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 to get that picture. I have to get that picture from the Mount of Olives. They have refined the books. That’s it, pretty intelligent about it. We didn’t kill ourselves.
I visited the Old City of Jerusalem and did a hunger strike outside its gates, three weeks, ended Easter and Passover 1995. Then I taped poems of mine all over Jerusalem in the holy quarters, dangerously daring in the dead of night. You wanna see it?
In Jerusalem is here, and in Pondicherry I will do a hunger strike for my boy, to protect him from abuse and get him back home. You don’t believe me read the story. I will do anything for love. Get ready folks. I’m about to step in God’s hands and see what they’re made of. Care to join me come at the lake. Day one begins shortly, for the love of Nithish.
Nobody catches blood on the first day of the field. It showed that I had been to visa. We must add those grapes too, so to be believed. I got it issued 1977 press, and that’s it. My hunger days as a Jesus freak add to the story. I converted people at school lunch, and we’d get on our knees right there in front of everybody. I’d have them accept Christ. I read my Bible every day, studied scripture, and I attended church every night, all the denominations.
I didn’t find Christ, just his name. The clothes I wore prevented me. Those clothes were Christianity, so I took them off, put my Bible down and started backpacking and camping on the weekends, looking for the natural God. Green Beret came easy after that.
So I went to Jerusalem with a heartache. Jesus was real I knew it, but would I find him in all that stone, all those old places? I found adventure, but I did not find Christ. He was too buried over by religion. Do I find him today? A present God in my life yes, who’s special function is compassion and redemption, the God of love.
He has appeared to me in vision so to help with Nithish, getting that boy back to me and getting him healed. So when you talk of the Old City, this is religion wore off. It won’t help you none. I think there’s still hope for Pondicherry to become a spiritual city of wide dimensions, for inner watch, not outer show, for freedom in the spirit, not to bow down to a religion.
A free, open, and easy God that can accept even the atheist at His dinner table, and change us all into better men and women, The New Jerusalem, we’ve found it here in Pondicherry. It is here the Supermind came down, and it’s here we’ll learn to be a proper city, considering human beings before even the law, learnin’ how to make it right with our children, learnin’ the true intent and purpose of school, and how to treat people who work for you and pay them well. No slaves please, no schedule that excludes your life. We’re on our way Pondicherry, we’re on our way.
I wanna be the first one to raise a child knowin’ Pondicherry is a cradle of civilization. is where we do it, the supramental manifestation on Earth. Did you even look at it? There’s a book here in Pondy with that title. Take it out for a spin. It’ll bring you on the road to destiny Earth and open up your life to what we’re actually doing here.
Say hi Billy, how are you? Don’t pull that out and show it to me. Let’s get down to business what you really want. You want God in your life don’t you. How do you become you are He? Pull your pants up I’ll show yah. My job pretty good, kids know I like them yes. I let ‘em play with their little small cars. Well why not? I don’t bother them there. I know how to take that energy and open their consciousness with it, and turn that curiosity to God, never once tellin’ ‘em playin’ with themselves is wrong. You just wouldn’t put it in videos and pass it out in the street. You protect that child’s privacy and leave them alone there. The power we give them when we do it right. God rest His case.
You have to find out tomorrow, at some point, your child got raped with that guidance that shows them everything is to make money, buy nice things, and walk on people you don’t like or you disagree with. Open heart surgery, open house surgery, it’s how we find each other again, so complete and wonderful.
I have the stairs. Will you walk up them? Pondicherry it’s time you become yourself, where peace descends on your city mood. Buckle up, I think you’re fine. Help me find my boy will yah? He was halfway in to the new humanity when he was taken, and you countin’ on me to get it right. We have pushed suffering out of his life.
Unfortunately this is a brand new way of doing things. I’ll see you scoff at it at first. Then I’ll see you think about it. Then I’ll see you accept it. We have to go.
You know I hear about Nithish. And what did you do with that? Normal, he’s perfectly normal. I just spoke to someone who he cried to. The boy wants his daddy, tired of being beaten and threatened. I guess we need insurance. Yes daddy, I know daddy. I’m almost done here.
You were so concerned with your mall and media. Heartbeats don’t measure pain. They just squeeze it, but this boy’s still feeling pain, and he hides it from you because he must. You beat him, threaten him, if he even talks to me. Imagine what you do with him when he asks you to let him see me. You’re leavin’ out the full story Sandiya. You’re not tellin’ the truth. That is a must Pondicherry, give this boy back his place with me, with you, and with God.
