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Monday, 2 December 2013

Prabuddha XVII*


When at the end of the month
a small sum I receive
something small I bring
and so each evening when I return
by way of habit he asks, he seeks,
runs to me
dances in fact
coy smile dancing on lip.

What did you bring today Thaththa?

‘Today, nothing!’

‘No, that cannot be!
There must be something,
show me, show me!’

He clings to me
checks my pockets
one by one,
convinced of imminent discovery.

‘I wanted to bring something Niranjala
but I don’t have that much money to spare.

I am not lying, son
there’s nothing to give today
all shops are closed for Poya
perhaps tomorrow?’

He washes at the stream
downs plain tea with jaggery
opens the camp cot in the verandah
leans against the wall
looks at the vast sky
in silence
in wonderment
with veneration.
The countless stars
fade and awake
die out and are reborn
like the mute-unmute tone
of faint, faint music;
and feeding the rhythm
of that celestial composition
countless crickets began to sing.
He listened
eyes half closed
uniting the good and bad
the beneficial and detracting
elements of the mind.

From the faraway fields
rises a voice
the four-lined traditional
a seepada that displaces to background
the cricket chorus.
It rises, this song
and duly fades
lapses into nirvanic silence
so sought by us all.

‘This is bliss!’

He opens his eyes;
the half-moon arrives
through cloud and over mountain
as though in pursuit
of that very same four-lined song
now faded and gone.

‘In an instant I elevate with moon
residenced in a trance.’

Of a higher order
is this moment
devoid of yesterday
devoid of tomorrow,
outside of time
bereft of body
without mind
even.

‘If that transcendental state
is free of thought and silent,
then this side of that bliss
you would be but a blind man
in a world of joy
in the midst of light and myriad color.’[1]

'In the beginning
God created the heavens and the earth.
The earth was without form and void
and darkness was upon the face of the deep
and the Spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters.
"Let there be light," He said
and there was light.’[2]

There was once
a dawn mist-laden  
when from the holy peak
Sri Pada
at that singular moment
when the sun moved
in its diurnal veneration
I witnessed this splendor:
the limitless universe
the ring of mountains
and at sky’s edge
there flew
bright golden banners
the valleys were white with mist
and embedded therein was music
and devout hearts were lit
with the light that rose from horizon;
immediately a chorus
Sadhu! Sadhu!
Sweet thereafter was
the unbounded space,
hearts illuminated
were silent.

It was morning, then.

That was a day, a singular one.

*

[This is the seventeenth part of the translation of Mahagama Sekera's epic poem 'Prabuddha', an exercise that has the permission and blessings of the immediate family of Mahagama Sekera. Parts I, II, III, IV, V, VI , VII, VIII,  IX, X , XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV and XVI can be found in www.malindapoetry.blogspot.com.]  

msenevira@gmail.com







[1] Krishnamurthi
[2] Holy Bible

1 comment :

  1. Wow. Bit of an emotional rollercoaster reading this.

    ReplyDelete