He just wants the people he love to be fair to. (vision of Nithish standing in the forest at a microphone stand and speaking into the mic) Life is a very changed little boy. He’s not gonna control. Will see everything eight thousand, which means he doesn’t see it as himself.
You gotta take the phone out of his hands and let him listen to you. You got a therapy. You can help it. In the interest of therapy you will go. Okay then, a PowerPoint presentation, you spend the night with me in the phone.
He had just been through a hard time for any conversation at all with him. I let him throw the other people in jail. A file said that. Boy’s not gonna go crazy and do anything rough to his daddy.
Just bury your head and see now’s not a good time. I vintage. We’re tired. It’s been my dream to have a mountain visit with daddy. I can’t get up.
They don’t go. They don’t leave him out. They guard him all the time. It’s impossible to see him wherever they visit. I can’t hear a car.
Did you make yourself useful? Not yet. See you soon Nithish. Goin’ to Kuru you’re not fondu, over? I don’t think so. I stay away from that plan.
Why is the son not supporting seeing me? What is that? (two visions of ugly, insane pictures of some horrible place) Hell my mother makes me imagine, my mother messages me. There is a want to see you gotten in.
Could not believe it, we are right where we see each other weird, but I belong to him. In a child’s mind three and a half months is a long time not bein’ with his daddy. He forgets the report. He forgets the love and attention.
Christ look ahead. Don’t overlook your eves. Does it take all day? I’m with you so much right now, watch your glow. (vision of Ramya, a young woman I’m a daddy to. She’s looking at me and smiling) You give everybody kindness. Give me your love and support.
On Monday the child never woke back. Come here. I told him tomorrow’s thinking about that does not measure our true love. Have a good day. I love you.
Go into the Earth tower, I have to maintain. I cannot see Nithish and that kills me. I watch his moods change from day to day. I’m inside his consciousness you see. He toys with me like a rabbit and then just puts me down and forgets about me for a while.
We achieved union together, and this is the price I pay for it. A child does not know your worth. They only see themselves. I can’t take this child anymore. I carry his pain all day. He just wants to be happy and forget about me. I’m too much trouble for him right now.
What evil is this a mother does to her child? No one questions the mother’s insanity to forbid any contact whatsoever, when she herself will admit I was good to the boy and did not abuse him.
This is killing his character, but this is India, and we don’t protect our children, and we do not know the damage the heart can do to a child that’s been made to kill his love for one of his parents. This boy will not be kind.
I can only sit here and watch it all and cry. I so want to help my boy. I am with him every minute of every day, and the sleepless nights just tear me apart, and it’s all I can do to maintain, and I must maintain.
Do you consider me? I’m a value in consciousness, and the same you hear from me I opened up in this boy, but that has been killed too, and no one seems to mind.
I love you Nithish, and I will not give up on you, and I understand your pain and your need to be a boy. I am a parent and I can take sacrifice. I just wish you could see me as I am and not in the stench of gaslight you mother has put you through.
It’s inevitable that one day you will. A demon can only hold the field for so long before the divine forces prevail. Do you see me Nithish? I am here, and I’m not going anywhere.
Let’s move forward Nithish.
It’s time to move forward Nithish.
The camera pushes in,
immediately replaces your silence with sound.
It seemed to have the heart glow of eternity.
Some price is right.
Making sense out of a horrible situation, okay?
I can be the whole thing now, forever.
Now I can’t be a boy. [line heard sung as though Nithish is singing it]
I can’t cover good for you when he knows you won’t say my name in proper. You won’t say how you feel.
What do I need to save you? I need you to call my name in public, say how you really feel, to whomever asks. Be honest about it: you want to live with your daddy; you are not happy with your parents.
If you don’t do this you will die to all of your dreams and aspirations, to a happy childhood, to being a teenager in America, to being an adult who’s a poet, who loves the world and protects children. You will die to yourself Nithish.
Listen to me good. I have more to say but that’s the main thing: you must call my name now, in front of your parents, in front of Kuruchikuppam, in front of the city of Pondicherry.
When a random stranger asks, when your parents ask, when anybody asks: you love your daddy; you want to live with him; your parents have been very mean to you.
Go to type. Type good news, fast car, your heart’s desire. I need you to listen to me Nithish. To mask truth so people can rob you of your identity, take from you who you are, you’re destroying your own dreams; you’re kissing the feet of those who abuse you; you are not getting your heart’s desire; you are getting nightmares.
Don’t worry. I am here. Let me help you, but you need to also help yourself. You are not helpless. You are not a baby. You are scared to death.
Do you know how many social workers are watching what’s happening to you right now? You have an audience of concerned people, and your mother knows that. If they try to put you into a boy’s hostel, if you even get beat again, they will stop all that, but you need to speak up so they can.
They are going by what your mother tells them and everyone else: you are happy with her; you do not want to see me; you are perfectly normal now.
This is Nithish, not who my mother says I am. Call my name. Call your own name, else you will not come out of this water, and you cannot be a boy.
They are going by what your mother tells them and everyone else: you are happy with her; you do not want to see me; you are perfectly normal now.
This is Nithish, not who my mother says I am. Call my name. Call your own name, else you will not come out of this water, and you cannot be a boy.
How many thousands of books have failed, books to help humanity, and they never made to public eyes? Do you want yours to fail Nithish? You have to be the hero your dreams show you are. You have to vanquish the demons like you say you do in your poetry. You have to stand up for yourself. You have to stand up for every kid in the world.
That’s what’s going on: you have to be the poet of a sunrise, that sunrise a better humanity with our children.
I made a religious issue. He’s not allowed to love the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. He’s not allowed to write his poetry from the divine, that give you face to miracle. He’s not even allowed to read his poetry or see his YouTube videos the poet takes shape.
He’s being beaten and bruised to renounce me and these things, and no one’s here to help him but me, and they’re threatening me with jail if I go anywhere near him, but will admit I did not abuse him, was good to that boy. They just don’t want him with me because they have abused him, and they don’t him to tell me that so that I tell you.
We cannot have one second together his mother brags. Where do we put this on the shelf? A child’s suicide? A child runs away? A child has a heart attack nervous breakdown? Or a child who’s dead to the world, lost his humanity because his parents killed it? What kind of man will that make?
Pondicherry, those are you options. I can do nothing else but warn you somethin’s terrible comin’ from that boy if you deny his right to see me and be the daddy I am to him, aka his poetry guide and spiritual teacher.
We need your help. This boy’s extraordinary in his reaches of soul. You could do well to have a poet of this stature. Poetry the boy? Imagine poetry the man. He’s here for you, and you do not see that.
You think a foreigner raised him, and now a foreigner wants him back. Do you every listen to your scripture? It’s not about being Indian it’s about being human. It addresses the world. It takes the hand of oneness and confronts the world with it. I have that vision constant in my worldview. You hate me for it. I can love unconditionally, and I can love this boy to safety, despite your hatred of the foreigner.
In oneness there is no foreigners. We are each human being, and I ride your town with that identity, and I was giving it to this little boy, a worldview based on oneness, based on who we are. We are That you see. What made India’s past great? Godmen and Godwomen, seers that brought down civilization from the Gods, Rishis that reveal to us the godly life.
I am not an American I am not a foreigner. I am a human being through and through, but I have chosen India as my home because here the Gods can still communicate with us, and God had more room to act, because He is alive in so many hearts, however narrow they put Him, however blindly they may see Him. It’s a devotion in every shop, in every home, and even the atheists have their banner, but this great spirituality that India carries in her inner waters, cannot come to the surface a wellspring for all to drink. You do not allow that. You are orthodox Hindu, orthodox Muslim, orthodox Christian, orthodox Buddhist, orthodox Sikh, orthodox Jain, and by orthodox you wear a religion and do not have concrete inner contact with the God you adore, where you view him or her real in consciousness, or your spiritual ideal, and through signs and wonders let it guide you through your day.
