Monday, 15 December 2008


Himachal Pradesh - They call me Arjuna
They call me Arjuna
The wind claims my forfeits. Tales, legends or simply gossips, make them lie in the mouth of a young woman I have never met. Around the bonfire of the cold winter night, they gather together to hail and kill ghosts or demons by the sword in the blood of the battlefield. But truth is, for the dark clouds over the valley carry sorrows, and penance is too heavy for my back, the donkeys are exhausted under the weight of my sins, and my punishment darkens all love and brotherhood from my eyes. Thus hate is the shadow to overwhelm sanity off my acts and deeds, as I grab young men by their throats and scare them away, sending them to the darkest hells for the rests of their insignificant lives.

Eternal damnation for my enemies, they will burn in their stupidity. Trouble won’t fear my hand when words do not revenge, I will make their faces touch the ground underneath my foot, thus it has to be.

The silent peace of destruction which floats after the battle comes to my soul, for violence vanishes, I can raise my head again upon the clouds, and my face is blessed by the sun’s warmth.

My name is Arjuna and it’s a good name as I recover it. I am Arjuna and I will wash your feet before I kiss them, for I can see your face smiling at me without being here.

The crows cry out my name up in the high mountains.

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