Telegraph Calcutta

Right, Now the Blood Rite

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Mahadeb knows. He has been there. It is not possible to say how or why; you don’t ask Mahadeb such questions. You don’t ask Mahadeb questions. Period. That word reminds me. But that word cannot be taken. Period. That is a blood word too, a mostly unmentionable blood word that is known to cause, we are told by entities appointed to high places, devastating BloodFloods, such as the one our native Somalis are in the middle of suffering, poor chaps. But they deserve it, don’t they, for all the heretical things they do and demand? They cannot be allowed to go on doing and demanding those things. Period. Bah! Again that unsavoury word. Banish it. Banish forever! Banish so completely and comprehensively, it never dares peep anywhere remotely or close to where it stands banished from.

We live in times of dos and don’ts. That can be done. This cannot be done. And there will be consequences for doing what can no longer be done. Maybe it was possible to do this earlier, but it is no longer possible to do. Maybe this could not be done earlier, but now it is possible to do. We live on this side and that side of more red lines than have ever come to criss-cross our lives. So many that you are not actually on this or that side of a red line but are boxed in by them. Arrested. Confined. Restricted. You step in any direction and you risk judgement and worse. Sometimes much worse than just worse in the casual sense we mean it. Worse as in bhaabtey paarben naa worse. Worst. What can be worse than being told you are born wrong? Manufacturing defect, stained at the very start. So stained you should not have been born at all, because what right do wrong things have to be born in the first place? You cannot do anything right. And so everything that follows thereafter is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong until that wrong is brought to an end. Somehow.

You are born wrong. You have the wrong parents. You have the wrong name. You eat the wrong thing. You wear the wrong dress. You look wrong. You live in the wrong places. You go wrong ways. You turn into wrong alleys. You read the wrong things. You meet the wrong people. You marry wrong. You divorce wrong. What you do betwixt is all wrong. You have the wrong children. You have the wrong number of children. You bring them up wrong. You give them wrong names. You send them to wrong places. You teach them wrong things. Your history is wrong. The things you did in your history are wrong. And therefore all that has followed is wrong. You went to the wrong places. You employed wrong means. You arrived with the wrong arms. You made the wrong allies. You made the wrong enemies. You won the wrong battles. You enslaved the wrong people. You laid the wrong cities. You brought in the wrong people. You brought in wrong practices. You built the wrong monuments. You used the wrong people to build them. You used for them the wrong arts and materials. You put wrong names to them. You created wrong empires. You enunciated the wrong rules. You laid down the wrong laws. You follow the wrong God. You say the wrong prayer. And it follows logically from this that all things about you and each and everything about you is wrong. That is right. You are wrong. And therefore something needs to be done to right it. Period.

Mahadeb has been there. He knows. He has seen things. He did say, before he went away to wherever it is he has gone. He did mention the BloodFlood, or the arrangements of it. He did say it was waiting to come and it would one day come. Disguised as correction, but not correction itself. Wrong masquerading as Right. Revenge overriding Reason. Wrath employed by the Rogue. Who has wrested the right to pronounce. This is Right. This is Wrong. This can be done. That cannot be done. Maybe it was earlier done, but that was earlier. That can no longer be done. And there shall be consequences for doing what can no longer be done. Have you not seen the BloodFlood? The big one? And all the smaller ones that keep getting caused and created all over the place? It was coming. It had all been foretold. By Mahadeb.

Where Mahadeb has been

And whatever it is he has seen

How is one to know

God knows is all that we know.

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