Oct 31, 2011

ಸಾವಿನ ಚೆಲುವೆ !!



ಸಾವಿನ ಮೋಹಕ ಚೆಲುವೆ ಎಂದೇ ಬಣ್ಣಿಸಲಾಗುತಿಹಳವಳು !
ಜೀವನದೆಲ್ಲಾ ತಳಮಳ - ತೊಳಲಾಟಗಳಿಂದ ಮುಕ್ತಿವೀಯ್ವಳಂತವಳು !
ಅವಳೇ ಇರಬಹುದೆ ಬದುಕ ಕೊರತೆ 
ನೀಗಿಸಿ ನಲಿಸುವ ದೇವತೆ ?

ಆದರೆ, ಈ ವರ್ಣನೆಗಳು -
ಅವರಿವರ ಅಭಿಪ್ರಾಯ, ಭಾವನೆಗಳು.
ಅನುಭವಿಸದೆ ಅವಳೊಡನೆ ಆಪ್ಯಾಯತೆ -
ಅರಿಯಲಿ ಹೇಗೆ ನಾ ಅ ಘನತೆಯ ನೈಜತೆ?

ತಿಳಿಯೆ ನಾ ಅವಳನ್ನು,
ಆದ್ದರಿಂದಲೇ ಅವಳ ಬಗೆಗೆ ಈ ಕುತೂಹಲ - ಜಿಜ್ಞಾಸೆಗಳು.
ಅರಿತರೊಮ್ಮೆ ಅವಳ ಅಂತರಾಳವನ್ನು -
ಬತ್ತಿ ಹೋಗವೆ ಈ ಚಿಮ್ಮುವ ಉತ್ಸಾಹದ ಸೆಲೆಗಳು?

ಇಂತೆಯೇ ಇರಲಿ ನನ್ನೊಳು ಈ ಉತ್ಸಾಹ,
ಅರಳುತಿರಲಿ ಅದರ ಬೆನ್ನತ್ತಿ ಬರುವ ಉನ್ಮಾದ!
ಕಂಡು, ತಿಳಿದು, ಅನುಭವಿಸಿ ಮರೆವ ಯಾಂತ್ರಿಕತೆಗಿದೋ ನನ್ನ ನಕಾರ,
ನಿರೀಕ್ಷೆಯ ಗಳಿಗೆಗಳು, ಕನಸ್ಸಿನ ಮಳಿಗೆಗಳು - ಇವೇ ನನಗೆ ಸಾಕ್ಷಾತ್ಕಾರ!

ಅವಳ ಮೋಹಕತೆಯ ಕಪೋಕಲ್ಪಿತ ಕಥೆಗಳು,
ಮರಣದಾಚೆಗೆ ಬದುಕುಳಿದವರ ಹೇಳತೀರದ ವ್ಯಥೆಗಳು.
ಮುಗ್ಧತೆಯ ತಬ್ಬಿ, ತನ್ನ ತಾ ಸಂತೈಸಿದೆ ಮನವು,
ಏಳು-ಬೀಳಿನ ಜೀವ ಜ್ವಾಲೆಯಲಿ ಬೇಯಲೊಪ್ಪಿದೆ ತನುವು! 

Oct 27, 2011

ಮತ್ತೆ ಕಾಡಿತು ಹಣತೆ..


