Letting go

Go ego

Let go

You have created me

So much pain

Suffering

Go away

Or you shouldn’t go?

What would happen to Me?

Would I vanish into thin air

Empty

And stop writing?

.

Am I really the writer?

Or the observer?

Hm am I the narrator?

Or the one silently watching

Life folding and unfolding itself?

.

I see now

I am the one who takes up the heavy burden

I am the one who carries the heavy rucksack on my back

Oh it hurts so much

On my back, neck and head

I see now

It’s time to let go

Letting go

That is the Path

.

Really it’s not about taking more in

But of letting go

Flow on with the River

Freely

Burden not

Yourself with changing the world

It’s about letting go

Your ego is

The most destructive,

Oppressive,

Consumerist,

Colonialist,

Racist,

Sexist,

Patriarchal force

In this world

If you let go of it

The world will change accordingly

Sounds simple right?

No it’s quite difficult

But not impossible

This process might take

Lives and lives

But it’s better to start late than never

Just let go

.

Remember the story of Lord Buddha and the Brahmin

With a flower offering?

Buddha told him

Let go

The Brahmin switched the flower

From his right to his left hand

Buddha told him

Let go

He dropped the flower

Buddha told him again

Let go

Startled, the Brahmin replied

I am empty handed

There is nothing I can let go of

Lord Buddha replied

I did not mean the flower

But of your clinging mind

The Six Dusts, the Six Sense-Faculties and the six Sense-Consciousness

Just let go

And change will come…

.

When you meet another bird

When you meet another bird

You learn to let go

Wow I’m not that special

Just a wondering bird among many

Perched in this world-tree

~

When you meet another bird

You learn to let go

Your worries, attachments and cravings

Fall down like cold snow

As it touches the witnessing Earth

It becomes the cool stream

That flows and flows and flows

Oh this stream has flowed through

Rivers and mountains and forests

And so it shall continue to be

~

When you meet another bird

You learn to be Free

Dharma and Love are not mutually exclusive

Love is Freedom

Not the egocentric selfish cage

That imprisons the soul

So be Free little bird

Fly and go see the world

Experience it and suffer from it

To finally internalize Buddha’s Noble Truths

~

Oh Lord Buddha

When will I stop craving?

The bird sings

You have a long way to go

Perhaps

When you flow through

Enough lives and experiences and sufferings

You will let go

Let go of all

And dwell in Nothingness

What am I?

What am I?

I ask myself

Flowing with life

~

I am not a writer

I lack wisdom to teach

Though I observe

Anthropologist I am not

Discipline I lack

To become a real researcher

I am active but not really an activist

I care but I am not a social worker

Connecting people I like

But community organizer I am not

I can take some photographs

But photographer I am not

I like to paint

But not really an artist

I can dance sometimes

Though bboy I am not

I enjoy playing with words

But poet I am not

~

What? What am I then?

I ask myself

Contemplating life unfolding

~

Am I that tiny little bird that sings perched on a blossoming plum tree?

Am I that tree that stands facing the unforgiving change of seasons?

Am I that clinging leaf that falls while pondering its impermanence?

Oh Mother Earth are you going to embrace me soon?

Am I that tingling morning dew dripping into the eternal river

That flows and flows through

Mountains and valleys and plains

To finally empty itself into the Sea

~

What? I am nothing really?

Nothing?

I must be something

Hm maybe I am nothing yet something at the same time

I don’t know

I am quite confused

~

Oh! Perhaps I am a confused bird singing perched on a blossoming plum tree with leaves filled with dew dripping into the eternally flowing river flowing towards the Sea emptying itself…

Oh I see you now ego! It’s nice to meet you my dear ego trying to be someone, to become something darn we do have a long journey ahead and lots of suffering on its way so let us wish ourselves a bon voyage towards the Sea it’s going to be a rough ride home

Taking Refuge

My mind searches and searches

… as I try to find words

For my incessant search

What words to use?

River flow flowing chasing pleasure satisfaction fame respect identity bonds culture meaning life intimacy beer food consumption happiness the mind never stops chasing

Until I hit a dot

         o

Small, simple yet beyond powerful

Like a massive cliff

Here

Death

Stares me right in the face

At this point in time

I lay in bed

Old age or not

Diseased

Unable to move

Perhaps I am alone

Perhaps my family and friends are with me

Yet what can they do?

