Thursday, January 13, 2005

Meetings with the little Buddha

There sits a little Buddha in my shelf

He talks to me about glowing trees of light

He sits there asking me to close my eyes

He sits there trying to get my attention for a long time...

The Buddha again today

He peeped at me like the child of a cloud

He smiled at me a happy ray of a smile

I could fly tonight

Buddha peeped at me again

in the sheer beauty of life…

And then again

I felt the Buddha

speak to me through the pollen happy

stem of the Gulmohar flower

behind an office wall

He thanked me from the eyes of a new friend

whose desk they adorned because of me...

Sometimes I think he is looking at me

from the coffee

He listens to me and replies in the memory

of an innocent romance of a writer

How do you explain to a bus full of people

that a ray of sunshine through concrete buildings

makes the writer smile

for a moment there...

he feels like the Buddha.

That little Buddha writes himself

in the innocent poetry of a lover

I meet that little one

on a computer very often..

He laughs very loudly

in a child’s ambition singing with the flute...

laughs ever so loudly in his faith

that lives within the faraway notes

of fame in a possible future.

There he sits in the beautiful pattern

on the frosted glass on my window…

He comes to me like an invisible smoke

and takes shape…

Slowly forming himself

into a funny idea.

There he was talking again

on the side of the road

Standing between a housemaid

and a security guard’s innocent flirtation.

that little Buddha

born from the wombs of a million suns…

That little Buddha

infinitely more immense

than the million suns and earths…

That little Buddha finds

his place in the smallest cubical of a cat’s heart…

And then he paints himself in my mother’s eyes.

I have memories of having seen him sometime before

One hazy evening in the shadow of a sunset in pitch black murky water…

And he was still beautiful!! …still beautiful.

I think that now when I can see you

May be one day I will understand you…

May be my limited vision will widen itself to accommodate you

And make a home in the center of my soul

It is in my darkest moments that you speak to me in the clearest of voices

You speak to me like a child in my own voice…

You speak to me in my sense of wonder at my own body…

I see it shining like a crystal…

The crystal that you took such pains to Cut finely and polish with care.

In the middle of the smallest moment in a white flash of blinding light

I have seen you smiling mysteriously in your comfortable nakedness…

And I have seen this morning a stark naked madman walking unabashedly…

Why was everyone else uncomfortable except for him?

You have your ways of increasing my questions O little Buddha

Sometimes when I fall in love…if only for a while

In the most transitory of times and the most impermanent of arrangements

I find you smiling in a unique moment of infatuation…

for a man as sweet as young white flowers

You sing the sweetest sounds in the slowest of songs

You sing through the threads of the violin professional

And you sing through the first screechy sounds of the learning child

You sing in unison with the voices of a thousand monks.

And then you sing in the drops falling on the virgin shy earth

Your music flows through my veins and collects in the pool of my heart

And then you touch the bamboo stem and sing through the flute

And then you play the violin again…

ah you play it again…in the midst of heaven.

They must be making pianos from the wood cut from your heart

They must be playing your eyelashes that are the black keys on them

They are meddling with our hearts through your Pianos

They are making inroads into our souls through your pianos

I am writing you through electronic keyboards

I am remembering you through an electronic product

I am looking at you on an electronic screen

I am discovering you in my personal blue coffee cup

You have begun to exist not only in the music

but also in the hiss on the tape

How could you be everywhere at the same time?

How did I miss seeing you all this time?


You scream through a million bagpipes

and mountains soar in my mind…

And then I meet the lonely shepherd chasing his flock

You show yourself in the valley on the edge of which I stand

You stand behind the horizon and you dwarf it

You flow through a solid stone…

You freeze yourself and turn to ice and

You make a stone falls apart and it melts.

It melts under your cold gaze…

You dance in a circle amongst the oldest tribe of my kind

You dance in the first dance of all

You have held all our hands at one time or another

You have danced before and beyond time

If you ever come down to explain to us our existence

I want to be the first one in line for the invitation

You cannot forget me.

You cannot disown me.

I have seen you.

The only decent passport photo

This picture was taken in a big hurry in an unwashed unslept state due to some kind of administrative urgency at the esteemed institution I studied at