White supremacy for mayor uttered in Wilmington. They just chopped people to pieces. The injustice lags the sky. I don’t believe it happened. I cried when I heard about it. Can we play that again?
We do it every day, not massacres, although they come along. We put people in power that hate Blacks. We give White supremacy a place at the table and call it by other names. We don’t know how to count it. There isn’t a racist person in the state. Even a White supremacist will tell you that.
Do you know how they feel, the Black people at the table? Of course they’re racial gatherings. What do we do with their anger? We don’t know how to handle it. It’s hatred for us, and nobody gets better that way. Nobody even knows what’s goin’ on. We are stirred up by so many people, and the unseen lends a hand.
Not all good people are good. A Kumbaya feast doesn’t do any good. Racial unity, we have to address our sins first. We have to see them there. It’s a feelin’ we have around Black people, even with our smiles on. I’m sorry will you get the broom and sweep the house? I’m gettin’ at colored folks in the drawing room of White men. We face each other not as equals. Our attitude hangs out the beekeeper. They are inferior to us in our American bones.
These are racial wounds we spit on and light on fire in the complacency of man. How do you get rid of this? You shove it down people’s throats a woke system. That did a lot of good. The White supremacists took over. What do we do now? We arrange guns and burn down houses. You think this’ll work? We just break apart our nation and cause a lot of hurt.
Racial aren’t the only issues in the sky. There’s livin’ with each other bein’ true to one another. We put our cap on and show genuine to people, because we feel it, the confusion of everybody in the hurtin’ of life. We know we’re dumb too. We have to protect ourselves yeah, but we take our hats off to everybody and give them a little bit of us if they ask.
How do I get this across? It’s a squeeze test. Most people aren’t genuine. Some people want to hurt you. You have to know where to step. You can’t carry your heart on your sleeve. You have to know when it’s time to get out of Dodge. You are generous but wise. I can’t give you the roof over my head. I can’t empty my pockets for you.
Now we come to the meaning of the Earth. It’s not racial reports. It’s how we all survive. We get in with each other to make the Earth work, and it’s bigger than life. We are bigger than Negroes and White men, bigger than any gender we wear. It’s across the great divide, our true life and purpose.
You hear a Daniel say that today. I’m in the lion’s den right among you, and no one has eaten up my flesh, but I can feel the breath upon my door of some dangerous shit. Can you hear me I’m tired, but I’ve opened up humanity in myself, and I’m doing it again. Will you sup with me? Will you even try?
Speak lotus, these were reminds me these were come up in these poems something of Wilmington has happened here in Pondicherry. It’s race related. I’m not Indian. A parenthood of oppression blights this land. I’m standin’ up for my boy. Free him please. Don’t let this tragedy go down unnoticed.
The details would scare you, and I’ve named them in other poems. His name is Nithish, S. Nithish, and he needs help. I sit here flabbergasted at the amount of lies that make up this story told to policemen and child welfare and so many other people.
They put their Indian first each time and the rightful law and order of the land that made their parental rights supreme, the underbelly the lie that India will not wake up from. Children are crushed by their parents, abused and beaten and forced to give up their lives for school. Hours of tuition at night kill their playtime, and disorders such as dyslexia and dyscalculia are unrecognized. They’re beaten for bad grades.
This is right and proper in India. They just took my boy behind the woodshed and killed him for parental loyalty, all in the eyes of the law. He has lost his personality, had his identity crushed. What this has done to his character will put him in his father’s shoes, a man who has murdered four men in Pondicherry targeted by his gang, on bail now for attempted murder that never went to trial. The case has been overlooked. This is standard procedure in Pondicherry if a powerful gang is involved. People get away with murder.
I have to stand here and watch all this happen to my boy, and I can do nothing. I’ve even been to the press and contacted every major NGO in India that deals with child cases. I’ve threatened hunger strike, but the divines I look to said no. I’ve written poem after poem, giving these circumstances, but the social conditions of a blog put likes in my hands, put readers, but I can’t arouse the crowd for my boy and get this matter looked at by proper hands. I can’t get off my blog.