              ಇತ್ತೀಚಿನ ವರ್ಷಗಳಲ್ಲಿ  ಪ್ರತಿ ದೀಪಾವಳಿಯಲ್ಲೂ  ಜಿ ಎಸ್ ಶಿವರುದ್ರಪ್ಪನವರ 'ನನ್ನ ಹಣತೆ' ಕವಿತೆಯ ಸಾಲುಗಳು ಹೃದಯಾಂತರಾಳದಲೆಲ್ಲೋ ಕಾಡುತ್ತಿವೆ ಎಂಬ ಭಾವನೆ. ಸರಿ ಸುಮಾರು ಒಂಬತ್ತು ವರ್ಷಗಳ ಹಿಂದೆ ದೀಪಾವಳಿಯ ಆಸು ಪಾಸಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಈ ಕವಿತೆಯನ್ನು ಮೊದಲ ಬಾರಿ ಓದಿದ್ದು. ಆ ನಂತರ ಪ್ರತಿ ಬಾರಿ ಓದಿದಾಗಲು ಹೊಸ ಹೊಸ ಅರ್ಥ ಹಾಗು ದೃಷ್ಟಿಕೋನ ತೆರೆದಿಡುತ್ತದೆ ಈ ಕವಿತೆ. ಪ್ರಾಯಶಃ ಕವಿತೆಯ ಸೊಬಗಿರುವುದೇ ಅದರ ಕಾಲತೀತತೆಯಲ್ಲೇನೋ! ಕವಿಯು ತನ್ನ ಮಿತಿ ಹಾಗು ವಾಸ್ತವತೆಯ ಅರಿವನ್ನು ಮೊದಲು ಮೂಡಿಸಿ, ನಂತರ ನೈಜತೆಯ ಹಸಿ ಸತ್ಯವನ್ನು ಸೂಕ್ಷ್ಮವಾಗಿ ಕಟ್ಟಿಕೊಡುತ್ತಾ, ಸಾಮಾಜಿಕ ನಿರಾಶಾವದಕ್ಕೆ ಬಲಿಯಾಗದೆ ತನ್ನ ಆಶಾವಾದವನ್ನು, ಜೀವನ ಸೌಂದರ್ಯವನ್ನು ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಕಟ್ಟಿಕೊಡುತ್ತಾರೆ ಎಂಬುದು ನನ್ನ ಅನಿಸಿಕೆ - 

ಹಣತೆ ಹಚ್ಚುತ್ತೇನೆ  ನಾನೂ.
ಈ ಕತ್ತಲನ್ನು ಗೆದ್ದು ನಿಲ್ಲುತ್ತೇನೆಂಬ ಜಿದ್ದಿನಿಂದಲ್ಲ;
ಲೆಕ್ಕವೇ ಇರದ ದೀಪಾವಳಿಯ ಹಡಗುಗಳೇ
ಇದರಲ್ಲಿ ಮುಳುಗಿ ಕರಗಿರುವಾಗ
ನಾನು  ಹಚ್ಚುವ ಹಣತೆ ಶಾಶ್ವತವೆಂಬ ಭ್ರಾಂತಿ ನನಗಿಲ್ಲ.

ಹಣತೆ ಹಚ್ಚುತ್ತೇನೆ ನಾನೂ;
ಈ ಕತ್ತಲಿನಿಂದ ಬೆಳಕಿನ ಕಡೆಗೆ ನಡೆದೇನೆಂಬ
ಆಸೆಯಿಂದಲ್ಲ.
ಕತ್ತಲಿನಿಂದ ಕತ್ತಲಿಗೇ ತಡಕಾಡಿಕೊಂಡು ಬಂದಿದೆ ಹೆಜ್ಜೆ
ಶತಮಾನದಿಂದಲೂ.
ನಡು ನಡುವೆ ಒಂದಷ್ಟು ಬೆಳಕು ಬೇಕೆಂದು 
ಆಗಾಗ ಕಡ್ಡಿ ಗೀಚಿದ್ದೇವೆ,
ದೀಪ ಮೂಡಿಸಿದ್ದೇವೆ,
ವೇದ, ಶಾಸ್ತ್ರ, ಪುರಾಣ, ಇತಿಹಾಸ, ಕಾವ್ಯ, ವಿಜ್ಞಾನಗಳ 
ಮತಾಪು - ಪಟಾಕಿ - ಸುರುಸುರುಬತ್ತಿ - ಹೂಬಾಣ
ಸುಟ್ಟಿದ್ದೇವೆ. 
'ತಮಸೋಮಾ ಜ್ಯೋತಿರ್ಗಮಯಾ' ಎನ್ನುತ್ತಾ ಬರೀ
ಬೂದಿಯನ್ನೇ ಕೊನೆಗೆ ಕಂಡಿದ್ದೇವೆ.

ನನಗೂ ಗೊತ್ತು, ಈ ಕತ್ತಲೆಗೆ
ಕೊನೆಯಿರದ ಬಾಯಾರಿಕೆ.
ಎಷ್ಟೊಂದು ಬೆಳಕನ್ನು ಇದು ಉಟ್ಟರೂ , ತೊಟ್ಟರೂ
ತಿಂದರೂ, ಕುಡಿದರೂ ಇದಕ್ಕೆ ಇನ್ನೂ ಬೇಕು
ಇನ್ನೂ ಬೇಕು ಎನ್ನುವ ಬಯಕೆ.

