A FREE NOVEL - New Gandhi, Hope, Maridadi Monet and Colour

 Maridadi is Swahili for ‘Beautiful’

This is a work of fiction

Thank You 

Red

Orange

Yellow

Green

Lightblue

Indigo Blue

Navy Blue

Pink

Gold

Purple 

Gold

White

Black

1. Red Index Finger touches Red Thumb 

Today is the 14th of August. The lightning is wide awake and menacing. A woman is in the distance. Shall we go closer to her? I know we are frightened and erratic but this looks like our only chance and a sign?

Why are you here? 

In your thoughts, I hear music playing and worry about children. What is driving you? Lust, Anger, Greed? Where does Taste, Knowledge, Empathy, Tolerance, Right, Discipline, Tranquillity, Ups and Downs, Beginnings and Endings, Anxiety and Grit, Smiles, Laughter, Colour, Fame and Disrespect, Gentility and Non-Violence, Generosity, Balance, and Satisfaction come from? In this long darkness, lightning is the only light we have seen. And the serenity on the woman’s face has come to us after a long time.

We see red rose petals calmly falling on the woman. She glows like a beacon but her eyes are soft and caring. She turns to us and says, “I have been waiting for you. You are the chosen few.”

The woman has many arms. The face is kind. The hands touch many heads in different time zones and eras.

The red petals turn orange after falling. The wind further converts these to yellow. Then green petals fall. The clouds part and disappear. The indigo blue thunder remains. I study the woman’s clothes. Navy blue, pink, gold, purple, gold, and white dance in the clothes, in the headdress, and the ankle bells. My tears flow and all I can do is lie down flat on my stomach and pay my respects the best way I can. I have goose pimples. The others stand there in terror.

“You humans are always so frightened,” she says. “But some of you by just saving an ant have earned this place here.” “Have you chosen well?” “Can you hear the colour heartbeats of the Universe?” 

”Many will return to the comfort of darkness.”   

“Now watch and listen. Let’s go on a journey. Let’s visit Young New Gandhi first.” 

The cracking lighting and thunder under a clear sky continue.

We all seem to be flying. I will call the woman ‘The Goddess of Hope’.

Young New Gandhi….I like using the new free computers from school. I live in Porbandar, India. My grandma prays a lot with her baby Idols. My father has painted peacocks on my bedroom wall. I don’t like school. I like to play cricket in alleyways with my friends. Sometimes we eat a lot of mangoes. My mother takes me to the temple every evening. I stay there for only a while. I like to play in the playground opposite. There are many old buildings in my town. There is also an old king. My favourite food is lentils with rice. I don’t like getting up early in the morning. I like to go to the beach in the evenings with my friends.

I like the peacocks in my bedroom. There is a big red one with a smile which says Happy.

Universal colour heartbeats

red orange yellow 

 green light blue 

 indigo blue navy blue 

 pink gold 

    purple gold white 

Then there is the orange peacock which says Smile. The yellow peacock in the corner says Laugh. The green peacock on the cupboard says Strong. I spend very little time in my bedroom as I am at school or playing outside.

The light blue peacock along the wall says Sing. The Indigo blue peacock says Listen and the Navy blue peacock says Think.

white gold purple

gold pink

navy blue indigo blue

light blue-green

yellow orange-red

I also like poems. And sometimes I wonder whether there is another world somewhere else with peacocks, cows, and children. 

red orange

yellow green 

light blue indigo blue 

navy blue pink

gold purple 

gold white 

My mum cooks all the time and my dad does yoga every morning. I am the youngest in my family. One of my relatives has just come here from Australia. He gave me a small toy Kangaroo. I have been looking at Australia on my computer. The sky is so blue. The Sydney Opera House looks like a shell that I like. My father says I could go and study in Australia when I grow up. So I have started a diary with a picture of a beach. Everyone looks so happy in the picture. They like to put cream on the face. I like the lifesavers.

New Cook…. East 90th St New York. The Museum of Modern Art, a stone’s throw away. I love the static art there. I view the city from this 8th-floor apartment. I like the doorman. I have achieved my ambition. Am I a heroine? Who is a hero, may I ask you? Is the taxi driver who murders to succeed a hero?, I wonder? Maybe. Scriptures do allow the destruction of evil. And should I be talking? I am already getting too serious, aren’t I? I should introduce myself. I am a writer born in Africa of Indian descent. Have wanted to live in New York for a long time. It must be those skin lightening cream advertisements I saw in Africa. They sold ‘The elegant people in NYC use skin lightening cream’. Watching the elegant people in New York was the carrot, not the cream.

Like you, I am confused about life. I am also trying to play with what are my most important eight points for life. I have read all the scriptures and listened to many wise people but no one seems to have a list for peace and contentment.

red jabalpur

orange jacaranda

yellow jack-in-the-box

green jackal

light blue jackaroos

indigo blue jacket

navy blue jackfish

pink jackfruit

gold jackhammer

purple jack-knife

gold jackpot

jacobean white

New Gandhi’s son….Somewhere between earth and the spiritual world lies another world. Some call it the place of imagination, some call it the waiting room and some may not believe in any of this. Within this are many compartments. 

In one of these compartments, a man in his forties wearing a white Kurta walks round and round in a neat circle. Hope pulls up a chair and sits in the middle of this circle. It is neither dark nor light and there are no colours except in her garments and jewels. Occasional flames can be seen in the distance.

The young man notices her. His jaw is tight and his fists are clenched and while he slows for a while, he continues, back to his usual speed.

“Are you still angry?”

The man ignores her.

“I know you still are. And for so many years.”

“How can I help you?”

He continues walking.

“I know you have had to endure this for many years. We all endure something for a while and when the balance is right we are freed.”

“Yes, Yes,” the man says. “You say this every time you visit.”

“Do you think I only visit occasionally? Have you never felt my hand on your head? But you would not as so many in the world don’t. But I do.”

“Your same old story,” the man replies as he continues round and round.

“Sadly here you will never die. You will continue this round and round until you free yourself.”

This does not stop the man.

“In this place where we keep people who are angry with their fathers, there are many.”

“I hate my father the most. I must be the only one here,” comes the reply.

“And I know why.” “He was too busy with his work.”

“But your mother…”

The man interrupts. “My mother never made him understand. They forced marriage on me and all I wanted was to be famous like my father.” The man continues. “I did everything. He never encouraged me. He would talk to me about spirituality and things like that each evening. That was it. And he smiled all the time. He never felt my pain.”

“Oh, this anger business,” shrugs the Goddess. “How many people will it ruin? A choice, my friend, a choice, your choice.”

The man continues to walk as he has always done. 

“And I know you changed religions and started drinking too. Would this have made you famous?”, asks Hope. She feels the man’s pain and wonders how to resolve this dilemma. A man who is dead but stuck in this compartment. She has had many here before but unlike this one.

“But you are famous,” she adds. “You are famous for being Gandhi’s son. Everyone knows you now.”

“Yes I know,” the man replies. And continues walking as he has done. But she is smiling for some reason and looks as if she is waiting for something. They continue walking like this. And New Gandhi’s son continues to ignore her. Her ankle bells make a nice sound and break up the silence.

After some thirty minutes, there is thunder, lightning, and red petals from the sky.

“Well,” the Goddess breaks the silence, “Have you seen this new person here?”

“Who?”, asks the man.

“Someone who hates their father more than you.” She points to a slouched figure.

“Who is that?”, the man asks.

“Don’t you know?” 

“No I don’t,” replies the man.

“Well, that is someone like Michael Jackson.”

“What!”, the man exclaims and stops. This is the first time he has stopped walking in twenty years.

New Gandhi….I see you

You see me

Someone who looks like Mahatma Gandhi you think

Yes I was a freedom fighter

The word fighter is inappropriate

I note that you like my red water pitcher

And my marches under the hot Indian orange sun

I am not a Mahatma….  a prophet

You are listening to my quiet voice and my Indian English

And you know my yellow history from days in green Porbandar, across the light blue seas to South Africa, my indigo blue listening

Then giving up my navy blue suit to my pink India 

To hunger strikes and perhaps a golden period

And some purple thoughts.

I like my white simple clothing. But I am a man who still needs to get up each morning, brush his teeth, come to terms with disappointments and do something during the day. The ducks near my Hawkesbury river hideout in Australia continue to fight over territory.

White despair? Not really. As I have aged I have learned to accept the ways of the world and be at peace. Often change is just a reaction to events. Happiness, passion, and inertia. These three rule the world. Mastery is being beyond these. It’s like the seven standard plots of any story. I don’t know about you but I like to feel beyond these normalities and abnormalities.

Today is the 14th of August. I was pleased to hear the headline on the news today that the first people have built a house on the new planet like Earth discovered some years ago.

I note you looking at my spectacles. Round and black and in these I hope you are seeing sparkling reflections of the Hawkesbury River. Do you know what time it is? The river moods are many. If I get up early, which I don’t often, I enjoy the unique serenity of the water. It is tidal so I also enjoy the crabs making patterns in the mud at low tide. This reminds me of my Salt March. When we reached the golden sands of the beach it was low tide and I remember well the wrinkles, cares, and secrets of the sea. I cannot remember whether my wife was with me. I do miss her golden touch on my forehead. Was it this touch that gave me many purple ideas? In those days we got up before dawn as there was so much to do. As you know I just had water for breakfast and carried almonds, lemon juice, olive oil, and grapes. I think you call it fast food these days. I had stopped drinking milk too. Only for ease. When I married my wife she was very young and through her life, she followed her golden duty and supported me quietly. When we met she had much pink light on her face which wore off gently in time. We all have that and towards the end do our character lines become navy blue? We gave each other support to grow mentally and spiritually. I think that is what matters and I worry for the world in that all role models today seem to sell sensual pleasures and material success. 

single red, free orange, free yellow,
green depth as clear as crystal, all attractive light blue,
strong indigo blue, strong navy blue, pink wishes, gold compassion,
compassionate purple, gold of golds, of creativity

red zeal

orange zebra

yellow zamindar

green zanzibar

light blue zambesi

indigo blue zealot

navy blue zanana

pink zinc

gold z score

purple z-axis

zany gold

white zap

I have listened to many spiritual orators. I find that truth is so simple but some of these talks can take days. Folk are influenced by different energies and hence this drip approach to imparting knowledge. What is knowledge I ask you? Is it just facts or is it a knowing?

In this modern world, we are blasted with information. There is so much art in different formats talking to us. And films. But I ask you, are you happy? If yes, are you permanently happy?

I used to read novels but after a while find these repetitive. I try to read my breaths when I can.

And what would you like me to say about Advertising, Ayurveda, Anti-depressants, America, Assassination, Competition, Creativity, Death, Democracy, Dickens, Economics, Ego, Education, Emotion, Empathy, Faith, Happy endings in films, Gandhi family then and now, Culture of highly developed nations, Luxury, Mothers of Terrorists, Murder, Money, Politics, Power, Religion, Rape, Terrorists, Two-party governance, Treatment of Women, War, Winning, and Yoga? 

I could say a lot but I choose to say nothing as no doubt you have your views on all this. We are both right or we are both wrong. Everything is debatable. Yet there is one truth.

I have been in this little room on the river for two years now. It is in a marina. The freeway is not far and the sound of traffic on Monday morning is bad. And there are weekly police sirens. I think of the people driving these cars and what they may be like. Some commute up and down daily which is probably on average fifteen hours a week and adds up to many days during a year.   

And then there are the boats on the river. Quite expensive ones I am told. I also like the Dangar Island ferry which is old and majestic. The sound of water lapping as you know is soothing. This is the new Kashmir. The new Riviera. Perhaps. The old pub is filled with good hearty people and everyone smiles and laughs. I am not going to tell you what I eat as I will leave you to work that out. I do not, however, catch the mullet jumping out of the river on stormy nights. I am told they do this as they are scared. What do we humans do when we are scared? Well as you know I just marched or fasted.

I don’t have a loud voice but I think the world heard my pleas on injustice. Or was it just destiny. Has my life been successful? I ask you and I don’t think about it. But each day needs to be complete for me. How old am I? How long will I live? Ponder, ponder while I continue if I may.

white stillness, pure gold, purple wonder, gold strength, pink joy,
pink infinity, navy blue now, strong indigo blue, light blue fountain,
the green first reason, endless yellow, compassionate orange,
royal red

abrupt red

absent orange

absolute yellow

abstract green

absurd light blue

abundant indigo blue

abusive navy blue

abysmal pink

academic gold

accidental purple

gold acclaim

white accolade

I often hear the hymns my grandmother sang in our house in Porbandar. We had very steep staircases and had to climb up and down using ropes. Grandmother was strict with stringent rules on hygiene. She had her own kitchen. She spent most of her day in the prayer room where she dressed a baby Idol, fed him, put him to sleep. And with different songs for each activity. The songs are composed by eight special poets and sung to distinct raagas. I sometimes sing which pierces the indigo blue creamy silence here by the river. Very occasionally I may even listen to Bollywood music. I particularly like lyrics by Gulzar. He is a Hindu but has chosen a Muslim writing name. 

And what does the colour light blue mean to me? Raindrops of India. Here the rain seems grey and it does get cold. The orange bar heater keeps me going.

Let me recite verse 46 from Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore.I know not from what distant time thou art ever coming nearer to meet me. The sun and stars can never keep thee hidden from me for aye. 

In many mornings and evenings, thy footsteps have been heard and thy messenger has come within my heart and called me in secret.

I know not why today my life is all astir, and a feeling of tremulous joy is passing through my heart.

It is as if the time has come to wind up my work, and I feel in the air a faint smell of thy sweet presence.

Rereading this encourages light blue in my life. As you know it is a cool colour and makes my words and diction clearer. I also enjoy the bright sunny days here with that crisp Australian light blue sky.

Now If you don’t mind I think I will lie down for a moment. I will put on Ave Maria for you and you can read another verse from my favourite book. Excuse me.

Gitanjali Verse 11. Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads! Whom dost thou worship in this lonely dark corner of a temple with doors all shut? Open thine eyes and see thy God is not before thee!

He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground and where the pathmaker is breaking stones. He is with them in the sun and in shower, and his garment is covered with dust. Put off thy holy mantle and even like him come down on the dusty soil!

Deliverance? Where is this deliverance to be found? Our master himself has joyfully taken upon him the bonds of creation; he is bound with us all forever.

Come out of thy meditations and leave aside thy flowers and incense! What harm is there if thy clothes become tattered and stained? Meet him and stand by him in toil and in the sweat of thy brow.

red orange yellow

green light blue indigo blue

navy blue pink

gold purple

gold white

I am calm and more relaxed now. So let’s keep talking. Not that I am much of a talker. I do prefer silence and listening to the sounds around me. I don’t feel alone as various water sounds surround me. The river flows below my house. I do however find the flies irritating in the summer and while I am a nonviolent person I just have to spray them.

red email

eager orange yellow eagle

green ear

light blue earring

indigo blue earl

navy blue earlobe

early pink

gold earphone

purple earth

gold earthenware

white earthling

The other day I visited Mangrove Mountain which is so tranquil close to urban areas. But in the heat, the flies make it hard. I was visiting a dear retired farmer and his wife who once grew avocados. And it makes me sad that they are surrounded by greedy neighbours. They are giving kind friends and they love India. They have a small wooden house set in lush greenery. A large bay leaf tree sways above their entrance and rich green tall bamboo frame the edge of their garden. And there are some quite mystical bushes with again unusual and mystical large yellow flowers.

They have no children but love each other. Which makes me think of my wife and love. 

