deliberations on the arrival of acharya

You’re wise enough to speak, like Ramanujan did when he would try to articulate his mathematical concept and if you’re not understood then you’re wiser still for being able to articulate your own concept, no matter if you’re not understood. Like Ramanujan wasn’t.

You’re strong enough to spell your demands. And ask for for medicines and education are reasonable demands.

There was, says A, a man in Kenya who wished to be accompanied by people in death. He advertised: whomsoever wishes to die, let’s do it together.

If the Kenyan could put together a cult of death, can we not put together a cult of the living?

Malti’s brother in Ruviri

I’m reading Lolita and sitting next to an eight year old. If I weren’t Humpbert, I would hear your fragrance in the cool metro, after observing the porclain spanish dancing girl on your father’s cupboard for observational effect. We hadn’t made love and I still believe you felt guilty for denying me of your body. Perhaps, I thought later, that we might have glown too much when your brother, bothered with his plane’s travails would have had him told, through a film of aloe vera on our guilty faces, that we had shared of each other. Plane flew, electric lines buzzed, the sun shined under our shadow (as my photographic subject, you won’t have me showing you your gain) I couldn’t come to tell myself that shadows had been held frozen for months and pulled out by your brother’s restful shade, you have heated me and you some american corn on which you are sprinkling masale wasale, churning them with a spoon. You were soon to see that you had an unfortunate Urinary Track Infection again. Later, I saw your dappled, leaf-luminiscent pictures.

Save my soul, I’ve seen your art. As if I hadn’t seen enough of you. As if your boy had’t wanted to keep his distasteful eyes on you. He won’t have the slightest of you.