It was the year of the terrible decree. The seer sat in the filth. Running his hands through the squelch. Driven here by harsh whispers of truth. Pushed over the edge. And he’d fallen. Into the pit of refuse. As the digested filled his nails and the stink his nostrils he did what he hated most now. He thought.
The 9th year of Servant Frey had turned into the deepest shade of sour (or was it sickly sweet?). Everyone saw it coming. Everyone knew it. Everyone talked about it. But few did anything. The few who did were befriended. Assimilated. Lulled.
‘You are here’
A voice uttered.
‘Questions need to be asked’
Silence. Sigh. Breath.
‘The answers are yours’
The seer put his filthy hands on his face.
‘Yes’, he sobbed.
‘Where were you?’ the breath asked.
The tears made lines on the seer’s face.
‘I have spoken once, and I will not answer’
Yup the leaves are dancing!
A kindly soul lent me a double bass. This is reaching the bottom. The nether regions of sound where light barely penetrates. Life in these parts are undefined. No markings.
We all need them. And most of us have them. I thought I didn’t. But I think I do. But first I’ll try and draw some outlines to what or not I think a hero is.
Not a daily chum
Not a family member
causes you to stretch
you unconsciously start imitating them
I put the first 2 in there because I think heroes always have a bit of mythical quality about them. And if you’re too close to them you’ll see for what they are; mistake riddled humans. So my heroes.
the first time I remember seeing him was playing drums. But he was actually a guitarist. Yes one of THOSE. It was the sudden lift in energy. Somebody else had been playing till then. Then he took over and all us little children in front got the shock of our lives. One cried but the rest of us were highly excited at this basic raw power.
And he kept appearing at various musical junctures of my life. I played drums for Joseph’s Coat once. He was the only adult who didn’t complain. But I guess he could spot more miscrashes and snare ups than anyone else.
Encouraging. Instructive. Full of praise after the gig.
Gigs with would often get delayed because he took ages to get us all sounding right. Such detail to sound. I couldn’t understand it. Why waste so much time on sound?
But he did and we all sounded much better than we normally would.
And he shared my birthday! Aw you don’t need more in a hero do you?
And he introduced me to…
Christian rock. Yes Jesus as well but in a different way. This was more direct.
‘Sunil this is Christian Rock. Christian Rock this is Sunil.’
At that time of my life it was a freeing moment. To know that Christendom had distortion was a step to truth.
Vocalist : Look at me
Guitarist : Don’t look at him. Look at me
Bassist : Don’t look at me
Keyboardist : Nobody can look at me
Drummer : Everybody’s looking at me
I’ve been trying to read Job. That’s a good one Read Job while looking for a job.
I’m was quite interested in Job’s responses at the beginning.
The first one when he’d lost all his belongings and children
Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has take away; blessed by the name of the Lord.
(NRSV: wish I could say translation mine but 10 years in Bangalore didn’t help my Kannada)
The second one (to his wife)
You speak as any foolish woman would speak. Shall we recieve the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?
Let the day perish in which I was born… (rant rant rant)
I wonder. Is the first response just an automatic response? Just a habit? Is it that only a while later the enormity of it hits him and then he truly responds? Which is by the way spread across quite a few chapters. The first time he blesses God. The second time he seems quite irritable and there is no blessing. Yet he holds on. And then the curse…
Are we running on autopilot?
Are we just salivating on stimulus and seamed into a habit?