No parent to you in the chair means that was not your cradle, that was not your hold that baby sweetly, that was not change his diaper, that was not teach him to walk, and that was not to show him the world for the first time, and all the things in it that made him wonder and laugh and cry when it hurt him. You did not sooth that child in the bottom years of his life, those three years of Earth when he rose into human being. It is there we hold him his parents say,and you have no right there they tell me.
Is this all that’s wrong? I have been his parent for life. I came in when that boy left his toddler years, and I formed him into the boy he is now, formidable years, the ones his two front teeth came out, and the teeth there that I had him grow back were not mean. They were full of spiritual impulse, and they formed his muse, the poetry he writes from inner house, and that is my job with him. He is a poet to show the world we have to change our way with children.
We have to make it right with them. We have to give them ourselves so they can be themselves. We do not own them. God does, and is our job to help them discover their soul’s purpose in life, even if that is not where we want them in our home.
This is the parent I am to that boy, and even if he never sees me again, I have parented him there, and that is in the bowels of the Earth, and no amount of hatred and brainwashing on his parents’ part can remove that from his life.
Here on social media I have not called a name, and I have not shown a face. I have broken no rules of engagement, and I want the world to see what you have done to this child, just at that point in his life, at the very second, the body wills into adolescence, and you have damaged him there, ruined him, and you will see this bear fruit.
I’m all over this with my arm, and I know how to heal this boy. Please step aside and let it be done. Put down your jealous egos and let me save your child from the hells and howevers of being a sociopath. I cannot state it more clearly. Now you see it, let me heal him.
நீங்கள் ஒப்பிடுகிறீர்கள் என்று
நீங்கள் அவரது பெற்றோர் அல்ல நாற்காலியில் பொருள் அது உன் தொட்டில் இல்லை அது உன்னுடைய பிடி இல்லை, அந்த குழந்தையை இனிமையாக, அது அவரது டயப்பரை மாற்றவில்லை, அது அவனுக்கு நடக்க கற்றுக்கொடுக்கவில்லை. அது அவருக்கு முதல் முறையாக உலகத்தைக் காட்டுவதற்காக அல்ல. மேலும் அதில் உள்ள அனைத்து விஷயங்களும் அவரை வியக்கவும் சிரிக்கவும் வைத்தது அது அவரை காயப்படுத்தும்போது அழவும். நீங்கள் அந்தக் குழந்தையை சமாதானப்படுத்தவில்லை அவரது வாழ்க்கையின் கடைசி ஆண்டுகளில், பூமியின் அந்த மூன்று ஆண்டுகள் அவர் மனிதனாக உயர்ந்த போது. அங்குதான் அவரைப் பிடித்துக் கொள்கிறோம் அங்குதான் அவரைப் பிடித்துக் கொள்கிறோம் அவரது பெற்றோர் கூறுகிறார்கள், மேலும் உங்களுக்கு அங்கு உரிமை இல்லை அவர்கள் என்னிடம் சொல்கிறார்கள்.
இது மட்டுமா இதில் தவறு? நான் வாழ்நாள் முழுவதும் அவருக்கு பெற்றோராக இருக்கிறேன். நான் உள்ளே வந்தேன் அந்தச் சிறுவன் தன் குழந்தைப் பருவத்தை விட்டுச் சென்றபோது, நான் அவனை உருவாக்கினேன் அவன் இப்போது இருக்கும் சிறுவனாக, வலிமையான ஆண்டுகள், அவருடைய இரண்டு முன் பற்கள் வெளியே வந்தவை, நான் அவரிடம் இருந்த பற்கள் மீண்டும் வளரும் அர்த்தமற்றவை அல்ல. அவர்கள் ஆன்மீக தூண்டுதலால் நிறைந்திருந்தனர், அவர்கள் அவரது அருங்காட்சியகத்தை உருவாக்கினர், அவர் உள் வீட்டில் இருந்து எழுதும் கவிதை, அது அவருடன் என் வேலை. உலகைக் காட்டக் கவிஞன் குழந்தைகளுடன் நம் வழியை மாற்ற வேண்டும்.
அவர்களுடன் நாம் அதை சரி செய்ய வேண்டும். அவர்களுக்கு நாமே கொடுக்க வேண்டும் அதனால் அவர்கள் தாங்களாகவே இருக்க முடியும். அவை நமக்குச் சொந்தமில்லை. கடவுள் செய்கிறார், மற்றும் உதவுவது எங்கள் வேலை அவர்கள் வாழ்க்கையில் தங்கள் ஆன்மாவின் நோக்கத்தைக் கண்டுபிடிப்பார்கள், அது இல்லாவிட்டாலும் எங்கள் வீட்டில் அவர்கள் எங்கே வேண்டும். நான் இத்தகைய பெற்றோர் அந்த பையனுக்கு, அவர் என்னை மீண்டும் பார்க்காவிட்டாலும், நான் அவரை நன்றாக பார்த்துக்கொண்டேன், அது பூமியின் குடலில் உள்ளது, மற்றும் வெறுப்பு மற்றும் மூளைச்சலவை எந்த அளவு அவரது பெற்றோரின் தரப்பில் அதை அவனது வாழ்க்கையிலிருந்து நீக்க முடியும். இங்கே சமூக ஊடகங்களில் நான் பெயர் சொல்லவில்லை, மேலும் நான் முகம் காட்டவில்லை. ஏற்பாடுகளுக்கான விதிகளை நான் மீறவில்லை, இந்த குழந்தைக்கு நீங்கள் என்ன செய்தீர்கள் என்பதை உலகம் பார்க்க வேண்டும் என்று நான் விரும்புகிறேன், அவன் வாழ்வின் அந்த நேரத்தில் இரண்டாவது நேரத்தில், உடல் இளமைப் பருவத்தில் விரும்புகிறது, நீங்கள் அவரை அங்கே சேதப்படுத்தினீர்கள், அவனை அழித்து, இதன் விளைவை நீங்கள் காண்பீர்கள்.
நான் என் கையால் இதையெல்லாம் முடித்துவிட்டேன், இந்த பையனை எப்படி குணப்படுத்துவது என்று எனக்கு தெரியும். தயவு செய்து ஒதுங்கவும் அது நடக்கப்பெறட்டும். உங்கள் பொறாமை ஈகோக்களை கீழே போடுங்கள் உங்கள் குழந்தையை நான் காப்பாற்றட்டும் நரகத்தில் இருந்தும் மற்றும் சமூக விரோதி களிடமிருந்தும். இதைவிட தெளிவாக என்னால் கூற முடியாது. இப்போது நீங்கள் பாருங்கள், நான் அவனை குணமாக்க அனுமதியுங்கள்.
For Nithish it has to be longer than five minutes, and no mother present. What’s wrong with this? It gives him room to breathe. He can be himself again. He doesn’t have to obey his parents. He can see me freely and openly and clearly. He can tell me anything he wants. We can be together without any interference from anyone else. We can be our special relationship. I can explain things to him. He can explain things to me. He can tell me what he wants from me, and how he feels about me, and what he expects me to do. We can be together again.
If you are looking for total control, you’re not gonna get it, Sandiya and Sundar. He has needs that you are not meeting. In not letting him see me you’re only meeting your own. Why are your needs so much more important than his? You are offended that I threatened you with this and that. I was genuinely hurt when Sandiya brought a policeman to put me in jail. I have made no case or complaint against you. I have merely tried to see Nithish, because I know he needs me too, and to cut me out of his life like that, because you were angry with me, and allow no contact whatsoever, has brutalized this boy, broken his heart, torn his mind, and made him at times wish he were dead. He cannot tell you these things. There is not that level of trust there. He cannot trust you not to beat him, scold him, or tell him how he should think and feel. You are not on his side. You are on yours.
I am a parent of this child. Reality shows that not some legal piece of paper. You disregard that like it’s nothing. Take the time to view these videos, and tell me I am a bad parent, and I have nothing to give him that is valuable for his future life. I can give him things you cannot. You can give him things that I can’t. Why are you being so selfish about this boy? Why do you want to own him so? Is it a matter of pride? He’s yours and you want him and that’s it? Is it because I’m a foreigner, and we are all devils? Or is it because he loves me so, as much as he loves you, and you just can’t stand that?
What about his needs? That’s what I’m talking about here, and I’m showing you that I meet. I have asked you for time alone with him, so he and I can determine what we want. Are you afraid he will put you in jail? That’s not our intention or our aim. We simply want to be together again, and I’m asking for a first meeting to allow that to happen, slowly, and with everybody’s goodwill, not some final meeting where he’s forced to say goodbye, and you have pumped him with what he should say, and you are there guarding him so he will say it. Are you sure you know right from wrong? You are not being right here.
Let’s talk about the future Nithish. You have broken his heart, crushed the love of one of the most important people in his life, made his mind think badly about me, mean things, and you expect him to be a decent person, a good man? You have killed love, and you have killed his kindness, and you have killed his compassion. What can of man will he become? A mean man.
What kind of boy is he now? Is he disconfigured? How easily does he become aggressive, or angry? Is he often rude? Does he brood a lot? Does he get lost in himself? Where has the Nithish gone, that not so perfect boy before you took him? He was not perfect but he was a good little boy, kindhearted and understanding. Now all the bad elements have taken over in him, have they not?
I know you see a difference. Look at his weight. I’m sorry Sandiya he played outside here too. You can see the videos. He did not just sit around all the time. So where did all that weight go? He’s been very unhappy inside, emotionally upset, sick in his heart and aggravated in his mind, and the control you put on him, to keep him away from me, a boy just putting on his teenage wings, is enough to make any boy mad.
Why are you doing all of this I ask again. Did he do anything wrong? He loves a foreign man and prefers that hand to raise him over yours. That’s his great sin. He needs you he needs me, but he prefers the home that I give him, and I think we’ve hit the soul of your anger. You’re mad at him for that, and you hate me for it. So you punish him and you punish me, with heartache and mental pain. When will it stop?
