BABY JESUS

AT the time when Herod was king of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah. His wife’s name was Elizabeth and she also belonged to a priestly family. They were both righteous in their conduct but there was sadness because Elizabeth could not have any children. They were both quite old and this hope was fading. Zechariah went to the Temple to do his priestly duty according to custom, and it was his turn to burn the incense on the altar. So he went inside the Temple of the Lord while the crowd of people prayed outside during the hour when the incense is burned.

     As he stood inside, an angel appeared to him standing to the right of the altar. Zechariah saw him and felt afraid.

 -Don’t be alarmed Zechariah, said the angel. God has heard your prayer and your wife will bear you a son. You are to name him John. He will bring you and many others happiness and he will be a great man in the Lord’s sight. He must not drink any wine or strong liquor, he will be filled with the Holy Spirit and he will bring back many people back to the Lord. John will become a mighty prophet and he will turn people back from unrighteous conduct and make them ready for the Lord who is yet to come.

 -How shall I know if this is so? I am an old man and my wife is old also.

 -I am Gabriel the angel. I stand in the presence of God, who sent me to speak to you and tell you this good news. But because you have doubted my words, which will come true at the right time, you will remain silent until the day my promise to you comes true.

The angel disappeared and Zechariah came out of the Temple. People asked him why he had taken so long but he could only make signs. And they understood that he had seen a vision and left talking amongst themselves. After some time his wife Elizabeth became pregnant and did not leave the house for five months. Now at last the Lord has heard my urgent prayer and helped me. He has taken away my sadness, she thought.

     In the sixth month of her pregnancy the angel Gabriel went to a town in Galilee named Nazareth. He appeared before a young woman promised in marriage to a man named Joseph. The woman’s name was Mary.

 -Peace be with you. The Lord has greatly blessed you, said Gabriel. Do not be afraid Mary, God has been gracious to you and you will become pregnant and give birth to a son. You will name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the son of God. The Lord will make him king of the descendants of Jacob forever and his kingdom will never end.

Mary looked at the floor and said- I am a virgin. How then can this be? She was much troubled in her heart.

 -The Holy Spirit will come upon you and for this reason the child will be called the son of God. Remember your relative Elizabeth; she is herself now six months pregnant even though she is old. There is nothing that God cannot do.

 -I am the Lord’s servant, said Mary. May it happen as you have said.

     Eager to see the news for herself, Mary got ready and hurried off to a town in the hill country of Judaea. She arrived at Zechariah’s house and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greetings, the baby moved within in her. Elizabeth was filled with emotion and she said in a loud voice.

 -You are the most blessed of all women Mary and blessed is the child you will bear! Why should this great thing happen to me, that my Lord’s mother comes to visit me? How happy you are to believe the message of the Lord!

Mary too overcome with emotion and joy, sang this song of praise with a heart over flowing with love.

  ‘My heart praises the Lord, my soul is glad because God

   My saviour has remembered me his lowly servant.

   From now on people will call me happy because of the

   Great things the mighty god has done for me.

   His name is holy, he shows mercy to those who honour him,

   He has stretched out his mighty arm and scattered the proud

   With all their devious plans. He has filled the hungry with good things and sent

the rich away with empty hands.

    He has kept this promise he made to our ancestors and

   Shown mercy to Abraham and all his descendants forever.

     She stayed with Elizabeth for some time before returning home. It wasn't long before the time came for Elizabeth to have her baby and she gave birth to as son. The joy she felt could not be described, her neighbour and relatives heard how gracious the Lord had been to her and they all rejoiced. When the baby was a week old, they thought to name him Zechariah after his father. But Elizabeth said, his name is to be John.

The relatives asked Zechariah and he wrote on a tablet- his name is to be John.

At that moment, he was able to speak again and he too started to praise the Lord with love overflowing in his heart. The neighbours were filled with fear and the news about these things spread through the hill country of Judaea. Everyone wondered about the child and what he might achieve, for it was plain that the Lord’s power was upon him. The child grew and developed in body and spirit. He lived in the desert until the day he appeared publicly to the people of Judaea.

Mary was engaged to Joseph but before they were married she found out that she was pregnant. Joseph was a man who always did what was right and when he heard about Mary, he was much troubled in his heart. Yet he did not want to disgrace Mary publicly and so he made private plans to break the engagement.

Whilst sleeping one night however an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said.

