Last Dance of the Golden Butterflies

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            The sky was intermittently dark. Each period of darkness ended in a lightening flash. Each flash was succeeded by a deep growl up above in the belly of the clouds. The light breeze smelt of a subtle promise of rain.

            The old man with a head full of bushy silver hair stood quietly in the veranda. He was looking towards the western skies. His cloudy brown eyes were open but looked at nothing in particular. Instead they were filled with the grey shadows of memories.

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THE WOMAN IN THE PORCELAIN MASK

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     Once I was Ashastû, son of Darsha and the resident of the ancient city of Nishapur. Once I was the bird, imprisoned by a gilded cage. I was the follower of Mazdayasna and the worshipper of Ahura Mazda.

      Like a butterfly, which once is a caterpillar, I was all that but no more. I have become the bearer of the most ancient of all legacies – the legacy of the forgotten wisdom. This is the story of my transformation and my transition, from a caterpillar to a butterfly; and from the path of dark ignorance to the path of bright wisdom.

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Love, Death and the Elephant Graveyard

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‘Legend says that the spirits of Baba and Bibi still live on the slopes of the Kilimanjaro.

They meet all the weary souls, desirous of entering the elephant graveyard.

They attend to their broken hearts and mend their exhausted will to survive.

They have become the custodians of the broken hearts and guardians of the broken dreams.’

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Jerusalem and the Kingdom of Darkness

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The old man stopped talking and smiled at me.

Now, have you understood Diyaa Udeen?

Yes I have.’ I bowed my head and answered.

Sin is submission to the desires and the way to wisdom; while virtue is the realization of sin.

Life is an experiment of the Grand Alchemist; while death is a door that opens to a new life.

Truth is God and wisdom is the devil. God tells the truth, the Devil shows the way to understand the truth.

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The phoenix has been born anew!

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But there is a storm raging outside.’ I look at the shadow of my grandfather.

Yes! There is a storm raging outside and there is all chaos. There will always be a storm raging and there will always be chaos.’ He smiles.

But remember Son! Chaos is the fire and ashes from which a phoenix is born anew.

Be the phoenix.

Come to terms with the chaos. Understand it. Know it.

Let it envelop you and seep through you.

Be the tree and let the harsh wind blow through your branches.

Dance with the chaos and sway with the wind.

Ultimately the wind will pass and you will stand proud.

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The Father, the Dragon and the Little Man

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ROUND – 1: Monday, 7:45 AM

Please tie your hair.’ I politely request my teenage daughter, while unlocking the car.

I will. Later!’ She replies nonchalantly.

You will. Now!’ I muster up a deep bass voice from somewhere.

She looks at me. I look back. We keep on staring at each other. I win. She ties her hair.

I won round one. I am pretty proud of myself.

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