It doesn’t stop. Time only hides it, and it not only haunts you for the rest of your life, it makes you angry and mean, bitter, distrustful of the world and of human relationship. I am quoting human psychology. You only know your gut-level reaction. Can you grow up a little, Sandiya, Sundar? Can you meet the needs of your child over your own?
Let us have a first meeting, the boy and I, our own private greeting, and then we go from there. It’s the human thing to do. Do I need to ask if you are human? Okay please let us begin, at the Mother’s balcony. Lidya can bring him. We can talk a few minutes in privacy, and I can show him his new YouTube video, and then she can bring him back. Then we go from there, like I said, in heartbeats Nithish.
Pardon the Tamil. I used Google Translate நித்திஷின் கேள்வி
நிதிஷ் சார்பில் இது ஐந்து நிமிடங்களுக்கு மேல் இருக்க வேண்டும், மற்றும் அம்மா இல்லை. இதில் என்ன தவறு? அது அவருக்கு சுவாசிக்க இடமளிக்கிறது. அவர் மீண்டும் தானே ஆக முடியும். அவன் பெற்றோருக்குக் கீழ்ப்படிய வேண்டியதில்லை. அவர் என்னை சுதந்திரமாகவும் வெளிப்படையாகவும் தெளிவாகவும் பார்க்க முடியும். அவர் என்ன வேண்டுமானாலும் என்னிடம் சொல்லலாம். யாருடைய குறுக்கீடும் இல்லாமல் நாம் ஒன்றாக இருக்க முடியும். நாங்கள் எங்கள் சிறப்பு உறவாக இருக்கலாம். நான் அவருக்கு விஷயங்களை விளக்க முடியும். அவர் எனக்கு விஷயங்களை விளக்க முடியும். அவர் என்னைப் பற்றி எப்படி உணருகிறார், நான் என்ன செய்ய வேண்டும் என்று அவர் எதிர்பார்க்கிறார். நாம் மீண்டும் ஒன்றாக இருக்கலாம்.
நீங்கள் முழு கட்டுப்பாட்டையும் தேடுகிறீர்கள் என்றால், நீங்கள் அதைப் பெற மாட்டீர்கள், சந்தியா மற்றும் சுந்தர். நீங்கள் சந்திக்காத தேவைகள் அவருக்கு உள்ளன. என்னை பார்க்க விடாமல் செய்ததில் நீங்கள் உங்கள் சொந்தத்தை மட்டுமே சந்திக்கிறீர்கள். அவரை விட உங்கள் தேவைகள் ஏன் மிகவும் முக்கியமானவை? நான் உன்னை இப்படியும் அதையும் சொல்லி மிரட்டினேன் என்று கோபித்துக் கொண்டாய். சந்தியா என்னை சிறையில் அடைக்க ஒரு போலீஸ்காரரை அழைத்து வந்தபோது நான் உண்மையிலேயே காயப்பட்டேன். நான் உங்கள் மீது எந்த வழக்கும் புகாரும் செய்யவில்லை. நான் நித்திஷைப் பார்க்க முயற்சித்தேன். ஏனென்றால் எனக்கு தெரியும் அவனுக்கும் நான் தேவை அதுபோல அவனுடைய வாழ்க்கையிலிருந்து என்னை நீக்கவும், நீ என் மீது கோபமாக இருந்ததால், மற்றும் எந்த தொடர்பும் வேண்டாம் இந்த சிறுவனை கொடூரமாக கொன்றான் அவரது இதயத்தை உடைத்து, அவன் மனதை கிழித்து, மேலும் சில சமயங்களில் அவர் இறந்துவிட்டதாக ஆசைப்பட வைத்தார். இந்த விஷயங்களை அவர் உங்களிடம் சொல்ல முடியாது. அந்த அளவு நம்பிக்கை அங்கு இல்லை. அவனை அடிக்காதே என்று உன்னை நம்ப முடியாது. அவனை திட்டி, அல்லது அவர் எப்படி நினைக்க வேண்டும் மற்றும் உணர வேண்டும் என்று சொல்லுங்கள். நீங்கள் அவர் பக்கம் இல்லை. நீங்கள் உங்கள் மீது இருக்கிறீர்கள்.
நான் இந்தக் குழந்தையின் பெற்றோர். சில சட்டப்பூர்வ காகிதம் அல்ல என்பதை உண்மை காட்டுகிறது. அது ஒன்றுமில்லை என்பது போல் நீங்கள் புறக்கணிக்கிறீர்கள். இந்த வீடியோக்களை பார்க்க நேரம் ஒதுக்குங்கள், நான் ஒரு மோசமான பெற்றோர் என்று சொல்லுங்கள் மேலும் அவருக்கு கொடுக்க என்னிடம் எதுவும் இல்லை அது அவரது எதிர்கால வாழ்க்கைக்கு மதிப்புமிக்கது. உங்களால் முடியாததை என்னால் அவருக்கு கொடுக்க முடியும். என்னால் முடியாததை நீங்கள் அவருக்குக் கொடுக்கலாம். இந்த பையனிடம் ஏன் இவ்வளவு சுயநலமாக இருக்கிறீர்கள்? நீ ஏன் அவனை இப்படி சொந்தமாக்க விரும்புகிறாய்? பெருமைக்குரிய விஷயமா? அவர் உங்களுடையவர், நீங்கள் அவரை விரும்புகிறீர்களா? நான் வெளிநாட்டவர் என்பதனாலா, நாம் அனைவரும் பிசாசுகளா? அல்லது அவர் என்னை மிகவும் நேசிப்பதாலா? அவர் உன்னை எவ்வளவு நேசிக்கிறார், மற்றும் உங்களால் தாங்க முடியவில்லையா? அவரது தேவைகள் பற்றி என்ன?
அதைத்தான் நான் இங்கே பேசுகிறேன், நான் சந்திப்பதை உங்களுக்குக் காட்டுகிறேன். அவனுடன் தனியாக நேரம் கேட்டேன். அதனால் என்ன வேண்டும் என்பதை அவரும் நானும் தீர்மானிக்க முடியும். அவர் உங்களை சிறையில் அடைத்துவிடுவார் என்று பயப்படுகிறீர்களா? அது எங்கள் நோக்கமோ நோக்கமோ அல்ல. நாங்கள் மீண்டும் ஒன்றாக இருக்க விரும்புகிறோம், மற்றும் நான் முதல் சந்திப்பைக் கேட்கிறேன் அது நடக்க அனுமதிக்க, மெதுவாக, மற்றும் அனைவரின் நல்லெண்ணத்துடன், அவர் விடைபெற வேண்டிய கட்டாயத்தில் இருக்கும் இறுதி சந்திப்பு அல்ல, மேலும் அவர் என்ன சொல்ல வேண்டும் என்று நீங்கள் அவரைத் தூண்டினீர்கள், நீங்கள் அங்கே அவரைக் காத்துக்கொண்டிருக்கிறீர்கள், அதனால் அவர் அதைச் சொல்வார். சரி தவறா என்று உறுதியாக அறிவீர்களா? நீங்கள் இங்கே சரியாக இருக்கவில்லை.
நித்திஷின் எதிர்காலத்தைப் பற்றி பேசலாம். நீங்கள் அவரது இதயத்தை உடைத்துவிட்டீர்கள், அவரது வாழ்க்கையில் மிக முக்கியமான நபர்களில் ஒருவரின் அன்பை நசுக்கினார், அவன் மனதை என்னை பற்றி தவறாக நினைக்க வைத்தது பொருள், அவர் ஒரு ஒழுக்கமான நபராக இருக்க வேண்டும் என்று நீங்கள் எதிர்பார்க்கிறீர்கள், நல்ல மனிதனா? காதலை கொன்றாய், நீங்கள் அவருடைய இரக்கத்தைக் கொன்றுவிட்டீர்கள், நீங்கள் அவருடைய இரக்கத்தைக் கொன்றுவிட்டீர்கள். அவன் என்ன மனிதனாக ஆவான்? ஒரு சராசரி மனிதன்.
இப்போது எப்படிப்பட்ட பையன்? அவர் சிதைந்துவிட்டாரா? அவர் எவ்வளவு எளிதாக ஆக்ரோஷமாக மாறுகிறார் அல்லது கோபமா? அவர் அடிக்கடி முரட்டுத்தனமாக இருக்கிறாரா? அவர் நிறைய அடைகாக்கிறாரா? தனக்குள்ளேயே தொலைந்து விடுகிறாரா? நிதீஷ் எங்கே போனார்? அவ்வளவு சரியான பையன் இல்லை நீங்கள் அவரை அழைத்துச் செல்வதற்கு முன்? அவர் சரியானவர் அல்ல, ஆனால் அவர் ஒரு நல்ல சிறு பையன், அன்பான மற்றும் புரிதல். இப்போது அனைத்து கெட்ட கூறுகளும் அவருக்குள் ஆக்கிரமித்துள்ளன, இல்லையா?
நீங்கள் ஒரு வித்தியாசத்தைப் பார்க்கிறீர்கள் என்று எனக்குத் தெரியும். அவருடைய எடையைப் பாருங்கள். சந்தியா இங்கேயும் வெளியில் விளையாடியதற்கு மன்னிக்கவும். நீங்கள் வீடியோக்களைப் பார்க்கலாம். அவர் எல்லா நேரமும் சும்மா உட்கார்ந்திருக்கவில்லை.
அப்படியானால் அந்த எடை எல்லாம் எங்கே போனது? அவர் உள்ளே மிகவும் மகிழ்ச்சியற்றவராக இருந்தார், உணர்ச்சிவசப்பட்டு, அவரது இதயத்தில் உடம்பு மற்றும் அவரது மனதில் மோசமாகி, நீங்கள் அவர் மீது வைத்திருக்கும் கட்டுப்பாடு, அவனை என்னிடமிருந்து விலக்கி வைக்க, ஒரு சிறுவன் தனது டீனேஜ் இறக்கைகளை அணிந்து கொண்டான், எந்த பையனையும் பைத்தியமாக்க போதும்.