Sooner or later they will be snatched too

So they sit immobile and agonized

Watching me

Fearful for their own inevitable Fate

In whom do I take refuge?

Mother?

Father?

Brothers?

Sisters?

Friends?

A beautiful partner?

Wealth?

Memories?

Will the memories of a life I once had keep me happy?

Will I be ready to face Death?

No!

Memories are ephemeral moments long gone

And I am about to go too

When I see those shadows sneaking up to me

.

In whom do I take refuge?

In agony I scream to myself

In whom do I take refuge?

In whom do I take refuge?

.

Crying tears and snot

A sweet voice reminds me

Of the teachings

Expounded by the messengers of the Creator

All Paths lead to the One destination

.

I take refuge in the teachings of Love and Compassion

In the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha

Fearless

I throw myself upon the cliff

Free-Falling

Finally Free

The Waterfall opens

The River of Life flows within as I write this sentence

Flowing free freedom wind caressing a birds feathers chasing fish gliding in rhythmic waves splashing into the golden sand crabs dance the dance of mating fisherman picking crabs taking home cooking a warm delicious crab soup for his beloved partner and children enjoying meal together going to the market selling crabs to roaming people shoppers from all classes and social statuses they go home cook eat fresh crab dishes enjoy life as the river flows people flow towards the cliff and .

Death

Should I Stop?

No the energy continues never dies only transforms itself returning to mother earth memories temporarily erased rebirth following its causes and conditions karma life continues suffering taking the path until its ultimate liberation

Nibanna

There Is A Dragon By the River

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Xin. ‘Xin’ means Heart in Chinese but the boy only partly understood his name. Sometimes he was grateful for his name but most of the times, the boy thought ‘Xin’ to be such a silly name and blamed his Chinese ancestry for it. He would complain to himself, Why can’t I have a simple name like ‘Jai’ or even a Christian name like ‘John’? All options sounded better than ‘Xin’…

Xin thought himself to be Indian but Indians saw him as Chinese. Looks don’t lie, right? Xin had that Chinese looking face, his squinty eyes, flat nose, black hair and ‘fair’ skin colour…so he was Chinese although he was born and raised in India. Xin grew up playing cricket and football in Kolkata’s green Maidan, he grew up under the sight of the mighty Howrah Bridge and he grew up eating dal baath1 and biryani2 with his hands. Anyway looks don’t lie, right? A ‘Chinese’ is a Chinese and an ‘Indian’ is an Indian. Can you be both? ‘Hell no,’ most people would say.

Actually the only few ties that Xin has to China is the historical fact that his great-grandfather boarded a trade ship from his ancestral homeland in a village in south China to British India. Xin always had that inner desire to ask his great-grandfather ‘Why did you decide to come to India?’. Since his great-grandfather is already resting in a Chinese cemetery in the Hills3, Xin tried asking his grandparents all these questions about this mysterious land of China. And from what he could extract from his grandparents was that there were conflicts and famine in China and since he heard of money and jobs in India, he decided to give it a ‘shot’. A big ‘shot’ he took, crossing the sea in a trade ship from Guangdong to Calcutta…His great-grandfather’s original plan was to cross the sea in a trade ship, make some money, send some home and return to China as soon as he could. However that return trip never happened and somehow he fell in love, married a lady from Northeast India and settled down in the land of Ganga Ma.

During Xin’s great-grandfather’s life in India, the beautiful Ganga was still engaged to the powerful Brahmaputra. People, culture and trade actively flowed along their joined hair-like threads of life. This marriage had lasted for centuries and was sustained by small fishermen and trading boats travelling up and down these joined Rivers. Then European colonizers came and everything changed.  His great-grandfather arrived during the peak of the British Raj and ships cut through the channels between the Ganga and Brahmaputra rivers carrying laborers, tea, silk, jute, cotton and opium. This marriage had become dark and all different kinds of transactions happened along its waters. Lies, cheating and domestic violence, this marriage was doomed to end. And it ended in 1947, what a painful, bloody and tearful separation…

These Rivers have now separated but maybe one day they are destined to reunite again. Once in a while, both Rivers still have flashbacks of their former union and their common source—the mighty Himalayas. These holy, sacred mountains that touch Heaven and separate the long-lost brothers of India and China.

