Letter to Dad; A leader with no title

 

To,

My Dad on his Birthday.  

Dear Dad,       

I know you never got the love,

That you truly deserved.

Today when I live far from you I understand,

That fatherless son’s agony,

Oh! that kid’s pain,

Who never got his father’s love.

I feel Grandpa shouldn’t have left you in such a haste,

Oh! That child’s worry…      

 

Perhaps it was fate that he was supposed to meet his untimely death.

 It’s in teens that a boy needs his dad the most,

I wonder how you lived through that situation worst

Yet, turned out to be my Dad best.

 

While other kids liked to walk,

Your small idiot preferred to talk,

While to the office you would have to walk,

You first carried me to my crèche*,

Oh, I wonder how much your legs would ache,

But you never let his three-year old’s feet to the ground touch.

I remember how in the evenings at those cuts you would stare,

And give out those small gasps of pain,

I an idiot would laugh as that’s no big deal to care,

And then you would smile behind that thick mustache,

As if my joy was your biggest gain.

I wish I was better then L

 

When I grew,

You were with whom my fears and pain I confide,

I gave you so many reasons to be wild,

I felt your voice becoming gruff,

But never were your actions tough,

An occasional hit or some sessions of scolding,

Was what I escaped with.

Coz I guess for you, I was always that child,

Whom you carried to the crèche*.

 

Then one fine day mom got sick,

And you kept that marital promise, “Through thin and thick”,

That sudden change in schedule,

That sudden change in lifestyle,

That sudden duty of being another mom,

So that this Mama’s boy would not bother his mom.

 I wish I was better then L

 

 

If you have met a man this humble,

Who under the pressure would not crumble?

Who would forgive your every sin?

And would always your heart win.

Who for his family,

Would put on line his dignity?

And face all the consequences with humility.

Then definitely you have met my Dad.

 

A man of words few,

But who holds an ocean of feelings,

Which he refuses to spill,

Yet fulfill my every fanciful will.

My silence comes from him,

My faith comes from him.

 

He taught me:

There is nothing wrong to feel, but never let your words ever an emotion of other kill,

If your pain is someone’s joy, give them that joy,

There is nothing wrong in love but never break your chaste vow.

 

I hope as I become a man,

I become a man like him:

A sacrificing father, a loving husband,

A humble person,

And most importantly;

A leader with no title J               

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD

Your loving son,

Prajval Albuquerque

 

* Crèche: a nursery where babies and young children are cared for during the working day.

One of the most important lessons I ever learnt summarised in a poem.

Villain within us

Villain within us

Note: In the course of this article some of you might be led to believe that I am justifying some of the heinous acts committed by the people whom I have mentioned in the article. But let me be very clear right at the beginning I do not endorse their views rather my concern is, why do they become? What they became.

Life is harsh, but according to me we as humans go that extra mile to make others' lives even more miserable at times, and then the unexpected happens; a person becomes tired of being victimized, and a monster is born. Perhaps how many times we don’t even realise our small actions solely done with the intention of fun might completely transform a person. People become criminals because of their greed, lust, psychological issues etc. Today am not writing about them. 

My concern is for those monsters which we create and I sincerely hope that we stop creating them. We as people should not merely be robots controlled by our analytical mind, but think like humans with hearts and realise everyone has needs and when they are not fulfilled, they tend to become something very different.

History speaks about great people and their good acts specifically their acts of valour which led them to triumph over evil, but at times does this society which we claim to be good does it create its own evil?

I guess people knew right from the beginning of time that they created their own evil, but our self-righteous ego simply refused to accept it. However, some of the authors have always known it and they have expressed the same through their writings. That is why they have always felt the need to create a dark background story for each villain. Who better than J.K. Rowling knows this perhaps that is the reason while creating the character of Voldemort she felt the need to describe the horrific past of Tom Riddle; who was tormented and ill-treated by his father and later in the orphanage. Even when the righteous hero "Harry" does some pretty nasty things to his cousin and their aunt when they insult or bully him. Paulo Cohello in his book Devil and Miss Prym; A story of a man who searches for the answer to whether the man is basically evil or good? has described the antagonist as having a violent background. Perhaps the earliest author who understood the pain of being wronged and justified revenge was Alexander Dumas in his book The Count of Monte Cristo. Then Hollywood and Bollywood caught up with the idea and for every act of violence committed by the hero there is a previous count of injustice done towards him and thus his act is justified but what about the villain? He too is born out of injustice; shouldn’t he too get justice? Or is it that we live in a society where the victor is the hero and the loser is the villain?  The Hollywood movie John Wick Chapter I showed the hero killing a person who killed his dog. John Wick got his revenge by killing that person who killed his dog but don’t you think even he committed a murder and should have had a bad end? Instead, John Wick killed both the father and the son he is the hero and the movie is named after his character. 