As I said, mine was an arranged marriage and my wife was very young. Our stars were carefully matched and our lives were of much change. One of my sons was a problem child and I had so much to do. Initially, I was very interested in sex but as time passed I touched the white lotus in my wife’s heart, and she mine. She died before me and I do miss her. I miss her sense of order, discipline, and simple reciting of old songs and hymns. Many have claimed that she was solemn. I think she calculated I was different when I made her clean a toilet which is the work of untouchables. And one image remains with me. She and I sat on a park bench early one morning listening to the sea. Even now when I hear the water lapping under my house I think of my wife. It means she is with me always. I also fondly remember the red rose garland she wore when we married. Love has many faces. The Taj Mahal, the stories here by the river and elderly people in nursing homes who have been loved. Single people also experience love.

I do get a lot of rest looking at trees and flowers. The green settles me down. Perhaps in the future, we shall all move to another planet. A process not to fear. Death, however, is fated for all of us. I am also fond of Japanese flower arrangements. These seem to have another dimension. Shall we call it the Peace dimension?

When I worked so hard in India there was little time for reflection. I hope I did the right thing in the world. My protests did unite the country as we had a common aim to get the occupiers out. I was never in two minds about that and was not scared to be killed or imprisoned. As I said earlier I think I was responding to the times. If I had not been there someone else may have stepped into my shoes. The timing was right. Also, I was younger. If history would repeat, I would still do as I did. It is inbuilt in me. One has to have the courage to change things but as you know I believe in non-violence. We had the numbers and I think this is important. Near here where I live there is a single man. He is very hardworking and of age. I think it requires courage to live like this in a testosterone-driven culture. But I see him give 110% to everything with smiles. This man will prosper. What do you think?

I walk every day, I do my yoga and other exercises. I try to give 110% to my everyday existence. And there is a passion. To know me more, to learn of the workings of this world, and to give. I do feel alone at times. This is my battle. To remember that I am surrounded by many ants working for their queen, about three hundred homeless people living in caves in the hills around me, fish and crabs searching for food, the ducks searching for food and other humans searching for happiness- be it in sport, cars, boats, travel, art, theatre, achievement, possessions, and children. 

Let’s read verse 62 from Gitanjali. When I bring to you coloured toys, my child, I understand why there is such a play of colours on clouds, on water, and why flowers are painted in tints---when I give coloured toys to you, my child.

When I sing to make you dance I truly know why there is music in leaves, and why waves send their chorus of voices to the heart of the listening earth---when I sing to make you dance.

When I bring sweet things to your greedy hands I know why there is honey in the cup of the flowers and why fruits are secretly filled with sweet juice---when I bring sweet things to your greedy hands. When I kiss your face to make you smile, my darling, I surely understand what pleasure streams from the sky in morning light, and what delight that is which the summer breeze brings to my body---when I kiss you to make you smile.

And my children? I have talked a lot with my wife. My father was a kind man and as a gift, he painted peacocks on the wall of my bedroom in Porbandar. My mother was a dutiful pious subservient Indian woman. My brothers and sisters have not stayed in my memory except I can say we were brought up with religion and temple bells around us. My father was transferred to Rajkot in Gujarat where I did my high school. We had a traditional terrace house in the old section of town. You probably know that in a traditional Gujarati house the courtyard is the centre of activity. All rooms, bathrooms, and kitchen lead off this courtyard. As the weather is fairly predictable the courtyard is used for almost everything including drying papadums and mangoes for pickles. Most of the rooms have low ceilings and beautiful wooden doors. I had four children. The first was born to us when I was fifteen and my wife sixteen. We were living in a joint family so the children brought themselves up by magic. As you know I also studied in England while my wife remained in India. I think I learned the meaning of children much later in life when our eldest as I said was beset with problems. He was a good boy but went off in tangents. He tried various endeavours and failed in everything. At one time we got him married but even his wife, in the end, could not cope with the unstable life. This was happening at the time when the world thought I was making my greatest achievements. His issues never really interfered in my work but having spent most of the day in negotiations with the British and my colleagues I had to have a clear and compassionate mind to handle him. My wife loved the boy and somehow I had the presence to handle him and the political issues at the same time. It happens I hear you say. My son even changed religions and in the end, was found dead in a street and there were signs of alcohol. God bless him. I also want to wish blessings to his dear wife who suffered much.

As you know during Satyagraha- my freedom protests, I had many friends and colleagues. I was just doing my duty. An average man. I fondly remember singing hymns. 

I wonder what impression I am leaving with you. A sad man? A man waiting for death? A man who is hiding? A man who is impatient? All I will say to you is whatever impression you have of me is wrong. There may be another story.

And I can’t leave you without talking about the hunger strikes, the partition and my experiences in England. When I was studying, England was very pleasant. Not that the weather was forgiving but I met some good people through the Vegetarian society. I know the occupiers ruled my country but I did not let that harden my heart. Also, I was young and enjoyed the adventure. I did find the English loyal as friends. In my later years when I was in politics as you know, I was invited to England, and this time I went as a man in a loincloth and not as a pseudo-Englishman. The loincloth was the authentic me and the suit was better for colder climates. I also remember how impressed I was with the manners of the English Royal family. Calm and caring. And yes I know you may say that they could afford it and they were at the peak of their civilization.

I love the Red Earth of Australia now.

When we first started talking I had mentioned how the ducks still fight over territory near my Hawkesbury river hideout. And I accept that.

The tide is in and I watch the ripples of the waves coming in gently, non violently and softly taking over the feeding holes of the crabs. Tiny fish swim fearlessly at the front of the waves and fishermen get ready with their lines. This I accept too.

Where is India now? Is it more religious, peaceful, cleaner, happier, and forgiving? 

To my future. No matter where we are in life we have to work in some way. I pray for the world every day. I am comfortable in every other way. I sometimes am irked by suppositions for my life. I did not choose to be a public figure. But human nature being what it is I forgive this.

I am also moved when my neighbour breaks into tears talking of his wife who died of cancer.

The answer to everything lies with the one who makes the ripples on the river. I think. Do you agree? As you can see I continue to smile at the ducks chasing each other outside my Hawkesbury river hideout. 

fab red

orange fable

yellow fabric

green fabricant

light blue façade

indigo blue face

navy blue facelift

pink face mask

gold face powder

purple face value

gold facility

white facsimile

Young New Monet….My father is so funny. Today I took all my clothes off and for the whole day played in the garden. Our neighbours kept asking me to put my clothes on. Not once though did my father look up from his easel. At dinner, he checked whether I had been happy today. I have two other siblings and at dinner time we have to clear canvasses, paint boxes, oils, and other objects from the table so that we can sit down. We just push these off the table to the floor. Our mother continues to sing while she cooks. She works as an opera singer. I sketch too. I am ten and we live in this village in France. The scenery of vineyards and lavender surrounds us. It is my job to run to the bakery every morning to buy brioche and bread for the day. I like drinking milk in the morning. It is our holidays so we then go to the town square and play with our friends. Today though I missed that as all three of us decided to be naked for the day.

White gold

Purple gold

Pink Navy blue

Indigo blue light

Blue

Green yellow

Orange red

2. Touch Someone asks Orange

I am in a two bedroomed apartment. My housekeeper is from Trinidad and currently, I am having an affair of sorts with an American. I was married to an Indian man before. Central Park is an easy walk. I love the natural art there. 

And I am sad. I don’t seem to enjoy anything at present. You know how it is. I have pushed all the boundaries in my life and still, there is an emptiness.

My writing table as you can see is small and the décor in the flat on the grey side. I have little Indian artwork on the walls. I love my collection of ‘Ladies and Gentlemen’ by Andy Warhol. These are portraits of intersex people he photographed in a bar. I am also working on a new Vegetarian Cookbook so let’s share this journey. May I point out that being New York you will hear many sirens even at this height. You will get used to these.

I think the first point for life, for me, is ‘Being grateful’. I like that feeling of positivity when I think of the term. The second must be a quiet time of twenty minutes in the morning. Some may call it meditation. I do find that in my saddest moments this brings me joy. In my happy moments, it settles me down and gives me many new ideas. As I am thinking about this I would also like to start composing my book. The book is titled ‘What I would serve?’ and the first recipe is ‘What I would serve an Idol’. It has to be red. I think it will be a Beetroot curry sprinkled with pomegranate seeds.

Oil is hot in the flat pan

The cumin seeds I add, crackle and start dancing 

I could add chopped onions but don’t this time

I add the drained tinned beetroot

Of course, you can use freshly boiled beetroot if you have the time

Sprinkle some salt, turmeric and a little red pepper

And taste. Adjusting as needed

A couple of teaspoons of sugar and taste

Adjusting as needed

When all hot, dish is ready

Sprinkle coriander powder and mix

Off the stove and garnish with coriander leaves

Do you also have fresh pomegranate seeds?

Add these to the garnish.

white gold purple

gold pink navy blue

Indigo Blue 

Light Blue 

Green 

Yellow 

Orange 

  Red

Young New Leonardo da Vinci….Hi! Sorry I can only talk a little at a time as I am reading. We have so many books in our house and my father teased me to see if I can read all the books. So I am trying to do that. My father is so kind and he is always opening books to show me pictures. I always sit in his lap. We live in Bedford, NY, in a big house. We have horses and many pets. 

white gold purple

gold pink navy blue

Indigo Blue Light Blue Green Yellow Orange Red

red 

orange 

yellow 

green

light blue

indigo blue

navy blue

pink

gold

purple

gold 

white

I am the baby of the family. My sister is much older and is studying in Boston. My mother is a doctor so sometimes she takes me to her clinic and she doesn't mind if I touch anything. We have a large swimming pool but I like to read a lot. I also bring things from Mum’s clinic and collect flowers from our garden to put into little test tubes. We also often go to New York. My father does something in the theatre. He takes me to see a lot of shows which I like. We also walk in Central Park. In our flat, I have a small table covered with small branches I have collected in Central Park. Both my father and mother like music so sometimes after meals my father puts on a lot of records and the three of us dance and laugh. When my sister is home for holidays she takes me to parties. And she also likes riding horses and takes me along. All my friends say that my father is very rich but he likes to drive a station wagon. We also have a guest house with many books. We often have visitors staying for long periods in the house. They seem to be so busy writing I think. But at night we all eat together. One of them drew a nice picture of me and put the words ‘with love’ on it. He was such a nice man with a beard. We have never had any children staying in the guest house and my father says I can bring anyone at any time to do anything. Sometimes I make a lot of noise but no one says anything.

We also have a log cabin in the mountains. I like to go there when there is snow and my father cuddles me near the big fire.

Young New IT Billionaire….We live in Griffin, Georgia, USA. My mother makes fried chicken and red beans every day. We live in a wooden house with a large garden. I have no brothers or sisters. My father is a car mechanic and lets me help him which I enjoy. He likes to wear blue overalls. My mum likes to wear an apron. I go to the local school and every morning we have to sing an American song. I find it hard to understand.

Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thru the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

When I am at home I also wear overalls. My father has also bought me a computer. My mother has put some pictures of Africa in my bedroom. My father also built me a matchstick windmill which I love. I am so lucky. 

My best friend likes to sing and dance. His father is also a mechanic. My friend likes to come to our place a lot because his father does not like him to sing and dance. My friend does not like cars or computers. His mother also likes to play cards so is not at home often. My father has bought a harmonica for my friend. My mother bought him a paint box for his birthday. He has to keep his presents at our place. For the last Thanksgiving, he painted a picture for me.

red orange

yellow green

light blue indigo blue

navy blue

pink 

gold purple

gold white

Both my friend and I have pet dogs and we like to take them into the forest and look at the birds there.

My father says that we should also help our mothers. 

On Sundays, we go to Church. In the afternoon my father likes to sit on our porch and he repairs televisions. Sometimes we go to Atlanta for the football games. Everyone thinks my mother is silly because she smiles a lot. But I like it.

New Cook….I am a Hindu as you would have guessed. But feel a citizen of the world and religionless. And am short of money. When I divorced I had a reasonable settlement that has almost gone doing this or that. Writing and acting have challenges and as you know for every successful artist there are numerous struggling ones. 

My third point for life would be to ‘Believe in Miracles’. I think if you are looking they do come about. My fourth point is ‘Have no expectations of anyone’. ‘Make no assumptions’ has to be next. We tend to generally think of negatives when considering anything- try and turn it around.

red peace, orange truth, dedicated to yellow, 

deep green in greens, light blue care,  

indigo blue knowledge, infinite navy blue, 

the gold reach of all pink, purple and 

golden constant winner, white is 

the sun with penetrating vision  

New Idol….Let me ask you, what is the value of a crown when it is not on anyone’s head? What is your answer? It depends on the viewer I hear you think. It could be worthless to some and it could be valuable to others. If valuable, where does the value come from I ask you? From the touch of the head?

What if I ask what the value of your body is? What if I said it has been in touch with a royal, a prophet, or a god. How do you feel?

Who is he to ask all these questions?, I hear you think. How do you feel? I can choose to be anything. There have been many before me and there will be many after me. And why do I choose to speak with you? To prove my existence? To prove my love? To prove anything? I will let you decide that yourself.

Where am I now you may ask me? I will also let you decide that yourself.

There has been a lot written about me. There is a lot written on how to live your life. 

I love Indian crème Fraiche. I like fruit. I like nuts. I like cows. I like milk. I like you too. I like music. Music is a kind of Yoga. In Indian music, the sounds of the Tanpura begins everything. The sound is the sound of the earth. Then other instruments blend in with this. Today’s music is good too. But does it remain?

I like chapattis, I like hot butter, I like buttermilk, I like fresh green vegetables, I like herbs, I like the piano, I like singing, I like jewellery, I like colour, I like softness, I like poetry, I like delicate kind words. Am I carrying on about this? I apologise if I am but feel I can. 

As I said I like you. And I like silence. However, if I go quiet now then this conversation ends. I would like to share a few things so silence may not work now. 

Do you hear the voice from afar, melodious don’t you think. Let me sing with it.

White is your crown

with white diamonds White is your paper crown in the poor man’s hut

White is the mist around it

White is the air,

when I sing this.

I close my eyes. 

White is the crown I see

White is the sparkle 

White is the rest

And White is your crown in my mind.

Do you like this? I think it is beautiful. The accompanying flute adds to the sense of delight don’t you think?

I may be coming over as cheeky but I have decided to talk here as I feel I need to. The first subject I want to bring to your attention is the four noble truths in Buddhism. You may know these, however, let me speak about these,

1. Noble Truth of Suffering,

2. Noble Truth of the Accumulation of Suffering, 

3. Noble Truth of the Elimination of Suffering,

4. Noble Truth of the Path that Leads away from Suffering. 

I don’t like the word suffering. It creates such a negative image and everyone feels they need to run. Could I replace suffering with ‘Missing contentment’. You may have another word. Perhaps inner disharmony. Suffering evokes thoughts of should and that, as you know is a word I don’t like. The singer has started again. Can you hear?

Gold is the pin in your hair

Gold is the imagination of your lover

Be it gold or stone

Gold is the style of your hair

Elegant is the way the gold pin sits on your hair.

Let me now talk of the eightfold path in Buddhism,

1. Right View,

2. Right Intention,

3. Right Speech, 

4. Right Action,

5. Right Livelihood,

6. Right Effort,

7. Right Mindfulness. 

8. Right Concentration.

Wonderful values, wonderful aspirations. However, do you feel a strain on achieving these? Do you sense pressure on yourself? This is not intended. In a way, these are goals for you to get to and when you reach these you will hardly notice. So should this journey be taken walking, running, sleeping, meditating, singing, or dancing?