Growing up in India, Xin wanted the smallest connection possible to China. He wanted to be considered Indian, not Chinese by others. Therefore, he had to act like an Indian not Chinese. However one day, after seeing a very old photo of his great-grandfather somewhere in the Himalayas, an inner urge sparked within Xin to go beyond these mountains and journey to China. From his heart, curiosity bursted and he started searching…Xin started wondering about his great-grandfather’s journey from China to India and how hard it was and the details of it. First he asked his grandfather, who was reading a Chinese newspaper published in India, this existential question: ‘Why? Why didn’t great-grandfather return to China? Why did he choose to stay here in India?’

His grandfather replied, ‘I wish I knew Xin, if I asked him that time, he would have given me a nice beating…’ He paused for a second while giving another glance at his newspaper. ‘Some people say love is a powerful force,’ added his grandfather with a laugh. Xin kept interrogating both his grandfather and grandmother about China and Chinese culture for these two topics were quite intriguing and fascinating to him. They tried to answer Xin as much as they could but sometimes they would be get annoyed by such an inquisitive child. ‘This boy keeps asking questions and questions…put him to work as a detective or investigator or something,’ his grandparents would say to Xin’s parents.

Oh how Xin enjoyed listening and asking questions about Chinese folk stories from his beloved grandparents! There was one story about mythical dragons who slumbered deep down the river and awakened every year to send rain upon the land. These water dragons were quite ill-tempered. Sometimes they would send no rain at all causing painful droughts and sometimes they would send too much rain bringing floods. Hence it was very necessary to appease these dragons with offerings. Every year in China, during the fifth day of the fifth month of the Chinese lunar calendar, all kinds of offerings were made to these river dragons. One of the most important offerings were zong zi—glutinous rice stuffed with meat or sweet paste wrapped in bamboo leaves.

And there was another story about a wondering poet and exiled minister named Qu Yuan who who offered his body to the River after hearing the tragic news about the demise of his home Kingdom of Chu. Qu Yuan had warned the King and other ministers about a neighbour Kingdom’s false peace treaty but the King and other minister’s didn’t listen to him and exiled him instead. The poet and former minister wandered for years producing enduring poems that still touch the hearts of readers today. When the poet heard the news that his Kingdom of Chu had been conquered by the Kingdom of Qin, Qu Yuan decided to offer his life to the river as an act of protest. The fishermen and local villagers after hearing about Qu Yuan’s suicide, they took out their boats and searched for his body and while throwing zong zi into the river in hope that the fish would eat the zong zi instead of Qu Yuan’s body.

During school break, the boy tried telling these stories to his group of ‘friends’. Oh how he was laughed at and became the target of schoolyard jokes.

‘Xin, Xin, listen, yesterday I saw a dragon in the river.’ One of his ‘friends’ talked to Xin with a sneaky smile while making eye contact with the other boys.

‘Where, where?’ asked Xin very excited.

‘In your crazy head.’ Everyone bursted out laughing unscrupulously. ‘He’s such crazy boy. Leave him, let’s go watch a movie after school, the new Transformers movie is out.’

During school time, Xin would sketch all types of dragons in his notebook. He loved drawing and painting, he did have the innate talent for art but he was afraid to show it to others. One day, the gang snatched his precious notebook and showed it to everyone while laughing at his drawings to finally rip them apart.

How they ripped apart the boy’s paper heart into little shreds. Broken, the boy picked up his shredded pieces of heart and tried to assemble it back by the riverside where an ancient Portuguese church stood mighty like a fortress. By the river, the boy sat at one of the benches facing the beautiful riverscape.