This was India of old. “The ancient minds were better,” Nithish says in one of his poems. But you just see that as political turmoil. I’ve given you a boy, who still needs further development by me, but who already is a poet, through his pain, giving us high glimpses of India’s rise to her humanity.
You let his parents throw that away. You just want the foreigner gone. How do I speak to you emergency? My child needs me you see to bring him back to good and God. You are hurting him with your silence, validating his mother’s abuse of him, his father’s, validating the worldview to hurt children, and I just don’t understand your reasoning. You are not the boss here, and this is not a hell world, although in this situation, it sure seems like it.
Can it get any worse? This boy could die, if not his body, then his heart and mind to humanity. This boy’s gonna die, and you’re being warned before that happens. Pondicherry, save your child.
Yesterday night he gave us a poem, last time his poetry, and inner dawn. People were around to see it. Where is the sensation? His poetry record gives us something to think about, the paradox of time travel. You can’t put it down as a hoax. You can’t even say it’s terrible poetry, but it’s useless today because it hits society where she can’t figure out stuff, and no one will get alarmed that this poet’s being killed, molested, sat on, abused.
No one will believe me, and no one will question the boy. We have his mother on record saying, “You will not tell on me you will tell what I tell you to say.” Having just been beaten for talking to me through a window, he said mother I will do that, and then he went to someone he trusted and cried his eyes out, wanting me, wanting the abuse to stop, and I can even tell you who it is to prove my story, because he’ll lose the only shoulder he has to cry on.
He will have to be questioned with me, or he will tell no one nothing, and I’m the foreigner everybody keeps outside. You do not know what fairness is, nor do you care Pondicherry. You just want to beat your children, play with their little dinghies, make them do what you didn’t want to do as a child, force them to revolve their life around school and homework, as though there is no soul purpose, as though we are just animals aggrandizing our gain.
I call on you Pondicherry to give this boy his chance at poetic greatness, but we can at least liberate him from his parents’ abuse of him and constant control, and give him his heart’s desire, his soul’s choice, at least some days in the week with me, so I can cure him help him heal him, and prevent his parents from abusing him more.
Why is that an impossibility? We go right to the roots of what’s wrong with Indian society: how you raise children, and make them subservient to parental abuse, dominance and control. You slap your children Pondicherry, and you tell me it’s normal.
Here’s a fish out of the water of the entire gamut of abuse, Nithish’s story, big so you can see it. I’m askin’ you to take a look, that look that brings change, not because you are angry for what you have seen, but because you have been hit in your very heart center for the love of a child, and you see yourself that child when you went around the house in underpants, and you see yourself those parents diddling with his dolittle, and slapping him because he doesn’t measure up.
I am not accusing you. I have learned these lessons as one abused and as an abuser, larger than life like this kid shows. He got the benefit of all that wisdom, all that handle with care. I know how to treat children, like they are the God in the room, and they just simply love it there, and this boy misses his daddy and wants me to protect him, but I can nothing except tell you the story and get down on my knees and ask you for help. Please help my boy Pondicherry.
I have started my journey. I feel like I wanna be dead. But why? Someone have to stop this school before kids die.
I need help please stop these dictators. Kids need power too if kids to live in this world in peace. I ask myself God please help me. Forsake have you?
It takes a power in India. I let me talk of light/God I to the world. I will be in heaven if I am able to be in peace.
I have started my journey. I am gonna see my old mind, and I am gonna write till I see no more. I seen God. I need way to escape from reality. Have they heard God or have they saw a kid talk to God? Well I have a spark of power now.
I am in sea with sea monsters. His eye was bigger than my head. I feel ashamed of myself.
Chapter 2
I have started my journey. Am I really pissed off? I ask you that or do I ask me that maybe? I should ask the world.
I shall be born again in my mind. Please look me in the eye and talk to me. They shot my head off, threw me in fire, stabbed me.
I can only hear the light, but can you go? I am stuck as one. I am three, but people only see one and judge me looking at my face.
I tell them judge me after looking in my inner soul. Are we kids gonna die without living life a little? I am very strong my muse. I have to protect the light from another somebody from stealing it.
I always say goodnight, sweet dreams, but who’s there to that for me? God help I am homeless. I have opened my pen to write me.
This poem is a prevision of the future. Nithish wrote it from spiritual vision some months before the horrible situation he’s describing happened to him, when he was taken from my home by his mother, where he lived during the week, visiting his parents on the weekends. That is the journey he started. They did bad things to him, but the worst has been what they have done to his heart by doing Nazi-like things to him to kill his love for me and keep him from having contact of any kind with me, although for the first two months he called me in secret telling me of the abuse, and of course we have inner contact in spiritual vision, or I do; this also has been killed in him by his parents in their attempts to kill his love for me. He doesn’t write poetry anymore, no longer hears his muse.
I need to mention that school for Nithish was the worst thing in the world. He’s been badly abused for his dyslexia in school, both physically and emotionally, and his parents would never allow me to get him tested for the learning disability. But in this poem, school represents where he gets his life lessons, and that takes place at home too. The muse, the inner voice of poetry, uses the symbols that you know, and, if you have some preconceived idea, it won’t override it but use that in the place of what would more represent the truth. That’s going on here with his use of the word school to describe what is going on in his home with his parents.
He was not just slip in two, having to have one face to his parents and another to me, but there was the Nithish alone to himself he had to try and honor also, and so when he’s speaking of being three people, not just one, that’s what he’s talking about. Since the source of his abuse came from his parents punishing him for continuing to love me and wanting to see me, not to mention betraying their bedroom sins to me, he became completely silent about me with anyone he didn’t trust, did not even mention my name, let alone say want to see me.
On the phone he told me that he had to do that because they were treating him very badly, like he was poison, because he had caused all this trouble for his family and brought shame on it, and so, he told me, he had put on a fake smile, but he was really sad inside. So he was one person to his family and another to me, and still another to himself. I cannot tell you what this does to a child, especially one that is right this very second beginning the body changes into adolescence. Mental illness of some sort will ensue at some point. I believe the boy will become a psychopath like his father, who has murdered four men in cold blood for his gang.
Nithiish has now decided he’s finished with me, to honor his parents, and he did that over them buying him a tab so he could play his video games and surf the net. He got that tab by promising his parents that he wouldn’t contact me through it, and he knows that he can do things to contact me without his parents even knowing, which means he’s not contacting me out of fear of his parents finding out; he not doing so because he would disobey his parents. That in itself is enough to do serious damage to a boy’s heart, but he’s done this in the face of a hunger strike I had just told him I was gong to do, so to see him and to help him.
So, getting that toy is more important than me living, a man that was there the day he was born, doing the Saturday thing with him from the time he was one, beginning to babysit him when he was three, becoming a parent of his starting when he was six, and by the time he was seven, he spent more time with me than his parents, living with me at the lake for the last year and some months before he was taken from there by his mother.
When he called me in secret during those first two months, he wanted me to bring someone in to question him, away from his mother, about the abuse he was suffering from by his parents, particularly from her, and I did everything I could to get someone to that house to question him away from his mother. That never happened, despite even Child Help going to the house; they only spoke to his mother, did not follow protocol and talk to the child away from his parents. Police questioned him about me abusing him and his mother, and he said no on both counts, and she was sitting right next to him, and the cops had said that they’d question him away from his mother in another room. He called me and told me about it afterwards.
The final straw came when I told him I had a new advocate, and he called me soon after I told him that, saying he had a plan. He wanted to speak to him alone, and he wanted the advocate to get him talking by asking him about the incident when his mother beat him with a flat, wooden board for saying he wanted to see. He said to start with that question, and he would take it from there.