ಆದರೂ ಹಣತೆ ಹಚ್ಚುತ್ತೇನೆ ನಾನು;
ಕತ್ತಲೆಯನ್ನು ದಾಟುತ್ತೇನೆಂಬ ಭ್ರಮೆಯಿಂದಲ್ಲ,
ಇರುವಷ್ಟು ಹೊತ್ತು ನಿನ್ನ ಮುಖ ನಾನು, ನನ್ನ ಮುಖ ನೀನು
ನೋಡಬಹುದೆಂಬ ಒಂದೇ ಒಂದು ಆಸೆಯಿಂದ;
ಹಣತೆ ಆರಿದ ಮೇಲೆ, ನೀನು ಯಾರೋ, ಮತ್ತೆ
ನಾನು ಯಾರೋ.
               - ಜಿ ಎಸ್ ಶಿವರುದ್ರಪ್ಪ  ('ನನ್ನ ಹಣತೆ')

Oct 25, 2011

Mr.Prat and the rat!!

Hello, my name is Priyat Priyakar Prat
No, no, by no means am I a spoiled brat!
Teachers at the school called me smart.
All that they taught, I did 'by-heart'.
Few were my wants, a ball and a bat,
As days grew by, few claps or a pat.
Small was beautiful, always joy I got.
Bygone days seem the best of the lot.
Was taught by the learned, the way right -
Dreams should be big and indeed bright.
Grew in me thirst for a 'big' university hat,
Later in life, a pay check - little bit fat;
A sweet girl - cute, almost like a cat!
And to live in the city, a comfortable flat.


These days I give my job a good shot,
Stress and strain - weekdays are hot;
Shop on weekends at the city mart.
Appreciate my friends, their talent and art
At Orkut, Facebook or a similar spot.
Garden trees on the balcony in a pot,
Cinema, Lifestyle, Culture, Fashion - hobbies apart
My clutter give as gifts in service and play my part.
Simplifying my life - bit luxury and a lot,
Adds up though unintended under my cot!
Sometimes all this routine seems full rot,
I have tried Gurus who analysed my SWOT,
And sold me another of Aladdin's mat.
Surely in more merry, lives Jerry the rat!

Oct 23, 2011

None is mine..

I don't love her, that's certain, but perhaps I love her.
Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.
                                                           - Pablo Neruda 



There are people who tell me of friendship.
There are people who tell me of love.
But there is none, who tells me of nothing
Like you did, yet filled my world with everything.

There are people who advise me on life.
There are people who console me in pains.
But there is none, on whose shoulders I can weep
And on whose lap I could feel consoled as on yours.

There are people all around adoring me.
There are people keenly interested in me.
But there is none, who brings peace to mind
Like you used to, and none is mine.

There are people who smile at me.
There are people who wish well for me.
But there is none, whose smile lights me up
Like yours did, And the one I ruined.

People are just people, but you were you.
You were me, you were all that I wanted.
You were my love, you were my life.
What is life, when the only thing I have lost is you?


Oct 22, 2011

इनकार इन राहो से..


मुझे नहीं चलना इन राहो पे
जिनके मतलब क्या जानू मै
आपके ये अनुशासन है?
जाने किस सदी के शिलाशासन है?

उन राहो पे मुझे चलने दो
जिन राहो पे चलना मेरा मकसद हो
इन ख्वाबो को सजने दो
इनकी सजने में इस दिल की खुशियाँ हो! 

जाने किनके ख्वाब तुझे बुनना हो
मुझे मेरी जिंदगी जीने की मौका दो
इस मुर्दों की बस्ती से
मुझे जिन्दा बाहर उगने दो!

लाशो की ढेरी में
एक दिन मिलेंगे हम दोंनो 
धन-सम्मान तू ले लेना
तब तक मुझे अपनी जिंदगी है जीना!

(I deny to traverse this path,
Whose pursuit and meaning appeals not to me.
This is your disciplined advice?
God knows written on which generation's edifice?

I plead to be allowed to trace that path
The pursuit of which, I believe, is part of my destiny.
Allow these dreams to get decorated
In the process of this decoration lies happiness in my heart!

Don't know whose dream you have to weave,
But let me have the opportunity to live my life.
From this street of the dead,
Let me sprout out with life left in me!

In the pile of the corpses
Surely shall we, a day, encounter ourselves.
Name and fame you achieve,
Till then I do have my life to live!)