The Riverscape

Sometimes he sobbed his broken heart out—even the passerby animals took pity on him. Wondering dogs, goats, birds and fish would stop and dwell next him, perhaps in an attempt to comfort him. Other times, he got jolted by sparks of inspiration and drew river dragons as he imagined them to be. And sometimes he prayed.  How he prayed to Lord Jesus Christ, the Buddha and other deities so that his ‘friends’ would stop bullying him. How he prayed that one day, he could catch a river dragon, ride it down the river and show everyone the Truth—that dragons really do exist!

These riverside pilgrimages became a daily routine for the boy.

‘Oh crazy boy! Where are you going? Are you going to cry like a baby by the river?’ The boy didn’t pay attention to the bullies’ taunts so everyday he continued his silent pilgrimages to the bench by the riverside. Time passed by. Days, weeks and months flowed by just like the Ganga rushing to join the sea.

The Bench By the River

One day, on a very sunny day, during the time of the year when the flower buds perform their stretching yogas to blossom into the world and little birds pitch their chirping to praise the beauty of Creation, the boy sat at the bench by the river. He was fully concentrated sketching river dragons. Suddenly he heard a soft, singing like voice next to him:

‘Ei ekati nadi dragana haya?’ (in Bengali) (Is this a river dragon?)

‘Ksama karem? Caca, mainne tumhem suna nahim tha.’(In Hindi) (Sorry? Uncle, I couldn’t hear you.)—replied the boy confused.

‘Is that a river dragon?’—asked the short, tanned, thin man with a short bush-like beard. He wore a yellowish white banian, a dhoti and was standing barefoot.  He must be one of these fishermen who work by the river, thought the boy.

‘Yes, how do you know about dragons sir?’

‘I’ve seen a few back in the days when I was your age.’

‘What? You’ve seen dragons?’, asked the boy really surprised.

‘Yes,’ replied the man like it was the most natural thing in the world.

‘My friends always tell me that dragons don’t exist. They say that I’m crazy for believing that dragons exist.’

‘If you have friends like these, who needs enemies?’

‘Hm you’re right about that,’ nodding his head with a pensive expression.

‘True friends are like very rare fish, it is very hard to catch these days. So don’t confuse the low quality fish latta with the rare fish hilsa.’

‘Yes, sometimes I do wonder if they really are my friends. They make my life miserable.’

‘Don’t worry, one day you will find the best fish in the world. Just make sure when you find it, you don’t let it slip away.’

‘Yes,’ nodded the boy in agreement.

‘Where did you see the river dragon uncle?’

‘Does it really matter where? I am telling you I’ve seen it.’

‘Then when did you see the river dragon uncle?’

‘Does it really matter when? I am telling you I’ve seen it.’

‘Ok, did other people also see that river dragon uncle?’

‘Does it really matter if others also saw the river dragon? I am telling you I’ve seen it.’

Perplexed by his vague answers, the boy stared into the river and reflected on the fisherman’s words for some time. The river was orange with brushstrokes of dark blue and green from the surrounding trees and the sun was slowly setting, ready for a peaceful nap. The birds were chirping, dragonflies circling and a gentle breeze was blowing like an old man smoking, very relaxed in his old arm-chair.

‘You’re right. It doesn’t really matter as long as you yourself experienced it.’

‘Can you take me to see the river dragon?’—asked the boy burning with excitement.

The fisherman looked at the boy—his eyes were shinning like the North Star on a dark cloudless night. Just like the times when he gazed at the sky’s divine Beauty while lying on his back in his boat dancing with the river in the by the rhythm of life. The fisherman reminisced for a moment and calmly replied, ‘Ok you come tomorrow around the same time with your sketchbook and we can prepare to go see the river dragon.’

The next day Xin rushed to go meet the fisherman. His heart was drumming with joy. In the same place by the river, the fisherman greeted him with a nod and said, ‘Before we start preparing for this journey to see the dragon, I am going to ask you a few questions. Hope you don’t mind.’

‘Sure, not at all,’ quickly replied the boy.

‘Do you really want to see the river dragon?’

‘Yes!’—replied Xin with a flash of certainty.

‘Aren’t you afraid to see the river dragon?’

The boy pauses for a few seconds and answers with a solid ‘No.’

‘How badly do you want to see the river dragon?’

‘I want to see it from the bottom of my heart!’

‘It seems like you do want to see the river dragon. Let’s get ready for the journey then.’

