Tuesday, July 31, 2012

My Tryst With The Cross

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During the break after the 93 Hindu Muslim riots in Mumbai the only time I was hit hard but survived thanks to Nitin Manmohan and his brother Hemant Panchmiya, we had a our first own pagdi house at Danpada Khar in the fishing village of Khar Danda when the riots took place.


Nitin bhai as I call him and I worked at his store Prachins helped me get temporary accommodations as the Danda house my family did not want to go back because of the dark violent memories.

So we stayed for a short while at Chand Society Juhu but the Muslim tag would frighten people so we moved from here to Juhu Scheme and stayed at a bunglow next to Mr Danny Daenzogpas house , from there again after a few months we shifted to Adarsh Nagar in a building close to the Lotus Gas station and mind you my kids still studied at Bandra.

From Adarsh Nagar we came to Pali Naka and from Pali Naka to Veronica street at Ranwar as tenants of Agnes Pereira , my room later was taken by Preity Zinta cine star and according to Agnes has been lucky for those who inhabited it as tenants.

I can vouchsafe words to Preity Zinta I dont now about my luck it eludes me till date.

From Pali Najka a short hiatus , our Khar Danda house got sold for peanuts we came to De Monte Street Bandra .

We stayed here for quite a few years so wherever I lived in Bandra Jesus Christ was always close at hand , this crucifix was in front of a house Maryville on Hill Road and the side lane leads to Waroda Road.


At Pali Naka too there was cross shadowing us and our nomadic after riots life style.

At Kamla Bai Sadan De Monte street house there was the tiny Grotto at the Bandra Bazar and the cross.

At my present house there is not one but several crosses that I pass as I go for work via De Monte street and Chinchpokli Road.

I thought this introduction was necessary to my genre called Jesus Poetry..




Jesus follows me
in the shadows
of the night
cloaked in a hood
silently quiet
when there
is darkness
he sheds light
urges me
not to give
up the fight
or be overawed
by fright
mind you
i am a muslim
he knows it alright
but he was
once human
so he knows
our plight
its not divinity
but man who
divided
this world
into black and white
into different
religiosity
we kill we maim
we destroy
in his name
with
ostentatious
pretentious
sanctimonious
might
its not man
but the maker
we kill on sight
my poetic angst
my poetic flight

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