Again I will let you decide this.

The voice from afar is light blue and with many instruments joining it.

Purple is your clarity Purple is the head ornament decorating the edge of the hairline on your forehead

Golden are your eyes

Pink is the background to your home, pink is what you wear today

Are you navy blue or black?

Indigo blue are the songs around you, 

and in the feather in your head

Is the light blue sky whispering something to me?

I listen and admire the small green touches in your yellow and orange smiling flower garland 

Offerings sit on a table covered in a red cloth

below which sings a poet holding a Tanpura.

I am noting that your eyes are shut like mine- in the blissfulness of that song. While you are sitting with such ease may I also give you a 

summary. What is this summary about? You decide.

Real me 

Entity below Nature

What after Death

Forces of Evolution

A summary of a Summary 

Who am I

Everyday me

Selfless Service

Have no selfish attachments 

The War within us 

How Faith works 

Offer all to me

Nurturing Devotion

Good and Evil

Matter and Spirit 

Meditation

How Actions are born 

Work and Perfection

I urge you to gaze at a tree and wonder how it combats gravity so elegantly, grows and gives pleasure, its branches stretched upward like arms.

I also note you are thinking of the Ant nebula, the hour-glass nebula, Venus, Mercury, Jupiter, Saturn, and how to tell the future. I also hope you are continuing to enjoy the light blue voice from afar.

Purple is your clarity

Purple is the head ornament decorating

the edge of the hairline on your forehead

Golden are your eyes

Pink is the background to your shrine, pink is what you wear today

Are you navy blue or black?

Indigo blue are the songs around you, 

and in the feather in your head

Is the light blue sky whispering something to me?

I listen and admire the small green touches in your yellow and orange smiling flower garland 

Offerings sit on a table covered in a red cloth

below which sings a poet holding a Tanpura. I smile today as the first people have built a house on the new planet like Earth discovered some years ago. Man has so much more to discover. Today is the 14th of August.

I know you have many questions and many answers but as I said I like silence. Some try to know me, some try to understand me, some analyse me and some just enjoy me. Let me leave you with that thought. I leave you now with love reminding you that I am always around in one way or the other especially when there is despair. I am also in raagas, Poetry, and Dance. Rumi has created a special dance. Try it.

red naan

orange nachos

yellow nail-bed

green nadir

light blue nail polish

naïve indigo blue

navy blue natural gas

pink naturist

gold navel

purple nazareth

nearby gold

white neck

    red déjà vu 

        orange dejeuner

yellow d'oyly carte

green dabble

light blue dabbler

indigo blue dachau navy blue dacoit

pink dad

gold daffodil

daft purple gold dagger daily white

3. Yellow does not eat Potatoes

“I have to visit the gods,” advises Hope. “You should all follow me.”

The few of us who are left continue our journey.

We come to a high hill. We can see it will be a long climb. We see flags on the top of the hill. Hope flies up there and then returns to us. We know that she can snap her fingers and carry us up on air. We wait. She does not make any moves. She begins to climb the red steps. And we follow. I understand. She wants us to climb for some reason.

We feel a waterfall. The water is so clear. Hope motions for us to sit down. There are large orange flowers in the vicinity. Like Birds of Paradise. We drink the water and listen to the OM like sound. 

We carry on. We come to a group of huts. All the roofs are yellow for some reason. Many children sit in the porches. Their faces are bright and cheerful. They are playing a game with cowrie shells.

Other children are playing computer games, bridge and chess.

“Watch their innocence,” advises Hope. “Watch however the birth of competition. You see that other group of children in the background, who are dancing and painting? That is the birth of creativity.” 

When the children see us, they stop and come up to us. Some bow to us in the Indian way and some shake our hands in a western way. 

“Occupation of the mind is so important,” says Hope. “Here you see future businessmen, future Matisses, and Picassos. Journeys are difficult. Life has 2 good parts and 2 bad parts. And everyone’s sequence is different.” Hope beckons for us to follow more. We walk through a beautiful forest filled with many exotic birds. The sounds are intoxicating. The air is damp and rich and the beautiful scent is overpowering. One of our party sees a leech attaching itself to their leg. The leech is pulled off.

Hope laughs. “A Leech. Do you wonder what purpose it has in life? Sucking blood and being a nuisance maybe.” “How many humans are like this?” “And here in this beautiful forest, you see the beauty but do you see what lies beneath. Leeches, devouring creatures and seeds all with a purpose.”

Hope laughs her bellowing laugh. We are now used to it. We know that she is attempting to keep us awake and alert. I do not want to miss anything. I am honoured to be here.

We walk further up the hill and we come to some light blue caves. There is singing here. “Musicians practising,” says Hope. “ For one concert, they may practise thousands of hours. You all admire celebrities. But do you realise how much effort goes into it? These are the caves of perfecting perfection.”

Further up the hill, there is a large area with indigo blue seats all occupied by people. 

“And what is an artist without an audience? We need the audiences too.”

We are closer to the top of the hill. In the rocks nearby there are many carved notes and initials.

‘ I Mona Lisa, was here’.

‘I Princess Diana was here’.

‘ I Mahatma Gandhi was here’.

‘I Leonardo Da Vinci was here’.

‘I a Billionaire was here’.

‘ I John was here’.

‘ I Jesus was here’.

‘ I Buddha was here’.

‘ I Mother Teresa was here’.

‘Radha loves Krishna’.

‘Jack loves Jill’.

‘Adam loves Eve’.

‘Romeo loves Juliet’.

There are many other inscriptions on the rocks. I have only mentioned the main ones but it seems everyone has been here. Hope encourages all of us to leave inscriptions. 

We arrive at the top of the hill.

There are hundreds of beautiful buildings. Hope says that we can do our own thing up here. I wander around. I am touched by a Navy Blue Building with a flag that says ‘Beauty’ on it. There is a sign outside which says- ‘To increase appreciation of beauty enter here’.

A Pink building has a flag which says- ‘Strength’. And there is a sign which says ‘To increase both physical and mental strength enter here’.

Other buildings have flags which say– ‘Gold’, ‘Purple’, ‘Golden’, ‘White’.

I wonder where we are? This is the most amazing place and we know it is on earth as I recognise it. Why has no-one heard of this? Everyone should visit.

I also found a rose petal in my hair. Is this some kind of sign? 

New Leonardo da Vinci….Female. Like Leonardo da Vinci, perhaps? Curious? Restless? And where am I? In Lamu, Kenya. 

Long story. Designed aircraft, dissected human beings, have been exiled but not now, paint. And why here? Old, contented and feel can be of help. Never married, peaceful, writer, poet, have been in business, acted. Lucky? Happy?

Well travelled. I am from Bedford, NY. I was teaching at Harvard when I came to Lamu for a holiday. And never went back. Now teach children at the local school. Live in a top story of an Arabic style whitewashed house. Bougainvillea decorates the terrace. As you see, have a few Arab carved chairs, a table, and a bed. And what does Lamu offer you may ask? A sane pace with culture. Not allowed to wear revealing clothes in the street. Love the early morning calls to the mosque. Do you like my carved Lamu door? Am I running away from something? No. I'm just exploring. Voted the world businesswoman of the year three times and I won’t talk of the Nobel prize.

Some days I rent a dhow and go to the numerous deserted beaches. The boatmen sing Swahili songs all the way, catch fish and barbecue them in Swahili style for lunch. The Indian ocean is my pal and there is a sparkle in its language. It’s hot and it’s safe. In Lamu town, there are no cars and the airport is a strip on another island with a coconut thatched hut to wait in. Stanley and Livingstone started at Petley’s Inn on the front. Now there is a bar there which shuts at 9 pm. There are no other bars in town. There is a restaurant on the beach. The floor is sand and the food is golden. Lots of seafood of course. I sometimes go to Malindi and stay at the wonderful Chez Sale or Driftwood Beach Club. The former has rooms in coconut thatch bandas and the lobster cooked on the open fire is timeless. The beach club is a tented camp right on the beach. The roads to Lamu from anywhere are impossible. So flying is the only option. 

red r & d

orange resume

yellow rice

green result

light blue road

indigo blue regret

navy blue rose pink recital gold repetition

purple rosary

gold rain

white rush

The former head of the Flying Doctor Service has a house next to the Peponi hotel, a short dhow ride away. The red rich Hibiscus is everywhere. In every nook and cranny. And what is the economy? I will let you find that out yourself.

Apart from all the usual places I also lived in Palma de Mallorca. I can still hear the tinkle of Chopin’s piano in Valldemossa- Chopin spent some time there. I loved sitting in the main square in Palma enjoying the orange warmth and tapas next to the fountain. 

But I prefer it here. I like the simplicity. The children at the school are so poor and so eager. In their clean yellow uniforms, they follow my every word. I get invited to their restful Swahili homes on festivals and the parents sit solemnly while I have to think of ways to soothe them. I usually sing the Swahili song Malaika. I also play my flute for them. 

I do not have a servant which I could. I choose not to. 

                                                                                 red pate

orange pa-system

yellow pacemaker

green pacesetter

light blue pacific

indigo blue pack

navy blue packet

pink pact

gold pad purple paddock

gold padlock

white padre

In a way, I share my thoughts with you so that I can share my joy with you. I am frail now but that does not stop me. And why all this interest in food you may ask– I think this happens when one gets older. And why am I teaching? As I said I am getting older now and while the mind is willing the body fails so I look for talent in the class and nourish it. That way the world can go forward. I have also sent a few of the local kids to universities overseas and I keep a book of my ideas that may be developed in the future. I sense that hint of arrogance in my last words. All I am is a receptacle that receives ideas and I feel that I should develop these if I can or someone else can. The next territory is Space. I wonder if we will develop wings? Did I also tell you that I ran a Hedge Fund for many years and have about $60 billion in trust to advance education and invention which is my first love. Here at the school, I want to bring as much as I can. Is my intuition telling me that the next Leonardo da Vinci is here in Lamu? And have I ever been married? No. Just no time. Loves. Yes. Even here I am in love with nature, the swaying green palms, and the fresh coconut water. Sorry for talking about food again. I have to laugh. And of course, you are wondering if I am a lesbian? I state that I am not.

red babe

orange baby

yellow bachelor

green back-and-forth

light blue back burner

indigo blue back dive navy blue back office

pink back order

gold back seat

purple backbench

gold backbite

white backbone

And I am wondering about what to give you? I have given you Anatomy, Physiology, Aetiology, Embryology, notes on Digestion, Metabolism, Genetics, and investigations into Immunity. I was pleased to hear the headline on the news today that the first people have built a house on the new planet like Earth discovered some years ago. Today is the 14th of August.

And I know everyone likes the financial markets so this is what I will share with you. I feel it may be of help. Economists will have you believe in efficient markets. I, however, state that the markets are a reaction or a tool of lust and greed. What really moves markets is price and volume. Very simple. The other most important element is the Elliott Wave theory which charts expansion and contraction. 

If I was designing a Kikoyi the saying on it would be ‘Sad? Just give more’ or ‘Elliott Wave may be King’. What’s a Kikoyi? 

             red yellow labrador

green labyrinth

light blue lace

indigo blue lackey

navy blue laconic

pink lacquer

gold la bayadere

purple lad gold ladakh

white ladder

A dry area I know so let me point to the daily light blue African sky, the daily navy blue mood here in the evening, and the joy of Nature’s balm. I sometimes go to the Beach Restaurant and sit among the wooden pots and carvings of African animals. The code is not to be in awe if one sees someone famous. You inevitably do but Lamu kind of demands an easy outlook. No pressure- just calm. I also love the markets where pink beads sit with gold boiled corn on Hessian sacks. The purple of the Kikoyis and the golden manners of the people also sit brightly together in this all-white village. 

I am still wondering whether I have given you enough? Maybe I have but I do urge you to consider the Elliott Wave. I will consider the sunset and will play West Side Story just for a while.

white and gold, prevailing purple, 

efficient purple, purple origin, purple form,
gold and permanent pink,

 navy blue belief, indigo blue blue, 

dense green, yellow, orange, red friend, red

I also told you I painted a lot. Have I left any codes in my work to challenge any established structures you may ask? The answer is No. I have always received love, have tried to give love, and create love which I think are prerequisites for Beauty, Excellence, and Truth.

Thoughts. Here in Lamu, the whitewashed houses sit elegantly and I tick off ‘Must tell the world of Elliott wave’ in my notebook.

red kabul

orange kaduna

yellow kaffir-lime

green kafka

light blue kaftan

indigo blue kalahari

navy blue kalamazoo

pink kaleidoscope

gold kalgoorlie

purple Hopedasa

gold Hope 

white kamasutra

New Cook….Orange is the colour of relationships. When you are creative it is a challenge for someone close to you. My American boyfriend loved all that I did. Why did Buddha leave his wife and son? Was his action kind? Was his action cruel? 

My journey is painful. But I have had a good time and I feel I have tried to do the right thing. Like Sita did when she was divorced by Rama based on royal protocol. She had been loyal but was abducted by a demon and rescued by husband Rama. While Rama trusted her, the Court would not permit such tainting even if based on gossip. And he had to act.

I was hurt for a while thinking why I was part of this American boyfriend equation. Karma. Deep down I feel that I am losing interest in these material attachments – still thinking. And don’t be sad for me. Life is a journey of many lefts and rights until the way becomes convincingly clear. There are no rules, regulations, or laws in my world so I have to salvage the best I can from everything. My previous partner of 22 years did a runner- a letter and no contact afterwards.

What will be our orange dish I wonder? To be served to someone like Princess Diana? I have a feeling she may like sweets so this is an orange, soft, homemade Turkish delight. And I know you will agree.

You need, 1 cup cornflour,

3 cups raw sugar,

3 cups water,

1 cup unsalted butter,

Almond flakes, Nutmeg, Lemon juice,

Orange colour.

The method

Put on some music

Mix the cornflour, sugar, food colour, and water. Remove all lumps. Let the mixture soak for a while.

The taps of your spoon in the dish will join the music I am sure

Melt the butter on high heat. Add the cornflour mixture and stir vigorously for a while. And heat on high. Once the mixture takes a shiny jam-like look, reduce heat and stir a few times. Add almonds, three drops of lemon juice and nutmeg

We are aiming for a soft jelly, not a hard one

Enjoy. Dear someone like Princess Diana.

        red glory, orange beauty,

yellow, of green and light blue evenings,

 handsome indigo blue, intelligent navy blue, pink of pinks, of gold golds,

 purple purple,
gold friend, openness, formless

New Monet….A soft song plays in my earphones. A happy mood rises in my heart. I am so happy. When the music ends, what next? Will I be bored again or sad? When one has created so much beauty, felt so much beauty, been part of so many beautiful events, one looks for the next high. Yes. I want to be high with joy all the time. Is one trapped by one’s body? All I want to do is soar like a bird, rise like a spirit.

Meanwhile, I listen to this superb melody and my whole being is swaying like green palms at the edge of the beach.

I live on St Tropez beach and the season has ended. The shops are closing and it is such a wonderful time of the year. I walk along the beach and at lunchtime call on my friend Pierre whose lovely restaurant is open but only a few chairs are left unturned to sit on. He cooks a fish on the fire. He adds fennel to the fire so the fish and the room have this magical scent. Of course, we drink wine. And when I leave he gives me some foie gras and Muscat de Beaumes de Venise for supper. I am an old man and find it hard to paint. So now do cutouts with coloured paper and scissors.