ஏன் இப்படியெல்லாம் செய்கிறீர்கள் மீண்டும் கேட்கிறேன். அவர் ஏதாவது தவறு செய்தாரா? அவர் ஒரு வெளிநாட்டு மனிதனை காதலிக்கிறார் உங்கள் கையை விட அவரை உயர்த்த அந்த கையை விரும்புகிறது. அது அவருடைய பெரிய பாவம். அவனுக்கு நீ வேண்டும் அவனுக்கு நான் வேண்டும் ஆனால் நான் கொடுக்கும் வீட்டை அவர் விரும்புகிறார். உங்கள் கோபத்தின் ஆன்மாவை நாங்கள் தாக்கியுள்ளோம் என்று நினைக்கிறேன். அதற்காக நீங்கள் அவர் மீது கோபமாக இருக்கிறீர்கள், அதற்காக நீங்கள் என்னை வெறுக்கிறீர்கள். எனவே நீங்கள் அவரை தண்டிக்கிறீர்கள், என்னையும் தண்டிக்கிறீர்கள். இதய வலி மற்றும் மன வலியுடன். அது எப்போது நிறுத்தப்படும்?
அது நிற்காது. காலம் அதை மட்டும் மறைக்கிறது அது உங்கள் வாழ்நாள் முழுவதும் உங்களைத் துன்புறுத்துவது மட்டுமல்ல, இது உங்களை கோபமாகவும், அர்த்தமாகவும் ஆக்குகிறது கசப்பான, உலகின் மீது அவநம்பிக்கை மற்றும் மனித உறவு. நான் மனித உளவியலை மேற்கோள் காட்டுகிறேன். உங்கள் குடல் நிலை எதிர்வினை மட்டுமே உங்களுக்குத் தெரியும். கொஞ்சம் வளர முடியுமா, சந்தியா, சுந்தர்? உங்கள் குழந்தையின் தேவைகளைப் பூர்த்தி செய்ய முடியுமா? உங்கள் சொந்த மேல்?
முதல் சந்திப்பை நடத்துவோம், பையனும் நானும், எங்கள் சொந்த தனிப்பட்ட வாழ்த்துக்கள், பின்னர் நாங்கள் அங்கிருந்து செல்கிறோம். இது மனித காரியம். நீங்கள் மனிதரா என்று நான் கேட்க வேண்டுமா? சரி தயவு செய்து ஆரம்பிக்கலாம், அம்மாவின் பால்கனியில். லித்யா அவனை அழைத்து வரலாம். சில நிமிடங்கள் பேசலாம் தனியுரிமையில், அவருடைய புதிய யூடியூப் வீடியோவை என்னால் அவருக்குக் காட்ட முடியும், பின்னர் அவள் அவனை திரும்ப அழைத்து வரலாம். பின்னர் நாங்கள் அங்கிருந்து செல்கிறோம், நான் கூறியது போல, இதயத் துடிப்பில் நித்திஷ்.
Get her to speak with me. Ger her to understand her fear of losing Nithish makes her abuse Nithish. She says she’s stopped beating him? It’s not a conscious choice she makes. She gets angry and loses control of herself and beats him. It’s her character. He will tell that.
Now, about abuse: she will not let him see me, even for a short visit, so to abuse him for preferring me over her. Yes momma I’m happy with you. What he’s really saying: yes momma I’m scared of you. Why won’t he mention daddy? Why won’t he fight for the right to see daddy?
I cannot speak of him in front of you, and I’m on his side. You don’t understand I cannot speak. The fear of you is so big inside, the fear of you mother, who has beat me, slapped me, brainwashed me for these past two months, so much so I cannot even speak, physically cannot speak, on daddy’s side in front of you. I am too scared of you.
Now Sandiya is this my muse talking or is this Nithish? Are you hiding from yourself the truth? Nithish loves you but prefers to be with me. Nithish is happy with me. He is not very happy with you. Nithish wants to live with me and visit you. These things are facts in that boy’s mind and heart, and stop lying to yourself about it. He feels that way.
When you make him speak against his will, you smother his identity and abuse him. Abuse is more than the hit of a hand or the handle of a genital. It’s forcing that child to do things against his will. It’s suppressing him own identity. It’s not letting him be who he is. It’s making him be who you want him to be. You are so self-satisfied, so sure you have his loyalty, but when you kept him from even greeting me, after two months of such emotional torment, his and mine, you crossed the line. He will tell on you now. Wait and see.
But why does it have to come to that? Can you just put a stop to your hate and desire for revenge? Can you consider the welfare of your child more than you needing your child? Can you do what’s best for Nithish? You know that is seeing and being with me. It doesn’t mean he’s not with you. It just means your fantasy that he’s your baby is not true. He’s his own self and is too big to be someone’s baby. I am a man, and at his age, he identifies with more with males.
His father has been a weekend dad all his life. I have been with that boy hundreds of days more than his father, and whatever you say about the boys I’ve raised, Sundar is a murderer. He has killed at least four people my advocate told me. What a role model for Nithish, and now he’s using his gang to threaten Asiya, to beat him up or even kill him, and you yourself Sandiya are giving that threat. What business is this for good parents? That is evil and you know it. Asiya did not hurt you, did not give you heart pain or grief, only helped me to ease mine, to do the right thing and help Nithish and I see each other, and you know that is good and proper in God’s eyes.
Can I show you a hidden example? A mutual friend Sudhan, you gave him a story to give to me. Call up daddy. Tell him you went in my house for a drink of water. Nithish was there alone. Tell him you asked Nithish about daddy. Nithish said I only love my mother, and I don’t care about anything else, a blatant big lie, a spinning web of psychological manipulation. Now Sudhan told me you had him do this to me. Imagine what you are doing to Nithish. This is just one example. When this is over, people will come forward with more. You’re being evil Sandiya, just evil.
You are willfully being bad, as bad as you can to me, for reasons I don’t clearly understand. You would kill me if you could get away with it. That’s how much you hate me. Is it at bottom really because Nithish prefers me to you? Is that the reason for all this hate?
Now pull him up on the carpet. Ask him to reassure you again how much he loves you. How many times have you done that? Do you chose me over daddy, do you chose me over daddy, do you chose me over daddy? He’s very afraid of you. He will tell you whatever you want to hear, because he’s scared of you, not because he loves you. You say if he spent time with me away from you he would change his mind. What does that mean? He would realize how he truly feels, and you are scared of that? You are not secure in his loyalty to you, are you?
In the eyes of God, please, allow Nithish and I to see each other without your interference, just for a short time the first time. Then we can go from there, and we can make peace again in our family for the children’s sake. It’s up to you Sandiya. It’s your decision. You hold the power for now. Will you do what’s right?
Hear a dog’s life. We question Nithish. He’s on the short end of the stick at home, the author of all these Facebook problems. He’s in trouble. He suffers so much for loving me. His mother ruins him for it. What can I do but cry?
Okay I have the strength of poetry, and I’m using it for Nithish. You think I’m stupid, a fool, just some crazy old man? I love my boy, and if it comes to that I will lay down my life for him to get him the help he needs.
He’s lost so much weight. He looks hollow and empty inside by the look on his face. I hear his behavior is erratic. He’s volatile and tells lots of lies. He’s not sure of himself. A personality change has occurred since he was taken from my home a happy and plump little boy. The mother is ignoring this, his state, his rapid deterioration.
To anyone that confronts her about letting the boy see me, she’s flies off the handle and screams at them to stay out of it, even to close relatives. That’s the mother he has. Now that’s Sandiya. Can you please help?
What happened at your advocate's office? He was threatened, when you came alive he was threatened. He had to obey his mother. Is that the real card? You thwarted her. You put yourself there not the mission. It was all your fault, never mind her cruelty.
Why do you allow her that? Why does she have all the power? You’re not being fair, and it has never changed, and I got no help there. So blame it on me, but You could’ve helped. You could’ve done something.
Why die? Because I’m lost him, and I cannot live without him, and it’s the betrayal of the universe, the betrayal of God. There’s a spider there. She believes it, does not see how inhuman she has become.
To not even allow you to embrace after all that pain, two solid months of grief? She kept him behind her and even put her hand over his face so you could not see each other when he tried to look at you from behind her. No one will show her cruelty to her. We just want you to feel certain effects, and We allow this.
Yesterday was your tragic happening, and you did that tragically. The list’s off the end. I know to pleasure that, so I know I’ve done the right thing. There is no possibility. There is no possibility. There is no possibility. He’s deleted everything except the system delete. Go in the freezer please.
Open your account. You’re a fish. You’ve got to give maybe. He needs your care and attention. This number’s strong. Please try later.
This is the stage of real power. This is the lonely winter stage. It’s about who’s going to the stationary shop and buying him metals and honor. I can do that. No, no, my hair’s growing. Lydia will fight me for it. I’m not concerned with that. I’m concerned with your future.
People this is imaginary pool. He hasn’t told me these things in the outer world. I look at him in spiritual vision, and I hear him tell me things. Lydia I think you’ve punished him for that. You have a primitive mindset, all of you, and you don’t understand the power of poetry. I have restored everything to show you. These poems here might be valued long after you are gone.
What that boy is is a poet, to a degree that most childs aren’t. Here is a poem that speaks of the future. It’s talking directly about Sandiya taking Nithish from me, and the way that we find peace from that, how to do it. It is written in poetic symbols. You will only recognize the last line as him talking about what’s going on today.
Read this poem and tell me he has no future here; this is the stupid babbling of a child; this does not show that he has any talent whatsoever; this is just a piece of garbage.
