when the time comes, I will talk plainly about my father...

only we make you drunk with our eyes/looks...
while there are many bar bars around the town

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you wanna threaten this light of the sky
with a tiny storm; many a lightbug borrowed from this eye

==
oh well, if you wanna listen to the whole tune:
[and see Bhanu Rekha, Ray, darling of the masses]
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cXdJJvpgTvw

and this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kWK61iHYc4Y
before you get a taste of the best lines of this number...

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To walk away with my heart - what all [minnats] appeals she made!
And then when it was all hers, how she looked away, ignoring me!

two times I had hard times: once before you came in
And twice [I mean, the second times], when you left...

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I will leave you to prod through the text [http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+16&version=WE] (strange-looking URL but it gets you there), and find:

"I have told you these things by a story. The time will come when I will not talk by stories. I will tell you about my Father plainly."

I said I will talk plainly of my father; it is time for it. Much as I admire him, this one incident stands out as a pain point. God, what did you mean by that?

Around 7 a.m. my father comes to the kitchen door, with no histrionics: "Is this coffee?" he says quietly; and throws the coffee glass in the general direction of my mother. It luckily hit the wall behind her. He walks off. Mother goes on to make another coffee for him and sends me to give it to him (in the verandah). She doesn't ask, or know, what is wrong with the coffee he threw at her: too hot, not hot enough? She just makes another coffee and sends it. I hated him for that for about 20 years, until once I opened up to a friend and mentioned it: the moment I said it, I realized what a silly grudge I was holding against this one quarter god of mine: mother, father, guru, and guest making up the four quarters - not trinity - of God. Now when I look back, there was nothing else in that mild-mannered demigod-human I knew that I could fault with. But then, God is supposed to be immaculate (not demi not half crown; half human half clown)? It is hard to come to terms with the fact that your parents are human: it is heartbreaking to know that God is - in a way, human too (because we shaped Him thus).

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you been late in coming but thanks for coming
i was not disheartened or shaken but was stirred a bit

ghabraye the: a bit anxious, a little

rays, rainbow, chhandra-ma, and clouds
stars and songs; lighting and flowers

what all is not in that hair of hers
locked in her locks! Locked up...

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if only my dreamly youth
were to repeat briefly...

but thanks for showing up
albeit a bit late

a little late, a little lazy
a bit of business and boredom

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it had happened to us (not hearsay nor heresy)
flowers bloom out of fire
when desire
sets one afire

==