Monday, April 26, 2010


.....These little coquettish self-plays are sometimes reminiscent of a place called Varindavan. Look not for meanings when in love. Being in love is the only meaning there is to anything. And who should know it more than the rascal I am talking to ---except that I know it better and more!! Envy me my luck, but the price -- if that is a price -- is loving and living with Satanic imperfections. And aren't those thrilling? Who would want to be God if it came at the expense of the one most beautiful feeling and experience we have been bequeathed by the expelled ancestor? (Again) except that no one has ever had to pay that expense. Contrary, God is fascinating as he is becasue of His imperfections. Otherwise, he would be constricted to a pretty narrow universe. ANd who cares for a perfect wooden idol anyway? If love is a riot of imperfections, this universe and God owe their kaleidoscopic unpredictability to it For His sake, I glorify and perpetuate His imperfections. God has a lot to be thankful to me for, and I will not forget it nor let Him forget it at the Hour of Reckoning-- which is every hour! Rajiv meri ye shokhiy-e-rindaana dekhna/ Rehmat ko baaton baton mein behla ke peee gya!

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