A Zen Story

A Zen student asked: “One of these days I’m going to snap. Can you help me, please? Before I kill someone.”

The Zen master got up and slowly moved his face closer and closer to the student’s who was feeling very uncomfortable and finally said: “Okay, that’s close enough.”

Once the master sat back down at a reasonable distance, the student asked: “What the hell did you do that for?”

Now, the master got up, walked outside and up a slope so far that he could barely see the student.

After the master returned and resumed sitting silently, the student said: “Is this supposed to teach me something?”

The master explained: “How strange! When I was too close, I could not get a clear view. When far away, I could no longer see you clearly.”

The student said: “And yet, I miss the point.”

The master said: “Your anger is the result of being either too close or too far away.”

The student asked: “So, what do I do?”

The master said: “Find the right distance.”

(Reproduced here from http://aboutzen.wordpress.com with the author’s kind permission)

The Donkey Would Surely Learn…

A merchant kept a watch-dog to guard his house and a couple of donkeys, one young and another old. Every day in the morning before it got warm, he loaded up the wares on the backs of his donkeys and took them to the village market. And in the evening he returned with the unsold goods to be taken back to the market on the following day. On weekends, however, he went to his suppliers in the nearby town and bought up stock to sell during the week.

A little more, on the merchant’s work-force. The dog was lazy – he enjoyed lolling in the hay day and night, straining himself only at meal times, notwithstanding the merchant’s periodic application of the stick. The elder donkey had years of experience and knew his duties by rote. He could read the merchant’s mind unerringly at every turn – a task made a bit easier by the absence of any turns at all – making him the merchant’s favorite. The youngster was really the ‘X’ of algebra. He was entirely unpredictable as his master saw (did he?). Innocently naive one moment, too smart by half at other times. Some days he would conscientiously pull the load of two adults and on other days he would do a ‘Houdini’ outwitting the merchant in his efforts to round him up. However, to his credit, true to the age-old tradition, the youngster was always deferential towards the elder. Whenever there was an incident and later things had cooled down – the elder had short counseling sessions with the youngster, out of their master’s earshot. And during these sessions the pupil was all ears and hung onto everything that was said. Though, it was a little early to say if these had in any way helped the youngster sort out things in his head – so far, there were no signs of it. But then Taj wasn’t built in a day – the elders always had to keep chipping away in the hope…

Now you get the picture, eh? Cutting to the chase, as they say…here we go… and stick with me for a little while even if it reads like you have read it all before- you’ll not be disappointed.

On one of those days, the merchant loaded them with bags of salt and set off for a neighboring village. On the way they had to cross a stream somewhat swollen with waters, reaching halfway up to their knees. They had to take every step carefully over the uneven bed. Of course it helped that the merchant led the way for them to follow. When they had taken a few steps into the waters, the elder cautioned the youngster to be careful not to get the salt wet in the splashing waters. They had almost made it safely to other side when the youngster stumbled and fell into the waters. A good part of the load was lost in the waters. There upon the youngster fortuitously discovered that a dip in the waters considerably lightened the load of salt for the rest of the march to the market – a secret the elder had not shared. From that day, the youngster often played the trick – feigning a false-step and a stumble. It was done with a convincing finesse that even the elder got taken in by the act. But not the merchant – he was not a merchant for nothing. It was his business to be shrewd. Next time when the youngster took a dip, suddenly he felt the load on his back go up manifold like a ton of bricks, the heaviest he had carried so far. It was inexplicable. He panted and puffed as the merchant drove them to the market at a fast clip – it was a sheer ordeal.

When they were resting in the evening and the youngster was licking his sores, the elder let out that the clever merchant had, in the load of salt, hidden bundles of dry rags that soaked up water to weigh heavier than lead. From that day, no more tricks – as the youngster could never make out whether the load of salt on his back was really of salt or was dry rags.

The moral, the elder gently pointed out, was: ‘Do your job conscientiously without shirking.’

This is not where it ends. Now get ready for a ride beyond.