Is this stupid, to talk about this injustice, to tell you my boy needs help. I am just a Black newspaper of 1898 this happened at Wilmington, a whole town overthrown by White supremacists, and no one believed them because they’re Black newspapers?
The New York Times and the Washington Post, and all the major news, came to scoop the story. Met at the train station with the royal treatment, the leaders of the coup put them in hotels and told them lies they all believed: Nithish is in the hands of his parents where he belongs, and the Indian order has been restored, the natural order of things; his father’s an outstanding citizen rich now in business, his mother a gentle soul that would never harm a child; we have him in school 11 hours a day because he’s acting and don’t want to study; we know he’s smart, and this is India, and we make school the center of a kid’s life for our national pride. Buy me another drink aldermen, and I’ll put in our newspaper what you said.
Would it alarm you his mother paid bribes? Even to the authorities. Okay, okay I’ll shut up, but I’m a Black man in a White man’s world, and no one listens to me. Can you hear this? It happened in Wilmington.
The offices of the Daily Record, a Black-run newspaper, were burned by a White mob during the Wilmington massacre of 1898. (New Hanover County Library)
Take the questionnaire. I have problems existing the way you want Council Bluffs. An opera, just what the world needs right now, our post-traumatic show, and I can’t do anything to stop you. You’re the stupid muse.
Who’s to listen to? I’m talkin’ storybook Earth. Are you wrapped around the axle with it? My God it’s got me by the balls. I’m in Nithish’s pan. Other than that I’m free. You would not stage this.
I’m too honest for broad noon, and I’ve got some big thoughts Earth don’t wanna look at, I mean in your society room. Have you ever seen an Earth poet? You’re supposed to. That’s what we’re all made of. We’re speakin’ to all mankind. Earth today, we get mad at the word man, but it farms poetry, you know?
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, I’m in a limousine, but let me get more Tennyson on yah and Marilyn Monroe. You think poetry’s got to have capital letters and sing about verses and stuff. Emily Dickinson would agree poetry comes from the inner voice. Slipped into you a mind swell the beautiful rose of poetry, even if it’s not a football field of the huddle of verses that high sound poetry to you. I give you an inner lunch.
Okay we’ve brightened our books today. I give you an inner sound, tryin’ to find your head. It’s all Madagascar. Have I opened a movie on the showroom’s floor? Train’s coimin’. It’s all about them dice watch your hedge podge in where you put your blinders on. Cute animals, eh? And everybody’s longing to be free.
Be not normal men and women, but reach above our kind and show how it’s done, ain’t that the anthem? Movie after movie of the greatest stories on Earth get by our living room with this. Would you believe they keep you in line, even in your underwear? Ask the surveillance movie Drop from start to ticket or Seven Veils, and I’m sorry I’m giving them credit, but I can’t watch every movie in time that littles us, I mean like right now as we’re havin’ lunch.
So many lies are told to manipulate your mind and bring all the bad country to bad men so demon they shine with the impossibilities of human nature taken to that degree. They’re demon bad. My mother sucked me when I was three, and my step-mother terrorized my mind, and I had to hide from her in the woods until my father got home. Teacher after teacher put me in the corner, the kind that hate little boys all over the globe for bein’ who they are, and they had a score to settle with men. Give a world this schoolin’, and let’s see how she acts. You can’t trust nobody.
Now I’ve got a little boy in the lurch taken from me and reamed, who grew up with me since he was five, but I was there from birth his daddy. It makes you all nervous inside that I’m speaking about him in this poem. Exactly. Can I show you the hurtin’ in the machine? You think it’s child abuse or a host of other ills, men bad to women, or a sudden and frank genocide, or tumultuous war. It’s our wrong seeing that causes harm, how we bake bread willfully and ignorantly with the guardians of the universe resistant to change.
