An Ode to May, 2013

Those unfamiliar stern faces in the gallery like reserved for those to vent their muted fates only among themselves—the colorful backgrounds of races, cultures, mindsets so minutely struggling up to keep the balance from going lopsided, the self-condolences in the form of wounded dignity for being here so in the alien land, but the core role being the same as we are. The plunging heads into a brood, the forced smiles from the simmering anxieties within as like in the process of final probation for making sour ends meet, the flustered side glances, the perturbed naked countenances… Looking at them and trying to find within them through the means of physical gestures was so stultifying but rhapsodizing at the same time despite my own being the same, the one who seeks a funny role to play here, at this building not long before the moment. Why I can't stop spotting the chill in the bone, goading at it rather voluntarily but with a detached sense sometimes? It’s to see myself in clear light, self-mirroring that I call. Yes, and here, the given chances of comparing myself with the others heterogeneous. But when ventured in a personal interaction the findings were like blurting out or rapping out coherently those crude thoughts of fated defeats as one’s staple means of being here or practical pasts so ready-made in a sort of axiomatic packages. But I wish I can meet better with firmer or more complex origins. I wish it’s going to be learning after all.

Yes, the system, the foisted means of survival makes us remain apart or blurt out so. ‘Have you ever heard about such and such country?’ ‘Yes, I have’, I admitted as I have. In return I tend to ask in the same way and thanks many have heard about Tibet too. The core atom in a thinking brain should be better fed and let be exploded at the right time to get more rather than remaining in the same narrow hold hemming in to be blind ever. If it’s to let go of the past and try to find only the much-hyped ‘happiness’ by doing so, then living is like an aberrant process charmless or like a limbo before a pitfall that can be blotted out soon afterwards. It’s to let cheat ever.

For now the most beautiful question for me is ‘Why you’re here?’ As to answer this squarely put forward question I can run back and fro along the deserted, pale, blurry lanes like a Bardowa on the run in the intermediate realm of soul. I have been anticipating in vain, but no one has asked me so yet.  A step towards maturity in a tiny form should be such a huge sacrifice, the only purpose of life I think.

Waiting

The story gets stuck as the prosaic source to begin with is as blurry as the trace of a crude dream slipped out when the rough senses returned--a serious quest is needed to be out there. So I am lost like a fluffy mist at the moment. But groping and fumbling through the ominous patches that lead there, the root of my rights as an individual, I find almost the major verbal archives have passed uncharted through the upheavals of the times and struggles for basic means of survival. But the story as my birthmark or legacy that only I can construct so far sounds familiar in the Tibetan novel (བཀྲས་ཟུར་ཚང་གི་གསང་བའི་གཏམ་རྒྱུད།) that my friend Yeshi has read. I remember his being engrossed in it like reading all the nights long.

“This is a wonderful work that I couldn’t leave until to the end. A great novel,” he said with an air of pride and elation for having finished reading it but concealed by the languid looks in his eyes and the deliberate stretch of his thin lips to make way for a pensive smile.

But, unfortunately, I couldn’t take the book from him and follow suit right away that can be the gumption at least to prepare the basic outline now.

In search of the lost trace like on the footsteps of a ghostly past I think it costs extra device like a dream within dream to get back the minimum firsthand information. Even if it isn’t that long past, the upheavals were so devouring letting souls concentrate on the basic means of survival by being displaced and exiled or madden by the infernal mechanisms of revolutionary education or re-education on such large scale. The remaining traces other than the souls can be eviscerated overnight like what is going on in Lhasa city. But thanks for this device of grounded fiction and the power of human souls far beyond the infantile concepts of how such things as Re-education, indoctrination still persist on risibly after desperately or shrewdly surrendering to economic freedom so far.

I feel like it’s to wait on yet to be better prepared. 

Miss Not

Such feelings only come seldom;

Such coherence like a spark-flight--

At its fleeting heels miss not light

That illumines this somber boredom.

Save It!

Gliding as the moon,

It halts as the sun noon—

The shadow below the feet

Thee the projections meet.

Undulating as a wave,

It see-saw life so lured-naïve—

The rein set loose adrift

Only for the current wish swift.

Brooding over as a forlorn one,

It yields to the ill-content alone—

The desperation through sour-cherish

It encounters the love— grab or crush.  

Tibet Need You Ever!

It is really saddening to read the transcript of His Holiness’ speech at the recent gathering at Salugara, his resolute tryst with the Middle Way Approach and yet the firmer hold with such altruistic broad perspective for the benefits of both Tibet and China in the long run. Yes, only after going through it, I feel like reawakened once again to his sublime call after being adrift so far through holding rather cynical stand on its progress. I am so sorry! Tibet need you ever, your holiness, our only beacon!

His Holiness the Dalai Lama greeting the crowd before the Avalokiteshvara Empowerment in Salugara, West Bengal, on March 29, 2013. Photo/Tenzin Choejor/OHHDL

 Click the following link to read the full transcript translated in English:

http://tibet.net/2013/04/10/translation-of-his-holiness-the-dalai-lamas-remarks-to-tibetans-at-salugara/?fb_action_ids=558397520849805&fb_action_types=og.likes&fb_source=timeline_og&action_object_map=%7B%22558397520849805%22%3A296715273795596%7D&action_type_map=%7B%22558397520849805%22%3A%22og.likes%22%7D&action_ref_map=%5B%5D

Learn to love where you are

Now

The clock is ticking only as I care now for a purpose in hand—how strange I find for such, the will-motivated quest and the imposed deadline that matters. Yes, how true it’s why we can do it like getting up early in the morning.

A Gift

Even through the shower of such falls along the narrow foot path just above the tracks, like reserved for us heavy-hearted but light walkers, only one with me up to my place. The single small white petal oval-shaped there on the floor by the foot of the table. Spotting it, picking it up with fabricated feelings, finding a tiny speck or stain on its heart, I find myself rebounding along an imagination lane free from what I try to express here. So fragile it’s and with a stain on its heart. With a heavy heart I carefully tuck it between the crisp pages of my Oxford French Mini Dictionary, the best place for it to remain, dry with the stain and to be there for finding so when I happen to open the initial pages of R part later on.

The Barrier

“I know about Tibet. It’s big and mountainous. Yes, by force. No real democracy but talks and talks…..,” the inmate from a small part of Africa says so. Seated by me in the lounge room with an LCD TV on the wall and those chairs fixed with sticky tapes he seems to be in his late twenties in old jeans, a grey jacket with the attached hat and dark rubber slippers. His shaved head, contorting eyes as he talks, world knowledge, political view, his present struggle through broken French and inquisitive way of asking for something land, at last, on what he holds: Harmony as there is only one God no matter what and how you call, the practical positivity in both thought and action as he commemorates today, the day Jesus was crucified, by fasting the whole day. But the barrier, as he sees, for both religious and political harmonies will prevail as long as we crave for novelty, tangent, individualism, identity-promotion. The beauty is another matter. The salvation is to wait till the spontaneous inner-call only.