I firmly believe in this quote from the book of Maccabees in the Old Testament “Those who take the sword shall die by the sword.” Death does not forgive the Maccabees brothers though their cause was just, two of the three brothers were killed.  

We need to build our society on; where there is no justification for a wrong act. There has always been a debate whether the means justify the end or the end justifies the means. Based on whatever I have analysed from the above-mentioned literature I stand by the conviction that “the means justify the end” and not vice versa, as the end only exists in stories and movies in reality there is no end, and the animosity continues for eternity.

The Criminologist Cesare Lombroso in his theory of atavistic-born criminals identified certain people as criminals or would-be criminals if they possessed certain characteristics from the list of 16 characteristics that he had published. Lombroso’s theory of identifying criminals is no longer relevant  It must however be noted that most of the 16 characteristics mentioned by Lombroso were deformities or features which usually a person would not possess. How do we treat a person with deformities or unusual features? Then what do you think will be the reaction of a person who has been treated as an outcast, jeered at and treated differently for the entirety of his life. He will definitely hate this kind of society and thus as an aftermath, a selfish, criminal whose hatred is directed towards society will be born. This goes on to say that Lombroso was right up to a certain extent as he identified the symptoms and not the cause of how criminals are born. Some may say that we sympathise with such differently-abled people and show compassion towards them but perhaps that’s not what they need. What they actually need is acceptance and love. Now here are some questions I would like to pose for a modern global citizen and if you can honestly answer them with a yes then you have not only saved a person’s soul but have rid the society of a criminal even before he was born. These questions may also change your definition of people with unusual features.

• Would you fall in love with a person with a squint or who is a pygmy and marry him?
• Would you introduce that fattest person in your class as your best friend to your friend of the other sex?
• Would you take a seat beside an effeminate person while travelling?
• Have you ever chatted with that leper about his life or your life while you dropped that big note in his vessel?
• You might have helped many people with crutches to cross the road but have you ever walked along with them at the same speed with which they walk, not helping them but just chatting and making them feel normal? Have you ever done this when the person with crutches and you were going in the same direction?
•  Have you ever invited that aloof studious person in your class to your birthday bash?

A drop of kindness can transform a devil into an angel but we as people tend to forget that a drop of hatred can change a person into a devil too. When a priest loved, cared and trusted a considerable amount of money to be delivered to a monastery, to a person despite that person being a habitual gambler and a vagabond; he was transformed and became a caretaker of the sick and in turn formed an organisation entirely dedicated to the service of sick, he became a saint and is known as Saint Camillus de Lellis. At the same time when a small girl was subjected to rape and was not supported by her maternal family and when her own cousin got her falsely arrested with a charge of dacoity. She was transformed and the innocent Phoolan Devi became the Bandit Queen.  If Phoolan Devi’s family and villagers had shown love and care to that innocent girl, would she have become a dacoit? 

Within us resides both good and evil. We as members of this society by our acts influence the acts of other members of the society. I feel seriously hurt when I see ourselves creating our own enemies and tyrants. I believe that each communal clash does not propagate any religion but creates more hardliners among the victims who will again initiate a new clash this process is endless so better not to start it at all; do not let a new villain awake in an innocent heart by an act of yours because when a villain is born he makes no difference between the innocent and the guilty, he just seeks destruction and will continue it till the time he is brought down. In the meantime, a new villain will be born from his victims.

In honour of Saint Thomas More*

 

In an era long past, a man did rise,

With a resolute spirit and composed guise.

Thomas More, a soul noble and revered,

His courage and virtue, his goals endeared.

Born on England's shores, a bright scholar he,

A guiding light with a mind so free.

Mastering the law, wisdom he did gain,

In courts of justice, his brilliance did reign.

But Thomas' value surpassed mere law's might,

His principles unwavering, faith burning bright.