I guess my end is near. I know you also want to know how I became a famous artist. My father was not keen for me to do art. He felt that it was such an anxious world. I had done a small surrealistic painting at school which I submitted for a major art competition. And I won. I sold the picture for many thousands. I was set up, my father was happy and my life in art had started very conveniently.

Light is such a fascinating subject. My early art was representative but I liked the play of light on objects. For a while, my friends and I lived together in a small cottage experimenting and discussing light. Particularly the colour red. A warm colour. I did a work which was just a series of red dots. My friends hated it but intuitively I felt that I was exploring in the right direction.

Red Paris

Orange Seine

Yellow Provence

Green Lavender

Light blue Eiffel Tower

Indigo blue Prix Fixe Lunch

Navy blue Montmartre

Pink Versailles

Gold Tuileries

Purple Louvre

Gold St Germain des Pres

White Notre Dame

An orange work of squares followed. Yellow circles, Green lines, Light blue clouds, Indigo blue oblongs, Navy blue squiggles were all explored. But the dots were the ones I loved the most. So then I did Pink and Gold dots, mixed with dots of Purple. I was happy. You are wondering why this old Frenchman is telling you his journey. For no particular reason really. Only to tell you the events of my life. I wish I could paint still as today is the 14th of August. I heard on the news that the first people have started living on the recently discovered new planet. I would have liked to explore how I would have depicted their situation.

And then my dots developed into stories. I was depicting scenes from my garden. And our money was running low.

My first real dot painting got really bad reviews but I could not stop doing these. We are but a dot. It depends on the perspective, don’t you think? And I liked the play on the light this created. A shimmering of light with its own stories. That is what I found fascinating. This is the way I was seeing the world. And I wanted others to experience this otherness. My obsession with this made me decline many commissions. And the money continued to be scarce. But I had to do it. Painting after painting got bad reviews. My dot journey as I called it continued. 

I have done numerous paintings but none have been respected. Will they ever be respected? Perhaps I am like the Impressionists of the last century? Seurat and their group did so much to bring real beauty in art. I am not in their league but I respect what they were about- neither driven by consumption nor herds.

Red settles me, Orange calms me, Yellow gives me luxury, Green refreshes me, Light blue wakes me, Indigo blue gives me beat. Navy blue nourishes me. Pink and Gold search for me. Purple solidifies me. Gold and White respect me and my dots- they give me a purpose.

4. Recited 9 times Prayers flatter Light Blue 

In another compartment of the imagined place which some of you think does not exist, Hope begins to nudge a woman who is stuck in her tracks. The woman keeps on looking to her feet.

“You will see nothing,” says Hope.

“Stop trying,” she adds.

“Your job is to get through this space as quickly as possible.”

The other woman does not move. Her well-cut blonde hair is beautiful and all she can utter is, “Paris, Paris.”

“Yes I know about Paris, but you are going to a place much better than Paris.”

“Paris, Paris, my boys, my arms ache,” the woman sobs as she speaks.

Hope bellows her fearful cry.

“Does that help you at all?”, asks Hope.

“This is to show you that I am no ordinary person. That you are not in an ordinary place.” There is no reply. Hope clicks her fingers and lightning and thunder is heard. Yellow petals fall from the sky.

But the blonde woman still stares at her feet. Her demeanour does not change.

“You are like that Biblical character who when instructed not to turn and look at the city of her misfortune, does, and turns to salt. Do you want that?” asks Hope.

There is still no sound from the blonde woman. Hope is not known for her cool temper and bellows for a while. Realising this has no effect, she sits on the floor, looking at the woman’s face from the floor. The woman is clearly uncomfortable and starts walking backward in this dark space with one bright light.

And she continues this backward movement in a circle. 

Hope is not horrified at all. She seems to have predicted this. She tries to put her hand on the woman’s head but the woman keeps on walking backward.

“I am only 32,” cries the woman.

“I married too young.”

“I had a miserable marriage. My husband, the Prince, two-timed me.” Hope knows she has to listen to this. She stands in the middle of the circle and her eyes follow the woman.

“I should have never married into a Royal Family.”

“I have been so sad.”

“And this accident in Paris.”

“I loved the man who died with me.”

“Where do you think the man has gone?”, interrupts Hope.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” responds the woman sobbing.

“Shall I ask him to come here for you? He would, you know,” adds Hope.

“No. This is a desert. Why would I want him to come here?”, adds the woman sobbing even more.

“I lost my mother when I was young.” 

“I miss my boys.”

“I am so sad.”

“My life. My life.”

The woman’s mantra and walking backward continue. Hope bellows and the fires are closer. The woman does not relent. 

“I am so sad.”

“I miss my boys.”

“Why did I ever meet the Prince.”

“I lost my mother when I was young.”

Hope breaks into an Indian raaga and watches the woman going around backward. The raaga Hope sings is soothing.

This continues for some thirty minutes.

The woman continues her circle. I think Hope waits as she thinks this length- thirty minutes, may have some mystical connotation.

At the end of thirty minutes, Hope asks, “Did you enjoy Rajkot?", “What did you learn?”

The woman stops. She comes and sits on the floor at the feet of Hope who is sitting in a chair. She puts her head into Hope’s lap and continues to sob.

Hope strokes the woman’s blonde hair.

“I know you had a good time in Rajkot,” says Hope.

“That 7-day event is very special. You were destined to hear it. Where you are now is called the compartment of Grieving Mothers. If you had not listened properly during that 7-day festival, you may not be here but in the compartment marked Retry. You would not have liked that. Repeating that same old life again.”

Hope continues, “Somehow, someway, luck has been on your side. And why are you crying? You know Christ died at 33.”

“Your sons are looked after by me.”

“Once you are through this compartment, there is a big happy party waiting for you.”

“And you have come at your prime.”

“If you had lived, what would you get?”

“Bad health, A nursing home. A scowl like the New Queen. Embarrassment from your children.”

“I know this is all hard to understand for you. But what has happened is the best for you. You may now become an angel and can help this world even more efficiently.”

“Tell me. What do you remember most about Rajkot?”, asks Hope.

The blonde woman who has been resting her head on Hope’s lap looks up. She has stopped sobbing. “How light my heart was,” replies the woman. “And at the end how we were asked to have no regrets or anxiety for the future.”

“That is what we like about you,” says Hope lovingly. “You accepted everything. And you see how light your heart was. That is what awaits you.”

“Really,” exclaims the woman as she begins to walk backward again.

Just then there is thunder and lightning.

While the woman continues to walk backward, albeit very slowly, Hope says, “I want to show you something.” She points.

“You see that slouched figure there?”

“Yes, I do,” responds the woman.

“Well, that is someone like New Gandhi. He has just arrived in this compartment of Grieving Mothers and Fathers.”

The woman walks forward to the slouched figure. Hope smiles as she has now broken the woman’s cycle of walking backward. 

New Princess….First I will take off my diamond earrings and then I must pray.

Hail Mary,
full of grace,
the Lord is with thee;
blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,

Jesus.
Holy Mary,
Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.

As you know this is the Ave Maria prayer. I am in Rajkot, Gujarat to attend a seven-day spiritual festival. I took off the earrings as I am staying in a ten dollar a night hotel in Karanpara. Karanpara has this large square where Mahatma Gandhi made his first Satyagraha ( Truth Force) speech. I know I look like Princess Diana but I can’t say any more than that.

I got here by taxi and a few cows at the entrance did not perturb me. Apparently here in Gujarat cows are respected. Also, this is a holy month so cows have the right of way I think. Their dark large eyes are beguiling and their coats shiny.

And why should I choose to be here? Ever since that visit to Agra where I was photographed in front of the Taj wearing pink and orange, India has fascinated me. I like Indian people. My marriage as you know is over and much time has passed since then. I am recognized less although I camouflage myself. I am not going to tell you where I live permanently for this reason. And here I am. I have been served thepla, as you can see – a savoury chapatti, potato curry, yogurt, and some raw onions. 

              red inspirer, orange giver, yellow help, 

dazzling green, the light blue of the delicate, with indigo blue eyes, navy blue good,
with pink kind eyes, golden hair, golden complexion,

 purple complexion, gold warmth, of white space

red Iberia

orange Ibiza

yellow Ibsen

green ice

light blue ice-cream

indigo blue icicle

navy blue iciness

pink icing

gold icon

purple Isherwood

gold idol

white idealist

I dread the nights the most. I do not like being alone and also wonder what my mind will go to next. 

Day 1- 6 am, The hotel has no kitchen and I feel nervous about the room service. Still, I order tea. There is no toilet paper in the bathroom but a tap and a small jug are provided close to the bowl. The shower is a trickle but as a bucket and a tumbler are provided I bathe the Indian way by filling the bucket and using the tumbler. The towels are clean although I am not sure of the bath mat so I just use a towel. I decided to wear orange today- to honour my first visit to India and to match with the sadhu clothes. The tea arrives in a small espresso-like cup. I walk to the hall next door. I note the little tea shop opposite and small shops selling savouries along the way. The main event will start at nine and these early prayers are to appease the gods. The many small idols are showered with water and milk and decorated with beautiful flowers and vermillion. The idols are of the many gods who rule us through the sun, the moon, the rain, and other forms. There is also a family deity who is a woman and her image is wrapped in red shiny fabric. Fruit is served to the deities and lamps are lit one by one. The idols rest on wooden flat stools covered with red sheets. Around the idols, there are wonderful designs using rice. There are three priests. And there is frequent chanting. 

The room is tiny and even warm at that time of the morning. A fan helps along the way.

The amenities at the venue are rudimentary. In the main hall, orange fabric covers the walls. There is a stage with four corners made of banana trees. There is a purple canopy over the stage. The background to the stage is a pink half crescent. There are lights of many sizes, small flags, and streamers in the hall. While the decoration is heavy kitsch it is lively. And of course, there are chairs for everyone to sit on with the front row consisting of sofas in red. 

When I sit on the sofas I admire the twelve pictures of a child Idol adorning the ledge leading to the stage. The colours of the pictures are red, orange, yellow, green, light blue, indigo blue, navy blue, pink, gold, purple, gold and white. An orange marigold flower garland decorates each picture. On one pillar of the stage hang the many photos of the ancestors of my friends- this event is to rest their souls. 

I forgot to mention that all the flowers were delivered by a scooter at 7 am and this will happen every day. Milk and water were delivered in drums. I am forgetting myself. I am wearing no jewellery. I am surprised. I am smiling. I am comfortable. I feel at ease. I am fresh. I am wearing a colour after a long time. The interview on TV wearing black is far away. I do not feel threatened. I know I am the only white person here. 

The orator arrives on his scooter. A short man dressed in a white dhoti and kurta and with spectacles, bright skin, and eyes. We then all walk to a temple about a mile away from where the book of Joy is blessed. The temple is a carved white haven and I find the marble on my bare feet cool and soothing. After the blessing, women, and men, in turn, carry the book on their heads and sing as we walk back to the hall. The book is decorated with marigold flowers. Innocent looking faces appear in windows and cars slow down for this small procession carrying this book in verse. The old Rajkot sings to me through its wooden doors, the many dairies, and the little old verandahs as we cross Karanpara chowk- the place, as I said, where Mahatma Gandhi’s activism started. 

At the hall, we sit on the sofas and chairs and the orator takes his place on the soft raised podium on the stage. To his right are three musicians, and the man who will control the sound system. To his left and on a small stage sit three priests- all three are from the service in the anteroom. Their job is to silently chant through the next seven days after conducting the early morning family service. One of the musicians and one of the priests are sons of the orator. They are simple and have faces who have seen hardship.

red oar

orange oasis

yellow oats

green obedience

light blue obligation

obvious indigo blue

navy blue oblong

pink oboe

gold obsession

purple obstetrician

gold obstinacy

white optimism

The time now is 11 am and the format for the next seven days is 9 to 12, a lecture. Then lunch and siesta. 4 to 7 another lecture and dinner. The Book of Joy is to be read aloud.

The session begins with singing. Everyone joins in. The harmonium starts, the dholak beats softly and the orator urges all of us to join. He is looking at me when he says this and I too start singing.

I think the smart orange dress I wear is suitable for the occasion. The sounds sanctify us and calm us.

Should I have gone more to church? Would that have saved my marriage? I know I have been searching for a connection since my mother died young. Perhaps this is why I trained to look after children. Are the English cold? I am enjoying this group session and my shoulders begin to relax as I watch small children running around. Will this event be so special that I should call my boys over? Perhaps not, as I have not been in touch with them for a while. I think of them and surround them with the colour orange.

white of whites, gold truth, purple mentor, 

funny gold, pink friend of children,

 the navy blue of nature, indigo blue knowledge, 

light blue song of nature, 

green creation, yellow in senses, 

orange guide, red way

And the orator opens the Book of Joy, clears his throat and speaks softly into the microphone. There is complete silence in the room. He advises that during these seven days the Gods will be here as they like this book and event so much. He also advises not to get angry as gods could come in any form including animals, birds, beggars, and transvestites. He urges us to be on time and sit in the same spot as we have chosen today.

During this festival, the family eats unspiced food. Today we are served shrikhand- a spiced sweet thick yogurt, puris- deep-fried bread, potato curry, pickles, salad, buttermilk, and exotically shaped papadums. I am given a chair and table to sit on and the majority sit on the floor on mats. We all eat on stainless steel plates in another hall above where the main event is. My Indian friend serves everyone as personally as possible as this is regarded well. He even collects their plates which again is regarded well. I am amused as he is someone who likes elegance, style, soirees, and lives in a beautiful first floor flat in South Kensington. I have always liked him as he does things without question. I met him at a lunch given by a dear friend who has a cottage in the grounds of a palace in England. Did I also mention he is staying in the room next to me in the $10 per night hotel? And now off to siesta. The elderly lay down on mattresses spread for them in the main hall.

I return to the hotel where the Nepali staff are watching television. My room has been cleaned and has fresh sheets and towels. On the way here I also tried betel nut from one of the stalls on the way. Refreshing. I am hot so the air conditioner comes on. I hate to even consider the greenhouse implication. I should but I don’t and I rest until 4. Everyone in the street seems to enjoy this siesta as it is quiet. I also noted two women beggars sitting in the shade. And yes I sleep soundly amidst the sounds of the air conditioner, crow sounds, and a few car horns. 

I take a shower and change into another orange dress and walk back to the hall. A rickshaw driver smiles and offers to take me. I explain that I only have a five-minute walk. He seemed so poor. 

Tea is served and the orator arrives promptly and starts a chant. I have been running around so much lately- London, Paris, South of France, and other places as you know and I wonder what sitting in the one spot for seven days will do for me. The talk by the orator is in Gujarati and someone translates for me. This was the writer’s final book of verse. A collection of fables and thoughts and containing a manual for life. I listen intently as the fans whirr overhead and another Nepali boy serves us cold water. During the session, the orator often stops and the music begins and the audience jumps to their feet and dances. I too do it and wonder whether anyone thinks that they danced with someone like Princess Diana. That evening we do get a group of unusual looking beggars dressed in orange. They are not aggressive and as the dinner for two hundred is in progress they are offered a meal and a little money. I also am forgetting to mention that before any meal can begin the food is offered to the idols in the anteroom and then fed to the nearest cow of the many. Am I like a beggar here? At least emotionally? Seeking love and companionship when my own have deserted me? I do not cry as are we all beggars in some way? What of the people who suffered in the Holocaust? Did they not suffer the most in the history of man? These thoughts are too deep for me. I am a simple person and not that intellectual. The world knows me by my dress sense and good manners. At least I can say I am blessed with that language. The language of elegance and simplicity. Good English qualities. Day 1 is over and I head back to the hotel. The dinner was sumptuous.