-Joseph, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife. For it is by the Holy Spirit that she has conceived. She will have a son and you will name him Jesus, because he will save people from their sins.

     When he awoke his troubles seemed to have been removed and he felt a peace in his heart. He got ready making the final preparations and married Mary as the angel had told him to do so. A census took place at this time by the order of the emperor Augustus, throughout the Roman Empire. Everyone then went to register himself, each to his own town. Joseph went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to the town of Bethlehem in Judaea.

He went with Mary who was pregnant and whilst coming into Bethlehem, the time came for her to have her baby. She gave birth to her first son, wrapped him in strips of cloth and laid him in a manger, as there was no room for them in to stay in the inn.

     There were some shepherds in that part of the country who were spending the night in the fields, taking care of their flock. A light appeared and an angel came close to them. They were scared but the angel said.

 -I am here with news for you which will bring great joy to all the people. This very day in Bethlehem, your saviour is born. Christ the Lord! The proof will be that you will find the baby wrapped in strips of cloth and lying in a manger. Glory to God in Heaven and peace on earth to those with whom he is pleased!

     The shepherds said to one another, let us proceed to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened. So they hurried, found Mary and Joseph and saw the baby lying in a manger. When the shepherds met them, they told them what the angel had said about the child. All who heard it were filled with joy and the shepherd left singing the Lord’s praises.

A week later when the time came for the baby to be named, he was named Jesus; the name which the angel had given them before he had been conceived. The time came for Mary and Joseph to perform the ceremony of purification as the law of Moses commanded. So they took the child to Jerusalem to the Temple of the Lord.

     There was a man named Simeon living in Jerusalem. He was a good devout man- the Holy Spirit was with him and he had been assured that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s promised Messiah. Simeon went into the Temple and took the child in his arms and gave thanks to the Lord.

 -Now Lord you have kept your promise, your servant may now go in peace, with my own eyes I have seen the salvation, which you have sent down to the people, a light to reveal your will. Bringing glory to the world.

Mary and Joseph were amazed at the hearing of this and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary.

 -Blessed, blessed are you Mary. This child will bring salvation to many, he will spread God’s message and stand as a sign against the many who speak ill of God’s ways.

When they finished all that was required of them, they left the Temple and returned to their home town of Nazareth in Galilee. The child grew and became strong, he was full of wisdom and God’s blessings were upon him.

                                                                          ---

This is a story I wrote from the Bible, changing it into a modern vernacular. A story I liked for Xmas. I hope people who visit my site like it too.

Elmore Leonard's 10 Writing Rules

1 Never open a book with weather. If it's only to create atmosphere, and not a charac­ter's reaction to the weather, you don't want to go on too long. The reader is apt to leaf ahead look­ing for people. There are exceptions. If you happen to be Barry Lopez, who has more ways than an Eskimo to describe ice and snow in his book Arctic Dreams, you can do all the weather reporting you want.

2 Avoid prologues: they can be ­annoying, especially a prologue ­following an introduction that comes after a foreword. But these are ordinarily found in non-fiction. A prologue in a novel is backstory, and you can drop it in anywhere you want. There is a prologue in John Steinbeck's Sweet Thursday, but it's OK because a character in the book makes the point of what my rules are all about. He says: "I like a lot of talk in a book and I don't like to have nobody tell me what the guy that's talking looks like. I want to figure out what he looks like from the way he talks."

3 Never use a verb other than "said" to carry dialogue. The line of dialogue belongs to the character; the verb is the writer sticking his nose in. But "said" is far less intrusive than "grumbled", "gasped", "cautioned", "lied". I once noticed Mary McCarthy ending a line of dialogue with "she asseverated" and had to stop reading and go to the dictionary.

4 Never use an adverb to modify the verb "said" . . . he admonished gravely. To use an adverb this way (or almost any way) is a mortal sin. The writer is now exposing himself in earnest, using a word that distracts and can interrupt the rhythm of the exchange. I have a character in one of my books tell how she used to write historical romances "full of rape and adverbs".

5 Keep your exclamation points ­under control. You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose. If you have the knack of playing with exclaimers the way Tom Wolfe does, you can throw them in by the handful.

6 Never use the words "suddenly" or "all hell broke loose". This rule doesn't require an explanation. I have noticed that writers who use "suddenly" tend to exercise less control in the application of exclamation points.

7 Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly. Once you start spelling words in dialogue phonetically and loading the page with apos­trophes, you won't be able to stop. Notice the way Annie Proulx captures the flavour of Wyoming voices in her book of short stories Close Range.