Defending what's right, his conscience held sway,

To truth and God, he'd never betray.

As Henry VIII's counselor, the crown he served,

A voice of reason, respect he deserved.

Immuned to power's allure, he stood tall,

His integrity like an unwavering call.

Yet dark clouds gathered, a tempest brewed,

Henry's demands grew harsh, his intentions skewed.

The king, unsettled by Thomas' stand,

Sought loyalty alone, a commanding demand.

In matters of faith, Thomas would not waver,

His conscience unyielding, his devotion forever.

He could not abandon his sacred oath,

His soul, his God, he'd never loathe.

As Henry claimed supremacy's reign,

Above Church and saints, causing Thomas pain,

He remained steadfast, guided by his creed,

His convictions unwavering, a beacon indeed.

The scaffold awaited, a somber scene,

Thomas faced his fate with a tranquil mien.

With grace, he embraced his impending plight,

His gaze fixed on heavenly realms of light.

In martyrdom's glory, his life did cease,

His name immortalized, a legacy of peace.

Saint Thomas More, an illuminating flame,

May your spirit guide us, in your virtuous name.

Let us cherish this patron, loyal and true,

His virtues shining in all that we do.

Saint Thomas More, our compass and guide,

Lead us through darkness with your righteous light.

*Composed with minimum assistance of AI

A Common Bachelor

This poem is heavily inspired by one of my favourite poems “The Village Blacksmith”. I loved the poem so much that I blatantly borrowed lines from it. You can listen to the original here: https://youtu.be/-XXz5InbG0Y

If all goes well someday I desire to write a follow-up to this “The family man”

On with the poem….

A Common Bachelor

-         Prajval Albuquerque

Under a split AC

⁠The Bachelor sits;

The Bachelor, a moderately built man is he,

With thin and lanky arms,

And the muscles of his brawny brain

Are strong as iron bands.

 

His hair is crisp, black, and short,

The chilled air and bright lights have faded his face’s natural tan,

The AC is chill but his brow is wet with honest sweat.

He earns whatever he can,

He looks the whole world in the face,

For all his, credit card bills are paid,

And he owes not any man.

 

Week in, week out, from morn till night,

You can hear his fingers type and the screen swipe;

Like a carpenter tapping his nails.

You can see him drain the corporate coffee,

During his break and time free.

 

The HR coming from Board Room

Looks in at the open door;

He loves to see the brightened screen,

And see the executed code soar.

 

He goes on Sunday to the church,

And sits among other bachelors;

He hears the priest pray and preach,

He hears his crush’s voice

Singing in the church choir,

And it makes his heart rejoice.

 

It sounds to him like his first love's voice

Singing in some other man’s arms!

And with his hard, rough hand he wipes,

A tear out of his eyes.

 

Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,

Onward through life he goes.

Each morning sees some assignment begin,

Each evening sees it close.

Something attempted, something done,

He sleeps peacefully,

Knowing well he has earned a night's repose.

 

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,

 For the lesson thou hast taught!

Thus at the flaming forge of life

 Our fortunes must be wrought;

Thus on the worn out key board typed out, lived out,

Each burning deed and thought.

Can you love the Eucharist more than Saint Tarcisius did?

This beautiful word called “Love” called love can evoke so many emotions within us. So today as we end up celebrating our Republic Day. My heart was filled with love for my country, the marching contingents gave me a delight like no other, and now as Valentine's day draws closer “the “season of love” as the world says it. Spare a thought to focus on, how much the words “I love you” mean; are you willing to believe in what you love? What sacrifices are you willing to make for your love? Can you love God more than any man? With these thoughts in my mind, I share my article on Saint Tarcisius      

 

Can you love the Eucharist more than Saint Tarcisius did?

 “I will rather die than relinquish the eucharist”

- Saint Tarcisius.

How often we feel and express love to our parents, family, someone in whom we look up to as our future spouse, but how far would you go for that love? Perhaps we may give our life for our worldly love but what about our Lord. How often we say I will give my life for my faith, but deep down in our conscience we know how far we will go to protect our lord, and here we have a teenager whose conscience was as clear as his words; he sacrificed his life for the love of eucharist.

