A rumble random rant about
burning bodies in the backyard.
The smell of burnt bodies fill the
air. The same smell you get whenever you drive past the Borella Crematorium
when a funeral is in process. The mild August evening wind takes this smell of
people barbequing in backyards everywhere. For someone like me who loves food,
strange to be put off by this smell of burning meat. Unfortunately for me, this
smell is from association at my dad’s cremation.
I go back inside closing the back
door from the burnt body smell. The TV drones on in the background. BBC News. I
look up to verify. The Olympics are soon gone. Tomorrows the closing ceremony.
Mo’s attempting a double by winning gold at the 5000 tonight. He runs his last
400 meters in 52 secs. I can’t do that first time around forget about running
4600 meters first.
As the Olympics end, the football
season starts to ensure peace amongst the housing estates spread across Great
Britain. I look forward to a good season, being a MU fan for decades ensures my
expectations are always met. But football will also usher in the cold; the
windy cold or the wet cold or the both wet and windy cold. The sky this late
evening still bright. Soon though even early afternoon will bleak, very like
the bleakness in my mind.
Hat Ricks of goals for England and
MU by Rooney even will not help relieve the autumn chill and winter freeze from
my heart and mind. My external body, I control through regular exercise. But my
mind crumbles. My heart aches.
I drink water and keep visiting the
urinal until my urine eventually runs crystal clear. Imaginary toxins flushed
away, unimagined blood sugar levels become respectable. I am restless. I
wonder. I wonder more and more about all the wickedness in this world. Forget
about the bigger ones, alike Syria, I worry about individual acts of madness.
I can’t watch anymore:
Please don’t make me watch you
arresting a grandmother and her partner for murdering her 12-year-old grand
daughter. Her body found inside their house after seven days.
Please don’t you see what I see
when I walk down our high street. Everyday a new shop out of business, the
neighbourhood bar steel shuttered, all closed for business. The irony of it all
seen at the end of our high street, the TESCO superstore. Even they feel it, less
and less customers.
Please don’t you wonder how the
great people of Great Britain now queue in hundreds to watch fellow great
citizens make racist and promiscuous fools of their selves on live TV.
The list is too long. The
wickedness too big. Spreading like the angry wildfire.
"Yaam
irukka bhayam eyn? Why fear when I am?" Kārttikeyan
Barack Obama.
Ussain Bolt.
Mohamed Farah.
The three people most in the news now. One in an
election to select the leader of the free world. The other two Olympic Champions.
Why did you waste away four years Barack when you
could have changed the world?
Why?
I am cold old mother please wrap me in blanket and
bury me under the old mango tree, the one down Lauries Road. Next to St. Mary’s
church.
Finally I will belong somewhere and nourish my mother
lanka. I will be peace, for one thing I am sure of, more sure than of the God’s
themselves, I am sure of death, when finally you are truly at peace.
It’s twilight now. Cold and windy, rain expected
tomorrow.
I am cold old mother. Please take me now. Wrap me in
my favourite tiger print blanket, the one that kept me warm in the USA.