=kit061.txt

[ N.B.  KIT's 61 through 72 comprise, with KIT 31 ('The Guru
Syndrome, a different version of Kaivan set 'KIT 30'), the booklet
photooffset by SO SURESNES ( which I note as 'SOS' )
In this KIT 61, there is only one significant difference ('joyous'
instead of 'flippant') from the SOS version. ] 

KIT 61 - A Dream

"O My Feeling Heart, Why Do You Laugh And Cry?"
(HIK)

Wandering through the meandering labyrinth of the market place,
two men were fighting with knifes. "Its mine... no its mine! You
blackguard, you hypocrite, you son of a... you stole it."

The turban of one of the belligerents got dislodged and unfurled
itself in a serpentine flurry. It was billowing in the breeze,
apparently unnoticed by its erstwhile owner while the skirmish
proceeded unabated.

Out of the shadowy comers of the bazaar, as by beguilement, a
prostitute emerged in broad daylight. Compulsively reaching for
the jagged end of the turban, snatching it from its trail and
wrapping it around herself, she danced in sheer abandon much to
the glee and opprobrium of the multi-colored crowd.

I loved him with my whole being - my body, an unworthy gift to his
magnificence! They cast me out of my opulent Zenana - that most
comfortable prison into the filth of the back-streets, amidst the
greed, lust and vulgarity of the uncouth - me, who had always been
so meticulous! Of course he left me. Yet this was a puny price to
pay for that moment of 1ove's glory we shared once in a life-time.
His turban which I wrested from him as a keep-sake was my flimsy
protection from the lascivious glances that wounded and humiliated
my soul. It served as my Purdah veiling my face from the sacrilege
of the libidinous.

A Sufi passed my way, unable to offer me material succor in my
ordeal, but he helped my soul to survive. He said: "The veil that
conceals your face espouses the contours of your face and reveals
your eternal countenance which is pure beauty". Then he quoted the
Holy Qur'an: "All faces are His face". I cried for sheer relief
and vindication. My tears flooding my face became the substitute
of the turban which a pimp snatched from behind.

From his pedestal in his favorite street comer, a dervish was
watching the scene, lost in ecstasy, listening to the exquisite
echoes of a chant emerging from the nearby mosque. Bemused by the
sheer exultation of that music, the prostitute's dance escalated
into a frenzy. The turban swirled around her waist and then
oscillated back to the head of the man still fighting.

Suddenly discovering the dervish, the prostitute uttered a shrill
shriek and started winding the loose end of the turban on the head
of the dervish.

The dervish broke into a quake of laughter that reverberated
amongst the increasingly gathering crowd. "Allah Ho Ahad, Allah Ho
Ahad!" (God is one), he exclaimed repeatedly. Then he added: "See
we are all one, linked by that Ariadne thread of the turban! The
men fighting do not have the slightest idea of that unity. They
are like the two hands of the same person wrestling and wounding
each other.

The prostitute's love is her way of giving expression to the
divine nostalgia, longing that the fragments of Himself should
realize their unity. So she projects that nostalgia in the form of
love for that idol - her lover - in whom she discovers the divine
love. It is all the sortilege of emotion: love, hatred,
covetousness, libidinousness - like different makes of wine, until
you realize the oneness of divine ecstasy behind its multifarious
expressions. Then one can only laugh at one's own stupidity for
not having seen that in the first place!"

As by enchantment her tears were replaced by laughter and smiles
as she danced joyously. [ SOD: 'flippantly'.]

[ Note (sa); But of course 'flippant' ain't the mot juste; it
means facetious, except amongst dolphins.
So again, it looks like the Kaivan set of KITs is a later version
that the SO SURESNES booklet. ]

By this time, the blood was pouting in rivulets along the bodies
of the belligerents. A mullah cast himself between them,
beseeching them: "stop in the name of the Prophet Sal Aleihi wa
Salam". They stayed their hands a moment, placing their indexes
upon their lips and eyes, then once more cursed each other
blasphemously and the fight resumed even more viciously than
before.

Taking what she thought was the hint of the dervish, she
approached the belligerents laughing hilariously as she prance
around them. She resorted to an unusual form of defiance as they
snarled and ranted at each other. The now excited crowd burst into
applause and laughter in mock derision and scorn. They were
totally unaware of the fact of having unwittingly picked up the
dervish's clue - but not quite.

Now the prostitute, remembering the dervish's references to the
hands of the same person wrestling with each other, started
wrapping the turban closer and ever closer around the two
belligerents. She paired their movements, squeezing them tighter
and tighter as she danced around them lost in the consciousness of
the ecstasy of divine unity, exclaiming: "Allah Ho Ahad... Allah
Ho Samad! God is one, we are one in God... linked inextricably
with each other by the turban - the veil concealing the divine
beauty.    

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