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
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
"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
Wow. Bit of an emotional rollercoaster reading this.
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