‘First we have to build a boat and then we sail down the river to find that dragon.’

‘What kind of boat are we building?’

‘A dragon boat!’

‘Oh a dragon boat. I still remember when my grandparents used to tell me stories about how my people—the Chinese used to build dragon boats and hold races during the Double Five Festival in honor of river dragons and the poet Qu Yuan.’

‘Yes! That’s the dragon boat I’m talking about. Now you draw me a dragon boat.’

‘But I can’t. I can draw river dragons but not a dragon boat.”

‘You should hear the words you are saying. Of course you can! Believe in yourself my friend. You can draw dragons, right? Just visualize it. Shape the dragon into the form of a boat. See my boat over there. You can take the shape and measurements from it.’

Fisherman's Boat

The boy examined the fisherman’s boat, noted down the specific shape and measurements from it and started drawing and filling it with colours. After some time, Xin finished sketching a dragon boat.

‘Beautiful! See, it wasn’t hard at all. It’s all in your mind. The biggest obstacles are not outside of you but all inside your mind. Break them free! Now take my dear boat, see those these buckets of paint over there and paint it just like the dragon boat you’ve sketched.’

‘But this is your boat? Don’t you need it for your fishing? I’m afraid of ruining your boat.’

‘Don’t worry about that. My boat, your boat, all the same. Anyway I need to change the looks of my old boat, it has gotten too boring.’

‘Thank you sir.’ The boy raised his concentration and transformed the fisherman’s boat to look like the dragon boat he visualized. Of course the traditional Chinese dragon boat is much longer and thinner in width but Xin had to work with what it was given by the fisherman. Xin worked for hours and hours on this boat and he only stopped after he completed his assigned task.

‘You took your time but not bad! The boat work is done, now we have to wait for the auspicious day of Double Five and we set sail into the river to see the dragon!’

‘Wait that’s actually in five days!’

‘Yes, go rest for five days and return here during Double Five Festival! On that day we are going see the river dragon! Also, you have to bring a set of Chinese drums and some zongzi. The drums will be used to awaken the dragon and the zongzi will be used as offerings to it. Are you going to remember this?’

‘Yes,’ replied the boy while noting everything down in his sketchbook.

‘Good. Now go and take some rest. Keep yourself healthy and see you in five days.’

These five days went by very slowly. The boy was very anxious and started to have streaks of heat and cold, insomnia, mood swings from worry to grief to fear, to anger and back to happiness and his body went completely out of balance. Sometimes his heart beat too fast, sometimes he felt there was something wrong with his liver or kidney or lungs or spleen. What a crazy five day journey! He was so happy that he came out alive after these five days of crazy change. It was now the day for the Double Five Festival.  Xin got his grandfather’s set of Chinese drums and some zong zi made by his mother to go meet the fisherman.

Xin left his home early so he slowly and joyfully walked to the riverside to meet the fisherman. He sang his old childhood songs along the way and he looked at his surroundings in a state of bliss and admiration of all the Beauty surrounding him. It seemed like life finally made sense. No more searching, no more striving, just Being in time. Once he reached the riverside, the fisherman was sitting under the shade of a banyan tree, very relaxed and taking a few puffs of a bindi while sitting under the shade of a tree.

Under the Tree

Gently the fisherman asked, ‘I hope you are feeling well.’

‘Now I am feeling great. Not so well for the last five days.’

‘I am glad you are feeling better,’ said the fisherman with a smile.

‘Are you ready for the dragon?’

‘I was born ready!’

‘Haha, good to hear!’

The boy and the fisherman worked together to push the boat through the mud into the river. At first Xin slipped a few times while pushing the boat but soon he got the hang of it. They got momentum from their joined force and used it to reach the river. Both of them got into the boat.

‘Sails up! Drums ready?’ exclaimed the fisherman.

‘Yes sir!’

‘It’s time to set sail! Forward we go!’ screamed the fisherman to encourage Xin.

‘Forward we go!’ repeated Xin, brimming confidence.

The fisherman and the boy sailed out into the river playing the Chinese drums out loud. Then they threw the zong zi into the river as offerings. The Chinese drums kept soaring higher and higher. They sailed down the river towards the sea. The drums kept soaring higher and higher.