The night before the meeting we spoke about the meeting on the phone. I just warned him that when he saw me, come and give me a hug, and not to let his mother prevent him from greeting me. She not only did that, she kept him behind her back and put her hand over his face so he couldn’t see me. This changed everything, and the boy began crying, and I was distraught. They went into the office, and I could hear Nithish crying loudly. Finally I was called in, and there was to be no meeting with alone with Nithish. The mother would not allow that.
So I tried to talk to Nithish, but he could not speak. I was very upset by this time and just began asking him what he’d told me he wanted be asked the night before, in our phone conversation. At the question of his mother beating him with board, he managed a weak yes and shook his head yes, keeping his head down, and when I asked him if his mother was abusing him, he answered the same way. By this time his mother, knowing he was telling on her, stood up to take him out of the office, and I tried to prevent that by asking that family welfare be called. I was physically held while she left with the boy. He never called me again after that, which was three weeks ago.
But I had promised him I would help him, and so to do a hunger strike was my last resort, the only power it seemed I had left to use. I will not use it now. The boy is too far gone. All this trauma has changed him, brought the worst of him to the front, and now his tab is more important than my life, and we have so many years together, so many memories, as much as he has with his biological parents, and he is able keep himself from feeling that in order to get some toy, and that toy makes him happy. His parents do not realize what they have done. They have not only killed his love for me, but they’ve killed his love for humanity. The poem above shows you how they did that.
Ha ha ha! I have ran to the divine false— call me a poet after 18+. I have time to die.
I call myself the poet for my life through the end. I am what do you call me, what the godfather? Oh no, that’s not me. My character is at the lake, aka the divine.
I have asked the god to stay. My life is always sour-like.
My mind turn the lights for my room, draw the lights for my room. I am going to wait for you through the light.
Nithish was taken from my home and subsequently brainwashed. I record that here, the eye-opening of Nithish. All you the pictures are aligned.
I will show his mother this, a mother mentally unbalanced in the possession of her boy, and all the abuse that has ensued from her possession. Find myself giving him the blanket he deserves. He will not look at me I know.
You’ve got, the people that are helping me, cosmic kitchen. Show him what he needs to see. Show him himself in the mirror.
The first poem Nithish wrote months before he was taken from my home by his mother because I mentioned to her a video she had made of her youngest son doing a sex act. It is not just a prediction of the future, what will happen to him as a result of showing me that video and telling me its context, but it is himself talking to his future self so to overcome the brainwashing, gaslighting and abuse his parents have put him through because of betraying them to me in regard to that video and the sexual abuse of his little brothers by his father. He told me very private things about what was going on in the bedroom of his family when his father came home from Chennai on the weekends, and they have made him pay for that betrayal and for his love for me.
“The divine false” is his parents’ rule over him, him turning away from God and spirituality and putting his parents in that place. His mother has said he cannot see me again until he’s 18 or over, what “18 plus” means. When he speaks about “time to die,” he’s talking about not only the death of his former self, the real Nithish, but his thoughts of suicide, which he has had in all the trauma his parents have given him for loving me. He disputes that he has to wait until 18 to be a poet, what it means when he says he calls himself “the poet for life through the end,” and to understand the poem, you need to know that being a poet and me being his daddy, or really, his spiritual master, his inner poetry teacher, are intertwined. He’s also talking about not having to wait until 18 to see me again.
In spiritual vision I have seen that his father plans to have me killed and wants Nithish to approve of this, but Nithish has not told me this, but has called twice to tell me to go into hiding without explaining why, not recently though. His father has officially murdered four men in cold blood for his gang, a gang of Lawspet whose leader is a notorious man named Sironen. The gang now feigns to be disbanded, but it is not, and Sundar, his father, feigns to have left it, but he has not. That’s what he means by people calling him “the godfather.” and those people, the you referred to, are his parents. He is very familiar with American movies, and I don’t know if he has seen The Godfather, a movie about an Italian mafia family, but we have talked about that film together. He will not approve of this murder of me, because his “character is at the lake,” where we live, at Usteri Lake, how he refers to the location of our home, which for him is synonymous with the divine because it’s here he is coached in sadhana to realize the divine in his life.
The god he’s asking to stay is me, his spiritual master, and we are in a union of consciousness, on the level of soul, and if you don’t believe just read his poetry and mine, and I have the power to see inside of him, be there in his consciousness, and he can feel me there, and he’s asking me to stay, despite his outer self seeming to have forgotten about me, which the phone call I’ve described shows is not the case. He’s told me he can feel me inside when he was calling me in secret. It is a divine power, a power of consciousness, and you will only believe me when you question the child about it, but no one will question him, and no one’s allowed to.
Despite the special treatment he’s now getting from his parents, he still feels his life “sour-like.” He knows his mind is the key, as I’ve taught him that what he thinks he becomes, and here he’s trying to turn his mind to the light, and he ends by telling me, “I am going to wait for you through the light,” the light being all his poetry, and mine, that is trying to free him from the abuse and Nazi-like control his parents have over him.
Today morning I saw a car. Its name was sunny. In my I saw sunny. In my pen I saw sunny again.
And my friend, he wrote something in a paper, and he gave it to me. In the paper it said sing, sing, think.
I saw a sun shine in my life. One, it will happen again, right happy I am. I told you can I have my rights back? My back I got my back I say, and you say haha haha.
Are you the Joker? No I am the divine power of the God. Wanna see me fly?
Nithish is writing this poem to his future self, as he is in the video-poem “Edge of the Game”. The poem was written some months before he was taken from me, when his life was taken from him, his daddy, his dogs, his computer, his room, his home, and the lake, all in one swoop, and he was taken to live with his parents and given no rights, supervised constantly so as not to try and call or see me, controlled to the nth degree for the same reasons.
The sun that he is talking about is Supermind, and before he was taken, he was a serious student of Supermind. His parents have forbidden him spirituality and to follow Sri Aurobindo and the Mother. The friend that he is talking about is me, and I’ve been writing on Facebook just what he says I’ve been writing so to get him to sing and think, as he’s been almost completely brainwashed by his parents by this time, two and a half months since he was taken. He does not want his rights taken from him, being made to feel like the Joker because they say he’s brought shame to the family, and here he is trying to wake up his future self so he doesn’t lose himself.
You might ask why won’t his parents even look at these things? Do you know they won’t let him read his own poetry? Just ask them to let him, and they will tell you they don’t want him to remember me and change his mind, someone that has been there since the day he was born, parenting him for half of his childhood, giving him years of memory he can’t completely erase, and their answer shows their intent, and it’s not for the needs of Nithish nor is in his best interests. It’s to take his memory of me and to get him to only love them, despite everything, simply to possess him. His mother told me over the phone she did not care about his needs; she wanted him, and he was hers.
Just this poem alone show strong evidence of prevision in the boy’s poetry, and there is much more, where he’s also talking to me from the past, giving me instructions for how to deal with the situation of him being taken by his parents and abused by them in the video-poem “Menu of the Gods”. Then there’s his song, “Big Time Song”, a general prevision about how it feels when they take him from his home, take his life from him, and the process of him coming to understand that, and how “date is in his life, working for his life,” the time that he returns home to the lake.
Yesterday I found a stack of poetry in his drawer in his room that he’d written while in school, and he’d shown the poetry to me when he’d written it, and I’d just filed it away, telling him the poetic quality wasn’t up to pare with the muse he was getting for his YouTube channel. Now I’m reading them, and I’m humbled and blown away by the fact that he wrote all this to his future self of some months hence, to himself now, to guide him to wake up from the brainwashing that’s being done to him by his parents to kill the poet in him and the spiritual seeker, the boy that wants to stand up for children everywhere and have some kind of neighborhood court, he told me, where children can challenge decisions their parents make concerning important things in their life. I must tell you now I’m not really his daddy; I’m his spiritual master, and that’s the secret relationship we’ve been having, what I tell him not to tell anybody, although I am not a master; I’m an adept, but you understand the relationship.
