This was two years back on the streets of Mumbai Mazgaon, the 40th day of Imam Hussains Martyrdom known as Chehlum, I was shooting pictures, you can see my camcod camera bag in the frame.
I had cut my forehead was moving towards the Rehmatabad Shia cemetery where this mamoth procession of about 7 lac people converges.
I saw these people doing the sword matam, that I had never done , Kassim Hallori put the Iranian sword in my hand,I just took it not knowing how to wield it , while a videographer took this shot on my Nikon D 70..blurred but it tells a story..perhaps the lack of sharpness adds to my initiation into this self inflicting spirtual art form..
I got a new message from a Word Press member who has been my pillar of strength and support since the time I placed my head here in the hall of cybernetic ill fame.When I deleted my account here at Word Press he still encouraged me from afar, I think he is a gifted human soul, all roundedly Indian no doubt about that, a far better wielder of the pen than me...
I copy his message a testimonial to our friendship predestined and ordained by a Cyborg God..
"Thanks for your mail. For a few weeks the climate defeated me completely, and now after consulting the physician I find that I have the elite club of people who have to forego sugar and all the sweet things in life. I am slightly under the weather.
What if I haven't mailed you for long. You have awed me and wowed me to no end with your mad love for writing and anytime I come upon your posts or are reminded of them, I cannot stop wondering at the perennial supply of your ideas, imaginations and informations.
Whenever you write to me in the midst of your busy time, I become so emotional with a sense of being engulfed by your ever flowing and never ebbing fountain of writing.
You are a fakir, you are a sadhu and you are both an introvert and an extrovert. These words are not forced out of me.
May God Almighty shower you with longevity, health and happiness and peace of mind so that you will pour out your mind for ever and ever. I remember the story of a sufi saint who started learning the meaning of la ilaha illaha Muhammad ur rasool ul laha, who while he understood as far as La illaha, was burnt to ashes by the King, and his ashes thrown into the sea, and the king could hear the waves saying incessantly, La illaha.