October has proven quite eventful and we’re not even half way through. I don’t even know where to start, I’m telling you!
Am I honestly rhyming? Perhaps, I should just sing a song! Or was that just timing? Fuck it, this won’t take too long …
I will sing first of the island whose name is known across our land: they call her Boracay, the jewel of Aklan!
First sight I saw were your waters blue, and immediately hailed the sunset, too …
… and wrote the names of the Gods who nurture you, whose wonders no man can ever undo.
Of course, I did not neglect to sing of the countless diwatà, too …
… those spirits who keep your sands white …
… and your waters clear blue.
I pray that you do not forget this cheerful and pious guest …
… who walked across your sands and in their beauty was possessed.
With arms stretched sea-wards, I sang in their praise …
… those gods and un-gods who made pleasant my days.
Nor shall I forget to sing of the Traveller, too. From beginning to end, no moment was blue. Our trip was smooth and safe throughout; blissful were all the moments in between and about.
As soon as I came back from my trip to the sea: I went straight to the temple of Maa Bhavani, to sing and feast with the Sindhi and Punjabi who were then celebrating the Maha Navratri.
There I sat and sang of Durga the Great Mother: a slayer of countless devils, one after the other.
Her beautiful family, I adored at once, too.
… even Sita and Ram who are Lakshmi and Vishnu.
The elephant-headed God I did not forget. With him, not one of our fears are ever a threat.
I sang to the rest of the Gods, of course; no doubt just as loud. Whoever said God was just a bearded man on a cloud?
In my sixth year with the temple, I could not be more proud. There, nobody cares if you’re Sikh or Hindu, or of stranger crowd.
The food was superb as it always has been …
Of course, our own shrine at home was nothing shabby for the Queen!
Soon after we sang to the Mother of Hindustan, to my own city, I then ran.
It was the feast of my hometown’s own Mother, perched on a pillar unlike none. Here, she is Mary the Mother, not unlike Isis and her son.
We carried her on our backs …
… and danced all day, too.
She was beautiful as always in royal purple and blue.
I wish I could sing more, but alas, I’m bad with rhyme. Continuing would be a bore, but I wish it was worth your time.