Splittin’ with an open guitar, I will make people to understand what I’m asking of them. Hey Sleeping, can I ride your tricycle awhile? My boy’s being abused, and it won’t let up. I need this written in the paper. I need this on the news. I need to protect my boy. Will you help me?
I’m not robbin’ cradles. I’m not doin’ anything bad to him. I’m bringing him to the fullness of his potential, and I can show you miracles that’s being done. Read awhile his poetry, and then tell me his parents are right in keeping him away from that, in keeping him away from me, and do you know how they do that? They beat him they slap him. They threaten to put him in a boy’s hostel. They guard him day and night to keep him from contact me.
Why is this you ask? The boy prefers me as a parent, and they can’t stand that, but do you know what he did? He told me his father was masturbating his little brothers, and he gave me a video his mother made of his little brother masturbating. That’s why they took him from me. He told me these things. Do you know how much he’s been punished for that? Do you know WHERE he’s been punished for that?
It’s happened that way, and you’re gonna tell me I’m lying, but no one will question that boy about the abuse he’s received from his parents away from those parents, not a single Child Help worker in this city. Why is that? You tell me.
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.
In this poem, written from inner spiritual vision, meaning the lines were spoken to him on the inside, one by one, and I recorded them for him on my voice recorder where I record my own muse, Nithish is speaking to his future self, giving himself help about a tragedy that came to pass on March 12th, when he was taken from me. We’re not allowed visits, phone calls, and no one can give him my messages. They took him because they got mad at me. He’s had a negative personality change, and his spiritual vision has been replaced by nightmares.
Like dream, spiritual vision has vision of the future, and this poem will bear that out if you take the time to listen to it. As art and poetry, it will take more than one viewing to understand in its complexity, where, in each frame, there are layers of meaning, what is happening in the video itself, entertaining enough, and the poem superimposed on that, with occasional visions the boy had while the lines were spoken to him being presented in a ticker tape fashion at the bottom of the screen.
It’s actually a miracle and is a real example of soul healing, in this case his soul speaking to him now from the past. The video is now being viewed by the boy and those around him (or will be shortly), including his parents, and the divine muse of poetry, having knowledge of the future, knew when the video would be made and posted, at just the right time in the ‘death’ of the boy to bring him back to life, soul, and God.
“The Samadhi of the Gods is in my heart” means his spirituality is forbidden. His parents scorn his poetry, and he can’t follow the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. “I don’t like biryani I like burger.” He likes things American, which his parents don’t like. “I ask where is my dog,” his Beagle puppy, Grace, who he lost too. He lost all his dogs.
“Look back and you’ll get out” means that if he remembers what it was like living with me, looks back on those times, he’ll get out of school, school here meaning the school he is at home, school being a symbol for a child’s life lessons, whether they take place at home or at the institution of school. The whole poem is so he will remember what he’s forgotten under his parents’ intense psychological manipulation, where he lost himself. In this poem, which he wrote from his past to his future self, he’s trying to get his ‘dead’ self to see he needs to see who he really is.
“Bamboo sticks they use it to beat children in the school / and they use it to make sugar in the factory.” School is a symbol where he learns his lessons in life, both at home and school as an institution, as I’ve explained above. “Well, next time bad spirits of school Nazis,” meaning the extreme control his parents have used in this present situation, not the first abusive situation he’s been in with them, to get him to stop wanting me.
”Why is ice on fire on earth?” Our relationship has been put on ice but is aflame. “Gutter door is open. / Play along for awhile.” He did what his parents wanted and told people what they told him to say, “I’m okay with it,” but they can’t get him to tell me that. “Hold onto them with your breath, / knowers or brewers. / Mr. NoMore is out of town. He’s still holding onto to me, but his parents are telling him I’m a beggar, and I only want him to take care of me in my old age, and of course I’m Mr. NoMore.
The last lines mean that I recorded it all in my own muse and predicts that his story of childhood trauma will make a big difference in the world. The rap at the end, also muse and prevision, is a short synopsis of the bad situation he fell into when his parents took him from me. At that time he was listening to BoyWithUke.