The next day I wear Yellow. I also manage a tea from one of the street stalls and try the savouries from another. It is 7 am. I have decided to wear my diamonds too as it is safe and everyone is so colourfully dressed. I dance, I listen, I chant, I eat, I tease some of the older women who laugh so infectiously. And I also sit in the same place as before.

      red sugar

orange sheet

yellow suspense

green source

light blue sky

indigo blue suffering

navy blue symphony

pink sitar

gold santoor

super purple

gold size

white sense

During siesta, my Indian friend takes me to town in a rickshaw to organise money, a mobile sim card, and a drink at the most expensive hotel in town. The banking is Dickensian and the mobile phone shop has personnel who are helpful and efficient. There are chargers in the shop for the many who may not have access to a charging point. The hotel is completely vegetarian and I admire the four menus in the bistro- Vegetarian, Jain Vegetarian, Strict Vegetarian, and Strict Jain Vegetarian. We still have some time for me to have a sleep and a shower. My friend also instructs a rickshaw driver to be in attendance for me whenever I need him. I give him a large tip and he bows and calls me Madam. I understand he will await me day and night- I wonder when he will sleep or see his family. I undertake to let him have a lot of rest time. 

The evening session starts. There is an interruption when the Hijras- transvestites show up. They are mannered enough not to enter the hall and wait by the entrance. They are a small group and clap their hands and say, Hai! Hai! Hai!. Someone gets up and offers them money and they leave. I also have a yellow silk shawl and I cover my head as a sign of respect to them. As you know I have always liked the alternates. During the ensuing talk I think that I am so lucky to be immersed in an activity and yes, I have not thought of home at all. I wonder if I could just stay here?

My laundry is on the bed, beautifully pressed and wrapped in newspaper with a string around it. I had left a bundle of clothes tied with a scarf at the reception that morning. I do not watch TV and watch my rickshaw puller sitting outside. I ring reception to let him know to leave. The betel nut shops are sparkling again, I feel my life is sparkling again. My diamonds seem to have a sparkle too. I am in an unusual rhythm here which I like. Before bed, I decided to pray. I kneel on the tiled floor. 

Our Father who art in heaven, 

hallowed be thy name. 

Thy kingdom come. 

Thy will be done 

on earth as it is in heaven. 

Give us this day our daily bread, 

and forgive us our trespasses, 

as we forgive those who trespass against us, 

and lead us not into temptation, 

but deliver us from evil. 

For thine is the kingdom, 

and the power, and the glory, 

forever and ever.

Amen. 

I have a few tears. I am tense as I think of where my life may be going. I am comfortable in the material sense but feel like a kite without a master. I am grateful though for good friends like my Indian friend who has brought me here. And there are no mosquitoes.  

Day 3, I wear green. And what have I absorbed you ask me? I think I am looking at everyone with a new eye as I am looking for evidence of what the orator said. On day 2, in addition to the general party atmosphere, we had festivals to honour a Moon birth. The Moon recited the Book of Joy to a King who only had seven days to live as he had been cursed by a dark cycle. World dark cycles sometimes last for thousands of years. The belief is that whoever listens to the Orator with a true heart obtains a release. 

Today we celebrated a god’s birth of which I caught little. The dancing was lively again with some of the older folk joining in. My Indian friend’s relatives and their wives are exuberant and so friendly. 

Day 4, I wear light blue with embroidered stars. Also on my walk to the hall, I try a snack called Khajli- a plain round savoury which is deep-fried and has a honeycomb feel to it. I have started walking everywhere as it is so much more comfortable. Today’s festival is the birth of a dwarf who claimed the three worlds from a bad king. The lectures are also full of hints for exercise, diet, good donation, and generally a good life. I also say my prayers each morning and night and note that I am breathing deeply. I have almost become a Karanpara resident! What would Mahatma Gandhi have thought of this, I wonder? An Englishwoman in his footsteps. The birth of the dwarf was lovely. 

The main event of the day is the Birth of the Sun when the hall has more decorations like balloons and clay pots. Three bright toddlers arrive in baskets on their parent’s heads- the peacock feathers dangling on their heads where yellow silk cloth strips are tied. There is so much dancing. And sweets are thrown in the air and chocolates distributed, all to a beat of joy, ecstasy, and fun. I too carry one of the little Suns on my head although I am worried about the balance of the basket. A really beautiful day.

The next day I decided to wear indigo blue to match the peacock feathers left from the day before. The talk is more solemn today. I listen to a woman’s story. She is given a boon. She replies that she wants to suffer as then she will never forget the Sun. I really have to come to grips with this. Is my suffering a gift which I had asked for? And I am sitting where I should sit. I am also getting up early as normally I would not be ready until 11 am. There is some kind of clarity happening here for me I think? What do you think? Am I looking a little happier? Anyway, I thought I would share some notes I have made so far. I know you are surprised that I was doing this. One reason was to keep awake and the other I am finding this interesting. And I am not as dumb as I look.

My quick notes as written. I have to ask myself how I have managed to make all these notes. Perhaps from the power of the “Book of Joy”. And like you will have to read my notes several times before I too understand. Please forgive the grammar and punctuation.

 

To survive life we need a good body, good mind, money and – a good guru? signs of a fool, don’t bow to everyone, a good person needs devotion, knowledge, detachment, manners, a good event happens at an auspicious time, with a deity, discipline, simple food. Without labour nothing is accepted, whatever you eat you become, speak beautifully, Nirvana does not exist- freedom means truly enjoying life now, next Messiah?, writer of “Book of Joy” only ate berries and this composition is 18,000 verses, as you get older stop complaining. win everyone with kind words. Become your own doctor, when dying just look at hands if nothing else, Men are less prone to tolerate, Women easily tolerate, in bad times just repeat a good word- no need to do yoga or meditation, know your body, hard pillow rather than soft, eat slowly and only that which you can hold in two hands, small place to live, contentment is key.

I must apologise to all my Indian friends as I may have made some errors in recording things. It all also gets a little complicated but after all this is over I intend to do some internet searching to clarify. All I can say wearing my indigo blue is that I am enjoying this. There is light in the room, sincerity, and happiness. Perhaps the gods are visiting after all. The food is fresh, particularly green vegetables, and the party atmosphere is very good for me. Still no idea of where I may go next. I have had a few SMS. Perhaps I may go to the South of France and Paris after all. Am still thinking about it.

Today we also had the recreation of a mountain. There was a small hill created in the hall and sixty-five varieties of foods were served to the deities in colourful vessels. 

At the hotel everything is calm. I have taken to having lime juice and some betel nut from the bright shops on the way at night. The men who run these are getting to know me. I look at their simple and often tattered clothes. I have not used my rickshaw but I always tip the driver at night to make sure he gets a meal. I wonder who is happier- him here in India or I. Still I am sleeping well and thinking less- must be the regimen of being here. Only two more days to go.

red cabana

orange cabaret

yellow cabin

green cabinet

light blue cable

indigo blue cablecast

navy blue caboodle

pink cabriolet

gold cache

purple cachet

gold crackle

white cactus

Day 6, there is no water in the bathroom. I ring the boys and they bring a bucket of hot water by the stairs to the third floor. Some power cuts. So all systems are down. I also forgot to mention that we have had small power cuts during the day when the whirring fans grind to a halt and all the fairy lights in the hall die. It however only lasts a few minutes.

I wear navy blue, pink, gold and purple- the Indian sense of colour is catching me up. Today we re-enact the Sun’s first wedding. I am on the girl’s side with my Indian friend. As I have no daughter I will enjoy it. The girl is represented as a basil plant that is decorated. A full wedding ceremony takes place, with a fire, wedding songs, wedding teasers, a banquet, jewellery, and more dancing. However, I sense a sadness taking over everyone as we know we only have one more day to go. As you know my wedding was very elaborate and was televised. I was nineteen, shy, and trusting. It was an enjoyable day too.

Some more notes today too, especially the one about two becoming one on marriage. Indians seem to have such loyalty in marriage although I have read of extra-marital affairs of Indian Royalty. I think I am a simple girl seeking a simple nourishing life. I am dreading the end of this festival tomorrow. Today I was also taken to the local shopping lane named Gundavadi. A feast for the eyes and I was seated at a sari shop on a white mattress. Given a drink and showed exquisite saris. I also noted the small TV screen displaying Indian stock prices and the Sales Assistant’s half eye on it while serving me.

Day 7, I wear more gold and white. I tend not to wear white much but it seemed appropriate. 

Today, the orator talks of the Sun’s dearest friends. I know you are dying to see my notes but I thought I would share the rest of the notes after I have done some research. I am confused enough so don’t wish to confuse you as well.

The afternoon session is spent thanking everyone and I am called to the stage to hand out the shawls to the appreciative volunteers. It is a moving and sad moment as we all know this special party is ending. The orator is anxious to leave as he has another function to go to. He very sweetly holds my hand and blesses me. 

That night I settled my bills and gave generous tips to everyone in the hotel. The next day a car was booked for me to take me to a girl’s orphanage run by a selfless woman who never married, Mahatma Gandhi’s house in old Rajkot, to Wankaner Palace for lunch and then to Diu on the coast.  

In the morning I say my goodbyes and reluctantly sit in the car. I get to know the driver during the day who is hardworking and a good man. He tells me his life story- another story of survival. His son, however, works in IT.

Did I tell you I had made up my mind to go to Paris? I have a very good friend there and after the celebration in India am not keen to return to England straight away. Let me also share the other quick notes I made. Again forgive the punctuation- these are as written.

Bathing in Ganges is good, in this event, gods comes to audience first then orator, Ganges good attributes, follow whoever you like, in a marriage give what spouse likes- praise too, never go anywhere without an invitation, when daughter marries don’t visit for a year or two, the attitude determines view, if you are sad god looks sad, look inside you changing-this is yoga, listen more, we seek material fun, We seek god, we breathe 21,600 times a day, release from father easy, release from mother – never, Watch out for con spiritual leaders, Body’s nine senses, lack of faith, the story of man, story of planets- astrology affects no one, the story of the body, the enlightenment of an elderly elephant, the good son of a demon, why Shiva is blue- keeps poison in throat, the enchantress and nectar, the god of planets and eclipses, sacred thread increases will power, how to donate- find the heart, never stop anyone making a donation, giving is only as agent of god, in difficulties we cry at the wrong place- the world, happiness and sadness part of life, make some improvements after listening here, 7 a good number & days of this talk, Krishna’s father had 900,000 cows, daughters look after elderly parents better, service without seeking benefits, if unhappy with anyone- communicate, creation and destruction can take seconds, meaning of the fortnightly fast, lots of food served at Indian festivals so poor can be fed, always encourage, What is a true dance? When the body is forgotten then it is a true dance, after sixty no makeup is necessary, nagging is due to lack of praise, after twenty-five years of marriage a wife becomes a friend, do divorce settlements include the return of feelings?, our body makes us suffer, when truly centred lose interest even in family, whatever divine feelings one has are best-kept secret, the golden city of Dwarka, the larger the house the larger the lust, Krishna married many others- those who were in dishonour, and he provided dignity, whenever you make a donation someone will oppose you, esp. family, we have 16,108 nerves in us, only eat in a good place, how to lead a married life- when two become one, keep the smallest person happy, who is a good friend? look at your own faults first before criticising others, share no knowledge with the ignorant.

I feel as if I have just started and there is so much more to add and learn.

I remember the little lamps lit at the end of each day at our festival. My eyes well up for the warmth and belonging I felt in the last week. We are on the way to Diu. I was also pleased to hear the headline on the news today that the first people have built a house on the new planet like Earth discovered some years ago. Today is the 14th of August.

My driver advises me of a group of motorbikes following us. Mostly non-Indian carrying large cameras. I am wearing white. I whisper the word Taklif to myself- means trouble in Hindi I think.

whIte gold

purple gold

pInk navy blue

                           IndIgo blue light blue yellow orange red

Young New Princess….I like the shiny earrings my mother wears all the time. Sometimes she wears red ones. She is the queen. She sits on a red velvet chair. I see her for one hour every morning. My nanny’s name is Mrs Hamand- I love her a lot. We stay together all the time. She feeds me a lot of apples.

Sometimes we go on my pony around the palace which is shaped like a ball. I have no brothers or sisters. We also have many dogs who follow us. I wish I could see Mummy more in her earrings. Mrs Hamand is trying to teach me some prayers too. I find it hard.

In the summer we have roses in the garden. In winter many green shrubs. In summer we also get red strawberries. There are many policemen around the palace. Mummy travels in a big black car and there are many horses around her. Outside the gate, there are many children and people. They like to take pictures. 

My nanny likes to wear white and is always reading. She also plays the piano. She tells me the story of a red balloon with orange stripes and a yellow string. The balloon floats into a deep green rainforest that has light blue flowers. And also indigo blue ones. The balloon gently floats into the navy blue, pink, and gold robes of a little princess sitting on the branches playing a flute, near which sits a purple butterfly with gold and white edges. I really like butterflies. 

   red 

orange 

yellow 

green 

light blue 

 indigo blue

navy blue 

pink 

gold 

purple 

gold  

white 

The time now is for tea. I like scones and cream. Nanny does not let me eat these all the time. I mostly eat cucumber sandwiches.

There is also another hard prayer my nanny teaches me. 

Our Father who art in heaven, 

hallowed be thy name. 

Thy kingdom come. 

Thy will be done 

on earth as it is in heaven. 

Give us this day our daily bread, 

and forgive us our trespasses, 

as we forgive those who trespass against us, 

and lead us not into temptation, 

but deliver us from evil. 

For thine is the kingdom, 

and the power, and the glory, 

forever and ever.Amen. 

Mrs Hamand also makes me wear red dresses which I don’t like.

I am also learning French. The only word I know is Non. I really like my nanny because she puts all my paintings on her wall and shows them to all the staff at the palace. My mummy never has the time to look at them but she does give me a hug a day. If I am naughty my nanny speaks to me gently. Occasionally I stamp my feet and she ignores me until I start drawing babies in prams- my favourite subject.

New Cook….Am I rushing too much for you? I think it is the excitement of doing something different and the idea of serving something new to people. What do you think? I tend to multitask at present and with so much communication my mind tends to run in different directions. But this is not the case with everyone. I humbly study my mobile phone manual and think respectfully of the patient writers of these. I am meandering and I know you are watching me and wondering what all this is about. How do we get that feeling, knowledge, and perhaps a path to joy? My cooking is the language I know best. What is your language? You may be wondering how cooking can be a language. Well, I believe that you eat the feelings of the cook as well as the food. If the cook is angry you may feel angry? Perhaps. I try to cook with as much love as possible.

As you can see I am gasping as I rush towards giving you something yellow. Who would we serve that to? Someone like Mahatma Gandhi? I know what he would like. Some Bhaji I think. Also from Gujarat.

2 cups Besan flour. To which add cold water in small quantities while stirring. We do not want lumps. And we want the consistency of cream. Very easy. Add a pinch of salt and a pinch of red pepper. Ready. Now slice some bananas in small rounds. Dip the bananas fully in the Besan mix and then deep fry in hot oil.

You can use other vegetables too which you may like. Yellow dish ready. Eat with Mint chutney- mint leaves in yogurt. I am getting hungry just writing about this. So tonight everyone, let’s serve someone like Mahatma Gandhi and let it be Banana Bhaji.

I am racing even more now I know, but the inspiration has taken hold of me. The next dish has to be green and for someone like Leonardo Da Vinci. 