Oct 21, 2011

My heart wants to write poetry!

"Simple, Sensuous, Impassioned"
                                                 - Milton's axiom on the essentials of poetry...

I know no rhythmical utterance,
My vocabulary may lack confluence,
I do not seem to voice in melody,
But still my heart wants to write poetry!

I am no master of composition,
My diction, am afraid, may fail in intonation,
I am yet to perfect lyrical delivery,
But still my heart wants to write poetry!

I am a novice at the art of punctuation,
My expression may lack articulation,
I find it tough to evoke symmetry,
But still my heart wants to write poetry!

Break the shackles, let the rules rust!
Poetry is beyond language & barriers, I trust.
Instincts and imaginations keep me rooted,
Feelings and emotions stir me inspired,
To flow with life unattached is true beauty -
My heart now lives in harmony with poetry!!

Oct 15, 2011

The Absurdity of Existence.


"At the very end of his long effort measured by skyless space and time without depth, the purpose is achieved. Then Sisyphus watches the stone rush down in a few moments toward that lower world whence he will have to push it up again toward the summit. He goes back down to the plain."
                                                  - Albert Camus ('The Myth of Sisyphus')

           Why are we living? Should our existence have a meaning attached to it? The purpose of life has been the question of concern in religion and philosophical studies for over millenniums. Most of the religions and their derived thoughts prescribe Mukti or Nirvana as the ultimate purpose of living. At times it gets complicated to comprehend the meaning of these terms in their entirety. Stripping ourselves of all the acquired knowledge, let us put into question what our instincts and experiences tell us. Have not we at times had the gut feeling that all that we are doing is simply meaningless when ripped bare to its essentials? In moments of insight and illumination, sometimes does strike the haunting 'Absurdity of Existence'.
        The purpose of life, we are usually taught, is to be righteous. Righteous in speech, action and all spheres of living. A great lesson indeed because righteousness leads to dispersion of peace and that shall solve a lot of issues worldwide. (The classification of righteous action itself is an issue with contradictory leanings in contemporary world!) Though righteousness is a virtue in its own right, is that all the purpose of this grand experiment of living?
    Within each of us, maybe we can recognize a Sisyphus, the Greek mythological king who was compelled to roll an immense boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down, and to repeat this throughout eternity. While a few of us curse ourselves for getting into the monotonous nature of the seemingly meaningless activity, there are others who enjoy it. Maybe the latter can find in them the Malayali folklore character Naranath Branthan who rolled big stones up the hill and let them roll down back, laughing thunderously on seeing this sight!
       What interests me in these characters is the seemingly absurdity of the task they carry on and their perception towards it. While to Sisyphus, it was an act of compulsion as that was his punishment; but to Naranth it was an eccentric habit and he seemed to enjoy the task! Well the interpretations on these characters is as varied as are the number of interpreters. To me, the absurdity of their tasks seems to be a point well made on the futility of human attempts to achieve permanence in light of life's transience.  There exists a grandeur in the absurdity. In Naranath Branthan,  I find the 'Absurd man' whom Camus describes thus - "He who, without negating it, does nothing for the eternal. Not that nostalgia is foreign to him. But he prefers his courage and his reasoning. The first teaches him to live without appeal and to get along with what he has; the second informs him of his limits. Assured of his temporally limited freedom, of his revolt devoid of future, and of his mortal consciousness, he lives out his adventure within the span of his lifetime."
       I do not claim to know the purpose underlying our existence nor do I know if one actually exists. But is a purpose always required to drive life? Even if a purpose is decided upon, how long do we cling to it? I have no answers but maybe I do not need the answers! I share Gibran's view on Nirvana in life - “Yes, there is Nirvana; it is in leading your sheep to a green pasture, and in putting your child to sleep, and in writing the last line of your poem.”
      Beyond the pursuit of purpose, there is a reality to life. It shall come to an end. All accomplishments shall fade out with time. Nature shall always have the last laugh. No, I am not being pessimistic. From recognizing these facts does arise an optimism - The optimism that life is not momentary existence but life is the joy of living. Thoreau did strike a chord when he coined the phrase 'to cease to exist and start to live'. Maybe existence has its absurdities, but not living!

"I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."
                      - Albert Camus ('The Myth of Sisyphus')

Oct 7, 2011

Absolute reverence..




