Wednesday, July 27, 2016

WE'VE SEEN EACH OTHER BEFORE - said the alien to the vampire 7/27/16

I liked the chanting - said the vampire known as 'Papa.' The chords passed through my body. I felt the low, rumbling vibrations in my sternum. And then there was the incense, rich and aromatic. You know about our vampiric sense of smell... at least some of you do. The sanctity of all creation is paramount to true Buddists... Hindus too... Jains... Sikhs... all the dharma driven faiths... Sikhism is a hybrid, Abrahamic and Dharmic ... They left polished, brass bowls of carefully prepared food where the rats would find them. In that way they steered then from our rooms toward an outer courtyard... a place of offerings.

We gathered for communal meals. The monks and functionaries spoke in a patois of Turkish, Persian and Himalayan languages. I knew Vahmperagha, an ancient Sanskrit dialect used by my people since pre Vedic times. Thus I could make myself understood to some of the monks and most of the Persians... Those familiar with my special existence said nothing. Others asked questions, particularly about my dining habits.... Does not a jinn eat?... Apparently they can eat... I told them I was fasting, a pilgrim on the way to pray at the tomb of a Uyghur holy man. They nodded. I told them I took specially made 'cakes' of nourishment during the night. They nodded some more... Then they ate a rather savory, stew-like porridge of grains, chick peas, vegetables, bean curd and oils. Aesthetics they were not, at least not excessively so.

But a man in the shadows ( the many rooms and chambers lit only by small lamps of plant based ghee) noticed something about me and smiled.... I nodded and smiled back. He whispered a few words in Vahmperagha. The others could not hear, but I could.

Later, when we broke up into small groups over tea, I moved toward the shadows and sat down on a red, silk cushion near the Vahmperagha speaker... He said - We've seen each other before, vampire. A mammoth hunt I think it was.... Then I noticed his eyes, the strange, vulpine eyes.... The man from another sun - I said.... He bowed his head.

It seems he was well known in those parts. After the others retired to their sleeping quarters we met in a small, windowless, interior room. Old lamaseries are like labyrinths. The man from another sun led the way. I followed his scent.

The room was dark... a place to store old tomes and lacquered casks of God knows what. I smelled the oil from many hands. I heard their lives and felt their souls.

The man from another sun spoke without words. I did the same....

And in that way it began...

<till next time>


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