(Note: Words are easy like the wind, but faithful friends are hard to find! He spoke not a WORD in the cattle shed, but his thundering silence roars to the four corners of the sea of humanity to remind us all that we are ONE and INDIVISIBLE in rain and shine! Let the Pamplani tsunami thunder along unabated! james)
When the midnight hour strikes on the 24 December, while the bells of a thousand churches ring loud in joy on the Birth of the Fisherman Saviour, from the thatched derelict huts of the fisherfolk on the Malabar Coast, loud cries and wailings of despair of the daughters and mothers will rise in a crescendo for their beloved ones lost in the Arabian Sea due to the devilish dance of destruction of Cyclone Ockhi.
But there will be no let up in the merriments in the nearby palaces of the Arch-bishops, the bishops and the well-healed, who have been shedding copious crocodile tears for the lost; the corks of choicest cognacs and rare matured single malt scotch whiskies will pop-up; the best quality cashew nuts, almonds and pistachios and the best of pork, beef and mutton, crabs and lobsters will be there on their dining tables as usual. Merry Xmas to them all.
“Pride can never approach to where thou walkest in the cloths of the humble among the poorest, and the lowliest, and lost, and last. My heart can never find its way where thou keepest company with the companionless among the poorest, the lowliest, and the lost.”
“This is my prayer to thee, my lord –strike, strike at the root of penury in my heart. Give the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might. Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles." (Gitanjali)