One night a thief entered the merchant’s house, scaling the rear wall. The drop, however gentle, woke up the youngster who was sleeping lightly. Spotting the thief, he got the dog to wake up. The dog took stock of the situation and refused point-blank to rise to the occasion – he had been fed stale gruel during lunch. The dumb dog did not know he would, in the morning, get the thick end of the stick for not doing his job, the youngster thought. And there was no time to lose as the thief progressed stealthily towards the main house. Something had to be done quickly. Thinking on his feet, the youngster brayed loud in a full-throated performance. The startled thief ran off melting away into the darkness at the far end. The merchant woke up to find it was still dark. Unaware of the intrusion, he was annoyed by the untimely call; he marched up to the youngster and administered a couple of resounding slaps to make him see his folly.

When the merchant went back to his house, the elder clicked his tongue audibly in sympathy for the youngster. The moral, the elder gently pointed out, was: ‘Don’t try to do someone else’s job.’

Once again it was all quiet. It would be sometime before they would get back to their sleep. The youngster, to his shock, saw the thief re-appear from behind a bush heading straight for him – he had not taken himself entirely off the premises. Before the youngster could make up his mind whether an encore was demanded by the occasion, the vengeful thief, thwarted in his earlier efforts, registered his volley of slaps on the party-pooper and slipped away for good – all within a few winks.

The moral, the elder pointed out gently to the dazed youngster, was: ‘Don’t stand in the way of others doing their job whatever.’

The donkey would surely learn and settle down for a long career with the merchant. And, of course, he would read every turn of the merchant’s mind.

This is really the End. The pieces are not original, but the mash-up is.

PS: If you detect certain allegorical undertones, it is entirely to the credit of your creative mind.

Thanks, Sabitha for trigerring it.

The Girl

pitch-forked from a private garden
on to a road not journeyed for
a travel unchronicled –
a nervous nineteen, aware by half.

a strand of fragrant jasmine,
the rustle of the bright blue cotton,
eloquent eyes in shy smile,
innocent of harshness.

the slender fingers in trusting clasp,
the world could do whatever,
the days never the same –
a parade of unfading freshness.

what…straying thoughts of a graying sixty+?
well…just straight thoughts of an incurable,
blessed with a magical vision to see
the girl jumping out, ever so often,

of his dear…

(straight thoughts, for a change!)

If Rules Can’t Change…

Part 1

The day had dawned and it was the appointed time to get going. The royal carriage appeared in front of the palace gates. The Sanghi’s (Seniors of the Sangha) had assembled to ensure nothing went awry. The King emerged from his quarters in full royal regalia and purposefully strode up to the main doors, feeling the push of their glances on his back. The farewells and the thanks had been said on the previous evening. For people who had collected, it was a re-enactment of a familiar spectacle. What struck them right away was, unlike in the past, the King’s formal attire and also his amused look not befitting the solemnity of the occasion. This time they were sorry to see him go. He was kind to them; he often held his court in public and heard their grievances. But then the ‘Code’ was inviolable and the Sanghi’s would ensure so.

As the King approached the carriage, the Vizier stepped forward, bowed in salutation and put his hands out palms up. In the manner of ‘Ah, yes,’ the King removed the sheathed long-sword from his waist belt and placed it on Vizier’s outstretched palms. Surrendering the last instrument of power, he climbed on, stood up and waved at the crowd with grace as the carriage pulled out. Close on the heels was another carriage that carried the Sanghi’s and the Vizier to the final scene and act. As the carriages were lost in a cloud of dust the emotion-choked crowd reluctantly dissolved in silence.

As they drove past the inner streets, some of the alert citizens caught a glimpse of their departing King. Soon the entourage left the outer boulevards behind and sped through to the outskirts. The Sanghi’s in their carriage were mulling over it in silence. Yes, they too had no complaints with him. Admittedly, he was a capable administrator – his welfare schemes generated value and at the same time provided gainful employment to his people. He applied himself seriously to civic, military and people’s problems. But even the Sanghi’s were helpless.

