Past midnight here in New Delhi. The accidental sufi has just finished Skype-ing . Oh the marvels of technology that allow me to see a most beloved face on a 55″inch LED screen and hear his voice. I need to borrow Tom Robbin’s words about Leonard Cohen now “It is a voice raked by the claws of Cupid, a voice rubbed raw by the philosopher’s stone. A voice marinated in kirschwasser, sulfur, deer musk and snow; bandaged with sackcloth from a ruined monastery; warmed by the embers left down near the river after the gypsies have gone. It is a penitent’s voice, a rabbinical voice, a crust of unleavened vocal toasts — spread with smoke and subversive wit. He has a voice like a carpet in an old hotel, like a bad itch on the hunchback of love. It is a voice meant for pronouncing the …” Stop.I will use my own words now 🙂 It is a voice meant for pronouncing my name ONLY 🙂
He:’Baby ,what’s up?”
Me:”Can you buy back my soul for me?”
He:”Sure,baby. But,uh just curious.Could anyone afford the price of your soul ?”
Me:’I thought so. But I was wrong”.
He: “Baby, just did”
Me “Did what?And stop calling me baby!”
He: ‘Bought back your soul.Shall I keep it? Or courier it to you ?”
Me ( I guess my voice broke a bit).’It was always yours to keep,my Shams”
He: ‘I am hungry’.
Me ‘Jeez,you are a bastard’.
He ( checks something on his tablet and reads out): “deny me bread, air,
but never your laughter.My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.”
Me ( smiling): ‘Neruda! Great.Say something more”
He” Uh-uh I love you more than Rock n Roll.That works?”
Me: “Absolutely.But a song,my Heathcliff”
He: ( goes at a maddeningly slow pace to the record player):” Baby, you wear me out.This one. http://youtu.be/aWjfONP51G4 ”
He ( smugly): “You look f****** horrible when you cry, I tells ya!”
Me: ‘F*** you, too.I am going to blog now.And listen to Sabbath.Oh yeah, do read it. I will change the tag line “In search of my Shams”
He:” I leave for Paris soon.Will read,baby.Shall I call you ?’
Me:”At night I ( shall)dream that you and I are two plants
that grew together, roots entwined,
and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth,
since we are made of earth and rain…Shams, don’t you dare call me at un-Godly hours!”
Skype connectivity is broken.
I flap my phoenix bird wings,glorying in its strength.
Neruda tells me, Come sufi “Let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us” 🙂