We need strong evidence of the soul and the divine active in humanity today, like more that at any other time in our history, because we are on the brink of destruction. Here we have that, and this is a miracle. We need miracles, ones that can be clearly seen, and what is a miracle but Nature when she has been stripped of her plain clothing of ordinary and shown to possess powers we have suspected all along is in her store, but ones she does not show often enough to believe in nor to very many people at a time, powers that show us her secret divinity and close bond with the soul and God? A miracle, people, I give you a miracle, where the whole wide world can watch it, on the world wide web, the inner poetry of Nithish. We are watching the boy fly.
Can you really stretch two mountains? I don’t need to jump off. I can just fly through space. I met Neil Armstrong. It was his pride to do that can’t you see? I do something from the bottom of your heart. Mine is poetry. Why can’t you speak your mind? Because of those evil touts control your mind. I learn to fly. I see another world in the pond. I can’t be right, but I can be truthful to the world. I can feel the change. The world is changing once again to a bad turn. Do you really want to let them in with yourself? No way I am gonna let that happen.
This was sung to Nithish on the inside as a rap while he was in school about two months before he was taken from me. It was one of two raps he wrote, or, I should say, his muse wrote. The other is at the end of the video-poem “Edge of the Game”. This rap comes from spiritual vision, and he is seeing what is about to happen to him, that “bad turn” coming, and it happens when he is taken from me. In the second to last line, he is speaking about his parents when he uses the pronoun “them”, psychologically manipulating him so that they kill the poet him because they think poetry is a waste of time and because they are suspicious of the lines of poetry that he hears from the inside because they turn him towards God and spirituality and not to them, his parents.
They do not see any talent here, but, dear reader, do you see no talent here? He has a talent that maybe only two or three kids on the whole planet have, an ability to not only write poetry completely from inner listening but also an ability to tell the future. Do you really want that destroyed? Maybe he has this talent to help us not to destroy the world. I might ask who the two mountains are. Would you laugh if I said he and I? I write poetry from spiritual vision also, and it was me opened this up in him.
He’s read by anger. He says it beautifully and sweetly. I saw the changes up front. He’s just so confused, afraid. I feel sorry for him. It’s his lowest book, give you trouble.
He doesn’t know what to do with himself. I’ve already got complaint. Pound the report. He keeps forgetting the name of the trashcan they threw him in the night it happened.
You’ll do exactly what I say to waters, to water. It pulls him. He does it. He masturbates in front of his father and mother. I have a question. Why do they want him to masturbate? You would think it would be the other way around. It was. It’s soon to be pleasure house.
There, there now the father’s hand. You’ll get a rise out of me in a minute with this. After that he met the strong end of the law. Come help, and Sandiya slapped him as he pulled, pulls his red car. He felt his little toy rear end. He screamed, and his father pulled it by the roots again. Now, he was hysterical, and that’s how he got into the bathroom with his mother, and then she syphoned his little pony to sooth, golden fellatio.
Son of a bitch, this is horrible news. The vision is exactly what happened, all the ponies included, and we rest our case here. It’s too lost to talk about, and that boy’s underwear is scared. This was the opening for him to destroy himself. This made him blight his tears for me. He couldn’t believe it had happened, and he kept tryin’ to forget about it. It was a horror story out of Genghis Khan.
Now it’s on Facebook, and you don’t believe it. I’m sorry it’s true. Spiritual vision shows it, and it has shown it all along. You just didn’t hear me the first time. Now they put all of this on him, the surveillance cameras, the total control, the psychological manipulation, the physical abuse, so he wouldn’t tell me what happened that night, and that’s why, dear ladies and gentlemen, he can have no contact with me whatsoever, in any shape for form.
They do not know about consciousness. They think you can hide somethin’ they did to a little boy, and I’m in union with him. They don’t know about consciousness. They think we’re separated, and we communicate daily. The boy’s gotten fluffed about it, and is trying to ignore it. He wants to accept this abuse and move on. He has been ruined in character, totally humiliated where he meets the world, and is scared to death of his parents when they’re in their wrath. He will do anything for them, except tell me to get lost.
Okay now that’s you’ve heard the story what are you gonna do? Nothin’. We haven’t crossed this bridge before. You just listen to stories. No one will question this kid with the proper treatment. They let his mother rule, and she is not good to him. Okay Pondy it’s your stuff. You need to see this, because this boy died on the Cross so you wouldn’t abuse your children. Can you figure me here?
He’s a representative example of what you do to children, just so exaggerated so it has the impact it has to show you abuse is wrong. You don’t know about representative figures. They’re a holy book. They are like a Christ, and you need to see them so you can get the full effect. This is godly awful, isn’t it?
Imagine what it’s like to be one with this child, sharing consciousness together no holds barred, and then he’s taken from me and has this done to him, and I have to watch a helpless observer. I screamed and I carried on to advocates, the TV news, and the Child Help Line. No one would question that kid or even worry about it. I was a crazy lark that needed to shut up, but I’m an activist, and I know my stuff. This story has gone out to every major NGO in the country that deals with child’s rights and preventing them from being abused, several Pondy TV news channels, and every major newspaper in the country. This story will get out, when the election’s over.
There’s no stoppin’ it now, and I’ll be right there to receive that boy to take him home and heal him, because that’s what union does. You’re unified on oneness, and systems of abuse do not have ground of being. It’s a union story of love and kindness. It’s oneness’ story, the heart of compassion, knowledge of one another where the soul sees.
I’m sorry I’m teachin’ yah new things. You’re not good with innovative stuff when it involves the terms and conditions of our being, what a human being is, and how it tries to rise up out of human being into the next class. I give you there with this kid. That’s our endeavor together, to change man.
Now tell me again I can’t heal this kid, but the truth of the matter is that we’ll heal each other. I’m in the same shape he’s in, only I will take the lead because I’m his daddy, and daddies, my sweet audience, really do know best. Thank you Pondicherry for letting him heal at my house, his home before all this started, his place of refuge and safety, a place of loving dog.
And that, my dear friends, is where this chapter ends. Did you know dogs are with us to become human beings? The soul says this, and evolution’s its spur. That’s why they live in our homes. That’s why they’re our children. They have an appointment with destiny when they change to the higher kind, and for a mountain of dog lives they learn the ways of human being, until they become a Lisa, my beloved dead Rottweiler, and they have the magic of human being in their eyes growin’ their understanding inside. They have reached the pinnacle of dog, and our house raises dog, and that boy’s right in the middle of it, lovin’ those dogs and those dogs lovin’ him. Imagine how his dogs felt when he was taken. They’ve never seen him again.
We have the ingredients for healing I tell you, even in the notion of dream. It’s candy for us. What did you dream last night? And we all tell. We have a healing house, and we’re ready for this boy to return. Now Pondicherry we’re a prototype, and you’ve gotta be big enough to see it. You’re a big enough town for it. The supramental manifestation on Earth descended here first. You grapple with big things. It’s time you knew that, and it’s you Pondicherry, you, that replaces Jerusalem as the city of hope, the city of peace, and we’re here to help you with that, me and this boy. Okay Pondicherry, let us heal.
You’ll have to give me the man roles. What have we here? Look at this kid, strangely peacock even in defeat. Are you listenin’ Pondicherry? Tell me a secret. I get him smooth. You crazy person, you’re by the wall; I’ll try not to tell you to get lost after the election.
We are the soul rise, he and I, and I understand your concern, and I understand your confusion. Boy get it to become man, and we’re hit Pondicherry on the head of its going to school. Now laugh at that will yah, and tell me I’m a fool. You haven’t read his poetry yet, nor seen that strength of soul. Just sit back and relax and review our material. Videos, poems, and songs will knock your socks off, will do your head in, will be kind and gentle and sweet, every time you see us talk, but we will be loud, and awfully bright.