All the people in the river bathing and doing puja in the ghats stopped and saw the happening, looking perplexed. Xin’s so called ‘friends’ saw it and became speechless…Suddenly they started cheering for Xin and the news soon spread across the town and people started flocking to the riverside. Xin’s parents and grandparents came to see, how proud they were. The boy’s community—the Indian Chinese came to see, how awed they were. Everyone from Chinese, Anglo-Indians, Bengalis, Gujaratis, Marwaris, Biharis, Punjabis, Rich, Poor, Literate, Illiterate, Old, Young, all kept exclaiming ‘There is a Dragon In the River!’

‘There is a Dragon In the River!’

‘There is a Dragon In the River!’

 

To be continued or not…

Notes:

dal baath1 A popular staple food dish in India, Nepal and Bangladesh consisting of steamed rice and lentil soup.

biryani2 A famous Indian mixed rice dish consisting of long-size rice cooked with spices, meat and/or vegetables.                                                                                                                                                                                                                           the Hills3 A local term used to refer hill stations such as Darjeeling and Kalimpong where tea is often cultivated and the Chinese used to worked in these plantations.

Ode to Climate Change

Heat heat go

Hot summers no

Climate change

You’re not real

But here you are

Knocking at my door

 

Glaciers melt

Rivers flood

 

River flora dies

River fauna cries

 

Where are you river dolphins?

I can’t see you no more

But I can hear your cries in my heart

Your sweet happy voices

Turned into screeches of anguish

 

Oh wild salmon fish

Extinct you go

You might be labeled superfood

But you ain’t superFish

Humans expect you to jump Dams

To lay your eggs and sustain the life cycle…

 

No fresh salmon for you

Grizzly bears

Former kings of the pine forests

No reverence to you anymore

You are no longer considered sacred

No longer considered powerful

How can you fight with claws and fangs against bullets?

Those deadly bullets

That claimed the lives of your father, mother, brothers and sisters

Take my life too

It’s better than being a circus freak in a zoo

 

By the river

The beaver has stopped building its dams

Fewer ponds for salmon and trout to grow

Fewer songbirds

Fewer frogs and toads

Fewer wetlands

Fewer meadows

Fewer forests filled with aspens and willows

Fewer layers of rejuvenating bottom land

The life cycle slowly dies

 

When will humans realize that if Mother dies

We become like lost orphans

Under whose roof shall we live?

Some rich people plan

To move to the Moon, Mars or colonize a new planet…

But 99% of the world are poor as **** (compared to them)

How much will we suffer?

Thus Awaken and let’s tell our Mother

How much we Love her

Let’s Care for her

And fight for her with our Lives

 

But not yet I guess

Here I am sitting in front of a computer

Others by their TVs

Others playing with their phones

 

While by the sea shore

Whales, sea lions and dolphins wash up dead

Sea birds spa on oil spills

And snack on the Great garbage patch

Once they fill up their bellies

They lie flat on the golden sand

‘Tanning’…

Sand dunes are swept

Pockets filled with money

So waves sweep deep

When the beastly waves strike

Where shall we all flee?

 

To the mountains where glaciers melt?

To the plains where drought strikes?

To the valleys where floods sweep?

To the cities that can’t sustain themselves without electricity?

Or to the villages that have no access to clean water nor power?

 

Oh the world is filled with suffering

Sorry to say but there is no escape to it

I searched all my life for one

Found Nothing

At All

Only stumbled upon the zero shaped Ohm

 

That states

Mind and world are One my friend

Mind is a creation of the World

World is a creation of the Mind

Let’s internalize this

And one day hopefully we’ll both realize Shunyata

Or die ‘tricked’ or trying

Not much to lose anyway

In the current state of world’s affairs…

 

And please excuse my directness

But Sustainability without Love is Bullshit!

Pure, hard, constipated, Bullshit!

Wake up from your rosy dreams

And see the world as it Is

Imperfect

Seeking completion as One.

 

And don’t forget

To Love your Mother, Father, Brothers, Sisters

And Climate Change

This is my ode to you

May you bring Change to this world…