It is easy to love someone whom our eyes can see, whose voice our ears can hear, whose heartbeat we can feel when we hug them, it’s difficult to love someone more than our own lives. However, the purest and exemplary form of a love of which my fragile body cannot even conceive is to give my life for someone whose voice I will hear, whose heartbeat I will feel, whose presence I will see but only if I have “FAITH”

 In the early days of Christianity, before Emperor Constantine had adopted Christianity as the state religion, and before the Council of Nicaea had taken place. Early Christians throughout the Roman Empire faced severe torture and persecution.  It was in this era, when Emperor Valerian ruled over the Roman Empire Saint Tarcisius was born.

In those early times, Christians were thrown into dark and dirty prisons, from which they were only taken out in order to be Martyred. Christians were often beaten or burnt to death. At times they were thrown to lions or leopards in large open spaces surrounded by rows of seats, for the entertainment of Roman aristocracy and citizens. To protect themselves from Romans, the Christians dug deep underground chambers and made long tunnels between them. The openings to these chambers were made in lonely spots outside the city, and only the Christians knew about the entrance to these chambers.  These underground chambers were known as "catacombs," and Holy Mass was offered there, here the early Christians were instructed in the faith by the bishops and priests and received the holy communion.
But in spite of every attempt to maintain secrecy, the Romans sometimes found the entrance to these catacombs; the early Christians there were caught and put in dungeons or sentenced to death. A great many Christians had been captured and put in jails, every day in these dungeons our early brothers and sisters spent great hours praying and singing psalms as they awaited their certain death.

One day these captured children locked in prisons sent a message to the Bishop asking him to send them Holy Eucharist, for they knew that just as food nourishes our bodies, and Holy Eucharist nourishes our souls, and they believed that if they could only receive the body of our Lord, into their hearts so that they could be able to bear any pain or torture for the love of our Lord.

When this message reached the Bishop, he was in one of the catacombs ready to say a mass, he asked all present in the catacomb to pray that he might choose the best messenger to carry the Blessed Sacrament to the brothers and sisters languishing in prison. He could not send a priest to do this, and most of the other Christians were well known too.  because they would be at once seized and put in one of the many prisons. At the end of the Mass, the Bishop turned around again and asked who would be willing to risk his life to carry Holy Eucharist to the prisoners. A couple of men offered to carry out this perilous yet sacred task, but since they were grown-up men suspected of being Christians, the Bishop was afraid, they would be caught and put to death. Then a Twelve-year Tarcisius came up to the Bishop and kneeling at his feet begged to carry out the task of taking Our Lord in the Holy Eucharist to those who needed him the most.
He reasoned with the Bishop that, "I am so young, the guards  will think I am only a messenger boy, and let me pass."

Tarcisius may have been an orphan and was either an acolyte or an altar server. He was well known to all the Christians for his great love of the Holy Eucharist At first the Bishop thought he was too young, but Tarcisius pleaded so fervently to be allowed to carry the Eucharist that the Bishop at last and obliged to place our Lord to his care.

The Sacred Hosts were placed inside a white cloth within a little box which Tarcisius put inside his tunic, just over his heart, and then with his hands clasped over his Sacred hosts, he started off, with our Blessed Lord close to his heart! He did not spare a thought for the people and places that he passed by. His thoughts were focussed only on Jesus, whom he carried so close to his heart. Along the way, he whispered, "Oh, dear Jesus, how I love you,". "How much should I praise you to have chosen to be your little messenger. I would willingly suffer and die for you.  Whispering words of love like these he sped quickly on his way.

As he was walking along the Appian Way, he passed a group of his schoolmates, who were not Christians; asked him to join their games
Tarcisius politely refused. One of them seeing how tightly Tarcisius held his hands across his chest questioned him "What have you there? Another one ordered him to show what he was carrying. Tarcisius cried "No, no," struggling to free himself from their hands.
His anxiousness made them all the more curious, and together they tried to pull away from his hands.
Under his breath, Tarcisius began to whisper "Lord, strengthen me," But one of the boys  heard the words and cried out to the others: "He is a Christian and  is hiding some Christian mystery."
This made the boys even more curious. Determined to see for themselves what he was carrying, they began hitting him and kicking him, they did their best to pull away his hands, but they were unable to move his hands. The commotion attracted a mob of pagans and on realizing that Tarcisius was a Christian the mob’s fury knew no bounds and they began lynching him simultaneously trying to retrieve what was in his hands.