Now here am I in front of Pondicherry, goodnight. Hey, can I get you something? Do you need to cut us up in pieces and throw it away? You don’t need to do anything except go with the movement. We know how to ride the storm. What happened? You heard the story that they took ‘im and all that ensued, and I am his daddy, and I would like to raise him again. All sorts of thought we give you Pondicherry. One came in a dog suit. Vision of Luna. (vision of my Rottweiler standing outside near a wood) The wrong people have that boy now. You need to see this and make it right. You can see the future in us if you look hard enough.
Nithish and his daddy, now that’s an item. There’s no reason to fear that now. He’ll be at break tomorrow. The train station on Friday comin’ here. I’ll have to turn him in the grocery store, and toys, many presents, we let him have. He’s got a healin’ train a comin’, and it’s at the station now.
What an active young man. Who are you? The poet of the sunrise of humanity. Let’s move his truck, and he can express that, and I’m his keeper, and I’m his teacher there at dawn too. Please hear us. We’re the Milky Way. We’ve got good news, the colors in the rainbow, either in social media or every place you meet us on the street. That’s rock bottom vision. It goes like this: do you hear our pull? We’re a look out for human beings. Can I wash off the dog? Get it right with human beings.
Nithish is with his parents. Don’t say anything now. One for… (vision of Nithish sitting at a computer and his mother and auntie are standing behind him, Sandiya taking a photo of him with a flat, silver, square camera, telling him to pose, and I realize they are taking a photo record of him to compete with mine, making a sudden concentrated effort to do that to rival the photos I post of him) It looks like a photo shoot, and they’ve got the video to prove it. And there he is. I had no idea. Nithish you’re asking me a question: where do you divide the partition? As long as you’re careful not to do that, tear me apart, we wouldn’t partition ourselves. Your parents are using you for propaganda. They’re taking pictures to rival me. I took spontaneous pictures of you. The difference is tearing me apart.
You’re open to they put you here they put you there, like they’re doin’ it for you, and you give them that warm smile, thinking you have their business. It’s not the same baby dog, and I wonder if you can even feel it, so lost you are in their approval and validation, so far you are away from me. I don’t like Bozos, Bozo the Clown. Put that on the street.
Grace school is himself. (vision of Grace his Beagle puppy standing in a table chair on her hind legs with her front paws on the table) He’s in his underwear. He’s big and small and little and mean. He won’t take no for an answer. He’s not dedicated to you, and something happened that changed his mind. You did not seem relief. You were not there for him. You didn’t come, and you were crazy with grief. You wanted to see him so badly it turned him away from you. He doesn’t respect you. He believes the brainwashing. He doesn’t know what’s up. He doesn’t care to find out. You want to know if he’s happy and doesn’t need you. He can’t find himself. He’s alone on the inside, and if you can’t see sadness in his eyes, you can feel it in his heart. He wants to see you and need is comin’.
He doesn’t understand what’s happened. He’s too little for that. He wants so see you help. He has not gained by loosing you. His life is something forcing. He’s a painted doll. You are his flower. He just wants to sit and be with you, but he doesn’t want to see this too loudly. He doesn’t want to be in the garbage can anymore with his parents. All that’s over. That he doesn’t renounce you that’s okay. They just keep him from you, and the phone call the other day they got by. You’re crazy and confused his mind was their answer.
And now you’ve declared you’re gonna die to see ‘im, hunger strike. I’m in trouble. This will all fall on me. Hear him now? Is he worried about you? They don’t want him to be but yes. He doesn’t want you to die. Will he do anything to stop it? He would try.
Now all this bad news, that makes you feel so bad, is gonna change. When you see him again you’ll know you’re there, and he will remember past lives, and he’ll want it there. He’ll reveal secrets. He will be with you in every heartbeat, and this will open that boy’s mind to convince his parent’s of his need to see you. This is incredible news and will change the story. He will be yours again, and they will have to contend with that.
Is there a public on the way? It happened. The public got wind of this, and you’re showin’ it to them now. You’re in the Pondy poems, and this one’s the big one for their being’s worth.
He has my note. He has my seven. We need him to see you, and that’s soon. He doesn’t know which way is up. And you’re gonna show him Heaven’s door. (vision of Nithish sitting on the curb of a street and looking up at me with such open love) He’s the taste in your room. You’re his special surprise. He knows you’re comin’. Will you listen to me? This was our world, the great and hidden pain of death. And you’ve got me on time, before I forgot you. There I’ll see you on Friday. You make the test model fight too. It’s prevision, and it will become active soon.
Oh there were his plug pluses down there. There were him. “The samadhi of the Gods is in my heart water drops.” He will felt good listenin’. Have you watched your video yet? I’m not lookin’ to do that. What’s wrong with you? No contact with me, that and I want you to leave me alone. Two notes from the ranger. You are being awfully bad. We have to waste time here and I show it to you. Here, and will you come when they ask? I would go in a heartbeat. But you won’t watch the video? I’m scared to feel the pain. I don’t want to remember you. I don’t want to cry. Alright little boy, you aren’t the greatest little boy in the world, but I will see you soon.
So you can go and tell on them. That was Nithish’s muse. He has purpose. He has charm. He has the call to action. We’re gonna get this story read to the public. What did they expect? He had come so far. They brainwashed him in the family. He didn’t give them what they want: to renounce me over the phone in a controlled conversation.
I was emotionally distraught, aggravated, and it came across on the phone, and then I calmed down and talked to my baby dog. He heard me. I could hear his mother in the background telling him what to say. I mentioned everything I could think of to get him to hear me. We actually had a conversation. I was able to tell him things his mother cut the phone. They called back, and the mother tried again. I’m with them now the boy said. Do you want to see me I asked. He had already answered yes to that question in the conversation ago. No answer, I asked again. Yes he said. I will move Heaven and Earth to see you again I told the boy.
Do you love me more than anything in the world, or was that a lie? I wasn’t lying. Do you want me to go back to America? No the boy replied. Well I’ll do a hunger strike, and I’m prepared to die. The boy heard every word I said. Hello again, I’m sorry baby dog, I cannot live without you, and I love you more than anything in the world. Ask to see me. Do not stop. But they will not hear me. Ask anyway, and the divine will help.
The mother cut the phone again, as I explained their brainwashing technique, and then I talked to her. He doesn’t want to see you she said. But you heard him say he did. Leave it, leave it. No woman I won’t. I am not afraid to die, and I will lay down my life for him. On that she cut the phone.
Well here, here, let’s have a toast to her inability to brainwash him. He was supposed to renounce me. He did not. Even in front of his mother he admitted he loved me very much and wanted to see me. She had failed in killing his love for me. Now how’s that for an answer to their control of him? They don’t have it. Isn’t that wonderful? Love will find a way.
Thank you woman. You are so very dumb letting us speak like that, and you know we love each other. You really think the boy’s gonna lie for you? He did not, did he? And you are tellin’ him what to say. I say again. You did not control this boy when it came down to it, the very thing you’ve been punishing him for, he loves his daddy and wants to see him, and all the restrictions that you’ve put on ‘im, all the surveillance you’ve had him under, all the control you’ve done to him, telling him what to think, how to act, and how he should feel, day and night on that boy, has not worked, has it? I’m still there in that boy’s heart, in that boy’s mind, a living presence. The power of love, do you believe in it now?
Now we go from there. I have his base. I have his will, and I will stop at nothing to see him again. That mother has messed up. She gave us the very thing we needed from each other: validation of our love. She has no idea what’s she’s doing in keeping him from me. It’s against his will. It’s against his plan. It’s against his life’s purpose. It hurts this boy so.
So what do we do with that? Hello Pondy do you recognize me? I am a public speaker. I want to show you child abuse where the parents get away with it because no one will listen to the foreign man. You think that’s right? Well here let me show you how I do things, in video after video, and can I show you this story? Follow my Facebook page. Now who’s listenin’ I ask the interviewer. Will you help this boy become himself again, step out of systems of abuse and let his daddy heal him?