I love my little boy, and that’s right and proper, but I’m a White man and he’s a Tamil boy in a red flag zone. Surely his parents must be right in beating him, slapping him across the face, not letting him go out of their sight or surveillance system or visit friends so he will not contact me. Do you know what this does to a child? He doesn’t write poetry. Now buy him anything he wants and wine and dine him. Surely he’ll stay on our side.
What’s the beef you reckon? I made better miles with him, and he preferred me to them. It’s all in the menagerie. Parents got rights over their children’s lives. Just ask Child Welfare. The mother gave them a bribe and the police and paid my lawyer more than I was paying him. This is India and this stinks, but who gives a damn?
Is anybody listenin’ to this poem? I mean he’s got to go with us, how you make a child today serious to produce that child the staple of the machine. Now let’s give ‘im bright airs and promise him the moon when he’s older if he complies now. Study hard kid. Your worth is in those grades, and your future depends on them, and we will ignore your dyslexia by ignoring it, you lazy little bastard. We’re smart can’t you see?
Now this has been shut off, squeezed out of him in a parental vice par none. You like that? That’s okay with you? Who the hell are you anyway, ordinary people? I heard you. The Indian consulate the Indian dear, kick ‘em to give this boy what he needs. For fruit to work tell ‘em read this boy.
We all understand tomorrow. I’m goin’ somewhere. It’s not dishes. I find my boy, bring him home to me and do something bigger than life right there in my homegrown. It’a about my consciousness and its see. I arrive my boy first, giving him healing. This is a new brand we will get good at so it can be mass-produced.
I’m in enlightenment shares healing my boy, a spiritual consciousness override. They’re dealing with a mass showdown. Right now it’s all black. Not even a pinpoint of light gives hope. It’s all gone, the whole save my boy plan, and spiritual practice has fallen by the wayside. I’m merely drifting to no ends.
I count my stupidities now, where I am half-crazy in rants. I sound good on a piece of paper: I’m gonna see my boy; I’ll get that spiritual consciousness again; it’ll all work out. I talk to his parents like I have the power of God. His parents have the absolute power to rule his life. I just make them mad and guard him more. You’d think I’d learn by now my voices are deceiving me; my voices are derailing me.
You’re in trouble. You’re on a stage. Are you there with anything bigger than life? The world’s not gonna listen to you. Everyone ignores your pleas, and your knowledge don’t turn anybody’s head. You just sit there and sing. This is the gist of life. This is how almost everybody feels the world. It’s impotence sings.
I’m a diamond in the hall. I’m on top of everything. I really know my business, and I understand the rise of the world. I don’t spit there. I feel humanity like it’s my very self. I can see the cutting edge of time. Movements I see, world shaping movements, that give me a great yard. I’m of few people see them. Now I come back to myself again. I’m not the stupid guy.
I have reason to believe my boy’s comin’ back to me, and I will put on the Silence once again. It’s evidence I can get big as the world in tellin’; I can wrap the hours around God, and I can make you examine yourself in your hands on children. You sit there and believe me, some of you, because you hear the angels sing in this poet’s gut. I’m a strong one you know, and I hold up the world an Atlas unknown. I really do it, take the ideas that change the world and transmute them into verse, one rocket at a time.
You know I’m there because I love you in that special formula that makes you feel me in the very place we meet, in the intimacy of a poem that’s got handles on it that bring the world closer to you as God sees it, dangerously in love.
You must have some grace to journey this day. It’s the vulnerability of a poet I give it, just role of bein’ hallelujah. [line heard sung to tune of Leonard Cohen’s song “Hallelujah”] You doin’ okay?
That kid sees daddy God’s will. That kid never sees daddy again. His parents are evil saying that. Evil and horny, they market this child for themselves. This is bad business. They stomp on him every day. They can’t help themselves. It’s gleeful. They like making this boy suffer. The power surrounds them. They feel like Gods in his presence. They get off on his pain. They know he loves daddy, and they punish him for it, every single day.
