OD-ing on Khayyam

Scuds of wind- one more eddy of monsoon is due. I sat leafing through the Avery & Stubbs edition of the Ruba’iyat of Khayyam and looked up to see curtains cavorting over my head. It’s a scented wind this time. I’ve finished reading Noughts and Crosses and the one thing it reminds me of is the Palestine-Israel face-off. The noughts can do no good, and the Crosses no evil. Prejudice of any kind, old-young; male-female; Muslim-Non-Muslim; white-black starts off as a categorical imperative and even though individuals may cease to believe in it, society carries an institutional memory that defies change. Here’s for those of the third space, those unwilling to give way to one facet of any dichotomy
My rule of life is to drink and be merry,
To be free from belief and unbelief is my religion:
I asked the Bride of Destiny her bride-price,
‘Your joyous heart’, she said

I’m going to try and restrain self from wantonly littering text with Khayyam but it will be a chore.

My Teaman is sugaring me to death. I’m addicted to tea and he is fixated with sugar, we duel daily. He is also my Lunchman and an eclectic one at that, whatever I order is too low brow for his taste so often he flourishes me with what he thinks is the dish of the dhabba. Which brings me to something I could not stop laughing over, even if it was off center
The day when my life’s branch is uprooted
And my members are dispersed,
Should my clay be used to make a cup
It would come to life as soon as it was filled with wine

Lol. Maybe I laughed because it came in the middle of grievously casual quatrains about dying without knowing why you were here. Funnily enough, I can quote it of many many people I know, more importantly I can say it about myself with regards to tea. The wine-people will be flailing on extremes of either uncoordinated salsa or trying to work out what God is. Tea people such as myself will be alarmingly hot and stupendous.