The argument I am having with his mother and father is over his future. I can give him American citizenship, a U.S. passport to travel the world, a university education in America if he so choose. I will not shove school down his throat.
I also give to him the status of a poet, not his future self, the child Nithish today. What is a poet? A person all honor and hold in high esteem. They write the culture and give it direction and meaning. They hold out their hand and presidents and prime ministers kiss it. They are the special meaning the world awaits with honor.
I give that to Nithish. His parents can’t. They are concerned with possession, rules, and school. I have his department. I not only know what he wants. I can give it to him. They know now he loves me, wants to be with me and has this whole time. They punish him and punish him now simply because he loves me. That is not fair. That is not right, and I’m sorry you have to see this, two parents doing this to their child, from waves of jealousy and hatred of the foreigner. Here I am, and here is his poem take us to the future.
Paradise Things With Lyrics by S. Nithish
Reach for peace, but it’s a long jump away. It’s One stairs. Butterflies are our airplanes. They’re peaceful and calm. They can fly us to space. From there we need to walk.
There’s a place for everybody in the world. I did two steps: let the Light be the guide; my place is out of this world. We all have something that we should pass on. I do not have a turnoff button.
The ancient minds were better. They left out clues for us. They left out clues around the world. We should always say thanks. Stars were meant to be together.
Why lift the boundaries? (vision with the line of a wave of birds, thousands of them, coming up from the ground and into the sky in one solid waterfall-like movement but going up. This happened as I was sitting on a park bench) To go through life together under the Sun. To be ourselves with other people, but ourselves alone too. To give that boy what he needs, and he needs an involved I love you son wrapped around me. To change the world. We’re not messin’ around.
Now have we been put on hold, for the umpteenth time? Will I awake? Call me, senior advocate. Very closely nearly there. You better let me. I’ll delete everything, and you got your seer no more. What is it, a love reaction? You’ve betrayed the very essence of reality in my fundamental makeup, in my fundamental see, if we don’t come together, and I will know that the world is a fucked place we’re doomed.
And if we set ‘em sir, and if they’re not here, what is their placement? You can sit us in your organizing society, and we will show you where we rose. We’ll be here master plan.
I’m getting close I can’t stay yours. I’m a learning disability. Daddy do something about that girl. (vision with the line of a big man walking beside me with a black beetle in his mouth, and he was choking on it, and I was slapping his back to get it out) You’re dyslexic that’s okay. Your mother can’t punish that no more. I will take you with me, and you can be dyslexic in my school. I love you so very much. Next week, I promise.
Start happening! Start happening! I looked at it, [this line and the two above lines heard spoken in Nithish’s voice] and exactly as you said it happened. I want to know what your vision was. Momma laid her feet on me. All’s I could feel was our deep, undying love taking me to the lake. I will be there soon.
You will paint some rosy picture that I am to blame. I’m a Facebook mob. Oh I’m sorry, seven views. On WordPress there’s two. And Nithish, I see him now. His mother has replaced me, and he let her do it. The hugs, the kisses, the warm rubs, the excited talk about this and that, that woman who beat him has replaced me, and he’s happy with it. I can see the treatment. He’s a baby Sandiya told me on the phone. She’s gettin’ her juice. Before she would not even admit he was still a child.
Okay they go together. What am I still doing here? What the fuck, over? You have replaced all my lands. You have taken my very child and given that place I have with him to someone else, and they beat him and they slap him, and they lord it over his life. What more do you want from me? Why do I have to see that?
I have been betrayed in the sense of my stuff, by a little boy that took all of my heart and always wanted more. Where is release from this? He’s still won’t speak my name to his parents. Get that, won’t even say he wants to see me, the love of his life for all these years. What blackness is in the heart of children? What cruelty lurks behind their touch, wizziles with you in their face?
This is blind cruelty. The boy just wants to get by. To hell with me, as long as he gets his good food and bag of sweets and special treatment. He’s cast me aside, and I made so much noise, whenever he called, it forced him to call me and come out of his stupor face me a moment, come out of his animal bliss.
We’re dealing with a kid from the train yard. Whatever divine element in him, he has just gotten rid of. What do you do with such a kid? He will never speak up. He’s satisfied. He’s got his parents’ attention, and is the focus of so much love, even if it’s for his parents to have him and not for him. This operation sucks.
Do we rock that poem on Main Street and show it to the kid? I’m not happy with this boy. He’ll walk the room listening for phone calls, listening for Nithish. Man-managed plan develop on rainbows. Let’s look at that replacement line. Ruth, this is daddy. Now I’ll call you mother. There a step-mother sleeps. And you never got close to her, but you were dependent, a little child, and you had to look to someone to take care of you. She was mean. She was a monster, but you called her mother, and that was your choice.
You hated the relationship. You cried and cried. You really tried to please her, took her assessment of you as conscious fact, believed her when she came crashing down on you for just leaving your boats in the yard: you were a bad boy.
She saw you naked, washed your back in the tub. She combed your hair before school in the morning and fussed over your clothes, and you hated that woman. You were 10 and 11, no? She was just so mean to you. “Get up you little bastard it’s time for school.” “I know you like a book. You’re no good, and your father’s no good.” That really sucked.
The constant tirade coming out of her mouth she flushed at you, anytime you were in earshot, that did you in. You hid in the woods for hours, until your father came home, and he was no gentle lover. A stern man with whippin’s, that’s what he gave.
Now look at Nithish. He’s making the best of a bad situation. He’s being punished for loving you, and no one seems to notice that. In his heart it’s liberation towards you, like you felt towards your mother, only she didn’t want you back, was not on the edge of consciousness night and day trying to carry your pain. That boy has got you, and you’re all he’s got.
Can we mention this to the world at large? A boy has a man he’s loved all his life, who’s taken care of him more than his parents, and for that he has been so traumatized that he’s died inside. He’s still loves this man, and so much time his parents have spent to kill this in him. What the fuck, over? Are you listening to this? Can they do that? Just because he loves me he’s gone through so much punishment, gaslighting, brainwashing, and psychological torture: here boy, love this man? Let’s go to a fine restaurant. I’ll take you to a spa. Forget him, forget him, forget him.
But it doesn’t work, and the parents are frustrated. They don’t know their son. Okay we just ride this, let it be? The boy’s better off just doing his school work? I beg your pardon? You put a child through hell and say it’s for good grades in school? That’s his reason for living, why he can’t have this man? That’s an eight standard education talking, his mother’s. This man is a Classical Greek scholar, and knows dyslexia when he sees it.
Oh beanpoles, you will not get away with this. I’m comin’ for that boy, and I’m comin’ loud and clear, and I’m bringin’ the posse, and I’m bringin’ the cavalry, and if Indians don’t know matters of the heart, just say yeah beat the children, let them lick their parents’ spoon, Americans know better, and they’re on the way out of this, and that’s who I’ve employed.
Aerosmith, it’s Aerosmith to tell you that American thing, lights out on total control and ever remember your dreams. Got some Pink Floyd here. American music, there’s music there for the land Earth, and it sticks in your craw like a love song. You hear our anthem here. Won’t you buy a little American pie? We don’t doubt the man does. Are you afraid the boy does? And I’m not givin’ the lowdown on abuse. That’s magic in love, a parental man for his little son, a big boy for his best friend, a man and a boy who love each other. Hear it?
We gather you in poems, one after another. Can you speak that far? I don’t think you’re over the fence, one foot process from stuck in the craw to living school. You don’t know how. That’s saving grace, whether you know it or not. Come on let’s ballon, and let’s give this keeper his time shares. He’s keepin’ a boy safe from harm. You know his mother reads this, reluctantly, somehow, despite herself. We take her there. For the poems now. (vision with the line of someone offering two Rupees notes, one a large denomination and the other a bit smaller, but it was big money) I get paid in regard and help this little boy, not a baby in the room, not even a chair.
He’s been taken out of the picture by his mother, and no one can question him a thing about where his mother is taking him, if she’s not in the room. A boy of 12 see that, no will of his own, year there’s a civilization on record, mluv pomaleji prosím. (vision with the line of being on a bicycle and turning to my passenger behind me and saying that Czech phrase, putting my finger to my lips so to say be quiet). May I help you with that? Expressive of their will is expressive of their life. Don’t deny them that, and you’re off to the races. Don’t put down later. Pretty much give him to the public. Hey, what color of a shirt didn’t he didn’t wearing today? The color his parents choose for him. A raccoon was not a ground speaker, but he lifted up his head. The voice is in the room.
Is that what you want society, another person dependent upon society to be his mother? No will of his own, that blooms. He can’t find himself. He might even kill you, the manhood takes its stand. Robbed of his will right there where he becomes a man, just entering the body changes of adolescence. Can you say that? Just tell me what to do okay, that’s what we hear. Sure society, that’s what you want, a world of beggars please. Let’s study this room. See Nithish.
Okay Nithish, I forgive you son. It’s not your fault. You’re not to blame, and I will see you soon.
Right there in Kuruchikuppam, people are gonna be made to see they’re wrong. That’s not the way to handle life. There are better ways of doing it. You don’t hit children, and you don’t cover it with fine speech. You beat the shit out of them with a wooden board, just for mention he loves me, and then you talk about your excellence in him for education?
The sophistication of a mag doll tears apart your life and makes you sin. I am there to remind you. Oh sophisticated sister, I will show you to the world as the braggart you are and the bane of your children’s lives. You are not fine gold. You are a base and raw metal that crumbles society. I will take you down to your underpants, as symbols see society, and show the hatred and anger you really live life with.
I will call your name as the one that so traumatized Nithish, you almost destroyed his life. I will pick those pieces up and tarry him in healing waters, and take that aching heart of his and expose it to the sun. I will heal that boy from the trauma you gave to him. You took his own identity and threw it in the trashcan. You could not stand his preference for me, and you ate his life with it, so jealous of me you put his life out on the line.