In solitude from the world, under the shade of a tree
Sat they on a sunny day, when they were free.

In one another, had they found a soothing rhyme
Thus did friendship blossom between them with time.

As she rested her head on his broad shoulder
Across her shoulder went his hand and held her.

Her fingers, in silence, ran through the hair on his head.
Disturbing her subtle calmness; to her, questions he fed -

"Why does it seem you don't express all that you feel?
No barriers in our friendship, wasn't that the deal?"

Dwelling deep in his eyes, did she look for trust
Assuming its existence, she spoke, clearing the dust -

"A girl when voices her feelings, in this society
 Is like the priest caught in the ritual of variety.

A priest offering prayers to a deity in procession
Not just that, he is fed a mouthful of poison.

If swallowed, all his life would end in vanity.
If split out, he ruins his and the deity's dignity.

Yet he is asked to sing hymns in the Lord's praise,
Voice their pains and seek pleasure for the entire race.

Thus is it when we are asked to express ourselves.
Voices crushed, we are left with only tears and sighs.

Caged freedoms, Broken promises, Abandoned dreams,
Swollen wounds, Masked pains and Fake smiles.

If truth be expressed, it reveals the transience of identity.
If kept to myself my voices, doubted is my fidelity."

He could sense her moist eyes as tears rolled on to his shoulder.
Reassuring his presence, in subtle calmness, he gently held her.

Failing to find words to express himself, he surrendered to silence.
She had poured her heart into his soul in absolute reverence...

Oct 4, 2011

A pick of Zen stories - 2


Like the little stream
Making its way
Through the mossy crevices
I, too, quietly
Turn clear and transparent.

-From "Dewdrops on a Lotus Leaf: Zen Poems of Ryokan"

1. Moving mind

Two men were arguing about a flag flapping in the wind.

“It’s the wind that is really moving,” stated the first one.

“No, it is the flag that is moving,” contended the second.

A Zen master, who happened to be walking by, overheard the debate and interrupted them.

“Neither the flag nor the wind is moving,” he said, “It is MIND that moves.”

2. Present Moment

A Japanese warrior was captured by his enemies and thrown into prison. That night he was unable to sleep because he feared that the next day he would be interrogated, tortured, and executed. Then the words of his Zen master came to him, “Tomorrow is not real. It is an illusion. The only reality is now.” Heeding these words, the warrior became peaceful and fell asleep.

3. Mastering technique.

After having won many archery contests, the town champion went to the Zen master.

I am the best of all – he said. – I didn’t study religion, never sought help from the monks, and succeeded in becoming the finest archer in the whole region. I heard that, for a time, you were the best archer in the region, and ask you: was it necessary to become a monk in order to learn to shoot?

No – replied the Zen master.

But the champion was not satisfied: he took an arrow, placed it in the bow, fired it and hit a cherry which was very far away. Smiling, as if to say: "you might have saved your time, devoting yourself only to technique." And he said:

I doubt whether you could do that.

Without looking in the least bit worried, the master went inside, fetched his bow, and began to walk towards a nearby mountain.
On the way, there was an abyss which could only be crossed by an old bridge made of rotting rope, and which was almost collapsing.
The Zen master went to the middle of the bridge, took his bow and placed an arrow in it, then aimed at a tree on the far side of the precipice, and hit his target.

Now it is your turn – he kindly told the young man, as he returned to firm ground.

Terrified as he gazed down at the abyss below his feet, the young man went to the spot and fired, but his arrow veered wide of the mark.

4. Egotism

The Prime Minister of the Tang Dynasty was a national hero for his success as both a statesman and military leader. But despite his fame, power, and wealth, he considered himself a humble and devout Buddhist. Often he visited his favorite Zen master to study under him, and they seemed to get along very well. The fact that he was prime minister apparently had no effect on their relationship, which seemed to be simply one of a revered master and respectful student.

One day, during his usual visit, the Prime Minister asked the master, “Your Reverence, what is egotism according to Buddhism?” The master’s face turned red, and in a very condescending and insulting tone of voice, he shot back, “What kind of stupid question is that!?”

This unexpected response so shocked the Prime Minister that he became sullen and angry. The Zen master then smiled and said, “This, Your Excellency, is egotism.”

5. Books

Once there was a well known philosopher and scholar who devoted himself to the study of Zen for many years. On the day that he finally attained enlightenment, he took all of his books out into the yard, and burned them all.