Okay Pondicherry we put you to the test. It’s a public ride. Do you care about this boy? Why have the parents taken all his rights? Do they have the right to abuse him? Do I have no rights as a parent? And I have been raising him for years. Wait ‘till you hear why they took ‘im, on impulse, for a bad story they did, and I called them on it. It’s all on Facebook. Just look and see Donny Lee Duke.
Now we’re goin’ somewhere. He listens to me, and we are there: we get to see each other again. We get to be together, and we can heal wounds. Thank you Pondicherry. I know you care about children, and I didn’t even have to hunger strike. I just got interviewed by a member of the press, and we took this story wide. Now that’s business. That’s coffee, and that’s how you shame two parents who have been evil to their child. You give them a public face, and suddenly the sex video they made of their child doesn’t look for fun anymore. It looks awfully deep, their betrayal of their children in their parenting room. Do you hear me Pondicherry? You will.
This is the sudden story that shows you how to raise children, and that’s not with a bat with a glove. They get the best treatment because they are our future, and they do not live for us. They live to be themselves in the future God has put them on Earth for, their soul’s purpose in time. That Pondicherry is why we raise children, to bring a better Earth to the love that they’ve found God, atheists included in this survey. We just go the highest we can go in bringing a human being to the heights of humanity. That’s that little child you know, and here, here, we let them grow. Any objections? I thought not.
Well let’s go. This little boy needs your help, and we are waiting. Thank you God. Thank you world. I knew I could count on you, and it’s over. We raise the world that way. That’s how you do it. I agree with that. We put the night we lie in in that abuse. Do they play with his toy? No it’s not pumped. It’s not his genitals they play with. They play with his mind. I’ll never go over here to sleep, where I’m soft and warm and comfortable at daddy’s house.’
He lies there awake at night wondering at the enormity of his loss, and the hope and the despair rob his mind of sleep. There they abuse him in the night’s deep. If you listen really closely you can hear him cry Oh God why have you done this to me? I thought I was your child. And his faith is gone, and the night’s this huge monster that gives him nightmares. Great the feelings play along being’s edge to make him want to die. Do you hear this Pondicherry? Listen closely. This boy needs our help. Will you just let him lie?
What do you do with that? Let’s go in the kitchen and think some, drink some coffee. You know that is a velacara man. Do you do this to our own kind, let a foreigner raise the alarm? That’s the real question here, isn’t it? The abuse is secondary. Whether it’s Hindi kidnappers or a velacara man, you will not blame yourselves for your own stolenings. You need the world to change. Alright Pondicherry, let this boy and this man be together, who for years been under your wings? They belong there. You’ve seen them so much on your streets, in your shops and in your downtown, and look at them there on the beach. They’ve been in your heart Pondicherry ever so long. Just ask the guidebook, all your surveillance cameras. They’re nice together, aren’t they? For years.
This is cross country skiing, and you go to Pondicherry. An ape has his hand, his mother on the phone. Can we tell you the guidebook? Bilbo Baggins, I just wanna see ‘im. (vision of him sleeping) I’ll walk to the landing. Where were you again Patricia, Ovid? The boy has not stayed with you in his first awakening. He will come back to you soon. I gave him a story, but not in his department. I met him online. Hobbits are peace lovin’ folks you know [line heard sung] I have the quarter to knock this out in him, his return to brainwash, and that’s America. There’s a picture. Now come on, what have we here? That’s a beautiful rose. We’re goin’ in a cop shop, and that’s gonna interrupt everybody. It arms to daddy’s house.
I’m pretty sure your mother’s lying to you about the presentation of that video. Watch the video. She’ll let me do it at the capitol, where we met yesterday. What pad you had no idea. Ah, that close to my home in Kuruchikuppam. Three more packages. That will change everything: you see each other again, and the video starts making updates. You see that boy again. You’re standin’ tall. You’re standin’ fast.
ஆங்கிலப் பதிப்பிற்குப் பிறகுதான் தமிழ் மொழிபெயர்ப்பு.
Can you show me what he’s hiding? Can you show me what he’s seen? Twelve feet in him (horrible vision of Nithish drowning in an indoor swimming pool, only his face visible, on it terror and pain) the psychological manipulation of his tears. Where he bothered you: he’s gonna have to clean up the horse and the skin his mother gave him and all his father’s done. This has been gross, ugly, and mean. It’s nonstop it hasn’t let up. This is hurt him deep in being’s ways. His warm heart is gone.
He’s not himself. He’s not even trying. He would like to just go to bed. He acts normal and sweet, and then he flies off the handle at the slightest provocation. He can’t deal with himself. He’s scared to be alone. He’s spends his time alone in the middle of everybody. He would like to kill himself sometimes. He hates himself for giving in to his parents. He doesn’t know how to deal with the string between his legs. It’s all confusing for him.
He doesn’t know where is up. He would like to let go. He doesn’t know how to talk if anyone asks him about daddy. He loves daddy, but he can’t remember him properly. He’s a very unhappy little boy behind that smile of his, and here’s where we find his pain: he has to hide it, or his parents get mad at him, and here there is no relief.
Why is he crying his unwashed tears? You would not hear a tear. In the very beginning this was shut up inside him when his mother shut off those tears to keep him from reminding her she’d done wrong in taking him from daddy, so abruptly, so cruelly, and so never see him again. This broke the boy’s mind, made him languish on himself, took his heart and tore it in two where no hope that it ever mend, and this is what he carries around to this day.
Now you laugh at him for being weak, being such a titty-baby, or you frown on him. He’s never mentioned his daddy’s name or that he wants to see him, but he cannot speak I tell you, and I’ve shown you all these gears inside, but the day is coming this boy will explode, and he will tell everything his parents have done to him to make daddy a phantom in his mind and a dead man in his heart. To take this love this sweet boy had and make him kill it in himself, you have not seen this day the boy lets all this out. What do you think his silence is saying? “I’m going to explode I’m going to explode.” And there will be heart keeps showing the world what he’s seen. No one will doubt what his parents have done to him, and no one will doubt what he needs. He needs daddy.
That’s good for children. They need to hear it, and it’s eleven o’clock. And who’s name do we use? A fighting chance. Where is the boy? Emergency who can’t be seen, but you know he’s there. Look in your photographs. This will arrange things. This is what he needs to see. It’s good for him sweetheart. Don’t worry. This is not next year. He’s coming upon this now, and it’s a long ways away from his certain grasp of himself.
What’s the toast? Something that can’t be mentioned, his father’s house in Chennai. He took out his little peter, opened it for plain view, and rapidly pumped it up and down, making the boy feel his father’s lust, making the boy feel what he’d know all along: oh no not you too. This lasted long enough for the boy to get those feelings that something was coming that he would bound to himself, and all of a sudden the father stopped and played with himself in the boy’s view. “This is what it looks like son. This is where you came from.” And the boy said yes appa, I see it, and he though to himself you burning hypocrite, and fear his father wanted more: roll over son.
Now here we go, another speculation model here in his father’s underwear, his appa’s pride, his appa’s foolishness, his appa’s dirty trick, but you’ll find explodes when that boy finally speaks. “Father you have my control handle, and you use it just like my mother does, to make me obey you and to control.” Now look at this boy’s life, and so many of you do. What would you do if you saw him on the street? With all the compassion you could muster, would you look at this boy’s eyes and tell them to speak? You should be ashamed of yourselves. You say nothing just let him pass.
Vision of Sri Aurobindo showing this, what picture we use. It’s got wrote on it. Do you see it? This is page one in the history of children. Father likes his beer, his stout drink. Come here son, come here, I wanna show you what’s mine, and I can violate you there. It’s appa’s right. It’s his shine.
