He
felt love,
self-love,
pride.
‘In
the beginning there was nothing
just
existence,’
he
told himself.
‘May
I multiply
to
countlessness.’
And
thus did he extrapolate
thus
did he expand self
and
release forth the universe,
and
thus did he enter
each
and every other creature.
The
essence, the soul
of
all things that exist
resides
within him now,
is
resident only within himself.
O
Brahman!
Thou
art without form
and
yet creator thou art
of
innumerable forms
and
having created them
thou
gatherest them all into thyself.
Fill
us then
with
thoughts of thee.
Thou
are fire
the
sun too is thee
wind
too though art
and
so too the moon
the
start filled sky
and
water of course
thou
art in thine singularity
Brahman
creator
of all
and
if any query was raised
that
too was thee.
‘Did
you hear what I said?
What
are you thinking about so much?
What’s
the point of all this thinking?
Let’s
just live with whatever we have;
it
won’t be like this for ever, after all.
The
bad times will pass by and by
I
overheard at the fair
that
Rahu had moved
to
some place else.
It’s
supposed to be good.
And
if you really tried hard
even
you could go abroad
get
a scholarship or something.
I
read in one of your philosophical books
people
in Japan attain Buddhahood
apparently
in
this, yes this very lifetime;
Sen?
Satori? Or ws it Kon?
I’m
not sure, something like that.
Since
you are so engrossed
in
philosophy
why
don’t you go to Japan
or
even West Germany
do
some research
about
Buddhism in such places;
you
can return with a car
and
of course other things –
you
could sell the car alone
for
about a hundred thousand.
Anyway,
listen!
The
older girl will attain age
one
of these days –
it
would be good
to
get her a necklace
earrings
or bangles,
what
do you think?
I
have no thoughts but of the children
the
future,
don’t
you think of such things?
My
dear, dear child!
That
is my very problem:
I
just can’t think!
Is
there something called the future?
Is it a projection of the past, if so?
Is
time but the past that has passed away?
Is it the remnant of a cause-effect
principle?
Will there be something called time
when all thoughts have ceased?
Is time but thought and nothing
else?
What now?
Why do you cry Niranjala?
I was just joking,
come, come dear one,
okay, let’s get a necklace.
I think of the children
all the time
just like you do,
I often tell myself
‘if only we had a small house to
call our own…’
a place you will all be safe in
for we cannot live on rent forever.
I know you must be scared
that
I would depart from here as well
someday.
On
the other hand
we
have this at least
for
these days
there
are many
with
even less.
Some
swallow pebbles
to
satisfy hunger
some
consume pieces of glass
and
others twist serpents around their necks
and
stuff their heads into their mouths,
cut
pieces of flesh
apply
medicinal balms
display
wounds and all
wherever
people may gather:
‘Give
us this day our daily bread!’
And
the multitude that looked on
with
the wide open eyes of wonderment
when
thus solicited
surreptitiously
move away
miserliness
having entered heart
or
else out of their own poverty.
A
young girl shows embroidered slip
peeping
out of a white hem of short skirt
not
knowing where she goes.
Treading
with trepidation
through
the pathways of Sansara
yearning
to capture someone’s eye
longing
for help for security even
that’s
poverty, nothing else,
lust
it is most certainly not.
A
young man
with
thick-rimmed
owl-like
black glasses
tight
jeaned with pockets
here,
there and everywhere
but
not one cent inside,
sits
by her for a moment,
and
having been warmed
left,
for
poverty that forbids
the
taking of her hand
and
not, certainly not
out
of slyness.
‘Is
there no way
to
subdue their sorrows
all
the sorrows
of
all these people?’
Sabbe satta
bhavantu sukhitatta!
May
all beings be happy.
Having
arisen from the brahman posture
opening
window to the rising sun
in
the lotus position I meditate.
Ditta va ye va
addittha
ye cha dure
vasanti avidure.
Seen or unseen,
remote or living nearby.
The
sound of the mail train
rises
gradually
and
gradually falls.
Niranjala
sleep
the
child in her arms.
She
heaved a heavy, heavy sigh.
Breathe
in
breathe
out
breathe
in
breathe
out
breathe
in
breathe
out
‘Five
hundred rupees for a necklace
a
pair of bangles three hundred and seventy five
everything
costs money
Niranjala!
I
can get a necklace
and
a pair of bangles too
I
can sing third rate songs
earn
a lot of money
‘Got
to get the money
whichever
way I can!’
Oh
yes sir!
I
could earn a thousand
in
just a fortnight,
but
how could I
how
could I
stoop
so low?
What
am I thinking?
What
am I thinking?
The
mind is a wild horse
requiring
capture and taming
tethered
by the mind
employed
by wisdom.
‘Pooraka –
Pooraka //
Kumbhaka- Kumbhaka
////
This
however is no meditation
just
the murmuring of a mantra.
I
inhale, I exhale.
Should
not think, ‘this is inhale’
should
not think, ‘this is exhale’
should
not think
should
feel
instead.
Is
this abdication
is
this a fleeing from life
would
this any fruit bear?
Will
this result in the revelation of truth
will
this yield liberation, will it emancipate?
No,
this is not transcendental
this
is self-delusion.
It
is not moving towards some infinity
it is both infinity and journey.
[This
is the nineteenth 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, XVI, XVII and XVIII can be found in www.malindapoetry.blogspot.com.]
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