As you can see, it is getting dark so I am heading straight to the kitchen to make some Bhaji. I know I will see you tomorrow. And what will I cook for someone like you? Wait. Surprise coming!

 red melange

orange menage

yellow Masai

green metaphor

light blue macaroon

indigo blue Macau

navy blue Macbeth

pink Mombasa

gold mace

purple machete

gold Machiavelli

white machine

I wore a sari today as I think we may be doing something sacred here. It is Varanasi silk. I always feel so warm and cosy in it. My Salwar Kameez of yesterday was made from a Patola- an Ikat made in Gujarat. And today we shall make a green Okra curry. While it is easy I think it is also special.

Heat some oil in a pan, add mustard seeds then the green Okra. Season with turmeric, red pepper, salt, and sugar. I add no colourless water. The Okra will cook in its own juices in 8 minutes. When the Okra is done add some chopped tomatoes. Let this cook for a while. Add coriander powder and mix. Lemon juice, fresh coriander garnish, and we are done. One of my favourites. I also love Green Tea granitas with some Indian Tea spice in it.

I cannot think of anything light blue, indigo blue, or navy blue to cook. I am not sure if I have ever seen the famous chefs in the world produce anything in these colours. You may have ideas but molecular cooking and cake icing are not accepted. But these colours are keys in the circle of colour so what I am recommending is this. Find a large light blue plate. On this place a medium-sized indigo blue plate. And on this a small navy blue plate. 

Pink? Yes. I would serve someone like an Internet Billionaire pink guava juice seasoned with a little salt and red pepper. It’s just an amusement so not too much in a champagne glass on the navy blue plate. And maybe a few pink rose petals on the indigo blue plate for more of a pink effect.

Gold has to be dhal or lentils. Going quickly on this one, I would follow the same recipe as using Okra. But make sure to use any kind of already boiled lentils and of course, add some water for gravy. And braised onion slices if you like. Note that tinned lentils are usually already salted. The Okra recipe can also be used for orange golden mangoes- but note – do not add onions.

I am going fast now. Is this manic depression creeping in again which I have suffered for twenty years. Have been in two residential clinics both in London. I nearly had shock therapy but my mother intervened and said, “I don’t want her to be half a woman after this.” She is a simple woman but I think she was right. However part of my sadness could have been the pressure my traditional family exerted on me to marry the first time. He said the most hurtful thing, “I wish you were dead,” when we parted. I still wished him many petit fours for his life. Much better I think. I know there is a lot of anger when these things happen and yes I had many sleepless nights and tears. Lots of sobbing and listening to sad songs, but I never sent the letters I drafted during the anger phase. I kept on trying to visualise his mother and knew she would want the best for her son. I tried to see it from her viewpoint. All mothers want happiness for their children. Mine too. And the CD player accidentally slipped into a happy song so I saw it as a sign and moved on.

To relieve my manic depression I then went on to natural therapies and Hypnotherapy. But that was so expensive and in the end, in a crisis, I had to rush to a doctor and get Anti-Depressants. I had tried so hard to avoid these. But now have been using these for ten years- the ones you take at night. I do feel very drowsy during the day but I manage to keep an appearance. This is all the doctors can do for me. Keep me alive but just a little drowsy. 

To remind me of London I always try and have white lilies arranged in an English manner on the piano. To honour Kenya I weep at times. India I celebrate. And I have also lived in Australia. To honour Australia I make a pie once a week. A vegetarian one though and I know in New Australia these are easily available. The Australians are very dear friendly people.

And I have lots of baskets and beautiful platters to serve my dishes. The presentation is half the eating process I think.

And you are wondering why I am having all these thoughts in a grey apartment in New York? I call it work.  

red g-spot

orange g-string

yellow gaberdine

green gable roof

light blue gable window

indigo blue gadget

navy blue gadget

pink gado gado

gaelic gold

purple gaffe gold gaffer white gag

5. Courage and Love like Green

We are in the compartment of angry fathers. New Cook’s father paces up and down. The fires are near and it is dark.

Hope sits on the side in this compartment in that place between the physical and spiritual worlds. 

New Cook’s father is quite old. He is a slim man wearing white which seems to be the colour of choice here. Hope just watches him.

She turns to us and says, “He is quite angry you know. He was a traditional man and his daughter becoming an actor was too much for him. I think it was the loss of face more than anything. Cook's mother was also here but she has moved on. This old man is stubborn. I have been trying to help him for years but he will not respond to my touch, words, or action. I just look after him to make sure he is OK. And I have watched him pace like this for so long. My fiery bellows do not work. But I am patient as everything ends in some way at some point.”

Hope studies the old man. Up and down he walks, with fists clenched.

“You may be wondering whether people get tired here. Do they actually die? Is that one way this could end? The answer is No. Here this does not happen. Until there is a change, this continues. You are also wondering whether people have left this space. Yes, they always do. The Universe is giving. Anyway, watch for a while.”

“The weather is good today,” shouts Hope.

No answer.

“Oh and I forgot to tell you that people do not need food or water here.”

“I said, the weather is good today,” Hope shouts again.

“Mmh mmh,” responds New Cook’s father.

“The fires are getting closer. Have you thought of what I said last time?”, asks Hope.

There is no answer. The old man continues to pace up and down.

“She is writing a book, you know,” advises Hope.” She has become famous. More famous than she could have imagined.”

No answer.

“She is still single. She has no partner. She is lonely you know,” continues Hope.

“Do you want to know her new screen name?” 

The man sullenly walks up and down, up and down. Hope just sits. Watching him. She is not perturbed though. She is still luminous and has a kind face.

Some thirty minutes go by. Apart from the crackling sound of the fires, there is no noise.

She then starts singing a beautiful raaga. It is an evening raaga which is supposed to soothe nerves. She even starts waving her hands at the same time and different colours shine in the space.

When red shines she says, “Red forgives.”

When orange shines she says, “Orange forgives.”

She keeps on uttering the words, “Yellow forgives, Green forgives, Light blue forgives, Indigo blue forgives,Navy blue forgives, Pink forgives, Gold forgives, Purple Forgives, Gold forgives, White forgives,” as the different colours shine in the space.

She continues for quite a while like this while the old man paces as he has done, up and down.

She turns to us and says, “Colour and Sound have healing qualities. I do this every day. I know he has changed .01% today. Slow process but I shall be there all the time to help him. He will forgive in the end. Loss of face is such a big thing for you humans. And anger is such a wretch. Once implanted it is hard to get rid of.”

“I ask you, are you harbouring anger too? Well, don’t, as you are creating work for yourself.” 

And she continues her rhythm as the colours change, “Red forgives,Orange forgives,……”

She then also puts her arms out towards the old man. “I am measuring his anger level. Yes, definitely lost .01%?”

“Little does this man know. I am a woman. And I am part of New Cook. And what a difficult choice for her. There are no rules in that world. New Cook will be betrayed many times, she will endure so much, she will suffer. This old man does not realise the choices New Cook has made. But all this will bring New Cook closer to me. Every time her heart breaks she will die a hundred deaths. And there will be no one to talk to. As I said it is a ruleless world. New Cook knows that her father is still angry with her. But is this not what women all over the world endure? Being treated unfairly. We are their mothers, their sisters, their friends but men have this chink of pride in them. This is their hard spot as I call it. We are all equal. Men and Women. And New Cook has gone beyond this. You may wonder whether this is closer to me. Yes, I would say so. Because when you are no longer here,  you are neither man nor woman but an energy. I am this old man’s mother. I will not give up on him.”

Hope resumes her chanting as the colours change in the space. ”Red forgives, Orange forgives,…..”  

We see red petals gently falling on the scene.

New IT Billionaire….Lake Baringo, Kenya. Famous for its pink flamingos. Am here for the week. I am an IT Billionaire. Travelling by myself, I like Marijuana. I am about sixty-two. Staying at Island camp, a luxury tented hotel. My tent has an attached full shower and toilet. The restaurant is wonderful. The climate is hot and the vegetation, lush African bush. I have been living in Nairobi, Kenya for a year or so. I came out with the Church of Christ to see if I can help in any way. In charge of the church printing here. Originally from Griffin, Georgia. Tried Deepak Chopra. My accomplishments post selling my company are,

1 Set up mail-order cake sales for the Country Women’s Association in Australia. Only send Christmas fruit cakes to orders round the world. Orders are from people who want to send cakes as presents to friends. Turnover $10 million now,

2 Helped advertise ABC Australia in The New Yorker. Online CD and DVD sales up by $30 million and the organisation has become self-funded,

3 Helped all National Trust organisations in the world to publish scented Christmas books- with pictures of how Christmas is celebrated in their countries and famous poems,

4 A dollar for your birthday. Launched a campaign for World Aid where people donate just a dollar on their birthday. For this World Aid publishes names on their website. Turnover now $300 million,

5 Launched numerous new computer devices,

6 Organised yoga and meditation camps for youth in the West,

7 Raised funding from the public for the 1000 foot perplex red beating heart now installed in Times Square in New York.

You are wondering why I am sharing this with you and is this an endless list of achievements? Done, perhaps to show what is possible if you allow yourself to think. And also to show how blessed I have been. As you can gather have done many things but feel devoting myself to the Church of Christ is valuable. I have always liked the Saints. The world needs symbols of faith. You may say that I could be more giving but am a little exhausted at present. Have had many wives- a few of who were matched by astrology, was addicted to sex, had large art collections, knew everyone. 

Was bored in Munich, was bored in Geneva, like Paris, bored with Armani. Am always moved by the hard work of actors in Hollywood. Hate getting recognised. Dislike sports but am good at card games. Like Microeconomics, generally find restaurants as centres of ego trips but do like Mortimer’s in New York and enjoy reading Socrates. Am perplexed by slums in the USA and the HIV issue in Uganda but I was pleased to hear the headline on the news today that the first people have built a house on the new planet like Earth discovered some years ago. Love Mahler. Today is the 14th of August.

My wake up call was when I realised that my $50 billion could only support a handful of people at $1,000 pa for about twenty years.

   red h-bomb

orange happens

yellow haberdasher

green habit

light blue habitat

indigo blue hack

navy blue hacker

pink hackle

gold hackney

purple hackle

gold had

white haiku

I am celibate now. Wear my jeans each day and love my three Maasai bead bangles which I wear together on one wrist. In Nairobi, I live in a studio. The watchmen for the building are all from Samburu so wear their red necklaces and put on a dance show each evening where they jump together. 

I sometimes give them Southern delights like Broccoli in mustard sauce and Onions with honey. I own a small old four-wheel drive and all my possessions fit into a small backpack.

As I said I still like Marijuana and have made some cookies for myself for the week.

All I am going to do here is go on the 4 am bird watches each morning. We will usually return by 9.30 am for breakfast and then a day of rest. 

white and gold love, of all purple knowledge, 

gold presence, pink in thunder and storms,

 navy blue pleasure, indigo blue beauty,

 light blue lines,
all attractive green, of yellow stirring music, of orange, red refuge

My philosophy can be summarised as crsw fit fuel grace– will explain more as we go along. Will report to you daily.

Day 1 White and Gold. Today we saw a Verreaux's eagle. It was at sunrise and we had been meandering on the lake since 4 am. The slow boat, the sound of the oars, and the deep silence touched me. And slowly the day awakened with chirping sounds and cricket clicks dying down. John, the African man who took me out is quiet and only whispered when necessary. He asked me whether he could bring his grandson and I readily agreed. The grandson about seven was also very quiet and quite in awe of his grandfather. And well mannered. His face was bright and full of smiles as we got off the boat. He gestured to the lake and in Swahili said “Duniya.” This was his only word. I looked it up in the dictionary and the advised meaning is “The World.” This is my first Lake Baringo word. A white and Gold word. And quite prophetic don’t you think? I wonder about this as the Lake did shine like a mirror when the boy whispered the word.

I spent the rest of the day by the pool reading Ngugi Wa Thiong'o- a Kikuyu writer.

Food and cookies are very good. 

Day 2 Purple, Gold. What is it about Africa? The dawn was so splendid with hints of purple and gold. John also brought an egg sandwich for me which I gave to his grandson. The flask of coffee was very welcome as it was a little cold today. John’s grandson Mgobo sat on the same spot as the previous day. Did I also tell you that I had requested to go alone. While there are a few other guests, I get to speak with them at dinner so I prefer solitude in the mornings. 

We saw a nest of Gabar Goshawks. The birds were busy and oblivious to our presence. I wonder how anxious we would all feel if we had no idea of where our next meal would come from. And the birds were forever preening themselves and looked pretty. Unlike me who you may call a late Hippy. However, these are the sort of moments when I get good ideas. I shook Mgobo’s hand today and he looked at his grandfather and uttered Rafiki. Which means friend. I also noted the shiny elegantly shaped stone in his palm.

I had a few more cookies after dinner today. Why may you ask? Is this when my small fragile exterior can be let down? Do you wonder? Please don’t judge me.

I have not discussed my philosophy with you yet.

C R S Stand for- be creative, be relaxed, and never show off. This is the beginning of Rafiki- my purple and gold Swahili word.

Day 3 Pink, Navy Blue. I am into a nice rhythm now at this only freshwater lake in the area. The other lakes, Bogoria, Magadi, Nakuru are soda lakes. Today was the turn of African Fish Eagles. I only mention the highlight of the day as we see many other species.

Both John and Mgobo are good people. Well dressed in clean clothes and always prompt. 

red v-neck

orange vacancy

yellow vacation

green vaccination

light blue vacuum

indigo blue vagabond

navy blue view

vague pink

gold veil

vain purple

gold valence

white valentine's day

You want to know more of my mnemonic I know.

I have told you regarding CRS. W advises not to impose your will on anyone, F, focus on the invisible, I, impress your thoughts and dreams on the universe and T, never talk of tough times. The latter is another turn off for me much as I like to help people. I try to have empathy but sometimes it’s not easy. 

unique red

unusual orange

yellow unity

green unicorn

light blue urgency

indigo blue utopia

navy blue upmanship

pink umbrella

gold use

purple usher

unsure gold

white uterus

Do I have children you may ask? How did I bring them up you may also ask? I never went to boarding school but I think this could be helpful to many children. In the end, we are all alone and need to cultivate ways of being happy and survive rich or poor. To everyone, I would advise that good manners will open doors.

Mgobo’s word for me today was Mimi. Mimi means I and Wewe means you. Mimi and Wewe. It has a nice ring to it. These could easily be children’s names, don’t you think?

Today I would also like to read you some lines from a psalm,

Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers. 

But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night. 

He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers. 

This kind of applies to me. But what of the Marijuana you may ask? I never said I was perfect. Mimi and Wewe, are we perfect? But I believe we are acceptable. Mimi and Wewe my Pink and Navy Blue Swahili words.

Day 4 Indigo blue, Light blue. You will be a rich man, I said to Mgobo after I had looked at his palm. John kept rowing but I could see that my comment perplexed him. For generations, they have been poor, and perhaps this may be seen as false hope. I do however state that the prosperity line on Mgobo’s palm is very definite. I also got to look at the stone he has been carrying in his palm. I asked him about it and he advised that it came from their smallholding on the mainland. He said that no one else had any of these nearby. He kindly gave me the one he was carrying. 

This all occurred after daybreak. The peace between 4 am and daybreak is serene. Could this be why monks get up at these hours to pray? Our highlight today is the Hemprich Hornbill, a rare sighting I was told.