It is believed that a soldier named Fortunatus who also happened to be a Christian, stumbled upon the lynching scene and chased the crowd away

 He possibly recognized the Tarcisius from the catacombs and lifted his battered body, but the boy died from his injuries in the arms of Fortunatus as he was being carried away to the catacombs. He was buried in the cemetery of St. Callistus, where he was revered and venerated as a martyr.

Tarcisius is honored as the patron saints of altar boys and first communicants. He has always been an example of youthful courage and devotion to the holy eucharist.

St. Tarcisius Feast Day is usually forgotten as it falls on the feast of Assumption of Mary into heaven (August 15)

Prayer

Saint Tarcisius,

You who are the model of courage and faith,

Bless us and grant us your earthly brothers and sisters who humbly intercede before you;

The gifts of faith, courage and strength to embrace our sufferings and love our lord more

and more each day.

Teach us to love and honour our lord in the holy eucharist and may we always yearn to

receive him every day.

Be with us, guide us and keep us pure as we were on the day of our first holy communion.

Strengthen our resolve so that we may never receive the holy eucharist with the stain of

sin on our souls.

We make this prayer through our intercessor Saint Tarcisius to Christ our Lord,

Amen.

 

Written by: Prajval Albuquerque

If you like this article or find it burdensome to read it please watch this 2 minute clip on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9q4KIFpnIw

Yes, love is hot chocolate ‼️

The sudden monsoon that Bengaluru is experiencing reminds me what a pleasure it is to enjoy the simple pleasures of life like a cup of Hot Chocolate (Blessed to have a friend who can make the best cuppa). So at 1 am. I go in the pursuit of writing about two of the best things that God bestowed upon man, Hot Chocolate and the gift to love. 

I hope you get to enjoy this poem with a nice warm Cup of Chocolicious milk. 

Yes, love is hot chocolate ‼️

 

Yes, love is hot chocolate ‼️

Something you cannot just guzzle, it will burn your inside from your heart to your soul.

But sip it slowly, and it will warm your heart,

Enjoy it as it sings a lullaby to the butterflies in your stomach

 

Yes, love is hot chocolate ‼️

It's bitter in the beginning, cowards will run away from it,

But if you stay, the sugar rush that follows will soothe;

That ache, that shiver,

Experienced when your hands first touched.

 

Yes, love is hot chocolate ‼️

It's dark, it's brown;

It looks like mud served in a cup.

But if you don't judge it and stay;

It's aroma will transport you to paradise.

 

Yes, love is hot chocolate ‼️

If you hold it in a fragile glass of ego, it will shatter you.

If you hold it in an iron fist of possessiveness, it will burn you,

But if you are flexible, yet strong like a cup of clay, it will stay,

And just like the aftertaste of a good cuppa, it will stay forever.

So, until love comes, let me enjoy that cup of hot chocolate 🍫☕

 

-      Prajval Albuquerque

On Teacher’s Day

 

To,

All my teachers who keep on appearing in every phase of my life 

 

Why should we restrict the definition of a teacher to our school teachers and college lecturers? I believe every person who comes into your life and leaves a footprint for you to complete your journey is a teacher.

On Teacher’s Day

To every healer, who healed me,

To every taskmaster, who peeled me,

To every hater, who killed a part 

within me,

and

To every admirer who praised me.

 

To every person;

Who gave me hope,

Who taught me with tragedy to cope,

Who left me broke,

And to those

Who extended my scope.

 

To every person;

Who taught me to rebel,

Who taught me to, ‘in people’s heart dwell’.

To the person who taught me to love,

And to the one

Who taught me to ‘love’ in a corner shove. 

 

To the person, who left in my heart a hole,

To the people who for me poured out their Soul,

To the people, who taught me the law of life,

And

To them as well who taught me to live the life of law.

 

So on this auspicious day

I take the privilege of thanking all those angels in the form of teachers who passed by me and left their footprints on my Heart for time Immemorial.

                                                                                                     - Prajval Albuquerque

HAPPY TEACHERS DAY TO ALL THOSE PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN A PART OF MY JOURNEY. 

[Originally published in my E-book " Beyond Black & White" 

https://www.amazon.in/Beyond-Black-White-Collection-articles-ebook/dp/B08KPLNN6B/ref=sr_1_4?dchild=1&keywords=beyond+black+and+white+book&qid=1630813352&sr=8-4]