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24 swami keerti reminds me that i am GOd and suGGests a bedtime meditatiOn God is going to sleep now. He tilts water from a pitcher, lowers mesh around His bedding and is more than happy to put a stupid, wasted day behind Him. He remains concerned, however, by a stubborn chill and slight fever, by the gaseous result of the soda He drank for His stomach. Troubled, also, by the raw anger He feels for a bad choice manipulated into. He strives against dualities, but He’s tired. God listens to His breathing and nods into a sweaty trance of sleep. At the mirror, dreamy for fried eggs and worried if my Delhi liquor stall will be open on Christmas, staring into bloodshot eyes, I realize I have utterly forgotten to awaken slowly, listen passively to sounds of morning I cannot control, feel God arriving within me. Shit. I think for a moment, seduced by the mind, and decide it’s too late to go back to bed. The boy trots by ringing the breakfast bell— no time even to sit beneath the banyan and salvage some feeble aura. No choice now but toast, tepid Nescafé, an early rickshaw to fetch whisky for the coming party. Luckily for me, 25 Swami is a generous, fine-humored man, appreciative certainly of both attempt and wretched failure. Don’t be greedy about godliness, he reminded me, also that the first taste will be tiny. But, apparently, sweet and addictive. God reminds Himself tonight’s another night and tomorrow, Christmas, another day of spirited, joyful consciousness. Why not? ...

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