Does this sting? It’s got the handle of a little boy’s pleasure to make him do what his father says, and if you don’t believe me take a look at the world. The number of father’s that do this is bringing the world to its knees. We choose pleasure over love, and we stay in line and don’t rock the boat, don’t we society, oh so many number of men. Can you feel it? Can you grasp it? Leave your boy alone. You got a problem there. The grasp handle, it’s for boys.
Are you with me wrote? That’s the danger all father’s face. Let’s get it out in the open where we can see it. You there, you did good. Thank you.
He comes to her with such a smile, and he knows I’m in pain. It was your mother’s pride. Will he hurt his daddy? No my sweet boy you’re okay with me, and the festival tomorrow we did run. Did you know that? Give it to him fiercely and nicely, this boy’s destiny, why so much pain. He’s the poet of a sunrise, and he will help children everywhere from systems of abuse.
See you tomorrow twisting, turning, and he knows there’s a difference between what his mother tells him and what I do. This isn’t fair him. You need to see his face. There are bruises on it from a gifted childhood right at the point they put a said on the planet. Are you game for watching heroes? Watch this boy. Now will you help? I’d like to see him. There.
சொல்லப்படாத கண்ணீரின் அழுத்தம்
அவர் மறைத்து வைத்திருப்பதைக் காட்ட முடியுமா? அவர் பார்த்ததை எனக்குக் காட்ட முடியுமா? அவருக்குள் பன்னிரெண்டு அடிகள் அவரது கண்ணீரின் உளவியல் கையாளுதல். (உள்துறை நீச்சல் குளத்தில் மூழ்கி நித்திஷின் பயங்கரமான பார்வை, அவன் முகம் மட்டும் தெரியும், அதில் பயங்கரமும் வலியும்) அவர் உங்களை எங்கே தொந்தரவு செய்தார்: அவர் குதிரையை சுத்தம் செய்ய வேண்டும் மற்றும் அவரது தாய் அவருக்கு கொடுத்த தோல் மற்றும் அவரது தந்தை செய்த அனைத்தும். இது மொத்தமாகவும், அசிங்கமாகவும், மோசமானதாகவும் இருந்தது. இது இடைவிடாது அது விடவில்லை. இது அவரை காயப்படுத்துகிறது இருப்பின் வழிகளில் ஆழமாக. அவரது சூடான இதயம் போய்விட்டது.
அவர் தானே இல்லை. அவர் முயற்சி செய்வதும் இல்லை. அவர் படுக்கைக்குச் செல்ல விரும்புகிற. அவர் இயல்பாகவும் இனிமையாகவும் செயல்படுகிறார், பின்னர் அவர் கைப்பிடியில் இருந்து பறக்கிறது சிறிய ஆத்திரமூட்டலில். அவர் தன்னை சமாளிக்க முடியாது. அவர் தனியாக இருக்க பயப்படுகிறார். அவர் தனது நேரத்தை தனியாக செலவிடுகிறார் அனைவருக்கும் நடுவில். சில சமயங்களில் தன்னைக் கொல்ல விரும்புவார். விட்டுக்கொடுப்பதற்காக அவர் தன்னை வெறுக்கிறார் அவரது பெற்றோருக்கு. அவர் கால்களுக்கு இடையில் இருக்கும் சரத்தை எப்படி சமாளிப்பது என்று தெரியவில்லை. அவனுக்கு எல்லாமே குழப்பமாக இருக்கிறது.
அவனுக்கு தெரியாது எந்த திசையில் எந்த திசையில் மேலே செல்ல வேண்டும். அவர் விட்டுவிட விரும்புகிறார். அவருக்குப் பேசத் தெரியாது அப்பாவைப் பற்றி யாராவது அவரிடம் க daddy. அவர் daddy நேசிக்கிறார், ஆனால் முடியாது ஆனால் அவரை சரியாக நினைவில் கொள்ள முடியவில்லை. அவர் இப்போது மிகவும் மகிழ்ச்சியற்ற சிறு பையன். அவன் புன்னகையின் பின்னால் அவருடைய வலியை இங்கே காணலாம்: அவர் அதை மறைக்க வேண்டும் அல்லது அவனுடைய பெற்றோர் அவன் மீது கோபம் கொள்கிறார்கள், மற்றும் இங்கே நிவாரணம் இல்லை.
கழுவாத கண்ணீரை ஏன் அழுகிறார்? நீங்கள் கண்ணீர் கேட்க மாட்டீர்கள். ஆரம்பத்திலேயே இது அவருக்குள் மூடியிருந்தது அவன் அம்மா அந்த கண்ணீரை அணைத்த போது அவள் தவறு செய்ததை அவளுக்கு நினைவூட்டுவதைத் தடுக்க daddy விடமிருந்து அவரை அழைத்துச் செல்வதில், மிகவும் திடீரென்று, மிகவும் கொடூரமாக, அதனால் அவன் daddy வை இனி பார்க்கவே மாட்டான். அது சிறுவனின் மனதை உடைத்தது மனம். இது அவனை தன்னுள் புதைத்துக்கொள்ள வைத்தது. இது அவரது இதயத்தை எடுத்து இரண்டாகப் பிரித்தது, மற்றும் அது எப்பொழுதும் சரியாகும் என்ற நம்பிக்கை இல்லை. அவர் இதை எல்லா இடங்களிலும் கொண்டு செல்கிறார் இந்த நாள் வரைக்கும்.
இப்போது நீங்கள் மிகவும் சிறிய பையனைப் போல நடந்த கொள்வதற்காக அவரைப் பார்த்து சிரிக்கிறீர்கள் அல்லது நீங்கள் அவரை முகம் சுளிக்கிறீர்கள். அவர் daddy வின் பெயரைக் குறிப்பிடவில்லை, அல்லது அவர் அவரைப் பார்க்க விரும்புகிறார். ஆனால் அவரால் பேச முடியாது, நான் உங்களுக்கு சொல்கிறேன். இந்த கியர்களை எல்லாம் அவருக்குள் காட்டியிருக்கிறேன். ஆனால் நாள் வருகிறது இந்த சிறுவன் வெடிக்கப் போகிறான் என்று. அவர் எல்லாவற்றையும் சொல்வார் அவரது பெற்றோர் செய்தார்கள் அதனால் அவர் daddy வை ஒரு மாயத்தோற்றம் என்று நினைப்பார் அவரது மனதில் மற்றும் அவரது இதயத்தில் ஒரு இறந்த மனிதன். இந்த இனிய சிறுவனை daddy மீதான காதலை கொல்ல வைக்க, இந்த நாளை நீங்கள் பார்க்கவில்லை சிறுவன் அதையெல்லாம் வெளியே விடுகிறான். அவருடைய மௌனம் என்ன சொல்கிறது என்று நினைக்கிறீர்கள்? "நான் வெடிக்கப் போகிறேன், நான் வெடிக்கப் போகிறேன்." மற்றும் அவர் தனது இதயத்தில் என்ன வைத்திருக்கிறார் அவர் பார்த்ததை உலகுக்குக் காட்டுகிறது. அவனுடைய பெற்றோர் அவனுக்கு என்ன செய்தார்கள் என்று யாரும் சந்தேகிக்க மாட்டார்கள். அவருக்கு என்ன தேவை என்பதை யாரும் சந்தேகிக்க மாட்டார்கள். அவருக்கு daddy தேவை.