The Swahili word for the day is Sunghmusa meaning discussion. Very appropriate indigo blue light blue Swahili word. Also on time, I understand that Hindus consider the times 4 am to 10 am and 4 pm to 10 pm auspicious.

wacky red

orange wad

warm yellow

green wafer

light blue waffle

indigo blue wage

navy blue wagon

pink wagtail

gold waif

purple wail

gold wall

white waist

The dessert for lunch was Bread and Butter pudding. I had a few talks with the other guests but I felt I was quite distant from them as they were in Kenya for short trips and they still thought like westerners. 

Mark you there is poverty in the west too. The worst slums I think are some of the streets in Washington DC from where one can see Capitol Hill. A paradox I know. 

Oh, and before I forget, more of my mnemonic,

F, have faith in purpose,

U, understand the universe is giving,

E, leave everyone you meet better off,

L, be larger than life.

Perhaps having Marijuana cookies is my contribution to the L. I know I sound like a character from Tales of the City.

Day 5 Green. Swahili word of the day, Matunda, which means fruit.

More of the mnemonic,

G, be grateful,

R, take the right action,

A, act now.

Bird of the day,

Paradise Fly Catcher.

Thought of the day,

How can I help Mgobo be a rich man?

Few words today, I am feeling reclusive.

Psalm of the Day, Rafiki,

Answer me when I call to you,
O, my righteous God.
Give me relief from my distress;
be merciful to me and hear my prayer. 

How long, O men, will you turn my glory into shame?
How long will you love delusions and seek false gods?

Day 6 Yellow, Orange. And yesterday I was reclusive. Maybe depressed. Why do you ask me? I think in my case it must be boredom. I have had such a great life but do not have much to look forward to anymore. I don’t jump out of bed. Am I going against my own philosophy and being ungrateful. I wonder where I will die? I wonder who will come to my funeral? What if I died by myself? Fear creeping in maybe.

Rest of mnemonic,

 

C, give increase of life to whoever you come in contact with,

E, take efficient action.

Maybe I need to be more efficient. I do get tired.

Mgobo’s Swahili word of the day is Wazimu meaning mad. Am I mad? This boy certainly has an intuition. I have also sent the stone he gave me to some jeweller friends in New York to see what they think of it.

red quack

orange quadrant

yellow quadrangle

green quadriplegic

light blue quilt

indigo blue quart

navy blue quote

pink quiz

gold qwerty

purple quitter

gold quantity

white quantum

Today we also saw a White Faced Scops Owl. 

Day 7 Red. My last day here. Today’s Swahili word from dear Mgobo is Kwaheri which I know you will guess. It means goodbye. I gave a good tip to John and he was overjoyed. We also saw the rare African darter- perhaps a sign. 

And now my chance to give you the complete mnemonic, C, be creative not competitive,

R, always be relaxed,

S, never show off,

W, never impose your will on anyone,

F, focus on invisible,

I, impress your thoughts and dreams on the universe,

T, never talk of tough times.

F, have faith in purpose,

U, understand Universe is giving,

E, leave everyone you meet better off,

L, be larger than life.

G, be grateful,

R, take the right action,

A, act now,

C, give increase of life to whoever you come in contact with, 

E, take efficient action.

I sound sad. I shouldn’t be. I have a lot of work in Nairobi. I also have to work on my new logo which is a hippo. Also if Mgobo’s stone is rare enough we could create rare jewels from it and sell these at my friend’s boutique on Fifth Avenue. I know it will be.

Yes, I know you find me sad at present. But I think that is allowed don’t you think? John and Mgobo asked for nothing from me. I have also run out of cookies. 

red tea

orange threat

yellow turbulence

green thoughts

light blue tomato

indigo blue trust

navy blue tinkle

pink telephone

gold teaser

purple testimony

gold tussle

white tassle

New Cook….This coming weekend I am heading off to Bedford, NY, and the following weekend to the Hamptons on Long Island. When you are a Curry cook you become quite popular. Tonight one of my guests will also play the piano and sing some Stephen Sondheim. I must confess however that in my saddest moments I have to have some flute by Shri Hariprasad Chaurasia. Shri, as you know, is a form of addressing Indians in a polite way. I enjoy giving parties and going to parties.

How far did we get to my eight points? Let’s say ‘Keep your word’ and ‘Learning to say No in the kindest way’ have to be next. 

Purple food is hard. Can you think of anything except fruit? I suppose we could make an open pie with blueberries and serve it with crème Fraiche. Crème Fraiche, another favourite of someone like Krishna and my only daughter. She lives in San Francisco. And I think I have been a bad parent for her. Also if you want to include purple in a range of courses perhaps the flowers for the table could be purple. I also love mulberries. A few of these with a little salt sprinkled on can sit on the navy blue plate around the bottom of the champagne glass with pink guava juice.

I now need to make something gold and white to complete the circle of colour. So next we shall make some Chapattis- a favourite of someone like Krishna, of someone like Princess Diana, of someone like Leonardo Da Vinci, of someone like an Internet billionaire and of course someone like Mahatma Gandhi. Of a new Jesus? And someone like you?

A cup of Chapatti flour. If you can’t get this, the mixture in the ratio half and half is wholemeal flour and plain flour. Drizzle a tablespoon or two of oil and mix flour and oil with fingers. Once the mixture is crumbly slowly add some water, a little at a time, and knead. At the end of this, the dough should neither be sticky nor too dry. Break dough into small parts and using a little dry flour roll out chapattis one by one. Heat on a griddle turning chapattis as needed.

One by one you will see magic. The Chapatti can be buttered while hot to add an earthy feel. I know you will enjoy this process and this is the gold part.

White sexy ice cream? You need milk, cream, and condensed milk in one-third portions. Heat milk and cool. When lukewarm add condensed milk, mix, then cream and mix. A few golden strands of saffron, and green pistachios and freeze. A wonderful way of serving this is in an ice bowl with flowers. Place a small bowl in a larger bowl full of water. You will need some weight in the small bowl. Put some flowers in the water and freeze. To loosen the ice block use hot water around the big bowl and in the small bowl. 

I love colourless agar agar- natural gelatine. Makes many liquids glamorous.

And you may ask me what I would suggest to someone who cannot cook. What I suggest is this. Heat a cup of any soup. Add sliced onions if you like and whatever vegetables you have to this with canned lentils, beans, or nuts. Slowly heat to boiling point. Add mixed herbs or oregano. Season. Some lemon juice and a few sprigs of parsley, coriander or mint. Eat with potatoes or fried bread.  

And must not forget to tell you about golden fenugreek seeds. A few soaked and chewed each morning are good to prevent diabetes and cholesterol I am told.

red yacht

orange yack

yellow yam

green yard

light blue yarn

indigo blue yawn

navy blue yazoo

pink year

yummy gold

purple yes

gold youth

white yogurt

Young New Cook….My school is walking distance. I go to school at 7.30 am. Then I come home for lunch when my mother gives us all hot food. Both my father and grandfather have a nap afterwards. I go back to school and come home at 4.30. My mother has prayer meetings at our house every Tuesday. I wash my hands and feet after school and then go and play with my friends. At 6 pm we go to a playground where there are many girls. We are taught many exercises. We play games and then we have prayers at 7 pm. I don’t like some of the games we have to play. People hit me which I don’t like.

My mother and father have their own bedroom. I sleep in the top half of a double bunk. My sister sleeps at the bottom. My grandfather sleeps in another bed nearby. We also have a small room where we have sofas and my father's bookcase. He has also hung some pictures. We have our own bathroom but have to share the toilet with our neighbours. I don’t like the toilet. It smells a lot.

white

gold

purple

gold

pink

navy blue

indigo blue

light blue

green 

yellow 

    orange 

red 

I live in Nairobi, Kenya. We do not have a fridge. Hot water for bathing comes in a bucket. The water is heated by a fire. My mum always cooks chapattis every day. On my birthday she makes sweet chapattis. On Sunday my father buys my sister and I a cake each. Sometimes I go to the cinema with my grandfather. He always spoils me and lets me buy what I like. I also like the Hindu dance festival in November. I like wearing different costumes. The other day my mother scolded me a lot as I was trying on some of her lipstick. I don’t like playing games but I like to watch many films.

Every morning my mother and grandfather light a lamp near our home shrine and make us stand there with our hands raised and touching. We also have a helper called Ngomo. He sings a lot when he irons the clothes every afternoon. I like to tickle him. One of his favourite songs is Malaika. I can’t say the words yet. I know many African words. 

Duniya meaning world

Rafiki- meaning friend

Kwaheri meaning goodbye

Wazimu meaning mad

Mimi meaning I

Wewe meaning You

Sunghmusa meaning discussion

My sister likes bangles. For one of the dance festivals, the school made some of us dress as actors. I liked it but my father was very angry.

I am good at school and I like Mathematics and Literature. I always seem to like the company of older boys in the school. We have a nasty bully in the class. I get angry when he teases us. He is Indian and has big lips like a gorilla. Our headmaster is a good man. He comes once a week to help us with our pronunciation. Our uniform is a green blazer with yellow stripes, a tie, and a grey skirt. I am wearing an old uniform given to my mother. Uniforms are expensive.

red orange

yellow green

light blue indigo blue

navy blue

pink 

gold

purple

gold

white 

My mother is strict. My father likes to take us to ballet and musical concerts. We also go to the drive-in cinema. My mother’s father rings her every week. He is very kind. He has a big house in Kisumu and I spend all my vacations with him. My aunt makes me lay the table there every day which I don’t like. Her husband brought a camera for me from England. My nana always gives me money to go to the cinema on Sunday morning. He asks me not to tell anyone about it. He has a nice driver called Joshun.

white

gold

purple

gold

pink

navy blue

indigo blue

light blue

green 

yellow 

orange 

red 

For my next holiday, I am going on a school trip to Tanzania. There are many lions, zebras and leopards there.

My mother says that I must study hard. My father never checks my workbooks. My uncle always wants to check the books and takes us to a hotel for tea if we have done well. I cannot ride a bicycle and all my friends laugh at me.

I am a good singer so our music teacher makes me sing so that the other girls can learn from me. But because the music lessons are after lunch I yawn a lot.

I like to look at beautiful pictures in books. My mother wears a red dot on her forehead. I like to make the floor designs with coloured rice flour for the Hindu festival of lights. I also love Holi when we all throw colours at each other for the day. 

I like the word excellent which my Maths teacher puts on our homework. I have many excellents in my book.

New Hope and New IT Billionaire….He lies on the ground flat on his stomach. There is no mattress. He wears white, loose-fitting clothing. Hope kneels down beside him and pats his head slowly. He does not move. We can see he is breathing.

“If only,” says Hope.

“If only I could see the land of Pink Roses.” The man completes Hope’s sentence.

“You deserve it now. You don’t smoke Marijuana. You have donated all your billions to the Griffin Drama department in honour of your parents. All your offspring are fine. You guided them well. All you have to do is just get up and walk into the land of Pink Roses. Why don’t you just get up?”, adds Hope.

“I don’t feel like it,” replies the man.

“You have been caught in this negative way of thinking for so long. If only you could change your view. Do you know how long it takes to qualify for the land of Pink Roses? You have done everything right. Just get up.”

The man does not respond.

“I know he is tired,” says Hope to us. “He has had a long life and he has given so much. He always feels sorry for everyone. He is bright and successful and is always the soul of the party. You should have seen his parties. Simple seven-course affairs. Calm, quiet, giving, fresh, and nutritious. But he was always disappointed by his friends. Perhaps he only had acquaintances and not friends. He always sought perfection and did all the right things to get there. Now when he is a few steps away from joy, the exhaustion will not let him move. His broken heart will not let him move. He is grateful but he thinks that no one loves him.”

“He does not realise that very few people are unselfish. His heart is broken over this. But this is the way of the world.”

“Being so sensitive he is prone to melancholy. And the melancholy is winning. Sadly here there is no physical end but what we call a work out period.”

“For any miracle to occur the recipient has to take a small step. A small step into uncertainty without any preconceived ideas.”

Hope then starts walking around the man in a circle. As she walks, each of her steps leaves a different coloured mark on the floor. After a while, we see red footprints, orange footprints, yellow, green, light blue, indigo blue, navy blue, pink, gold, purple, white, and more gold footprints. Hope is also humming a peaceful sound. She encourages us to join the singing.

This time the man does sit up just to look at us and returns back to his flat position.

“Normal for Compartment of Grief,” says Hope.

“I took him to the hill of beautiful houses, and while climbing he was so keen. When he got to the top he entered very few houses. Fear paralyses one,” she says.

Hope continues. “And he won’t even talk to anyone about his predicament. He thinks he would lose face if he did. He is partly right as most advisors never really help. This is the trip one has to take alone. And the spark of optimism has to ignite in some way. Perhaps he has been like this so that you all can learn from this.”

Rose petals shower onto the man but this does not seem enough.

“He has been like this for 28 years,” says Hope.

 

Hope continues to walk around the man, reciting her words. 

The man has been listening. So he sits up again and slowly comes to his feet. He takes a few steps but then again reverses and lies flat down.

Hope stops as this is unusual. She sits next to the man and pats his forehead.

But this time he does sit up.

“My head hurts so much,” he says.

“ I know it does,” says Hope.

“But just a few steps and you are free for ever and ever.”

The man looks at us. He looks back at Hope and gets up again.

He walks slowly like an old man.

“I can’t even support him in this walk,” says Hope.

“To us, these are a few steps, but to him, it’s like climbing a mountain. At least that’s the way the man sees it.”

It takes a long time but the man slowly and steadily walks. He tries to turn back once or twice. He frequently stops. His shoulders are stooped. But this time he is trying hard.

Hope says, “He has done this before. Let’s hope that he does not stop somewhere and lie down. Thoughts are such drivers. They can lead or debilitate.”

The man says, “This time I am saying it is easy”, and continues to walk. 

As I said it takes a long time. We also see that his footprints are also leaving coloured marks.

Hope adds, “In the land of Pink Roses there is only lightness and happiness. Everyone who hurt him is also there. They are waiting to say sorry to him.”

“The best thing is that it is a gorgeous land of colour, scent, beauty, calm, and clarity.”

6. Black is the Beginning and the End

I must now start packing for my weekend. The book is going well don’t you think?, so maybe I will relax. I think I should add that with Manic Depression there are times of the day I get many ideas. All good ones so I have to feverishly list. All from God? This question has to have arisen from the Depression. Am I sick, you wonder? Perhaps we are all a little sick. Aagh the roles we play. Humanity I guess. Or whatever happens, happens for the best.

But we can enjoy the food prepared for someone like you and live a happy moment by a happy moment until these run out. I want to do a book called ‘What I would serve for breakfast’ next. And what is all this colour business you may ask? I am sure you know of the chakras which rule our body. Each colour is resident in different parts of our body and daily I try to remember the colour and say a few good words.

Red at bottom of the spinal cord- I say ‘All my needs are met’.

Orange in the groin- I say ‘I let go of all desires and let true goals come to me’. 

Yellow in the stomach – I say ‘I will act with love’.

Green in the chest- I say ‘I have courage and love’.

Light blue in the throat- I say ‘I speak the truth’.

Indigo blue in ears- I say ‘I hear the truth’.

Navy Blue, Pink, and Gold in forehead- I say ‘Noble thoughts are here’.

Purple at top of my head- I say ‘I am open to goodness’.

Gold above my head- I say ‘I receive goodness’.

White above gold- I say ‘My link to the beautiful universe is open’.

The pain of life. The race of life. Survival. I am saying all this to you to show that we are all frail. M Gandhi was, Princess Diana was. My friend New Leonardo Da Vinci is composed and while New IT Billionaire can be sad at times, he is composed. New Idol I like. And my role? Perhaps I am frailer than all of them but I am surviving. Over the years have had mishaps. One of the most restful things for me has been to lay my hands flat on my stomach with the longest fingers touching while lying in bed. Perhaps I am a little mentally disturbed and perhaps not. But this is the way it is.