They are beside themselves with hate— their child wants to be with daddy, and they know that. The terror they put through him to force him to keep his mouth shut, or to force him to lie, is what you do to your child when you’re monsters. He is so scared of them he has thoughts they will kill him, smother him in his sleep I’ve already told you in another poem. Can you imagine doing that to your child, being the terror of his life?
They revel in this, will not let him up, and the power they have over God, it’s where they find themselves stupid. God does not honor them or what they do. How God allows evil to take us for a ride, is everywhere apparent. You saw how long the Nazis rule, how long Islamic State cut people to pieces. Then God comes in, and evil forces are destroyed, like the Earth itself does it. You see it happen every day. Evil gets reckoned with.
Evil gets changed, can we show you the gist of this story? Nithish is not here to suffer so his parents can be punished for it. They will know what they did, and their love for their child will show them, what has been there a measure on the situation, keeping the beatings to a minimum, keeping the abuse from killing him. You know he thought of suicide. What this boy has done is shown what child abuse is when it’s not recognized as abuse, here in India where you can beat children and totally and absolutely control their lives, bend them to your will, even expect they worship you, and even adulthood does not find freedom.
Nithish has gone through this so you can see this. They’re not expecting art. They weren’t expecting mine. His parents aroused a poet to defend his boy, to help his boy, to save his boy, the likes of which you’ve never seen, have you? A power of poetry that gives God reign, that let’s Him do His business, you hear it now.
But we find another poet here, tender in years, his parents have tried to murder because they associate it with me. I opened up poet in him, and you’ve heard him sing. He has the future in his hands, a poet of prophecy, and he prophesied this abuse and his waylay in it. Read his poetry this can’t be denied.
Can we come to terms with Nithish? His future poetry writes a verse that will finally free children from being someone’s property, from having the status of slaves, not to buy and sell and trade, but to make them obey with no say in the matter, and to make them do their parents’ will regardless of the cost to the child, to make it as though the child was born for them, for the parents’ pleasure, for the parents’ rule, to obliterate the fact that a soul came down on this adventure Earth to work out its purposes in time. This slavery we need to see, and these slaves we need to free.
To abruptly stop his childhood in the slam shut of school, when he has a learning disability they do not address, they know but will not admit, will scar him for the rest of his life. It’s their thang with him, and they love it there. You’re meant to be crisscrossed. You’ve stolen the boy’s life, but you cannot see you’re wrong for the trees, the stupid people who back you up, the negligent police, the blatantly ignorant Child Welfare Committee, and a school that is so backward in education they let parents abuse their child and don’t even know what a learning disability is. They are ridiculously called New Modern Vidhya Mandir Higher Secondary School, and they’re not going to stop me from showing them to the public when all this is over. They need held accountable for this. I will see to that.
Interstellar from national backgrounds, I will show where Earth is wrong in school, school responsible for the shape we’re in, and school we need to change. Academics take a backseat to being human you colonial legacies fillin’ the Industrial Revolution’s need. Antiquated, outdated, and on steroids, it’s destroying our world. Beavis and Butt-Head are to help us through kids to their appointment in time, to their children now adults later, to the sting of childhood making us examine ourselves in roles as parents and teachers crammin’ adulthood down their throat, and they are yet but children. You very ignorant and narrow-minded, corncob stuck up your ass, uptight bunch of people, did you hear that?
Good, I’m weighin’ on yah now. Just wait till that boy regains his pen you stop shoving school down his throat and let his poet speak, his purpose on this God’s green earth you won’t allow cause you’re dim in the head and give his parents absolute rights. Just wait till he gets that pen again. Just wait. Nithish will give us the right ideas to parent children, and that is his future fate. That poet is among us now silenced, gagged. You think so? Let’s wait and see.