Social consciousness we’re exploring here. This little boy’s showing it to you in the society he has with me. You don’t believe that we we share consciousness with each other. Here’s a poem that will show not only that, but that you can talk to your future self about that society you live in. An 11-yr-old boy wrote this, with an incredibly superior opening of the inner consciousness, magnetic, the very thing that you need to see so we can survive on this planet. In a spiritual emergency, you can write a poem in the inner consciousness to your future self, as this boy has done. He’s important to the world. You can count on one hand the number of kids that can do this in all the world.
Do you want this dead in him? It is right now. His parents have killed it. You’d call me a dirty old man because I want to see him so insistently, but your stereotype is wrong. I opened this boy’s consciousness, and we openly share consciousness together. We can prove this miracle. This is not the only poem of ours that shows it, because in poetry writing, in union with me he does it, and to have been torn asunder like this has caused our very souls to reach out for one another, and what else in him could have written this poem but his soul. Social consciousness, the first example.
Edge of the Game (Written October 2023)
Samadhi of the Gods is in my heart water drops. Like any other kid’s life my life is complicated. I don’t praise my parents I praise the Mother. Hot Wheels on the road, Boss Baby here.
Hah, I’m athlete, don’t fight me. Sticker bushes in the sky, clouds in the ground, study abroad or study up rod, my life is not stolen it’s in the safe. Don’t you laugh at me for a little blah blah.
I’m like a marshmallow. Can I really look handsome? Sinkin’ through space, Gandhi said you are a race. [two above lines heard sung] I don’t like biryani I like burger. I don’t vote Modi but I very much do hear melody. Garage of the forage, call me Mr. Poppins.
(I have a vision of laying wounded in a bedroom in a white bed. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo are near me and start meditating when I wake up, and I start meditating with them. When I start meditating with them, they give me a power stroke to say what’s going on, like by the power, like I know everything. I was told I could talk to them anytime I wanted, but I have to snap into my supermental body because my physical body is here on earth but my supermental body is with them. Then I ask the Mother for a poem to get out of school, and she says the line below) Look back and you’ll get out.
I’m thinking about leaving. The ancient realm is alive. Fate decides you, (vision of General Iroh telling me the above line in a Fire Nation ship in a vision) what kind of man you become. Rebuild the evolving species, hashtag flying away.
Earn money for doomsday, it’s in the eight sector. Betrayal is not good for God. Organize the pieces you’ll see what I’m talking about.
Dive deep under the water without a swimsuit you’ll see the glowin’ star. I see my dogs in the garden with the Mother and Sri Aurobindo.
I’m a part of the lily pond. Everything is reversed here. Pepsi or Coke a Cola I don’t know. Pepsi not for sure. It’s pizza time at the lake.
I shaved air. I’m a hill climber. Peacocks look at me weird. Do they see the shining sun? They have the magical eye. It’s easy for them to see me. I’m in the wild with them. I ask where is my dog. In the jungle I say. Why can’t it be in the plains, can’t it be in the house, can’t it be in the water, can’t it be in the hills, can’t it be in the hill climbers?
Sure do hill climbers climb that mountain. Well, I’ll fly to that mountain. I have the God’s eye. Maybe I can see the angel on top of you, because behind me it’s an organization assembled by the Gods and the God Himself.
School is such a pain in the ass. That’s where I get my boils from. School doesn’t pop it. My house pops it. Bamboo sticks they use it to beat children in the school and they use it to make sugar in the factory. Well you sure are making a way for the demons. Show me the certificate if you’re gonna hit a child. I’m going to God to talk about this. Well, next time bad spirits of school Nazis.
Please don’t hit my kind. You’re all a unified mind. Rhythm is not for music it’s for poets. I sure do use a lot. Why is ice on fire in Earth? It’s sure not like that in the spirit realm. I’ve visited that place.
Walk with honor. The ball’s in your court. Lay down the law. It’s not an opinion. It’s the whole world. Free angels in your mind. I’ve stopped drinking coffee, but I’ve moved on. It’s one or another. Soon he’s gonna get married. Everyone should learn to smile.
Gutter door is open. Play along for awhile. Treat yourself. Spirits go away. Hold onto them with your breath, knowers or brewers. Mr. NoMore is out of town.
Lily ponds are as beautiful as our inner. Record my fame for history. Business talks are not for me. Boy of the Northern Kingdom is about to wake up the whole world.