The short procession of two carriages drove past the paddy fields and fruit-orchards beyond the settlements and finally reached the river bank. The noise and the dust kicked up by the approaching carriages alerted the boatman who gently steered the caparisoned boat close to the pier. Upon alighting from the carriage the King went up to the boat, gave it a cursory look and nodded his head in satisfaction – he had asked for the boat to be decked up fit for royal use. Even now there were no signs on his visage of sadness, despondency or resignation at his fate. He was curt efficiency one moment in matters of the arrangement and chirpy next moment. At this stage his predecessors had their knees turn into jelly and were alternately pleading and blabbering like idiots.

The Sanghi’s bowed for the last time and imperceptibly signaled for the boatman to move away. With a graceful wave of his hand acknowledging their gesture, he turned his back on them and the bank. The Sanghi’s and the Vizier stood at their station until the boat had made about a third of the way to the other side of the river. Their job was done – they had implemented the ‘Code’ or almost. The successor would be crowned on the following day.

When the boat was within a shout of its landing, the boatman stood up at his post, furtively looked at the distant pier and hurried up to the King. He had tears in his eyes. ‘My Lord, I cannot do this to you. You may not remember – last year after the harvest, you arranged for us the means to buy these boats, fishing nets…and earn a living. This boat, why, everything I’ve – is all yours. I’ll take you further downstream and drop you at the Town Of Pearls, outside the borders of this state or wherever you wish. No one would know.’

‘My friend, I appreciate your offer and am grateful to you for the same. But isn’t your life dear to you? Sooner or later it is bound to come out in the open. When that happens you would be rounded up in no time and put to death in public for dire dereliction of duty. So, you’ll do nothing of that sort. Stay on course, take me to the other side, to the hut inside the forest and you return. That’s what you’re told to do. And that’s what you’ll do like you’ve always done. ’

‘With you, it’s not the same thing. I can’t leave you to the mercy of the wild beasts. There’s just a day’s food in the hut. And the hut has no doors even. It’s a thick forest teeming with wild animals – you can’t walk for fifty steps before running into one. You won’t be alive to behold the beauty of the rising sun tomorrow. I’ve seen it happen all the time, since I’ve to go back later and retrieve the royal signet, the dress, the bones or whatever remained as proof for those heartless Sanghi’s.’

‘Listen, my friend, don’t get bitter about them and you know it’s not so much by their will. It was all explained to me when I ascended the throne three years back. And I willingly accepted the terms in toto. So I insist…’

The tone of authority was intact in his voice. Left with no option the boatman returned with a heavy heart to his post and continued sailing the boat towards the landing spot.

Part 2

Nearer the banks, there were waist-high bushes as the land sloped up to a mound high enough to screen out the beyond. On the far side of the mound the ground fell away gently and disappeared beneath a carpet of dry leaves, twigs under the canopy of the tall-growing trees jostling for space and shutting out the sun overhead. And a few hundred steps into the outgrowth would bring them to the hut.

With a clanging bell on one hand and a fire torch in other to scare away the animals, the boatman led the way on a rutted track up the slope. As they crested the mound the boatman let out a cry – he was not ready for what he saw. It was as if the trees were disciplined to order and moved around by some giant hand to make space in the middle for a large human settlement. There were rows and rows of newly built houses, tree-lined streets and people going about with their daily chores. And before them there was even a welcoming party to receive the King with due pomp.

The dumb-struck boatman looked up at the King pleading for comprehension.

‘Well, my friend, I got started on it on the day I ascended the throne. These are people from the outskirts of your state who helped me build this settlement. More are coming from all over. I used my personal funds that I was entitled for. This is now my state and these are my people. When one gets stymied by the rules of the game, it may be easier and rewarding to change the game itself than trying to break or change the rules. It takes a while for the rules to catch up with the change and that’s all the time one needs to get ahead.’

The still-dazed boatman nodded his head sagely.

He did not return home that day or ever after.

End

PS: This is based on a hitherto-unheard folk-story I received from friends (Thanks to Nagulan and Sabitha) on the net. The source could not be ascertained to acknowledge due credits.