The Color of Prayer

I like the church when it is empty.  When all the worshippers are gone; when the priests have cast off their robes and left; when the golden globes are dark and the fans have stopped their restless whirring.  I like to sit with no one there except the pigeons croaking on the window sills and the bees humming their way in through half shut windows. I like to breathe in the scents of snuffed candles, burnt-out incense and dusty prayer books.

If I am very, very quiet, I can  hear the echoes of thousands of prayers,  the whispers of a million wishes, feel the weight of  wordless longings,  of unspoken pleas, that fill the air in the old rafters.

 If I am patient and watchful, I can sense then the Presence all around me, freed from where it had lain - between those hundreds of palms folded in devotion.

It drifts and fills the old stone walls, the dark shadowy corners, the cracked pews, the wooden crosses, the gaudy icons, the stained glass panes.  Everywhere!  It reaches up, powerful and strong- up, up, into the rafters, into every nook and crevice.  It searches out every plea, every dying echo of a prayer, lifts them all,lovingly, and sends each one out gently, to look for men to answer it!

Bachelors and Brides..

GREETINGS!!
Someone has definitely jinxed the Witch. It’s been a bad week so far, and no signs yet of it getting better. But you don’t come here to watch the witch weep. So promise, no tears.
My bachelor friends are all on a “look-for-a-bride” spree. That reminds me of a story.

Once upon a time there was this guy who thought he was good looking. Unfortunately, he was a techie and as everyone knows techies are weirdos. So he had no girlfriends and of course no wife. He got so fed up of everyone teasing him about this that he decided to ask the first woman he met that day, to marry him.

The first woman he met was the auntie next door who came out to pick up the newspaper. Even though he was weird, the techie was honest, and since he had taken a decision, he felt he had to ask her although she had a husband and grown up children. So he said, “Auntie, will you marry me?” Auntie knew how sick he was and besides she already had a jealous boyfriend, so she ignored him.

The techie next met a pretty girl. He asked her, “Will you marry me?” The girl took her thumb out of her mouth, hit him with her water bottle and lisped, “Give me a chocolate, Uncle?” The techie took this to be a refusal. He was quite relieved. The girl would need years to develop the essential physical components that he needed in a bride and besides, she seemed greedy. Techies are tightfisted weirdos!

He next saw jogging towards him a very pretty young girl. The tight shirt and slacks she wore, reassured him that all her assets were worth acquiring. He could not see her face but he didn’t mind that, since all faces are the same in the dark. He got all excited. As she came closer, he imagined himself asking the fateful question, her shy nod, then- their wedding. It would be at a church, he liked that idea. The priest was just saying to him, ‘you may kiss the bride,’ when the girl turned in at the gate ahead and disappeared. So the techie failed again.

The next woman was also young and pretty. She was also his elder sister but he had made a vow to ask the first woman he met, so he had to ask her. Don’t forget he was a weirdo. So he said, “Didi, will you marry me?” Didi gave him a blow which dislodged his dental fillings. But she did not say anything because she knew he was a weirdo and because there are some things you have to put up with from family.

Techie did not give up. He walked on until he saw another woman. Once again, he asked his question and this time the woman said immediately, “I will.” You see, she was another techie and one weirdo recognized the other. So this is how the techie finally got married.
Did they live happily every after? Don’t be silly! Techies don't live, they exist.

THE LAST WORD:
The jinx has however, lifted from dear friend Matthias . He’s getting married on the 29th of December. If he hasn’t invited you to the reception, go ahead and gatecrash at Shreyas on 2nd January 2009, at 7.30 p.m.

And those of you, who know of any impediment to this marriage, please join the queue at the City Church, Pune.
Love you,

This Thing Called Mother...

GREETINGS!!
Somebody told my mother about the things I write in this blog. She knows very little English having studied Portuguese, courtesy of Portuguese occupied Goa, and firmly believes computers are contraptions of satan. She had questions for me.

"Why do you sign yourself as a witch? Does everyone hate you? "
"I don’t know if they hate me mom, but anyway it was my choice. "
"You want to make yourself out as worse than you are. Why is that? "
"Hey, you’re echoing Daniel Defoe, Mom. "
"Don’t act clever with me Rozu, and stop calling yourself a witch. "
I’d rather be called a witch than ‘Rozu’ mom. Yuck, yuck, and YUCK.

"Why did you write all those wicked things about men? Giving people ideas, you’re a single woman. Do you know the bad things that can happen? "
"Yeah mom, and I can’t wait for them to start happening. "
"Stop that nonsense right now! "
(NO WAY MOM!!)

"About that witch's brew you wrote? Are you a secret drinker?"
"No mummy I’m not. Just a sip or two sometimes…"
"That’s how it starts. First a sip, next thing you know, you’re an alcoholic. You stop that now." "Okay Mom."

"You wrote about the MNS. What if Raj Thackeray comes after you?"
"Mom why would he bother with me? He has the elections to worry about."
"That’s why. With the sort of name you’re making for yourself, you’ll be good publicity for him."
OUCH!!

Finally, she asks suspiciously, “Who was that verse written to?”
Me, very casually: “Oh mom, just a computer geek.”
“What? A computer geek? My poor child, all computer geeks are emotionally disabled men. Keep away from them.”

(Out of the mouths of demented old women!!! )

The Witch’s Dilemma: I cannot upload photographs on my blog because my comp is so ancient it doesn’t have the thingamajig for doing that and also has several unspeakable other things wrong with it.
So should I, in these times of trial, buy a new PC or just pull along with the old one is the 40,000 rupee question.
My male friends despise me for even thinking I have a choice. The women, bless them, tell me to pull along, it’s not worth it. I go with the women. So, for now, no photographs.

The Last Word:
I met god again, this time watching Dostana (the movie about gays); and drooling into his popcorn, over John Abraham. (Guys, that frame where a bare-chested John comes out of the room, tugging up his short, short briefs is- yummmeeee!! Don’t miss it.)

“Hey god, where’s your ponytail?” I asked him.
“Hey yourself. Move with the times woman, ponytails are out, crew cut is back.”
He seemed affable, so I ventured, “Dear god, why do you let bad things happen to good people?
“Because good people are boring and I hate boring people. Now get lost,” he snapped. I got.

See guys, I was right. Be bad, be exciting, fly with the wicked witch, and prosper, thou beloved spawn of the devil.

Irreverently yours,