I’m a bleeding article from your last test, a hyper-hypotenuse. I say the line. It’s a dynamic field. We don’t get there soon. We don’t even see it for awhile. I hate to be the seeding can. I’m not celebrated in the streets. I can’t get my name across to change the world, but I tell you where God’s made, Mr. and Mrs. People.
God grows distant here. I am so tired of institutions. The institutions of marriage and family break our social fabric in adhesive bonds. We can’t get away from them. They test our social fabric with what can’t be named, a guttural possessiveness that puts us all in hordes. We tarry there eating each other alive. It’s needed for our ship, a family of parents that brings kids into the world. It’s not what we need to survive. It’s what we need to get rid of as the managing arm of society, as our social fabric dies.
We can’t raise kids that way: listen to me or die. My life you have made whole by your coming, and I will rub your nose in it all life long. You can’t be free from me where you go against my purpose for your life, my need you for my own ends. Society balks at this: give that child freedom to manage freedom. Why must he live his parents’ life? Why must she be the daughter of their destiny?
Why do we have to do this all the time: uphold the parents’ rights to determine the will of their child? Can you count this in terms of freedom? Step back parent and let your child play outside no rulers present, no supervisor gag models. Alarming this is on humanity’s plate: Big Brother rules the child just in everyday parenting.
The fear of outside unsupervised doors, sex resides there, doesn’t it? Your fear of sex rules the show. Your fear of sex rules everything. They get scared of their own front teeth we put sex trafficking models on them, a child molester behind every bush. They don’t know what it means to be normal with the fear the news media raises. Add that to their own possessive accounts, the parent that raise them, to guard that child at all costs from perceiving another parent in someone else, and you just explode at the seams with a child that can’t reckon itself, and they will grow up unable to handle society.
A new institution will make the new man. A small group of people family size will orchestrate the new human being. They still visit their families every damn week, maintain those close ties, but any kid that can relate a dream, old enough to, becomes part of a dream group their dream calls them to. This is a sadhana watch ladies and gentlemen, and a handful of people call its name. They are near the child’s home forming all the time.
It’s what society does now, spiritual growth. No clogs in the machine, children will grow up to change the world. A spiritualized society comes about from its own accord. It rises from the soul in things, and we almost see glimpses of it now. No government can put this in place, nobody that makes steps the criteria to get there, and no organization makin’ people do it.
I’m a sadhana watch ladies and gentlemen speaking its piece, and we’ve lost our youngest member to parental overreach, Nithish, a prototype of the new human being. His stuff is on the web for you to watch. His tale is told in these crawl spaces of his life. Jealous of the songs he was makin’, jealous of the music, his parents made a big mistake. They tried to take out his soul in great abusive waves that tore down his life. No reason for this except jealousy.
It’s heartrending. Their cruelty destroyed him, and he was left a nervous wreck scared they would smother him in his sleep. In such an environment he turned off the new human being. Betrayed by God, whom he adored, he stood helpless facing time a growing rage against the machine. Parental rights determined all, why I’m fighting for his life. You hear me now, don’t you?
I can’t do it anymore, just stand by and write poems. I’m a half today. The other half is his, and we make a whole of action. Finally, inevitably, we come together on freedom. Hear us Lord? It’s Your horse we ride the day we certainly dare, the day we certainly keep.
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.
This is a photo of Nithish my advocate took at his office last night, May 7. He has lost so much weight, the hollow look on his face and in his eyes I cannot stop crying over. He did not look like this when his mother took him from my house.
I am very embarrassed to explain, but I lost control of my emotions in a meeting with the mother and the boy and my advocate. When she entered, she kept the boy behind her, using her hand to put over his face so he could not see me. I went behind him and put my hands on his head, and she quickly maneuvered so that I couldn’t touch him. There had been a second, when he was on the stars behind his mother, that he gave a week smile, but after that he pretended I was not even there.