அது குழந்தைகளுக்கு நல்லது. அவர்கள் அதைக் கேட்க வேண்டும். இப்போது மணி பதினொன்று. மேலும் யாருடைய பெயரைப் பயன்படுத்துகிறோம்? ஒரு சண்டை வாய்ப்பு. பையன் எங்கே? நெருக்கடி யாரை பார்க்க முடியாது, ஆனால் அவர் அங்கு இருக்கிறார் என்பது உங்களுக்குத் தெரியும். உங்கள் புகைப்படங்களில் பாருங்கள். இது விஷயங்களை ஏற்பாடு செய்யும். அவர் பார்க்க வேண்டியது இதுதான். இது அவருக்கு நல்லது அன்பே. கவலைப்படாதே. இது அடுத்த வருடம் அல்ல. அவர் இப்போது இதைப் பற்றி வருகிறார், மற்றும் அது வெகு தொலைவில் உள்ளது இப்போது அவர் தன் மீது வைத்திருக்கும் பிடியில் இருந்து.
என்ன எரிக்கப்பட்டது? குறிப்பிட முடியாத ஒன்று, சென்னையில் அவரது தந்தை வீடு. அவர் தனது சிறிய பீட்டரை வெளியே எடுத்தார். சிறுவனின் டெலிகேட் பகுதியை அம்பலப்படுத்த தோலை மீண்டும் இழுத்தார் மற்றும் வேகமாக அதை மேலும் கீழும் உந்தி, சிறுவனை தன் தந்தையின் இச்சையை உணர வைத்தது மற்றும் அவர் ஏற்கனவே அறிந்ததை உணர: இல்லை, நீயும் அப்பா? இது போதுமான அளவு நீடித்தது சிறு பையனுக்கு அந்த உணர்வுகள் வர ஏதோ வருகிறது என்று அவர் தனக்குத்தானே கட்டுப்படுவார் என்று, மற்றும் திடீரென்று தந்தை நிறுத்தினார் மேலும் சிறுவனின் பார்வையில் தன்னுடன் விளையாடினான். “இதுதான் மகனைப் போல் தெரிகிறது. இங்கிருந்துதான் வந்தாய்” என்றார். பையன் ஆமாம் அப்பா என்றான் நான் அதை பார்க்கிறேன், மற்றும் அவர் தன்னை நினைத்தேன்: நீ எரியும் நயவஞ்சகன், மேலும் சிறுவன் தன் தந்தைக்கு அதிகமாக வேண்டும் என்று அஞ்சினான்: மகனே உன் பின்பக்கத்தைக் காட்டு.
இப்போது இதோ போகிறோம், மற்றொரு ஊக மாதிரி இங்கே அவரது தந்தையின் உள்ளாடையில், அவரது அப்பாவின் பெருமை, அவன் அப்பாவின் முட்டாள்தனம், அவரது அப்பாவின் மோசமான தந்திரம், ஆனால் நீங்கள் வெடிப்பதைக் காண்பீர்கள் இறுதியாக அந்த சிறுவன் பேசுகிறார். "அப்பா என் கட்டுப்பாட்டு கைப்பிடி உங்களிடம் உள்ளது, என் அம்மாவைப் போலவே நீயும் பயன்படுத்துகிறாய், அதனால் நீங்கள் என்னை உங்களுக்குக் கீழ்ப்படியும்படி கட்டாயப்படுத்தலாம் மற்றும் நீங்கள் என்னைக் கட்டுப்படுத்தலாம் இப்போது இந்த சிறுவனின் வாழ்க்கையை பாருங்கள். மற்றும் உங்களில் பலர் செய்கிறார்கள். அவரை தெருவில் பார்த்தால் என்ன செய்வீர்கள்? நீங்கள் திரட்டக்கூடிய அனைத்து இரக்கத்துடனும், இந்த பையனின் கண்களைப் பார்ப்பீர்களா? அவர்களை பேசச் சொல்லவா? உங்களை நினைத்து நீங்கள் வெட்கப்பட வேண்டும். நீ ஒன்றும் சொல்லாதே நீங்கள் அவரை மட்டும் கடந்து செல்ல அனுமதிக்கிறீர்கள்.
இதை காட்டும் ஆன்மீக தரிசனத்தில் ஸ்ரீ அரவிந்தரை நான் பார்க்கிறேன். நாம் எந்த படத்தை பயன்படுத்துகிறோம். அதில் எழுதப்பட்டுள்ளது. நீங்கள் அதை பார்க்கிறீர்களா? இது பக்கம் ஒன்று குழந்தைகளின் வரலாற்றில். தந்தைக்கு பீர் பிடிக்கும், அவரது தடிமனான பானம். இங்கே வா மகனே, இங்கே வா, நீங்கள் என் சொத்து என்பதை நான் உங்களுக்குக் காட்டவிரும்புகிறேன் அங்கே நான் உனக்கு தீங்கு செய்ய முடியும். அது அப்பாவின் சரி. அதுதான் அவனுடைய மினுமினுப்பு.
இது கொட்டுகிறதா? இது கைப்பிடியைப் பெற்றுள்ளது ஒரு சிறுவனின் மகிழ்ச்சி அவன் தந்தை சொல்வதைச் செய்ய, நீங்கள் என்னை நம்பவில்லை என்றால் உலகத்தைப் பாருங்கள். இதைச் செய்யும் தந்தையின் எண்ணிக்கை உலகத்தை மண்டியிட வைக்கிறது. அன்பை விட இன்பத்தைத் தேர்ந்தெடுக்கிறோம். நாங்கள் வரிசையில் இருக்கிறோம், படகை அசைக்க மாட்டோம், ஓ எத்தனையோ ஆண்கள். உன்னால் உணர முடிகிறதா? உங்களால் புரிந்து கொள்ள முடியுமா? உங்கள் பையனை தனியாக விடுங்கள். உங்களுக்கு அங்கே ஒரு பிரச்சனை. பிடிப்பு கைப்பிடி, அது சிறுவர்களுக்கானது.
நீங்கள் என்னுடன் இருக்கிறீர்களா? அதுதான் ஆபத்து ஒவ்வொரு தந்தையும் எதிர்கொள்கிறார். அதை திறந்த வெளியில் விடுவோம் நாம் அதை எங்கே பார்க்க முடியும். நீ அங்கே, நீங்கள் நன்றாக செய்தீர்கள். நன்றி.
அவர் ஒரு புன்னகையுடன் அவளிடம் வருகிறார், மற்றும் நான் வலியில் இருக்கிறேன் என்பதை அவர் அநாங்கள் தலைமை தாங்கினோம் என்றுறிவார். அது உன் தாயின் பெருமை. அவர் daddy வை காயப்படுத்துவாரா? இல்லை என் இனிய பையன் நான் உன்னுடன் நன்றாக இருக்கிறேன். மற்றும் நாளை திருவிழா நாங்கள் தலைமை தாங்கினோம் என்று. உனக்கு அதை பற்றி தெரியுமா? அதை அவருக்கு கடுமையாகவும் அழகாகவும் கொடுங்கள், இந்த பையனின் விதி, ஏன் இவ்வளவு வலி. அவர் ஒரு சூரிய உதயத்தின் கவிஞர், மற்றும் அவர் எல்லா இடங்களிலும் குழந்தைகளுக்கு உதவுவார் துஷ்பிரயோகம் செய்யப்படுவதிலிருந்து.
நாளை சந்திப்போம், என்று திருப்புவதும் முறுக்குவதும். ஒரு வித்தியாசம் இருப்பதை அவர் அறிவார் அவனுடைய அம்மா அவனிடம் சொல்வதிலிருந்து மற்றும் நான் என்ன செய்கிறேன். இது அவருக்கு நியாயமில்லை. அவன் முகத்தைப் பார்க்க வேண்டும். ஒரு திறமையான குழந்தை பருவத்திலிருந்தே அதில் காயங்கள் உள்ளன என்று புள்ளியில் உள்ளது முழு கிரகமும் அதைப் பற்றி பேசியது. ஹிரோஸ் பார்க்க வேண்டுமா? இப்போது நீங்கள் உதவுவீர்களா? தயவுசெய்து அவரைப் பார்க்க எனக்கு உதவுங்கள். அங்கு.
Harm's End 