When

When

When your pheromones have left my blanket, but somehow the whiff of your sweat lingers on,

When all that remains is a distant memory and I don’t miss you anymore so much,

When a faint constant pain wells up in my being and says, “I miss, oh I miss that warmth and that which we called love”

My heart tugs me and gives me a hug and says, “I still love you, and always will.”

Contemplating, Loving and Living...

When we contemplate on the obedience we obey Christ with it has to be out of sheer Love. We abstain from something or we partake of it --it all has to be acts of love: that what seems right for us to do or right to us to do or not do. 

We mustn't lump it onto others, though, saying, "You must all also do thus and thus..."

This presupposes that we need to be in God's presence. We need to be  with God at all times --all the time: rain & sunshine, light & darkness, day & night, the highs & the lows --through it all. 

How do we practise the presence of God? Do we work up an emotion? Conjure up God!? Yes and No.

Yes --because, yes, in all our relationships relating to everyone we do work up some emotions when we let our minds turn to them. This is not because they are not there, as if they are not real people, but all the more because they are real people and we have spent time with them. And same it is when we think of God. 

No -- because, no, we do not need to work up our emotions or work ourselves up to feel God's presence as if he is not a real person. God is very real and very much a person and very much present even when we do not feel anything or even think of him. All we need, like with any person in any of our relationships, think of God --we feel the highs or lows of emotions towards him does not matter. Let's remember who he is to us and how he has been all that to us, and how we have been with him. Let's remember the walks we have been having with him till now. He is with us.

Two Pens

Two Pens

Bubai loves fountain pens. He has a Parker and a Wing Sung. One day Parker and Wing Sung dipped themselves in the ink-pot and drank deep. They both wanted to see for themselves and show the world how well they wrote. Here is what happened. 

"I'm thrilled to see both of you writing rather well after so long," told Bubai, the boy. Wing Sung and Parker wrote on, smoothly gliding over the paper of the notebook that promises to last a 100 years! Wing Sung asked, "But I wonder why Parker and I are writing in two different shades of the same colour when its the same ink that is flowing out of us onto the same paper? This needs to be further investigated into.'

"Hell, yeah, replied Parker, "We definitely gotta do that and like ASAP." 

"Yes, without the shadow of a dragon, I mean, doubt", agreed Wing Sung calmly. 

Thus began a long association and hearty (sometimes not-so-hearty) co-operation between the two pens from two far-flung (or perhaps flung far) countries and cultures: Parker, the American and Wing Sung, the Chinese. "God save America; damn it, God save us all from China," remarked Parker under his breath. 

"But where the hell will we start? I have no idea, " thought aloud Parker. Parker often thinks aloud, rather too much aloud, one would suppose: be it from the church pulpit or the presidential podium or while walking the streets or whenever: "Well, I dunno...whatever; I say whatever I wanna say whenever I gotta say it," he would say. "Well, it gotta be the quality of the paper or the ink or both but..."

"But they are one and the same," finished Wing Sung. "It is the same paper we write on with the same ink and yet we make different impressions. It may be not too much yet it goes a long way and stands out so much," continued Wing Sung. 

"Wtf!" hyperventilated Parker. How come we make different impressions using the same ink writing on the same page?" asked Parker, decidedly angry and excited. "Hey, I got an idea. May be, well just may be, well I mean don't get me wrong there buddy. Its the tech, you know. Nothing to do with you really. Its like, see... I'm 'Made in the USA' and well, to be frank, you are just a 'Made in China' stuff. Jeez, that's gotta do with it. The brand matters: to us, to the world. A Parker's a Parker and so is my cousin Sheaffer's a Sheaffer or that dude from New York, Waterman, well, he is something too. And, well, no hard feelings pal, a Wing Sung's a fuckin' Wing Sung!! (whoever's heard of the damn name?)."

To this Wing Sung rolled up his small, sharp eyes that are like two sharp Sai daggers that can slice an opponents face or take down a sword. Usually these eyes gave very little away but this time they did. There was a real laughter and a sense of truly being amused and entertained in them. Parker did not like it one damn bit. Neither did he like his frenemy's not giving away almost anything almost always and  his giving away what he did this time! 

"I don't like this one damn bit," he protested. "What?" he barked, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," said Wing Sung and put on that deadpan face once again. 

"Say it, buster," demanded Parker. 

"Nothing," said Wing Sung in his calm, steely tone. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Some time passed and they both decided to call a truce. "Let's go grab some coffee, I'm buying," declared Parker with a grin. 

"Jasmine tea for me, please," said Wing Sung, "and I am buying my own tea, thank you. I happen to know the perfect little place in the heart of China Town." 

"Ah come on, man, gimme a break will'ya?" Just have the damned coffee and get on with it will ya?," barked Parker. "I too know a perfect little coffee shop just around the corner."

"I only drink jasmine tea, organic and grown in China and prepared in the traditional Chinese way by a Chinese. I shall not touch your coffee. Jasmine tea keeps me calm, focused."

"Damn you and damn your jasmine tea and your Chinese teas and whatever. I am an American. I love coffee, I thrive on coffee. Coffee is what makes me get up and get movin' --strong and bold. I ain't touching no jasmine tea, and I ain't goin' to no China Town," roared Parker, clearly exasperated, more at the fact that Wing Sung didn't want him to buy him coffee than at the fact that he would prefer tea. 

"Well that settles it then," said Wing Sung. "You do not and will not have a dialogue. You stay with your 'strong and bold' all-American coffee in your 'perfect' coffee shop in your corner of the world while I'll head over to my China Town and enjoy my jasmine tea. But mark my words, we shall have no resolution to the issue at hand: Why do we end up doing the same things so differently, the writing to be exact, in this case, our writing on the paper of Life with the ink of Being humans and yet make so different impressions on the very page of Life we both must share. Don't you think that is a very 'bold' thing to discover if we put our two heads together, Mr. American?," ended Wing Sung. 

"Well, yeah... whatever...  like I said Mr. Chinese, lets go grab some coffee and we'll talk it over but no jasmine tea for me. You gotta talk to me? You gotta talk to me my way?" said Parker. 

"I cannot do that. I have my ancient Chinese way of doing things. Jasmine tea calms the nerves. Talks must be done over jasmine tea," said Wing Sung in his calm, flat, determined tone. 

"Damn the tea, damn the ink and the paper of Life and damn the impression and damned be the talks. I'm calling it off. No more talks." Parker was furious. Wing Sung grimaced and slightly a fist was forming.

At this time Flair, the Indian pen, was just passing by. He heard the two argue. Flair suggested, "What about chai, dudes -- Masala chai, Chai latte, or the traditional 'Gud ki Chai' from Punjab?" Chai is calming, yet strong and bold in taste, full of the traditional goodness of the Indian spices. And sweet if you want it to be with the goodness of 'gud'." Chai in any of its avatars will give you good of both the worlds."

Tired and overwrought as both of them were, chai sounded an acceptable option to both Parker and Wing Sung. So Parker, Wing Sung and Flair walked to an Indian chai stall and sipped chai in peace. We don't know what came of the discussion but the last they were seen it seemed like all three were happy and amicable. 

Bubai smiled a knowing smile being a Bengali boy. Tea or cha is the panacea to all ails. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~