Fake Plastic Souks: Kathmandu: The Green Eye Of The Little Yellow God

Posted on the February 21st, 2017 under Personal Bloggers by

English: Durga, Kathmandu, Nepal Español: Durg...(Photo credit: Wikipedia)There’s a one-eyed yellow idolto the north of Kathmandu;there’s a little marble cross below the town.And a broken-hearted womantends the grave of ‘Mad’ Carew,while the yellow god forever gazes down.He was known as ‘Mad Carew’by the subs at Kathmandu.He was hotter than they felt inclined to tell.But, for all his foolish pranks,he was worshipped in the ranksand the Colonel’s daughter smiled on him as well.He had loved her all alongwith the passion of the strongand that she returned his love was plain to all.She was nearly twenty-oneand arrangements were begun,to celebrate her birthday with a ball.He wrote to ask what presentshe would like from ‘Mad’ Carew;they met next day as he dismissed a squad.And jestingly she made pretencethat nothing else would do but the green eye of the little yellow god.On the night before the dance,’Mad’ Carew seemed in a tranceand they chaffed him,as they pulled at their cigars.But for once he failed to smile and he sat alone awhile,then went out into the night beneath the stars.He returned, before the dawnwith his shirt and tunic torn,and a gash across his temples dripping red.He was patched up right awayand he slept all through the day,while the Colonel’s daughter watched beside his bed.He woke at last and asked herif she’d send his tunic through.She brought it and he thanked her with a nod.He bade her search the pocket,saying, ‘That’s from “Mad” Carew,’and she found the little green eye of the god.She upbraided poor Carew,in the way that women do,although her eyes were strangely hot and wet.But she would not take the stoneand Carew was left alonewith the jewel that he’d chanced his life to get.When the ball was at its height on that still and tropic night,she thought of him and hastened to his room.As she crossed the barrack square she could hear the dreamy air,of a waltz tune softly stealing thro’ the gloom.His door was open wide,with silver moonlight shining through.The place was wet and slippery where she trod.An ugly knife lay buriedin the heart of ‘Mad’ Carew:’twas the vengeance of the little yellow god.There’s a one-eyed yellow idolto the north of Kathmandu;there’s a little marble cross below the town.And a broken-hearted womantends the grave of ‘Mad’ Carew,while the yellow god forever gazes down.(J. Milton Hayes)This is my way of saying we’re off to Nepal. Who knows what we’re going to find… 

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