This is the poem of her. I will get you baby dog, away, safe from her, or I will lay down my life trying. This is a sudden rescue we will do, as God counts the hours, and it will be legal and square with all involved. Kidnapping will not be justified here, and you will have rights to your child as he gives them. When he feels safe with you again, then he will visit you.
You know I want custody of that child, the legal guardian of his life. This is not take him from you as you took him from me, and it was in my house that he lived. You forbade all outer contact, even the slightest touch, no visits, not even for an hour, no phone calls, not even a message to each other. We couldn’t even see each other, best friends most of his life, and I am the parent that he prefers, why you took ‘im, and for that woman low, you will know the price of pain, but I won’t dish it out. It’ll be in your death’s star. You are the willow in the wood that weeps for long and sure, standing by eternity.
The cruelty of that moment you will feel as if it were done to you, and tearing your heart out of your breast, crying away insanity, in some death lesson after death, you will come to know this. The time that you took to change your mind, was measured in pathos of pain, where one single hour is insanity’s wait, crawling through time like death has your hand. Do you even know what you did?
Is this your son’s pain or mine? We put on a happy face and forget about it to all but inner eyes. I am the child of destiny, and if I show you my pain, you will bite me with it— the nature of a child weeps. Are you game for this? See it, feel it, know what you did. I will show the world, and you will see it in the eternities of your mind. Here, here, I reveal.
But not now you change your mind. You are too proud for that. You are too cruel for that, and now you call me names and a good man, who helped you like a bitch, a helping hand that always mattered, that you drew from left and right, my time, my money, and my care and concern. Don’t you think the Gods look down on such hateful ingratitude, and see you as nothing but that woman over there who dangers children’s lives, her own the point of pain.
I will see you there, in humanity’s heart glow, when we’ve made our long journey and brought it to a close. Disguised as sin and defeat, disguised as love, we walked the ways of the Earth. Now here we are in Heaven’s reach, but the heaven after the goal, and we will forgive each other the disguises we wore that were necessary on battlefield Earth. I will see you there Sandiya, one day. That’s the nature of Earth.
(Vision of Nithish sitting down on a bed in a room like his family’s room in Kuruchikuppam. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, head down and holding his hands together in front of him, elbows on his knees) As you get details of his life in here, alone in a room. I’m a little child. I don’t know the number of school. Lumber did that, killing every sweet thing I had. I was into long silences, and I could hear the room breathing. I thought I would lose my mind. Talk Nithish. What do I say to them? I will beat you you stupid kid. This was bouncing off walls, and I could not see the room that I lost my life in.
I had so much pain in my heart. My mother kept me from crying. She was an alligator for my tears. She was just some other room. I defied her for as long as I could. Then she hit me, everywhere on my body but my face, a flat board rainin’ down blows. I gave in. I’m okay with it. I’m fine with it. That is not the way it happened. I will do what you say I said in my mind. Then I forgot about you for a little while. You were there somehow. You wouldn’t let me go. I cried and I cried. No the tears had all gone. I was a happy kid they said.
I continued to support them, and they rewarded me for it with so much favorite food. Then the hill came. I climbed it to death, and that’s when I touched your face in an amazing dream. You were holding me in a chair at my old school. I was telling you about my mother, how she is. You told me about your tears. You had a hold of me like you’d never let me go. The comfort at that moment stayed in my room, and I carried you there. I continued to act like a little brat, but my road had found you, and I aloned to that. This was wonderful news to my aching heart.
I was wonderful there in my house by the lake, and I want to see my puppy again and get my life back, but my mother has said she will not change her decision. Move me toward the door. She can’t bury love. She can just torture me for it and make me feel bad I don’t love her like you daddy. I will see you soon.
He’s saying I will be there soon, in your house your little boy again, grown bigger by his tears. Now can we get him outta there, Sandiya? I’m holding you responsible for this. You’ve cut that boy’s mind, made him suffer so much pain because you are jealous of him with me, not because of school, or the love of Sri Aurobindo, what you tell people to sound nice. I have you in my sights, and I will not leave you alone. I will continue to rush you with the pain you’ve caused us.
You’re the pain of the old society, where kids were their parents wishes, no freedom for them, and they wore school around their neck like it was what they were worth, and their parents could beat them, touch them, yell at them and abuse them, and no one ever heard, and they grew up and brought a mean world into view.
We have a planet here, raising stakes. I’m gonna get that sweetheart, and with our poems and with our might, we’re gonna help bring in the new society and change life on Earth. This is not you Sandiya. It’s not me. It’s not Nithish. We are world carriers in form, the boy and I where change comes in, you the adamant old rule. I will see you in hell for this, and that might be sooner than you think.
A lost guitar, you’ve think you’ve kept him from me? You’ve only showed him more. I will find you, and I will tell you: give me that boy, not for my rule, not for my pleasure, for his aching need. You know what I’m talking about Sandiya. You see it everyday.
What kind of mother are you? And you ask who am I? I am the sustainer of this boy’s life. I am his protector and I am his love, and you will step aside and give him room to grow as I parent him towards a clear and certain goal: he is himself on wide green Earth, and he’s doing what he loves, not what he hates, and he’s doin’ pretty good. He’s got all of this going for him that you don’t see, and you speak like you know this boy, but you don’t even know me. I’m comin’ Sandiya, with the proper people next time, and I’ve failed and I’ve failed, but you know I’ll succeed. Here I come.
On the loud speakers this is a terrible story, and it’s showing Indian. They beat children. That’s her form: what a powerful might that can’t hold itself together and soon falls down. Sometimes art general. This is a heartache spotlight. There really is an abused child there, scared and alone. Lay down, come on lady, come on.
I will see you there Sandiya in the not too distant future. Wet means? Where our Earth meets the Sun. It’s the supramental, where that boy is found, and his emotional statement will bring in the picture the child, and that child needs help. This is infinity’s room, and we’ll have an upgrade soon, a golden opportunity. (Vision as the above line was spoken of Nithish at some wall in a city, and on the wall was a box of squares like a tic-tac-tow box but with many more squares, and Nithish wrote an X and an O in the top let hand corner of the box, the first two figures written on the box, and the sense was this was just the beginning) Let them be known together.
I am in my own city now. I have to get Nithish out of my consciousness or else insanity looms. I cannot carry him anymore. This is painful. I'm all out of sorts.
We have reconciled. He stood by while a cop tried to arrest me and said nothing. His mother had put the cop there because I had spoke to Nithish at his school, there to speak with his principal about the real reason his mother wouldn't let me see him, and I was concerned with her abuse.
As the cop tried to put me on his bike to take me away, Nithish was walking away and did not even look back. I had committed no crime, and so they could not take me in. Sandya stood by gloating, and then walked away disappointed when I wasn't nabbed.
The consciousness can't take that. It doesn't compute. I am finished holding him. This is terrible news. I had gone there to defend him, and I was worried sick over his situation. He all but pulled the trigger.
And I am left holding the gun. Nithish showed me a video on his mother's phone, which had gone to him. It was of his little brother masturbating, legs spread, penis erect, hand going at it. Sandya can be heard in the background laughing, but she didn't take the video. It's child pornography, but she said they did it in fun.
I've heard about for the last three years Nithish's father masturbating his little brothers, not diddling with it pumping it, for several minutes or more. He had tried to do Nithish, but Nithish said no. I did nothing with this information, except tell Nithish to say no. When Mithrin, the boy in the video, who's three and some, got big enough, his father masturbated him a lot, and Dhina, Nithish's auntie's husband, taught the boy how to spit on it and rub. Nithish told me these things. I heard all this, and just filed it away.
Dhina made the video, and now I'm left holdin' the gun. Do I shoot them with it? I don't want to hurt Nithish. So what do I do? I just leave the boy alone. I don't stand here and study him. I don't try to get him back to me. It's over. It's done.
Okay you've heard the news, why Nithish was taken from me. I mentioned that video to his mother and his father masturbating his brothers, to try and protect him from them. You see the results. Even the boy hates me, but I don't truly know that. Okay shoot me, public. I am the bad man here, turning that little boy against his family, and wanting him to go with me.
I thought I had a better home, and I wasn't his abuser, but you know kids are fickle. They hang on that family tree. I'm a nigger to him, a வெள்ளைக்காரன், and he just wants to be left alone. He's happy with the presents his parents buy him and the cater to his whim. And pain? Fuck pain. He wants his smile to be real.
So you have a masturbating video as the cause of all this charm that he's getting from his parents. They don't want him to tell on them, and they want his love for me gone. Well that did it, no word from him in days: daddy are you okay? what happened? I've been so worried about you.
He's just decided better go with it, his refusal of me. It's easier that way. Just ignore me and enjoy himself. I will never hear from him again. I can see that now. I've done my job, every possible thing I could do, to get him out of his parents' clutches and back towards the poet of the coming dawn, a destiny he had refused.
Now what do I do with this? I know the public you don't care. You would also have me arrested if you could. This may be my last poem. I'm throwing in the towel. We tried. We finished, and I failed.
Now glory in your self-righteousness, and tell me again you love kids. I don't believe that. Okay now I'm leavin' my little boy. You will not help, but I think I know what happened. He was totally afraid of his mother, that boy of twelve. There at the school she told him to renounce me and raised her hand to slap him. I grabbed that hand and pulled it down, and he did not give her what she wanted. She even put her hand over his face, so he couldn't see me. That's total control, and he had to go home with her afterwards.
What does a child do when the shit hits the fan? They stand there and cry, Ben 10 not included, or the Avatar and his gang. Nithish showed kid shock. He was just bewildered. He managed a weak head-bowed yes when I asked him if he loved me, and would he back me up. That was before the cop came. We were invited into the office to settle this dispute, by the principal before that cop arrived, but that Sandya refused. She wanted me arrested for defying her to see my boy.