I fell out of my place for nothing to eat for I hit the ground sooo hard it hurt my life a little too far I cannot take it. I cannot carve through this mountain of lives. I am not so fine. The trauma I experienced in childhood I can blame it all on school, school, school, school, school. school. I am not a rapper. I’m a taper. I tape my life. The wounds can heal. My muscles can grow. My life can be a Christmas gift.
A heartbroken line. You just have to write this down. There is no Earth and Heaven but you. We glide here on our own devices. We can’t see the world around us. It’s blind to us too. We can’t even see our yard. There’s a process there. It’s image on sight. We have see things to believe in them. Our fingers have to touch their face. No other process allowed. That’s the ring around the rosie for us. It’s how we live.
It gets us in a lot of trouble. We can’t always see things. When people are away from us they’re gone. We imagine their existence, and it’s not real to us. They’re not there. Now tell me what to do? Go outside and see things, and try to transfer sight to some bigger picture happening before your eyes. Don’t just see your little world. It’s gotten big enough to swallow you whole. We gotta get outta here.
It eats us alive. It’s the only thing we know. Can you see this? Do you know what I’m talkin’ about? We are blind before our face. Our world is the world, and there is no other that has the reality of ours. We can put this in a movie or a sports field, or maybe even a good book. We feel something other than ourselves, but we’re involved in it. We’re still the center of the room. Look at YouTube Shots. They piece you to pieces, this show, and that show, and this show, and you have your favorites. Where are they taking you? They don’t know how to time. They don’t stop. You are lost there in the middle of you.
I’m tryin’ to get to some larger whole none of us see. We’re divided up in pieces, your world and my world and Larry’s world. Will we put our glasses on and see this? It really sucks you know when you lose someone. Say you had a kid and you’ve been raisin’ them since they were three. At 12 you lost them, and they were just taken from you for no other reason than just to take, ‘cause you made someone mad. Devastating.
It was a bubble relationship. We were the captain of our ship laughin’ at the world go by we teammates, best friends, together all the time. We were joined, and the world went by, and we were so special in it, so much comfort in each other, so much love. And then you lose that boy. No contact is allowed, and you watch that boy turn like he never knew you, and now he wants you gone. No, no, I didn’t abuse him. His parents did. He was broken whipped and spanked until he gave his parents what they wanted, the keys to himself. They can do that. They’re Indian parents. He was broken, lost his will, lost himself. They spanked him, and he cried and cried, and I had promised to save him and couldn’t come. That anger rides.
What are we left with? A quaking world. Death would seem a happy state, and I almost long to be there. I want my boy. I can’t take it. There is no escape from this pain. What do you do? You feel pain. You don’t know what to do. There’s no way out. Months ahead, the death of a child. There is no remedy for this. I’m lost in him, and oh the jesters of pain, that kid could care less if he sees me again, in just two short weeks.
Where do we go? To death? We have to do something. We have to live. We have to get up and live. You’ve been fucked by the universe, abandoned by your Gods. All soul’s failed, and you’ve got to find another life, and you really want the one you had. You’re stupid you tell yourself, a fool. Children are treacherous, and they only like pleasure and joyrides, and their heart can be bought with candy and cake, and they forget you, even when you were their whole world.
I’m dying in this pain, and I’m just showing it to you so you know of the reality of which I speak, in some little lost world forgotten from the whole. To cut him out of my heart is blind. That boy needs protected, and he’s in a bad situation. It’s an abusive situation. I cannot abandon him. I must go on tryin’ to free him, but the loss is too great to bear. You see the predicament.
It’s going somewhere. I am being perfected for him in parental ways, as he will need to be healed. If he returns, he will be healed with certain hands. I’m ready for him. There is just this need to swallow, this ever aching need that he fulfill my life, be its ornament, and meet my emotional needs. How can I get rid of this? Don’t look at me funny. You do it too with children. We are property lovers with them.
I don’t know how to do this, and that is my lesson now. It hurts. Where do I find you? In the lesson plan. I’m reaching out to you to be a lover with you, to put down that kid a minute, and let’s say hey look at this: we are fragmented world. Will you do the time with me? It might be a pickup truck that takes us all on a ride to higher skies. That’s where we think about larger things than ourselves and the contents and people of our little world. I’m pushin’ yah there in my own flagpole as I do this too. Will you sing with me?
Will we be together again? We come from afar. This is not our home. We’re on dangerous ground, where the Void meets Earth. There are doings here that have us all undone. We live out our lives little people, totally forgetting who we are together, the very next field above this one, the supramental field.