8 Avoid detailed descriptions of characters, which Steinbeck covered. In Ernest Hemingway's "Hills Like White Elephants", what do the "Ameri­can and the girl with him" look like? "She had taken off her hat and put it on the table." That's the only reference to a physical description in the story.

9 Don't go into great detail describing places and things, unless you're ­Margaret Atwood and can paint scenes with language. You don't want descriptions that bring the action, the flow of the story, to a standstill.

10 Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip. Think of what you skip reading a novel: thick paragraphs of prose you can see have too many words in them.


I liked these rules. I post them on my blog to remind myself as much as anyone else. All rules are there to be broken at some point but you can't go too wrong with these. I might even read one of his novels after coming across this.

Short Story Published.

My short story -  Leaving the Reno,  was published this month in the above collection by Crocus Books. The story was a challenge as I had to imagine writing through Afro-Caribbean central characters. The blurb at the back of the anthology reads- The past doesn't become history until it's remembered. The Moss Side and Hulme areas of Manchester were for a time not only the musical heartbeat of a city but of a new idea of the nation. In this brilliant collection featuring short stories, a play and interviews with DJs and club goers, the past becomes history. The music, people and the community are remembered.
I hope people will enjoy reading this collection.

MY NOVEL- THE HOUSE OF SUBADAR

The House of Subadar: Amazon.co.uk: Vijay Medtia: Books

The House of Subadar: Amazon.co.uk: Vijay Medtia: Books www.amazon.co.uk › Books › Fiction › Contemporary Fiction

INSPIRED BY TAGORE

I received an email to say that my short story ‘Maya’ has been selected as one of the winning entries in a competition run by Sampad.org and the British Council. Sampad Arts are celebrating the 150^th birth anniversary of Rabrinath Tagore, the first Indian writer to win the Nobel Prize for Literature. The story was chosen by the judges from 1400 entries of poems and short stories from over 30 countries.

It will now be launched in a book ‘Inspired by Tagore’ this month in three different Indian cities and later this year in England. So friends as you can imagine this is really cheering news.

The book has been launched and covered by THE HINDU newspaper in India. http://www.thehindu.com/arts/books/article3422197.ece

THE BAYONET - by Vijay Medtia

FEBRUARY sunshine spread across the village, reflecting off the white walls and reaching a pleasant 25C. Time dragged in the afternoon; a stray barked before resting under the shade of a wall, parrots flew from a tree, flapping their green wings before perching on a another tree. Not expecting too much activity, we planned an afternoon siesta, when a car drove through the gates and parked in the court yard. An elderly gentleman had arrived on a visit, a retired Major from the Indian army. A tall man of six feet two, white moustache and hair; he wore a smart light blue t-shirt, jeans, with a red silk scarf tied around his neck and folded inside the collar. After the courtesies we sat on the veranda to talk. Tea and snacks arrived, flies buzzed around and so we switched on the table fan to keep them at bay. He said that his son was racing in the Northwest Rally, and had come as he had a few hours to spare.

     He talked about the expense involved in Rally racing and the conversation then turned towards the Army. In his deep voice he said that life and death were decided in a matter of seconds, fractions of seconds. If you hesitated in war, you were dead. You had to fire almost in reflex, that’s what the army trained- to shoot the enemy without hesitating. If you paused to reflect, how can I kill another man, then in that instance you were dead. The enemy will not hesitate either.

     As he leaned back on the cane chair, a cool breeze swept across the lawn; he complained that the Army today had poor discipline. Every other day, Court Marshalls were taking place. In his day, they were rare and only involved a senior officer winning the affections of a junior officer’s wife. He laughed as he said this, as if there was nothing too serious about that and I found this amusing.

He returned to his subject and said that you could read in the papers almost every other day, about an officer’s indiscipline or worse financial impropriety and fraud. It was a real pity and the army needed to bring its house into order.

     He remembered an incident from his younger days; he was now approaching seventy two. He had been a young Major of thirty one years and led a platoon of one hundred and fifty men, or ‘paltoon’ as he pronounced it in Hindi. It was an incident from the India-Pakistan war of 1971. His platoon had been stationed on the Rajasthan-Pak border; they had won their first objective with little resistance. They had then received an order to capture a village that according to intelligence was being held by around one thousand enemy soldiers.