6. Gift of Insults

Near Tokyo lived a great Samurai, now old, who decided to teach Zen Buddhism to young people.

One afternoon, a warrior – known for his complete lack of scruples – arrived there. The young and impatient warrior had never lost a fight. Hearing of the Samurai’s reputation, he had come to defeat him, and increase his fame.

All the students were against the idea, but the old man accepted the challenge.

All gathered on the town square, and the young man started insulting the old master. He threw a few rocks in his direction, spat in his face, shouted every insult under the sun – he even insulted his ancestors.

For hours, he did everything to provoke him, but the old man remained impassive. At the end of the afternoon, by now feeling exhausted and humiliated, the impetuous warrior left.

Disappointed by the fact that the master had received so many insults and provocations, the students asked:
How could you bear such indignity? Why didn’t you use your sword, even knowing you might lose the fight, instead of displaying your cowardice in front of us all?

If someone comes to you with a gift, and you do not accept it, who does the gift belong to? – asked the Samurai.
He who tried to deliver it – replied one of his disciples.

The same goes for envy, anger and insults – said the master.

7. I do not know.

The emperor, who was a devout Buddhist, invited a great Zen master to the Palace in order to ask him questions about Buddhism.

“What is the highest truth of the holy Buddhist doctrine?” the emperor inquired.

“Vast emptiness… and not a trace of holiness,” the master replied.

“If there is no holiness,” the emperor said, “then who or what are you?”

“I do not know,” the master replied.

8. Desperate

The son of a master thief asked his father to teach him the secrets of the trade. The old thief agreed and that night took his son to burglarize a large house. While the family was asleep, he silently led his young apprentice into a room that contained a clothes closet. The father told his son to go into the closet to pick out some clothes. When he did, his father quickly shut the door and locked him in. Then he went back outside, knocked loudly on the front door, thereby waking the family, and quickly slipped away before anyone saw him. Hours later, his son returned home, bedraggled and exhausted. “Father,” he cried angrily, “Why did you lock me in that closet? If I hadn’t been made desperate by my fear of getting caught, I never would have escaped. It took all my ingenuity to get out!” The old thief smiled. “Son, you have had your first lesson in the art of burglary.”

9. Holy man

Word spread across the countryside about the wise Holy Man who lived in a small house atop the mountain. A man from the village decided to make the long and difficult journey to visit him.

When he arrived at the house, he saw an old servant inside who greeting him at the door.

“I would like to see the wise Holy Man,” he said to the servant.

The servant smiled and led him inside. As they walked through the house, the man from the village looked eagerly around the house, anticipating his encounter with the Holy Man.

Before he knew it, he had been led to the back door and escorted outside. He stopped and turned to the servant,

“But I want to see the Holy Man!”

“You already have,” said the old man. “Everyone you may meet in life, even if they appear plain and insignificant… see each of them as a wise Holy Man. If you do this, then whatever problem you brought here today will be solved.” 

10. How grass and trees become enlightened?

During the Kamakura period, Shinkan studied Tendai six years and then studied Zen seven years; then he went to China and contemplated Zen for thirteen years more.

When he returned to Japan many desired to interview him and asked obscure questions. But when Shinkan received visitors, which was infrequently, he seldom answered their questions.

One day a fifty-year-old student of enlightenment said to Shinkan: “I have studied the Tendai school of thought since I was a little boy, but one thing in it I cannot understand. Tendai claims that even the grass and trees will become enlightened. To me this seems very strange.”

“Of what use is it to discuss how grass and trees become enlightened?” asked Shinkan. “The question is how you yourself can become so. Did you even consider that?”

“I never thought of it that way,” marveled the old man.

“Then go home and think it over,” finished Shinkan.

(Why always limit the number of stories to 10??;-) This time I will break the routine...)

11. Writing a poem

A well-known Japanese poet was asked how to compose a Chinese poem.

“The usual Chinese poem is four lines,” he explains. “The first line contains the initial phase; the second line, the continuation of that phase; the third line turns from this subject and begins a new one; and the fourth line brings the first three lines together. A popular Japanese song illustrates this:

Two daughters of a silk merchant live in Kyoto.

The elder is twenty, the younger, eighteen.
A soldier may kill with his sword.
But these girls slay men with their eyes.


More Stories: A pick of Zen Stories - 1