We can't blame this on the kid. He's innocent in this, and I don't know how he feels now, but I can't continue hurting him and me. I can't love him like this. That little boy's been broken, stabbed in his identity, made to feel all alone in the world, put down for trying to hurt his parents, and at the same time they lift him up, afraid he'd tell.
What do we do with children, when they're in a bad situation, and our helping them hurts them more? We leave. We tear our heart out of our breast, put blinders on the soul, and just walk away. That's what I'm doing today. You with me?
Here is the address where the mother and the boys live and Sandya’s telephone number: +91 9384460042 64 Nettu St. Kurusukuppam, Puducherry, 605012 The street is only a tiny alleyway accessible from Advocate Chinnathambi St. Fourth Cross. On Sardar Vllabhai Patel Salai, a main road, turn left on Francois Martiin Street. Turn left again on Advocate Chinnathambi Street, about 500 meters from the Patel Salai. Go to Le Nid Apartments on Advocate ChinnaThambi Street, which is on the left where the street turns sharply right. Stand facing the apartment gates and turn right 90 degrees and you will see a little alleyway in front of you. Go down it and it immediately turns left and her house is the first door on the left. It is a very narrow alley. Time is of the essence. They are on their way to his father’s apartment in Chennai to avoid me. His address: Ashok Pillar 29 sector, 6th block Chennai, 2nd apartment building and the left, 1st floor, wooden door.
A heartbroken line. You just have to write this down. There is no Earth and Heaven but you. We glide here on our own devices. We can’t see the world around us. It’s blind to us too. We can’t even see our yard. There’s a process there. It’s image on sight. We have see things to believe in them. Our fingers have to touch their face. No other process allowed. That’s the ring around the rosie for us. It’s how we live.
It gets us in a lot of trouble. We can’t always see things. When people are away from us they’re gone. We imagine their existence, and it’s not real to us. They’re not there. Now tell me what to do? Go outside and see things, and try to transfer sight to some bigger picture happening before your eyes. Don’t just see your little world. It’s gotten big enough to swallow you whole. We gotta get outta here.
It eats us alive. It’s the only thing we know. Can you see this? Do you know what I’m talkin’ about? We are blind before our face. Our world is the world, and there is no other that has the reality of ours. We can put this in a movie or a sports field, or maybe even a good book. We feel something other than ourselves, but we’re involved in it. We’re still the center of the room. Look at YouTube Shots. They piece you to pieces, this show, and that show, and this show, and you have your favorites. Where are they taking you? They don’t know how to time. They don’t stop. You are lost there in the middle of you.
I’m tryin’ to get to some larger whole none of us see. We’re divided up in pieces, your world and my world and Larry’s world. Will we put our glasses on and see this? It really sucks you know when you lose someone. Say you had a kid and you’ve been raisin’ them since they were three. At 12 you lost them, and they were just taken from you for no other reason than just to take, ‘cause you made someone mad. Devastating.
It was a bubble relationship. We were the captain of our ship laughin’ at the world go by we teammates, best friends, together all the time. We were joined, and the world went by, and we were so special in it, so much comfort in each other, so much love. And then you lose that boy. No contact is allowed, and you watch that boy turn like he never knew you, and now he wants you gone. No, no, I didn’t abuse him. His parents did. He was broken whipped and spanked until he gave his parents what they wanted, the keys to himself. They can do that. They’re Indian parents. He was broken, lost his will, lost himself. They spanked him, and he cried and cried, and I had promised to save him and couldn’t come. That anger rides.
What are we left with? A quaking world. Death would seem a happy state, and I almost long to be there. I want my boy. I can’t take it. There is no escape from this pain. What do you do? You feel pain. You don’t know what to do. There’s no way out. Months ahead, the death of a child. There is no remedy for this. I’m lost in him, and oh the jesters of pain, that kid could care less if he sees me again, in just two short weeks.
Where do we go? To death? We have to do something. We have to live. We have to get up and live. You’ve been fucked by the universe, abandoned by your Gods. All soul’s failed, and you’ve got to find another life, and you really want the one you had. You’re stupid you tell yourself, a fool. Children are treacherous, and they only like pleasure and joyrides, and their heart can be bought with candy and cake, and they forget you, even when you were their whole world.
I’m dying in this pain, and I’m just showing it to you so you know of the reality of which I speak, in some little lost world forgotten from the whole. To cut him out of my heart is blind. That boy needs protected, and he’s in a bad situation. It’s an abusive situation. I cannot abandon him. I must go on tryin’ to free him, but the loss is too great to bear. You see the predicament.
It’s going somewhere. I am being perfected for him in parental ways, as he will need to be healed. If he returns, he will be healed with certain hands. I’m ready for him. There is just this need to swallow, this ever aching need that he fulfill my life, be its ornament, and meet my emotional needs. How can I get rid of this? Don’t look at me funny. You do it too with children. We are property lovers with them.
I don’t know how to do this, and that is my lesson now. It hurts. Where do I find you? In the lesson plan. I’m reaching out to you to be a lover with you, to put down that kid a minute, and let’s say hey look at this: we are fragmented world. Will you do the time with me? It might be a pickup truck that takes us all on a ride to higher skies. That’s where we think about larger things than ourselves and the contents and people of our little world. I’m pushin’ yah there in my own flagpole as I do this too. Will you sing with me?
Will we be together again? We come from afar. This is not our home. We’re on dangerous ground, where the Void meets Earth. There are doings here that have us all undone. We live out our lives little people, totally forgetting who we are together, the very next field above this one, the supramental field.
I’m ridin’ yah there, journeying myself. I don’t want to go. All my thoughts on little boy and what’s going on with him right now. Is he happy is he sad? Is he missing me? Would he like to see me again? Are they hurting him? This goes deep.
Alright I’ve told you some about what we don’t talk about: look there’s a whole; look there’s together again; look we are bigger than what we are. Have I reached out to you? I can’t see it. I don’t even know you’re there. I think that’s a reality kingpin. I’m alone in here in front of all of you, because of my perception. Can you figure it out?
That is put to the finish. Hey you got some things growing up there. Tunnel things this reality. It’s trustworthy. There’s no other way to see it. We’re not real, is that how far this goes? Do you see what I’m gettin’ at? Where is reality’s footing? Where do we place ourselves? In the center of attention? I think we look higher up. We look where it happens, where reality gets arranged, and we find ourselves there watching the arrangement. Isn’t that funny? Here I am.
Suffer the supramental solution. Sri Aurobindo wrote his letters just sittin’ there. He didn’t see the disciples, yet he knew they were there. He didn’t have to see them. He had concrete inner contact with them, and he knew what was goin’ on. He could see their own selves, and he knew what they needed.
This was just vision to him. No, this was the substance of his room. He grabbed the whole with his own hand. It was his messenger. He substance see’d, knew in relation to the whole, and he could see without errors. I cannot do that. I have strong inner vision. It doesn’t come everything’s true without errors. It gets a lot of lie, exaggeration, and endless possibilities worked out. I can’t see straight.
You don’t know how much this sucks. I’m glued to inner vision now to protect my kid and bring him back home, and it’s driving me crazy, all these scenarios played out one by one. He’s been hit with a dog. He’s been pissed on and raked over an open fire. This just kills me, and I don’t know what to do. The bad part is over, when they broke him to turn him from me. Now they’re tryin’ to act normal, and they want him to be happy.
Gaslighting is the order of the day. What’s a kid to do? Acquiesce and be what their parents want them to be, do what their parents want them to do, and say what their parents want them to say, and that’s what he’s doin’. and I can have no contact, and not a single person there will tell him of me. It’s inhuman. It’s a total blackout they’ve arranged. The abusers become his saviors, and his beloved grandpa a foreign devil tryin’ to take him from his family.
I was his main parent from the time he was six. Six years with me more than his parents, and they’re gaslighting him to make me some babysitter they mistakenly arranged. Okay public, what to do? I’ve shown you his card, a song he wrote himself when his parents were pullin and kicking him about school. This is where he is at. This is the boy on his own. Where do we find him? I hope that’s not the graveyard. Can you come and help me find him please? I really need you, and this is a live child waiting for your help. Can you help? Oh Puducherry, you couldn’t Aarthi.
Now there’s hope. The boy’s alive. How do I know he’s unsafe? His father’s a killer for a Lawspet gang with BJP connections, but he hasn’t killed in awhile. Says he’s done with it, but see the gold on him you’ll know he’s still involved, a gold ring on every finger like a pimp. He could kill that kid in a jealous fit of rage, and the mother’s of low character, and she may not prevent him. That's where this is headed. Don't be sorry. I’m calling on you now, Puducherry, rise up and protect that boy before anything else is done. Will you help me? Can you take this boy to safety? That’s wonderful. Thank you.
This is the boy’s address in Puducherry, India:
64 Nettu St. Kurusukuppam, Puducherry, 605012
The street is only a small alleyway accessible from Advocate Chinnathambi St. Fourth Cross. Go to Le Nid Apartments on Advocate Chinnathambi Street, stand facing the gates and turn right 90 degrees and you will see a little alleyway in front of you. Go down it and it immediately turns left and his house is the first door on the left. There is also an Ave Maria Kebi on the left side of the apartment gates.
Nithish’s school and he’s in 7th standard: New Modern Vidhya Mandir Higher Secondary School, 73/A, Pillayar Koil St, Angalamman Nagar, Muthialpet, Puducherry, 605003
His father lives in Chennai and has a business there and comes to Puducherry on the weekends. Here is his business address:
P. Sundaram S.S. Air Controls No. 432 Pachaivalliyamman Illam 29th St. 6th Sector K.K. Nagar, Chennai 600078
This is the address they spend the weekend at, usually from Saturday evening to Monday morning. It is his father’s parents’ house:
God as the ultimate existence that stands up creation, I would not see this as the Mother’s fancy. It was not her might. It wasn’t even what she was doin’. She was an Integral on Earth, a divine mother in human form. She was perfect and cast away all cares? What does a Mother mistake look like? It doesn’t look strong. We can pick apart her works, accept what we want, throw away the rest. No, we would not find the Mother there, but we need to know she’s strong, who made mistakes.