     The attack was ordered for dawn the next morning, but these were cold nights in Rajasthan; severe biting cold and the odds were stacked against his platoon. Early morning they mounted their camels, rode for an hour and reached within range of the village; but his men were cold, bones stiff and hands frozen. The order from the CO had been to commence the attack, but in war he said, an officer had to have the ability to think on his feet, assess the ground conditions as well as the morale of his men.

He decided to delay the attack and find a way to warm his men quickly. His voice rose in animation as he sat up straight, eyes focussed; it was all coming back to him clearly. He needed his jawans to be warmed first so that they could operate their rifles and have a chance at least. He wasn’t prepared to sacrifice his men without a chance, no Sir he wasn’t that type of an officer. And if he was going to be court marshalled for that, then so be it!

     There was a line of dry bush in front, so he decided to set fire to it. The bush caught fire quickly, spreading out in a long line to both sides; the men warmed themselves from sitting on the back of the camels. The whole platoon felt better for the fire and warmth; where there had been anxiety upon the men’s faces and shivering, there were now smiles and appreciative nods in his direction.

As sunlight broke, they were now ready to launch the assault on the village; grenades, rifles and machine guns were checked and double checked. Just then from the left side of the village, a black deer ran out, catching everyone’s attention. It stopped in no man’s land near a tree, looking around in confusion. He took aim with his rifle and at a distance of one hundred yards, shot it in one. The shot echoed around for miles, birds flew off trees and branches, crying out as they fled. His CO wired on the radio, to inquire whether the attack had finally started, he was coming up from the right flank.

 -No, he said. I have just shot a deer.

 -What! The attack should have started an hour ago and you’re out hunting!

 -Not quite Sir, I had to warm the men first, so that they could operate their rifles. The deer just happened to come by.

 -Take your time Major Shekhawat. Have a nice barbeque with the deer. Shall I send you some beer bottles? Tell me something Major, why don’t you roast me as well because my seniors are sure to do it soon enough! Can you please start the attack.

He laughed as he recalled his CO’s discomfort and way of speaking.

     The morning light grew stronger across the village, the rising sun brightening the eastern sky; the mud houses became clearer at a distance of three hundred yards. The village was situated on a slope but it was unbelievably quiet. The men dismounted, said their prayers and held their guns firmly; the smiles and jokes were replaced with nervousness, one or two soldiers turned around and vomited. The prospect of death is not easy to face. Sensing their unease he gathered the men briefly and spoke to them.

 -Men, I know this isn’t an easy task but we have our duty to perform. In front of us lie the enemy whom we must remove. If we win, glory is ours. If we die, then I know of no greater death than to die fighting for our mother land and rest assured Heaven awaits us as our reward, are you ready?

 -Yes Major! Came the loud reply.

 -Jai Hind!

 -Jai Hind!

     They moved towards the village taking cover wherever they could, behind a tree, bush or small mound in the dry ground. The silence was particularly eerie, this bothered him greatly; there seemed to be no movement from the village and he wondered whether an ambush had been planned. The men moved forward with their rifles, crouching down, eyes alert and fingers at the ready on the triggers. They were sure to receive a volley of fire soon enough but nothing.

They climbed the slope and reached the village only to find it deserted. Guns and ammunitions had been left behind in a hurry; yet as he moved towards a house with his radio controller walking behind, one enemy soldier rushed out and charged him with his bayoneted rifle. He swerved quickly to avoid the lunge and tripped him with his right leg. He wrestled the rifle off the man and stabbed him in the stomach with the bayonet and killed the man on the spot. He took off the bayonet and wiped the blood on his trousers; he kept that bayonet as a souvenir of war. He said that should I ever visit him, he would show me that souvenir. It was odd that only one man had stayed behind, maybe he had disregarded the order to withdraw; and had singled him out for the attack thinking him to be the officer in charge, especially with the radio controller walking behind him.

     The men searched the remaining houses, the village was deserted, the enemy had withdrawn in haste; there were tyre tracks leading out from the back of the village. They had withdrawn at the sight of the long line of bush fire, imagining that a great number of Indian soldiers had arrived for the assault, so the fire had inadvertently done the trick; some of the villagers who returned in the afternoon confirmed the news.

In that village there’s a photo of the Major with his men as they had freed it. He was commended for his success.

The tea over, the retired Major rose to say his goodbyes and requested us to visit him soon. I wondered at the accuracy of some of the details but his story had held a charm and an interest on that sun filled afternoon.