six friends on facebook because you are such a loser that even the guys with fake profiles wouldn't add you. Five of them are bankers and the remaining one is a stalker who keeps sending you his soiled undies. Best choice: Unfriend the five bankers, the stalker is your fan! He might not be such a bad guy at all.

THE BURDEN OF MEMORY

Remember your creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say-“I find no pleasure in them”—Ecclesiastes 12:1

Were my days like a river, I would have drowned. I don’t quite know, nor do I pretend to understand, why… I might have drowned in the Yamuna in 1876, or the Yariapo in 1567, or did I die crossing the Rubicone-my memory fails but I do remember the Jordan, but I might not have drowned there. In fact, I may be dead.... But then..and since, I am still typing on my birthday- here, this day- on the 23^rd of November 2013, I think I have somehow escaped the flood waters. I must then be in my own Gilgamesh epic, perhaps, I am a Noah in my own flood haunted story. I might have drowned in the tide of memory or will do so shortly. In any event, apparently, I am still alive…and thankful..to the one, the triumphant one on Calvary.I am most certainly human and breathing, that is all I know- and that is enough.

TIME

Like all living things/I age/ I am older/In the register of life/I open, older by one order/Older the second-the seconds that scorn all life- the day begins/But dear grandma time, dear prodigal time, where are you taking me/ Soon, you will melt me to star dust again/Before I have mended, bended, kneaded this time- this time I was gifted- you will kill, grab, accost, accuse, be jury, judge, executioner/ In the name of immortality/ You will kill me and call me immortal/ Time you are cruel- LT

DEATH

DEATH
..Separate the plastron from the carapace, slide the cold metal in, down, down, down, to the beating center, inward, there, there's your reward, there!..to where my heart beats. Turn the blade, steel against flesh-win,win, win, win- you have the wins. You win, you win, you win, now push it in, deep, deep deep, let the steel bite, kill me, kill me, I am dead, I will die, I am dead, I will die...- LT.

I REMEMBER A DAY IN JUNE

I remember her laughter and then, I remember…

…I remember a day in June and the way the river looked as we came down to it, a brown serpent surging between the hills. It flowed cool and hurried amid the green lushness; a creature born of water, silt, and time. I remember the smell of wet mud that clung to everything and above us; clouds crowded the sky from rim to rim, ready to flail at the earth.

We walked barefoot, on the banks of the river, on pebbly silt flecked with the shells of clams, because there was nowhere else to be in town and nothing to do except to be with each other. I remember her eyes, shining like silver almonds through the veil of rain and how her girlish banter rose like a song above the sounds of the river, and that we had the time, to talk of everything and nothing. I remember the taste of her lips; the scent of her cheap Burmese perfume, the warmth in her tongue, the tautness of her body against mine; and how; her breasts rebelled in my palms.

I remember her laughter, a lost melody of my youth, how it bound me to her like an enchantment, on the road back to town. I remember the easy purr of the Vespa on the slick roads, how the sound of the engine and her voice melded in my ears. I remember too well, those other sounds, as we slid past the shuttered houses in the village, past the soldiers, on the road crossing the cemetery.

The years have passed like a staccato of rifle fire, and those other sounds grow louder and threaten to drown out the memory of that June day. It is at such times that I hear the sound of that lost melody of my youth. That laughter that was also an enchantment and I am bound once more to her, and I can remember that I am a creature born of memory, blood, and time.

Then....I remember a day in June…

Lalsiemdik Tusing, 23/10/13.