Who couldn’t see her mistakes, would that be a bridge too far? It’s the point of contention. It’s where we start. Now an integral arrangement sees everything in light of integrality. I will melt this understanding if I say it too quickly.
The Yoga of Integral Perfection calls for perfection before you start. Is that the gardener of the house? What does it mean be perfect in everything you do, always be perfect, never falter, never let your guard down once, and be austere always and ban pleasure from the room, all forms of pleasure, and wait for the bliss divine? I’ve paraphrased what the Mother said.
I’ve told you the truth. You can read it yourself. Do we take this and run with it? We die. It’s not possible in a human life. This is what we avoid, rigidity, a non-integral arrangement. What happened here?
The Mother spoke from her gun. She didn’t lift her voice and sing. She got carried away with the force of her words. She wanted divine perfection now. She couldn’t possibly tell us to get there that way: no flesh in the pan; put it on immediately. And yet this is what the Mother told us. It gives us scars. It makes us chew nails. It can’t be right.
We are left wonderin’ what to do, and we go to another place and she said balance your way there; don’t be moral-minded; don’t be a puritan; take it one step at a time; come to integrality slowly as fast as you can; give yourself room to breathe; it’s okay darlin’ I love you.
Can the Yoga see this, the Mother made mistakes? We would have to look at her death, months of moanin’ agony, and Pranab said she never mentioned the Work. We have to look at this. I’m sorry we have to. Was this a baseball card? No, it was her death. It happened to the Mother, and she spoke so bravely of death on so many occasions.
What happened there? All her austerities came to bear. She couldn’t lift them no more. They caught up to her, and in the end they ruled her. Do you know what she did? She kept death at bay. She actually, physically, kept death at bay, and it was her time to go. That’s what we must see, the strength of a God was in that will, but it was misplaced, misapplied, because she was there to conquer death you see.
Oh wait a minute I’m backin’ up. She was there to override death, make the physical a plaything of matter. My gun has misfired, I’m sorry. Make the physical obey the will of the Mother. In all her austerities involving matter, that was her aim.
She didn’t get that far. She came upon her consciousness and wanted done with it, and here’s where I do you business. She wanted done with the spiritual transformation before it was complete. How do I climb that mountain? Have patience with yourself my dear. How did I come to that conclusion? Evidence of the ego in Mother’s Agenda, her outbursts of anger on the floor, her impatience with herself, her still working it out in dream, her pride at being who she was. The Gods wanted her darshan she told a child once, who had angered the Mother for not waiting on her. Watch her hide her toothless grin. What do you say Donny? Mother I love you.
In his haste to put things right, make her where the Yoga stands, Sri Aurobindo overlooked these things in her, and no one could challenge him otherwise. Do you watch the Agenda? Early on is it? She tells Satprem she has gone beyond Sri Aurobindo. The exact nature of her words mean that. I think it’s the next session or shortly thereafter, she reports Sri Aurobindo with a stomachache. It’s all over his face. Now this is vision of course. What was he trying to tell her? She missed it completely. Do you see it? She hadn’t gone beyond Sri Aurobindo.
These are ugly things to look at, and we don’t want to. The Yoga of Integral Perfection bids us do. In her mistakes we are made right. We let them do what they need to do, give us some indication of the hardness of our endeavor, know that it’s not worked out yet the Yoga, and help us do it ourselves, avoiding those mistakes.
My God I’m sorry I’m showin’ this to yah. I’ve dealt with it for years. Maybe you have too? There was the Mother in books, and there was the Mother holding my hand, now my kid’s hand, sometimes very different Mothers. Can you hear this? You’d have to get concrete inner contact to see it.
I’m not down on her. She is the one I follow to make this yoga work for me. It’s her hand I hold. It’s her eyes that direct me where I’m to go. To write this poem I tried to tell her no. I don’t want to make you mad at me. Maybe we’re newfound friends? I obey the Mother, not always, not every time, but in my life she eventually gets her way. I concede.
In you’re hearin’ this poem I do. Please don’t shoot me for it. I love the Mother. I am her disciple, and I take her to heart, an integral, loving, mother that is the divine power behind this yoga, our protection, and our abide by Sri Aurobindo. Do I give you all my knowledge at once? They are one you know.
Now let’s get this beer can away from my lips. The Mother wants it so. Now every once in awhile is fine. Now here’s the deal: how do you break the rules by followin’ them? There has to be a plan, and the Mother laid this one out for me. I like beer, just a beer in the evening one or two times a week, but that would be every evening and two beers before long, and the Mother knows that. I could become an alcoholic so easily. The Mother’s told me that. Okay here it is: an austerity of every once in awhile has to be followed to the letter, and I will know what that letter is when it comes time for another beer inner contact with the Mother and sincere.
Can I get you a train? She’s here for all of us, and she’s right there with the plan for your sadhana. The divine mother she is. Expanded so after death, became that omniscient being as far as we’re concerned sadhaks of the Integral Yoga. She’s our Shakti. She’s our boss. She’s such a loving mother, incredibly above cars, and you and me are a car takin’ our yoga down the street. My job these days get that yoga goin’, by principlin’ it in myself every time I turn around, using myself as the chopping block. I try everybody. It’s not like I always succeed, but I’m the Yoga speaking about itself. Will you give me the time of day? Thank you.
The Mother waits for integral understanding, move this yoga down the road. Am I just a blight on y’all’s ears? Correction. I have the integral word. Will you hear it? You mean practice? If you could do it. Okay this is the church process. No, it’s everything that touches you throughout the day. It gets bigger you understand, a divine process. That’s an integral arrangement.
Gonna application in the very spots that give you problems, and you’ll get better at it every day, with many drawbacks, even goin’ backwards. It’s piecemeal with sudden starts into a brand new day. Ever the horizon waits for you to arrive, and another horizon comes into view, day after day after day. You just integral see you’re comin’ together on the plan, and it’s all comin’ home to yah now you get better at it.
Enjoy yourself some, yeah sure. Vital letting the hair down puts this yoga in perspective, and sometimes it’s not even wrong. I can’t rulebook. This is as plastic as infinity, and all your nature’s on the line, learnin’ how to control itself, learnin’ how to be made right, learnin’ the way to go. It doesn’t happen all at once. It’s a blind see in the very beginning, a hope and promise in the middle, a really coming unto yourself a divine keeper as you arrive. Awesome the world looks, and it’s not your master anymore.
Can I glide here? This is where every minute counts. This is where you have to do it or die. This is what you’ve all built up to, and you really pull it together here, with the Mother’s help, and it is always there, the Mother’s see.
All I know is that cat, she gets and spites you, that muse of creation, but I didn’t close this poem off to the public. This better be good. Because I struggled with the Mother in writing for years, her presentation on paper, the discrepancy between that and the Mother that was guiding me, and I’m not the only one. She’s soft and warm, but she’s fierce in her picture. She can sound so ego in the things that she said. She can sound ridiculous a time or two, like she wasn’t grounded in reality, especially near the end. Her obsession with truth for example, would if you’re hiding Jews?
Somethin’ happened to her later in life. She became obsessed with questions that body of hers could not answer. She wanted immortality that the body wrote, and she left Sri Aurobindo’s teachings, here and there, in the yelp of her cells, a sadhana so perilous, she almost lost her mind. She gave Satprem a golden key to screw up the Yoga after she died, with the transformation of the cells what the Yoga now means to so many in Auroville and around the world.
She set him up for failure, and we could not ignore him, she put so much attention into him, and we need to ignore him. He was an egoistic maniac. And what of Pranab, did you ever meet ‘im? A hateful man. The Mother chose him to be her guardian, and we’re left with his legacy today. What a hateful ashram we have. I’m dealin’ with that now. My little boy makes ‘em mad, bein' with a White man, and they’ve been mean to him. I can’t write poems there now.
Do you know what the Mother said about music? Narad was gonna bring down the new music, and he tried and tried. There was no understandin’ what the new music was, but it’s basically music played or sung to you on the inside, and you’re open to supramental life. Narad didn’t get that. He was not a vehicle to get there. Ananda Reddy was given a mandate to spread Sri Aurobindo’s gospel, make it understandable to men. He’s tried and tried. Thinks he’s done it from what I understand. He’s gotten the Yoga off track and is not open to the Mother. He hates me, and Narad won’t speak to me, ever. What do you do with that? You call it ill will.
We’re left with the Mother speaks, and that was not always correct. Can we find our way around that? I have. I’ve confronted it head on. I’ve seen behind the veil, and I understand the Mother in time. They said if you saw her you would understand. She was more than human. I’ve questioned so many people about that. Her presence caused people to wonder if not God had filled the room. Did you know she slapped a little girl across the face? I heard it from her brother himself. He witnessed it, was a kid too. She got mad at the child and hit her, and no one said a word. It was at a function and the child misbehaved, nothing major.
Was that the first time? Why did I hear about it? I would imagine you haven’t. That about wraps it up, the last image I want you to see, to understand the Mother was wrong sometimes in her earthly embodiment. A Yoga of Self-Perfection she wore she didn’t live up to, never mind the Goddess behind the frame. She told us to be perfect, and we can’t, not at least from day one. I’m finished, a poem so real on itself fulfills the time on the Earth.
Nithish and I taking a selfie together for this poem
This poem was written for the trustees of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry, India, and was given to them the only way correspondence can be, if you are not an ashramite or someone they know, by giving it in an envelope to Mr Puru at the photo room adjacent to the Samadhi, and whether or not he will pass it on is entirely up to him. The Samadhi is the tomb of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, where people come to sit, meditate, and pray, which is located at the ashram.
