Tears of the Mystic Rose HTML version

streaks of ire
i left my house in the early hours and have never returned
i was sixteen years old…just my jeans and t shirt on my back
penniless on the streets of bombay at 2 am
no more to become a businessman…i hated that word
no more to become a movie star…i hated fame
not wanting to become rich…i hated such people
i just wanted to be free and wander
i had lived from the ages of six to sixteen in the mountains
visiting my home for only three months holiday each year sheltered in a cosy
mansion in tinsel town…where the beautiful people lived partying every night
i was still living in the innocence of the himalayas
still a dreamer and rebellious with no actual clue to the harsh realities
that lay ahead of me…of the real world out there
one morning in november 1977 i woke up to see the newspapers announced
the untimely death of my mother and under mysterious circumstances
no one was with her at the hospital at the time of her death
and as my father and that side of the family
were prevented from seeing her due to a court order
her body was taken for cremation unfortunately with none of us present
such a tragic story…that a famous movie star was cremated with very few
people present for the last rites
her sudden and tragic death was obviously a great shock for me
i remember i promised myself then that i would make something of my life
in her memory and remember her that way
i must understand where i was going in life and what i was doing and why
her death formed many new questions in my life and i started to question
the very meaning of life and how one should live
the priorities and values of society and people
spending nights and nights trying to solve these questions for myself
all alone with no one to speak to nor anyone as my guide