The mother, boy, and the advocate went to the office, and I stood near the door, until they shut it. I could hear the boy crying and then the advocate shouting at him. Then I and my grown son was called into the office. I just looked at Nithish, who was trying to pretend I wasn’t there. I could not take that, and I began asking him to please speak to me, say anything but say something, and he would not. I asked him is he loved me, and he gave a weak yes, and then I began asking him about his mother hitting him with a flat board, what he had told to me to begin by in a phone conversation the very night before. He nodded a weak yes, that the advocate saw but not the mother, and when she turned her head to look at him, he stopped assenting. I told him that he had told me to do that, and he would speak, and he nodded his head again, and when the mother looked, he stopped.
I had pulled out my phone in the beginning of the meeting, and my advocate told me not to make a video. But then I saw the mother holding her phone like she was making one, and I knocked it out of her hands across the room. Then She took Nithish by the arm to leave, but I blocked her, telling the advocate that he saw the boy’s being abused and brainwashed, and I asked him to call child welfare. He refused. He physically took a hold of me and began moving me out of the office so the mother could leave with the boy, in a way that I could have to contact, even be near him. I was trying my best to keep her from taking him out of that office. I failed, and they left, and then I was severely dressed down for my actions by the advocate, asking me if I wanted to go to jail, and I was told once again, that in India, you can do anything about child abuse, not matter if it’s illegal or not.
I tried to explain that I am not India, am an emotional American, and that for two months I had been in severe emotional distress, getting calls from my boy to help him, and here I just could not not hug him or greet him, how impossible that was for me. I had to get him to speak to me.
So, it’s now over, and I am returning to America in the fastest possible way. I have to get away from this pain that boy giving it to me. If he won’t help, then I can do nothing for him. I’m sorry. I did my very best, and no one out there would help either. I never even got a single comment for support in any of these posts describing this tragic situation.
This I put on my Facebook timeline and tagged everyone in his neighborhood that I am friends with, and I also sent it as a WhatsApp message to everyone near him I’m connected to on WhatsApp. There is still little chance he will see it. I am not Tamil, and that makes the decisions around here. His mother tells people they cannot give him message of me, even mention my name to him, and people comply. They are not educated or cultured, are urban village, are the same crowd that watched his mother pour hot wax on him to punish him when he was a toddler. No one corrected her. I saw her light a match, blow it out and burn him with it when he was three. I really got onto to her for that, and speaking to Nithish about it some months back, he told him that wasn’t the half of it, and he told me of the hot wax and how the people on his street just watched his mother do things like that to him and say nothing. So it’s no surprise they say nothing now. It’s just tragic.
For those who have only seen this one post, two months ago tomorrow my little boy, Nithish, 12, was taken from my home by his mother because she had made a sex video of her younger son masturbating, and I did not want Nithish exposed to that. He was there when the video was made, and I wanted to make sure that stopped as far as he was concerned. So I took my advocate to talk to her about the schedule of parenting. At that moment, I had him on the week days, and they the weekends. His mother had informed me some days before that they wanted to change it to he would be with me one day a week. I only mentioned the video in the discussion of our differences in parenting, did not say anything about it at all because she immediately began screaming to get out of her house, out of her family, and that she would take Nithish, which she did about an hour later.
She has not allowed visits, phone calls, or, like I said, anyone to talk to the boy about me. She keeps repeating that she will not allow me to spend one second with Nithish, and here in India, she has that power. Parental rights override the welfare of the child. He has been able to call me in secret to tell me about the abuse he’s received since he was taken and to ask me for help to get him out of there. I have really tried, and today I was finally at court, but only in the parking lot talking to senior advocate who may help. I am a nigger here, and please do not get offended at that word because, although I am not enslaved or beaten, it does describe the level of discrimination I face here in trying to to just talk to my boy. Can you possibly imagine how it feels to not even be able to talk to your child in a photograph, and I was there the night he was born, began parenting him when he was three, have been the main parent since he was seven. The pain of this several previous poems attempt to give some picture of. Imagine how the boy feels. That hurts the most.
Harm's End 