The Curse!

DSCF1777 copy(Shri Verghese Mathew (76) presently in England, was DGM at the Trivandrum Office of Reserve Bank of India, when finally retired. He spent most of his official life in Chennai, Mumbai and Trivandrum. Off from the hustle and bustle of the cities and slightly far from the madding crowd, he now has settled in Kerala. He is still an enthusiastic reader, who always loves experience than knowledge. He is excited to see a lot of free online Church citizens’ portals emerge for open sharing. He is a free thinker who lives what he thinks. He does not appreciate either the long winding Sunday Churching or the father son relationship among community members. He loves to treat all humans as just brothers and sisters. He is sharing his thoughts with CCV readers. Here is a poem from him- Joseph Mattappally, Asso. Editor).

VargheseThe Curse! 

Varghese Mathew Pmaplani


What a sordid life you lead oh! Blind believer

With superstitions befuddling your mind

In stupor brain dead, rationality abandoned.

Existence of aimless flotsam and jetsam adrift

Your cranium is chocked with inanities rammed

By nefarious, cheating, cunning devious priests

Why a broker is required between you and god

What god is your god who dances to tune of men

Imbecile “revelation” hood‐ wink the credulous

Don't swallow this stupidity hook, line and sinker

Expose this diabolical game by all the means, quick

They sell their bogus gods to earn sacks full of money

To indulge in luxury which they don’t earn or deserve

They know their god and his minions are impotent

And their heaven is a never never land of mirage

This con game the believer’ blind eyes fail to see.


You cower in dark corner in terror of the un‐known

Utter superstitions benumbing your psyche inert

You fear deity will punish you for mundane deeds

Such as eating meat on Fridays or during the lent

It defy logic that a guy in sky keeps constant watch

Of billions humans’ proclivities here on the earth

Keep detailed accounts for punishing after life

It is no sin to enjoy life in full and the beauty around

It is no crime to whistle at the wind and sing with birds

With the breeze tussling the hair and joy in the vein

Lying prone on velvet grass just gazing at the cloud

May give the peace and quiet you always cherished

Unbound happiness with shackles thrown over‐board


Why feel guilty being entrapped by bewitching hues

Chasing rainbows to lands’ end with shouts of joy

Don’t be a moron, morose and brooding type

You won’t be punished for living with verve and joy

You won’t go to hell for embracing your love

Don’t forsake joys of life for the pie in the sky

Shouldn’t be of the church‐bound moron kind

Don’t dance to tunes of some pied‐piper priests

Never ,never put your children to the clergy care

To be twisted and moulded to serve their ends.


Molested, demeaned and savaged beyond repair

The dread of unknown diktats of an unknown god

Foisted on by unscrupulous conniving shamans

For stealing your purse to live in idle and ease

They brand and treat you as a brainless goat or cow

That follows the herd by habits blind and chew the cud

To be driven hither and thither as they fancy

You are drained dry with tithes and levies galore

See through dichotomy between words and deeds

Throw the crap to dust‐bin with contempt deserved

The hurt inflicted to any neighbour not atoned


By auricular confessions to Catholic priests

Do repair the harm by worthwhile remedies done

Don’t dump misdeeds in the lap of amorphous god

We are masters of our own life and destiny

Our values are measured in the human scale

We are accountable to the humans most

If prayers achieve everything, why efforts at all

All the gains are made by human endeavour

Brain and brawn did make progress happen

Chanting and telling beads, a sheer waste


Why not try doing useful deeds in one’s life

Rituals make the priests wealthy, that’s all

Why money is placed in collection boxes

Beside phantom saints of dubious repute

Do saints spent the dough at the corner bar?

Will man ever be free of superstitious dread

And open his eyes to see shadows receding a

Behold a world of sun‐shine, laughter and joy

Will the CURSE of BLIND FAITH ever end?

And make humans really FREE at last.

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