What more can I say? Using the technique New M Gandhi uses what areas would you like me to cover to complete my story. Athletics?, Boredom?, City Life?, Dancing?, Elocution?, Friends?, Gardens?, Home?, Infidelity?, Jam?, Kisses?, Love?, Eating Meat?, Nuances?, Mysteries?, Plans?, No Plans?, Questions?, Relaxation?, Simplicity?, Thinking?, Uniqueness? 

Vastness?, Vigour?, Welfare?, Exits?, Yearning?, Zero?

 

A long list I know. And you are wondering whether I have experienced anything of the above?

Did I confuse love with receiving gifts?.

Did I confuse enjoyment with knowing everyone? 

This though I can say. I like swimming in the sea.

Will I return to India when I am old? Will I follow the recommended old tradition of donating all my possessions at 65 and become a wandering person. It seems logical to me and involves less suffering. No demands on anyone. What is wisdom I ask myself? I shed a tear when I think that all my bonds are broken, like for New M Gandhi, New Princess, New IT Billionaire, and New Leonardo Da Vinci. This is a source of energy and a blessing. What do you think? Perhaps I could go to Vrindavan where all poor widows in India end up. Ok, that too on the backburner.

Today is the 14th of August. I was pleased to hear the headline on the news today that the first people have built a house on the new planet like Earth discovered some years ago. I need to give thought to what they will eat there. 

My routine now is up at 5, chanting to 8, 8 to 10 get ready, 10 to 4 write and work. 4 to 5.30 cook. 5.30 church service. In the evening I have people here for dinner. That’s my service to humanity maybe. Feeding. I have a victory of sorts. They say you get the enjoyment of earth then. With death, you get light blue.

Also, I noted a message from the internet dating site I had joined recently. And the stars match. I will look at this a bit more closely in the next few days. I think I will offer free astrological compatibility advice on my profile. 

I have to start packing and I follow the 16 steps of decoration very strictly so it will take me some time. Hair buckles, My body wash, silver decoration for my centre hair parting, red bindis ( spots on forehead), black eyeliners, silver nose rings, silver earrings, silver necklaces. silver armlets, red and silver bangles, silver rings, red saris, of course, silver waistbands, silver anklets, henna for my hands, and silver toe rings. I sound elaborate but all my friends enjoy me I think. I only wear rose scents. I believe we have to strive for beauty constantly in everything we do otherwise the world becomes unbearable. I thank all the children of the world for their innocent smiles which keeps me going. And my hosts for this weekend who have a charming simple white house with a large red lotus pool and a Japanese garden. I will do a Sunday lunch for them. I call my hosts the glamorous students- now in their sixties, well off, but with the same old curiosity. Their daughter must be the most beautiful woman in the USA and their son is charming. I think we have 16 coming and I will just make red dishes to match the lotus pool. 

Remind me not to forget to pack my red Indian swimming things. Only red for me this weekend. Red cotton during the day and dreamy red velvet at night. And red roses. So lovely to speak with you. I must rush. I will leave the hymns on. It sanctifies my home. Oh, and before I go I have thought of two proper purple dishes. 1) Yam agar agar from Chinese stores. Follow the instructions on the pack to get a delicious purple milky jelly. 2) Purple Potato mash- buy purple potatoes ( available in most places), make mash, and garnish with oil and cumin seeds.

red orange yellow

 green

 light blue indigo blue

 navy blue

 pink with gold 

purple gold white

A Dog….“Why do you come and go like this?” asks Hope. She is in the compartment called Waiting for Daughters. There is a dog bark in the distance and the man rushes out again.

The man is an American and is dressed in white of course. He has long blond hair and his face is full of joy. And he returns as soon as the dog stops barking.

“Are you playing a game?” asks Hope. “Why don’t you go back to the land of Pink Roses where you belong.”

“Don’t you know my story?”, asks the man.

“Of course I do,” answers Hope, “but do our readers?”

“Who is going to tell them?”, asks the man.

The dog starts barking in the distance and the man rushes off to the land of Pink Roses again.

“Well, I better do it,” says Hope.

“As you know, that is New Leonardo Da Vinci’s father. When he came up here he had instant access to the land of Pink Roses. But he brought his dog with him. Dogs are not allowed there but he insisted on bringing his. We advised him of the situation and he pleaded with us. He said that he would rather that the dog get the entry to the land of Pink Roses than him. We discussed it. The dog would be the first in that area. We were however so impressed with the man that we relented and gave them both an entry. It is the land of ease, forgiveness, giving in, and love.”

“And why does he run here and there? you may ask?”

“Well as you know, New Leonardo Da Vinci is still living in Lamu, Kenya and her time is not up yet. Her father is so anxious to see her so he is forever wandering in here.”

“This keeps him tied. Love has many bondages and this is one of them. His dog is getting transformed but not he. But we admire him for his devotion and selflessness.”

The barking stops and the American man wanders in again. 

“Sorry, Hopeji,” he says. “I suppose I should tell the readers.”

“I already have, Sir,” replies Hope.

“But not in your own words,” adds Hope.

“Well I should, I suppose. I can see her in Lamu and I know she looks so old but when she comes to the land of Pink Roses, she will be young again.”

Hope interrupts. “The Land of Pink Roses is not for family parties. You come alone and you leave alone. But this man is here for a reason. And this reason can only be revealed if he stays here long enough to tell you.”

And the dog starts barking and the man rushes off. 

“I want you to experience this. He is such a special man.” “This is why he is here so that he could relate his feelings to you. A bit like a performance poet. I can talk and talk but not relate to this feeling.”

“So let’s wait.”

The dog barks for some thirty minutes. Hope is sitting on a chair.

The barking stops and the man returns.

“Sorry. I got held up. But I have made sure there is enough food and water for my dog.”

“They have been waiting for a while for you, but take your time, Sir. No rush,” Hope helps the man.

The man is in tears and starts speaking slowly.

“Really. It’s nothing, Hopeji.”

And meekly recites as follows,

“Is it the red dancing shoes you wear,

or is it your warm orange smile to all?

Is it your complete yellow awareness of yourself, 

or is it that quiet walk we had in that 

deep green rainforest     

when you rescued that tiny pink injured bird.

Is it your gentle light blue voice?

Is it your clever purple mind

Is it your golden sincerity?

Or is it that white Lotus within you which only I can see.

And then there is love.”

The man is sobbing. And pink rose petals start falling. The dog starts barking furiously and the man rushes off.

We hear loud clapping in the distance.

Hope herself is in tears.

“Wasn’t that beautiful?”, she says.

“Do you feel happier?”, she asks us.

Red rose petals start falling from the sky.

“He won’t be back now. New Leonardo Da Vinci has arrived in the land of the Pink Roses. The clapping was to welcome her. I wanted him to tell you in his own words how he loves his daughter.”

We hear more clapping. There are also sounds of laughter.

Young New Idol….They think I am a child but I am God. I behave like a child. I like butter. My real mother is in prison. I am with my foster mother and father who are so kind to me. I have been born to destroy evil. But while I am a child I want people to enjoy me. Once as a baby I ate a lot of dirt and my mother scolded me. She opened my mouth to take all the dirt out and when she looked inside my mouth she saw the sun, the moon, and many planets. I think that is why she feels I am special. When I am bad she does tie me up with a rope. I do not escape as we have fun laughing.

We live in a village of cowherds. Everyone has cows and we supply milk, butter, and cream to the big town nearby where the king lives.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

I like butter so much that my friends and I go and steal butter from our neighbours.

      red orange yellow

 green

 light blue, indigo blue

 navy blue 

pink with gold 

purple gold white

They get so angry and chase us. Why do you think I am doing this? I think people should remember god as a playful child. I am not a higher authority who has many angels who give out punishment at the end of life. All these childish pranks are to give you stories to remember me by. One day many girls were bathing in the river. We stole all their clothes. It was a fun afternoon for everyone.

Once when I was a baby the evil king sent a demon to destroy me as he knew he was going to be in trouble when I grew up.

She started breastfeeding me. I sucked everything out of her until she started screaming and fainted. All the villagers looked at me and I just gave them that baby smile. I also could not speak so started pointing to my mother and said, mother mother.

 

I also play the flute and everyone listens with so much love. I also do a lot of dancing with my girlfriend Radha. She too is a goddess but we have both become children to create stories. All my other friends are very poor so I steal a lot of butter to feed them.

I get up at 5 am. After my shower and some light breakfast, I take our cows to a pasture near the river where there are also ponds for the cows to drink from. All my friends also do that as it is the work for boys. In the pastures, we play games. At noon we bring the cows home and we have lunch. From 2 to 4 we all have a rest. Then it is time for playing the flute, stealing butter, hanging out with girls. In the evening we all first go to the temple which is so much fun as everyone from the village is there. We boys get together to ring the bells. Then we come home, have a meal, and then go to bed around 9 pm. My mother has always sung a song for me when I am about to sleep. It is a pretty song. And she likes to rub my head when she does this.

             Sleep well, the star of my eyes

 go to the land of stars

 the star of my eyes

 there is beauty everywhere

 colour everywhere

 happiness everywhere

 for the star of my eyes

sleep well the star of my eyes

To the New Planet….New Hope is tiptoeing. She signals us to be quiet. We stand behind a yellow rock. As predicted by Hope there are only four of us left including New Hope. The others retired from the journey.

Everything here is yellow. The rocks, the colour of the water in the nearby river, and the few plants. A white space vehicle sits near a large yellow baobab tree. There is an extended arm from the ship to the outside on which sits a microwave oven. Next to it is a sink. A man and a woman appear to be gardening outside a house which is also yellow. The house appears to be made of some kind of yellow paper.

The space vehicle is the size of a truck.

On the house are inlaid words.

Red Peace

Orange Joy

Yellow Essence

Green Love

Green Courage

Light Blue Music

Indigo Blue Rhythm

Navy Blue Vision

Happy Pink

Gold Truth

Purple Future

White White

I also note that these same words are embossed on the space vehicle.

“Well it has been on the news,” says the woman. “That we have built a house. They did not mention that it’s made of the special paper you have invented. Did you not send them the press release ‘we are free’.”

“I forgot,” says the man. Let’s call him New Adam.

“What again,” says the woman. “How many times have I reminded you. You always forget.” Let’s call her New Eve.

“Peace please,” replies Adam.

A swarm of graceful yellow butterflies come and sit on the space vehicle.

“You promised to be efficient,” says Eve.” I can’t do everything.”

The man who wears yellow clothes made of paper turns to the woman. “When we volunteered to be the first inhabitants of this planet, you said you would support me. We came with the idea of creating Utopia. I was given the grace to invent a simple fold away house. Clothes made of paper. We have pills to sustain us and we are exploring. I have had much on my mind.”

“And you think I haven’t,” replies Eve.

“If I don’t remind you then things do not get done.”

“Please,” says the man. “The world is watching us. Let’s create harmony here. You know how tired we were of traffic jams, rushing everywhere, stress, and failed friendships.”

Eve does not reply. We still stand behind the rock. Hope is still with us. She signals us to remain where we are. Adam is in his thirties. The yellow paper clothes he wears are loose. He is a thin man with long flowing hair. Eve also wears yellow clothes made of paper cut in a similar fashion to Adam. She is plump and has long hair.

New Adam starts singing. The words Red Peace, Orange Joy, Yellow Essence, Green Love, Green Courage, Light Blue Music, Indigo Blue Rhythm, Navy Blue Vision, Happy Pink, Gold Truth, Purple Future, and White White appear in the lyrics. He also picks up a guitar.

“You are annoying me,” says Eve. Adam stops singing and continues with gardening. For a while, there is complete silence. The silence on this planet is deep. Hope then points to the sky and we see the round blue earth as we know it. Someone like Andy Warhol who is with us starts sketching. Someone like Gloria Vanderbilt starts writing a poem. Her first line includes the words ‘Yellow Peace’.

Hope watches and smiles at me. 

Like our visits to that imaginary place between Earth and the Land of Pink Roses, she seems to be waiting for something. 

I am fascinated by the yellow river. I think I would find it hard to drink the water. Would you?

“Our fresh food supplies have gone. All we have left is an apple. What will we do?”, I hear Eve calling out to Adam.

“We still have things we can microwave though, can’t we?” asks Adam. 

“You don’t listen, do you? Of course, I know we have all that left. What will we do about fresh food?”

“We have planted parsley. That should grow soon,” replies Adam. “In the meantime, we will eat very small portions of the apple.”

“Who knows when the parsley will grow and whether it will be edible with all this yellow water,” says Eve raising her voice.

“At least the apple will not go bad here. Everything has been going well for a long time here. There must be something in the air.” Adam is calm. 

“Why are you so edgy at present,” he adds. “Is it the loneliness?”

There is no reply from Eve.

We have been listening for quite a while. The sun is setting. Someone like Andy Warhol has completed his drawing. Someone like Gloria Vanderbilt has finished her poem. Someone like Andy Warhol starts walking to a yellow tree and snaps a branch off.

Both Eve and Adam hear the sound. They turn around and their eyes are full of fear. Eve rushes to the spaceship. Adam tries to stop her. She comes out with something which looks like a hairdryer and points it at someone like Andy Warhol. He drops to the ground. 

Hope looks at us with sad eyes.  

She says, “The new world has started. There will be a new India, a new Australia, a new USA and all that we know. We should go now.”

New Hope and New Monet….New Hope waves at a man with a long beard sitting at an easel. His arms are folded.

“Welcome to the Land of Pink Roses,” announces Hope.

A dog is heard barking.

“That is New Monet studying the light,” says Hope to us.

“He has been here a few years and to date has not put anything on that canvas.” He sits there watching.

New Monet turns to us and smiles. “Welcome”, he says.

He continues “I know what Hope wants me to say. But before I do that I want to look at you closely. We get very few visitors so I want to see what special light you have within you which Hope responds to.”

He stares at us for a while and sketches on the canvas.

Hope smiles. After a while, New Monet stops sketching and goes back to folded arms.

“Bless him,” says Hope.” This is what is possible in the land of Pink Roses. Complete flexibility to do what you like.”

“How did he get here so easily,” I ask.

Hope smiles .”He was always thinking of good. Light is good and his complete focus on this throughout his life has fast-tracked him here. His thoughts determined his destination. Art is good like that. It encourages exploration of the unknown and then good art leads to here. And he never worried about the results of his quest.”  

We hear beautiful music playing. And a party starting up.

“What is he staring at?” I ask Hope.

She replies. “It is sad that you cannot see what he can. Only rightful entrants to the Land of Pink Roses get this vision.”

“He sits there bathed in and looks at the special light here. He does not paint it as it is so different and beautiful that one can just feel it with one’s heart.” 

New Monet smiles at us. We begin to depart.

New Monet walks up to us and says, “Once we are here nothing that happens on earth affects us. Events in the world are like watching a film with a standard plot with beginnings and endings unlike here where there are no endings. I know there are many essays and critiques about me there, but if I can I would like to say that I am so glad I chased light. And I love the party atmosphere here. I now know exactly where to look for a solution to any problems I may have.”

New Goddess of Hope….I turn around as it is so quiet. She is not there. A red rose petal floats out of my hair to the ground.

I celebrate my mother’s simplicity and my father’s sincerity. Thank you to Jennifer D’Abo and Major Michael G A Watson for believing in me. I salute Dave Letch. Thanks for my 60 min portrait Paul Mallam

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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20904660.Bhupen_Thakker