Yours from me, this namaska’r.
Cognance of who we really are.
A shape to hold when souls seem far.
One light, my comet and your star.
When Black surrounds and muffs my sight,
Lead feet mush through tarry night.
When midnight throbs – Flash’d starlight!
This fog is Yours – warm chill, all-right.
I have recently read three books set in the turbulent world of Afghanistan. Two were moving fictional stories – Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns and the third an awe-inspiring true account of one man’s humanitarian work in Pakistan and Afghanistan.
I read A Thousand Splendid Suns first and it had a profound effect on me. Not only did the novel educate me on Afghanistan’s recent history, it plunged me into the daily reality of war and oppression. It left me feeling incredulous, humbled and deeply saddened as I began to fully comprehend what the Afghani people have experienced over the last few decades.
Three Cups of Tea, the story of Greg Mortenson’s adventures in establishing over fifty schools in rural Pakistan and Afghanistan, therefore came as a relieving reminder that, despite the stranglehold that hypocrisy and exploitation has on many parts of the world, it is still possible to breathe in lungfuls of fresh air. Continue reading
I recently came across the blog of a long time muse of mine, Labi Siffre. I was once in a second-hand shop in Manchester and the cover of his 1972 album, “Crying, Laughing, Loving, Lying” called out to me to buy it…
I had never heard of him, and the record was a little scratched, but I took it home and haven’t stopped listening to it since. I even hooked up the record player to the computer so I could make mp3s. Some time later, I saw him perform a sublime set of music and poetry – on race, religion, politics and people.
When I came across his blog, Into The Light, I saw a stream of poetry… This one really caught my attention:
as 123 as ABC
“life has no meaning without God” say many
but life has no meaning
full stop. period.
life is the muse, the inspiration
equalled only by existence
and these wonders inspire us
FIRE us to meaning
to not realize that is
and the customary way
I write from New York – having just roared up the east coast in an aluminium snake of a train from Washington to stay here with some old friends from another hemisphere. The summer is well and truly Indian in the big apple, and the smell downtown is not unlike Delhi either. Despite the sticky subways, I’ve been enjoying vegan cuisine, Brooklyn community life and scintillating conversation. My friends, like me, have been recently introduced into the wonderful world of parenting and, naturally much conversation blossomed around this topic.