We met these tomfooleries. Do you ever look at your own car? Can you be a better sadhak in wood, a better disciple of Sri Aurobindo? I lunge there: I spend my day in total concentration. This is a farmer on my land. I really till the soil. The concentration comes and goes, but it’s picked up time and time again. It’s fits and starts, all day long.
Can you be a better sadhak of Sri Aurobindo? I’m burnin’ on that ground. I clear my mind and find it’s there, for few certain minutes. Can we come back to this? I always do. I am disciple of Sri Aurobindo that always hears words my inner ear hears. I write them down through a voice recorder. My God I’m a seer someone said. No one’s said this yet. I’m just this guy with wood, if you see me on the street, held by my little boy.
He’s white and I’m black, as society sees us, an easy lesson in symbols if you hear. What color am I with him? I am navy green. That means he’s safe with me. What a spectacle for a pair of eyes. The racial mix’s intriguing, on the bandwidth of ourself. Don’t doctor this up. We’ve got infinity going for us, racin’ around, a whole field show. We do sadhana together. I be his teacher.
He’s not cloven foot. He stands on his sadhana too, a kid in grace and poise. Okay stand back. Here’s where we differ. Open the inner consciousness child. Reach in there and find soul. Open up in vision God. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo take those places so many times in his dreams and visions, and in his understanding of God. A child’s understanding basks in time. No matter, they are his guides and goads.
He’s opened the inner consciousness, and his poetry would map our Earth, if we but could give it time to breathe. School shoves it down his throat: hey kid, study for your exams? An exam is a holdover from the last institution: caveman you gotta learn this mile; it’s survival of the fittest. My God the lists against this kid are strong. It’s a wonder he’s even doing it, bein’ a vehicle of the inner voice. The inner lines are strong.
I know the doubt and fear cast on this. You would only see to know. His latest poem I include at the back of this email. His latest voice I include. We measure this by the strength of his ego. That’s not fair. A little kid’s sense wrote this.
Now here we are sittin’ at the back of this ego. And we mention the poet. I’m in the poem you see. Now listen to a story. I’ve given my kid the voice recorder. He might get a line. We are at the opposite pole of the Samadhi from the crowd. I’ve never sat there before. I'm with my other student Mithun, who hears inner music. I don’t got no more students but them.
A band plays. I hear the line “Ice cold Samadhi” just given into my inner ear, but my boy’s got the voice recorder occupied, whisperin’ in two lines of his own: “Rechargeable minds here, Olympus.” Here’s where it gets weird. Someone not connected with the Samadhi watch, not a staffer there, or so I think not, gets an eye on the voice recorder, walkin’ by the mountain. “Gimmie that.” No polite words were spoken, no considerations one, no respect none.
It’s here you’re doin’ sadhana, when somebody pops yah. All the gold comes out. I’m sorry to say none of mine did. In the ensuing conversations with this person and that, I just defended myself, and my boy there. I did not do what I was supposed to do: not react, but I didn’t tell one person off. I kept reaction out of my voice, to the degree anger and ill will I didn’t let show.
This I was careful to do. No one heard me. No one said a word. You know how this is gonna be reported: that son of a bitch lied and stole. You will believe your people, of course, but all things show themselves in time, and no one will be able to lie then, together or apart.
I’m left with a voice recorder I’ve used there now many years. I’ve written poems from that Samadhi, framed one and gave it to yah, “The Rotisserie of God”. No one has ever copied me, the reason I was told I couldn’t do it: everyone will. You think I’d of been discovered by now if it were a ruckus, but I can bring a pencil and paper if you insist. That leaves me with gold they will take from me there, when I come to pray. We will check you now every time. You know when a threat’s spoken. It’s the hatred in their eyes. We will harass you every time you come here. Can this not be what they really said?
Well Savitri asks for boons, from the spectre death. I’m not gonna ask for the blind to see. I’m just a sadhak not Savitri, but I hear you call my name, and can I write poetry sir on my voice recorder at the Samadhi? Well, I’ll wait. Now here’s the one I’m worried about. Can I enter the ashram gates without bein’ harassed? I’ll bring pencil and paper sir, until you tell me otherwise. No hidden cameras to record my voice I’ll wear. Do we have a deal?
Trustee please, are you spiritual? This is a Samadhi question. I live there in my heart all the time. I react, sure, but I’m there, and I live in vision. I see the world before my eyes a thing under creation. It’s being made right now. I hear this in vision, and you did too. “Ice cold Samadhi” means it was a frigid place emotionally, and where was this? It was in the situation I described. These men were ice cold, no warmth at all in their voice or in their eyes. Immediately they rose to anger, all riled upon themselves, and I’d had prevision of this, in that line of muse, just before it started.
The world rose there, before my very eyes, and I only saw it after it was over. Could help then? Well it sure helps in our conversation. I don’t think those men gathered the future before it happened. They were not focused and gathered. All came to put that foreigner in his place, like their reaction was natural the order of the day, like they weren’t doing sadhana. They acted like the inner voice had no place in Sri Aurobindo’s yoga. It was wrong.
Can I tell you something else? Well, my inner voice was right on. I forgot to tell yah… Some people say no I just made a mess. He wants to go over it look— my muse on where I’ve been. I’ve been to the moon and back, if you’re listenin’ to muse, and I’ve danced with the military on tactical nukes, a U.S. special forces commando. I’ve been in the heart and breath stop in Silent Mind, that hurried glance, and I saw the Gods in their tiers in Overmind, and on a rim of dreamless sleep, dived into the well of soul. Would you believe in overhead? The consciousness raises up there, like several meters, and there you find Supermind. Makes for a lot of poetry. Brief glimpses all, but I’ve seen what I’m sayin’.
I can go round about the world a penniless vagabond— 27 countries in 10 years. Do you have that faith? I don’t think you even learned Classical Greek. Translate Euripides into English verse, and you’ll gather strength in poetry. You also get good at it, in time. Took me 25 years, even after I started hearin’ it.
Now can we define the future poetry? The future’s got that in hand. I don’t understand. I’ve heard the future call my name, and you won’t show this to anyone? Paper airplanes every poem I’ve made? Make or break yah, these are not conventional teeth. Are you open to the divine? Candywood make or break yah, what you hear on the internet today.
I’m sorry I took it up, the internet speaker. I get laughed at and lauded. The latter’s not louder, but they’ve gotta eat too, the people on there for the breeze, and I might be seen soon by a pitchfork and a vital that hate me so much I go viral. Look there’s nothing in them, the threats I face today. The rotating officer is not interested in me. I’m not hurtin’ anybody. I’m not doin’ anything wrong. Now you’re starrin’ me, at your look see.
Oh well, do it to her face okay? Get another bad piece from her. You gave her a poem that said she needed to work on it, humanity’s tiger. Do people really wanna act like that at the ashram? A boy his hair, that’s what he does. I thought you’d notice they walk silly. Good idea, I’m talking about being human kind and loving to all who enter your gates.
You’re gonna have to, whadda you do? Really buckle down and be good to people, and her hair could be picked up too, and she could focus and concentrate, breakin’ along can reality period, yeah, yeah. Global, I even ask you to global change. Here it is you have a mirror. There’s broad stroke said it. There’s the yoga. Everybody makes mistakes. Would you offer this to the Mother?
Opening up kids, I agree with you. We don’t block them from society. We fathom them God. We don’t fathom them school. And they become there, on the journey to God a society rose. What do we hope by it? We get bigger than ourselves. His heart, a little boy rises his soul. A little boy rises I’ve been meanin’ to tell you. The expectation’s not the kid. It’s the consciousness. What’s this mountain? You wanna bring God into the world.
I tried to do a little explainin’ on boyness and the nature of man, on bein’ human. We are here for this. We need all our strength. Practice is another suite. Send it sweet. Did you get everybody put in this spirit? It takes the world to make it up. Blown up yeah. We made it here, in this section, to the touch of a magazine. Everything’s online, and this will be too, now or never.
Do you understand the flavor here? That’s the flavor of change. That’s the flavor of Harm’s End. These are bunk beds, and we live here, grandfather and his grandson you keep hittin’ at. Did I mention Douglas? Puts together his life with the Mother. A house is not complete without dogs, and we have four. They are the love of our life.
Our friend is on the roof, Narasimha, protecting my house if you should try to take me down. I don’t die. A divine worker is protected. This is what I’m aiming: the life divine. So much power, you’ll have instructions. May God bless you.
Your outer form was carried right. We are not derelicts or sinners. We are safe and sound. I’m will extra deep, alright? Okay, you have been warned. You don’t mess with divine protection, but are you really mean-spirited? Does the Mother cross your brow if you should hate someone? Okay your character’s on the table now. May you wish blessings for all. May you really hold the Mother’s hand.
I bear you no ill will. I’m not in a campaign to smear your name. I’m doin’ what I’m supposed to be doin’, here writing you a poem, now doing sadhana. I’ve changed the ticker tape in his life, that kid. Am I glad he met me with the divine. I’ve met you that way. That’s the story. Oh wait a minute daddy I wanna fix my lunch, one second. A purity of kid rose, a gracious cartoon. Now let’s survive this and become better friends.
You know it’s there, the fact of your will or consciousness behind a lesson. Okay, noted. Well it will transfer that it was made by the foreigner. Okay, spit on ‘im. I don’t think so. Your thought process in relation to your thoughts, and you pick them up randomly? Now that’s got uncle and brother, your bigger clothes, without AI. I’m here to help.
Paradise Things With Lyrics by S. Nithish
Reach for peace, but it’s a long jump away. It’s One stairs. Butterflies are our airplanes. They’re peaceful and calm. They can fly us to space. From there we need to walk.
There’s a place for everybody in the world. I did two steps: let the Light be the guide; my place is out of this world. We all have something that we should pass on. I do not have a turnoff button.
The ancient minds were better. They left out clues for us. They left out clues around the world. We should always say thanks. Stars were meant to be together.