I’m ridin’ yah there, journeying myself. I don’t want to go. All my thoughts on little boy and what’s going on with him right now. Is he happy is he sad? Is he missing me? Would he like to see me again? Are they hurting him? This goes deep.
Alright I’ve told you some about what we don’t talk about: look there’s a whole; look there’s together again; look we are bigger than what we are. Have I reached out to you? I can’t see it. I don’t even know you’re there. I think that’s a reality kingpin. I’m alone in here in front of all of you, because of my perception. Can you figure it out?
That is put to the finish. Hey you got some things growing up there. Tunnel things this reality. It’s trustworthy. There’s no other way to see it. We’re not real, is that how far this goes? Do you see what I’m gettin’ at? Where is reality’s footing? Where do we place ourselves? In the center of attention? I think we look higher up. We look where it happens, where reality gets arranged, and we find ourselves there watching the arrangement. Isn’t that funny? Here I am.
Suffer the supramental solution. Sri Aurobindo wrote his letters just sittin’ there. He didn’t see the disciples, yet he knew they were there. He didn’t have to see them. He had concrete inner contact with them, and he knew what was goin’ on. He could see their own selves, and he knew what they needed.
This was just vision to him. No, this was the substance of his room. He grabbed the whole with his own hand. It was his messenger. He substance see’d, knew in relation to the whole, and he could see without errors. I cannot do that. I have strong inner vision. It doesn’t come everything’s true without errors. It gets a lot of lie, exaggeration, and endless possibilities worked out. I can’t see straight.
You don’t know how much this sucks. I’m glued to inner vision now to protect my kid and bring him back home, and it’s driving me crazy, all these scenarios played out one by one. He’s been hit with a dog. He’s been pissed on and raked over an open fire. This just kills me, and I don’t know what to do. The bad part is over, when they broke him to turn him from me. Now they’re tryin’ to act normal, and they want him to be happy.
Gaslighting is the order of the day. What’s a kid to do? Acquiesce and be what their parents want them to be, do what their parents want them to do, and say what their parents want them to say, and that’s what he’s doin’. and I can have no contact, and not a single person there will tell him of me. It’s inhuman. It’s a total blackout they’ve arranged. The abusers become his saviors, and his beloved grandpa a foreign devil tryin’ to take him from his family.
I was his main parent from the time he was six. Six years with me more than his parents, and they’re gaslighting him to make me some babysitter they mistakenly arranged. Okay public, what to do? I’ve shown you his card, a song he wrote himself when his parents were pullin and kicking him about school. This is where he is at. This is the boy on his own. Where do we find him? I hope that’s not the graveyard. Can you come and help me find him please? I really need you, and this is a live child waiting for your help. Can you help? Oh Puducherry, you couldn’t Aarthi.
Now there’s hope. The boy’s alive. How do I know he’s unsafe? His father’s a killer for a Lawspet gang with BJP connections, but he hasn’t killed in awhile. Says he’s done with it, but see the gold on him you’ll know he’s still involved, a gold ring on every finger like a pimp. He could kill that kid in a jealous fit of rage, and the mother’s of low character, and she may not prevent him. That's where this is headed. Don't be sorry. I’m calling on you now, Puducherry, rise up and protect that boy before anything else is done. Will you help me? Can you take this boy to safety? That’s wonderful. Thank you.
This is the boy’s address in Puducherry, India:
64 Nettu St. Kurusukuppam, Puducherry, 605012
The street is only a small alleyway accessible from Advocate Chinnathambi St. Fourth Cross. Go to Le Nid Apartments on Advocate Chinnathambi Street, stand facing the gates and turn right 90 degrees and you will see a little alleyway in front of you. Go down it and it immediately turns left and his house is the first door on the left. There is also an Ave Maria Kebi on the left side of the apartment gates.
Nithish’s school and he’s in 7th standard: New Modern Vidhya Mandir Higher Secondary School, 73/A, Pillayar Koil St, Angalamman Nagar, Muthialpet, Puducherry, 605003
His father lives in Chennai and has a business there and comes to Puducherry on the weekends. Here is his business address:
P. Sundaram S.S. Air Controls No. 432 Pachaivalliyamman Illam 29th St. 6th Sector K.K. Nagar, Chennai 600078
This is the address they spend the weekend at, usually from Saturday evening to Monday morning. It is his father’s parents’ house:
Harm's End 