Once when I was on a train and we stopped in a little village, these musicians came on and started singing. They were sometimes called “crazy yogis”. They were crazy for God and they sang in Bengali. Their music went straight to the heart. I was lucky to have someone translate
this song and I wrote it down. The paper was all wrinkled but yet I was able to read.
O Ki Garial Bhai
O ex-cart driver, my friend
How long shall I stand looking towards the road
Moner katha bolibar age
Before I can speak my mind, tears flow
I would express my sorrow with an open heart if I could find
one who sympathized
The rocks would break if they heard.
One day on the banks of the Yamuna
I saw Him beneath the kadamba tree
I was standing behind
One day when the music of Kala Chand’s flute
entered my ears, it made me indifferent to the world.
O mon amar, shajo prokaiti
O my mind, recognize your Nature
Tin gorbhe ache ak chele
In three wombs, there is only one boy. (Indian Street Music Baul’s of Bengal)
A small prayer:
Teach me to walk in darkness
Before the first rays of light
For into the Glory itself that man has vanished
who wanted to know the Glory, like the moth which, fallen into the flame
itself became flame and vanished.
I still have a letter from him among other souvenirs. He was a saint indeed and I am so blessed to have known him.
Below are some words of those who knew him. His name: Fr.Nicolas Nemoto.
Dear Brother Provincial,
It was with great sadness I heard of the death of Nicholas Nemoto. During his years in South Africa I came to admire and love Nicholas as a true brother and an exemplary friar.His presence was greatly appreciated by all the people. I remember the time I visited Vereening where he was working and asked the parish council how they were getting on with NIcholas. The reply was, “It is great to have a holy priest” and that is what he was. His years working among those suffering from aids and in the squatter camps were marvellous examples of living the Rule and Gospel.
I thank your Province for giving us the privilege of sharing in the life of Nicholas and assure you he will be always remembered with love. May God grant him the rewards of his labours and to you all comfort and consolation.
With sympathy and prayers. We will celebrate the mass for the repose of his soul
Br Robet Stewart OFM
It is with sadness that we received your fax about the death of Nicholas. He did wonderful work here in our South African Province and is remembered as a very gentle, humble and zealous friar-priest. He was a very talented man who used his talents in the service of the poor. (From South Africa)
O God, scatterer of ignorance and darkness,
grant me your strength
May all beings regard me with the eye of a friend
and I, all beings!
With the eye of a friend may each single being
regard all others! Yajur Veda xxxvi, 18
When, we wonder, will this letter carrying our warm greetings land on your doorstep?
Whenever it does, it is a sign of the gladness we feel in your company on the Way and our
gratitude that you are there with us in heart and mind.
We feel keener than ever to treasure friendship at a time when so many people in the world
as it is today feel despised and unwanted. We are so thankful that you are there- wherever
that may be.” (a news letter from our dear friend Fr. Murray Rogers.)
“ How mysterious a thing it is that with some friends it is as if we have never not been so:
the Persian proverb is so true_ “A friend is a poem!”
What a gift that we may continue together in prayer!.” Murray. (Feb, 15th 1997)
Sometimes we find gold in dusty boxes. I can’t help but share. Thats what friends are for.